WHEN ZOMBIES ATTACK

Sara led the way, bounding up the stairs two at a time. I couldn’t really blame her for wanting to rush out. Yet she stopped at the door, blocking the way out.

I started to ask her what was wrong, but the words trailed off as a foul stench wafted into the room. All the anger faded away like smoke on the wind as the combination of death and rot invaded my nostrils like a physical assault.

The vampires behind me started complaining—some of them blaming Brendan for the stink—but then Sara was stumbling back into me, and I didn’t have time to worry about where it was coming from.

Bloated, discolored fingers with long, jagged nails were grabbing at Sara’s shoulder and arm, dragging her out through the door. By the time I got over my shock enough to reach for her, she was gone. . . .