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JENNA
More gunfire and shouting.
Carter and I find each other in the dark. We huddle on the floor in one another’s arms.
“I was a jerk,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his neck and not caring that Reed can hear everything I say. “I—”
“I’m the jerk.” His arms tighten around me. “You tried to talk to me but I shut you down. I’m sorry. I was in denial. It’s just ... it was like the world ended when my dad died, you know? I wasn’t ready for it to end a second time.”
“Carter.” I whisper his name, feeling like complete shit for not seeing his turmoil. I’d noticed him talking a lot about his dad after we witnessed the military slaughter, but I hadn’t put the pieces together. “I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t understand what you were going through.”
“Neither did I.”
Something large hits the shop floor with an echoing thud. More cursing and gunfire.
“My real hair color is blond,” I blurt.
“What?”
“My hair isn’t brown. It’s blond. Junior year a stupid football jock asked me to prom. My mom found out and threatened to take away my cell phone if I didn’t go with him. The guy was from a rich family and mom wanted a piece of it.” I give a soft, bitter laugh. “I said yes to the date, dyed my hair brown, and grew out my armpit hair. It didn’t take long for the jock to change his mind.”
“God, babe. Every story I hear about your family is more fucked up than the last.” He rocks me in his arms in the dark amid gunfire and shouting. God, I hope we don’t die here.
“Looking like a real-life Barbie doll made me a magnet for jerky guys,” I continue. “I wanted them to like me for who I was on the inside, not what I looked like on the outside.” Does he understand what I’m trying to say? Does he understand why I flinch away from compliments? “When I moved away from my mom, I promised myself I would never date until I found a guy I liked on the inside,” I whisper. “Then I acted like an asshole when I got in front of my family and did to you what so many guys have done to me. Sorry I fucked everything up.”
He kisses my temples. “Remember when we ran out of that frat party?” he asks.
“I remember.”
“I pushed people out of the way to get to you. I didn’t care what happened to them. I didn’t try to help them. All I could think about was getting you to safety.” His breath rattles in his chest. “I didn’t want to believe I was living in a world where I had to choose between protecting you and hurting other people.”
A bullet punches through the wall above us, sending dust and grit raining down. Reed shouts. I scream. Carter holds onto me, gripping my arms like lifelines. I imagine the drug guys having an old-fashioned Wild West shoot-out right here in the shop.
“How about we shave your pits when we get out of here?” Carter says in a shaky voice.
I bark a laugh, understanding that he’s attempting to crack a joke. “I would love that. I never liked having hairy pits, but they became a security measure to keep assholes away.”
“Oh my God,” Reed says. “Can you two stop with the couples therapy session? I feel like I’m on the set of Maury Povich. I—wait, do you guys smell that?”
I take a long sniff. “Is that ...?”
“It’s smoke!” I hear Reed jump to his feet. “Fuck, something is on fire!”
Carter and I scramble up. The smell of smoke is distinct now.
Carter attacks the door with all his might. Reed joins him, the two of them struggling to get it open.
“Help us!” I shriek. “Somebody help!”
The gunshots and yelling have stopped. Replacing it is the crackling sound of flames. Smoke makes its way into the tiny storage room. I can’t see it, but I smell it and feel it sliding into my lungs. We start to cough.
“Help!” Carter shouts, banging on the door. “We’re stuck in here.”
Of all the things I worried about today when we left Creekside, burning to death in the closet of a rock shop was not on the list. Getting eaten by a zombie, yes. Getting chased by bad guys with guns, yes. But not this.
The smoke is getting worse. Reed and Carter keep up their constant barrage against the door. They’ve managed to move it an inch or so, but all that does is let in more smoke.
“Carter?” From somewhere in the shop comes a voice. “Carter?”
It’s Kate. Thank fucking God.
“We’re in here,” I scream. “Kate, help us!”
“The supply closet,” Carter shouts, grabbing the knob and banging the door repeatedly against whatever piece of furniture is blocking our escape. “Mom, over here!”
“Hold on, guys.” Johnny’s voice carries over the din.
Outside the door is a loud scraping sound.
“Fuck this,” Kate growls. “Move over, Johnny.” There’s a huge crash followed by the sound of shattering glass.
Reed throws himself against the door. He tumbles out into the smoke. Carter and I hurry after him, emerging in the dark shop.
A large curio cabinet lays in shattered remnants in front of the closet. Rocks and gems lay among broken glass and splintered wood. It had been knocked in front of the door during the conflict.
Kate grabs Carter in a fierce hug. “Are you okay?”
“We’re okay,” he says. “Thanks for the rescue.”
Reed throws his arms around Kate, hugging her around the waist like a little kid. “Oh my God,” he gasps. “I love you, Kate. You have to be my mom, too. I need someone to look out for me the way you look out for Carter.”
“What about me?” Johnny demands, annoyed. “I helped rescue you guys, too.”
“You wanna be my dad?” Reed asks with a sarcastic frown, never loosening his grip on Kate.
“We can talk later,” Kate says, giving Reed a squeeze on the shoulder before extricating herself. “We have to get out of here. The fire is going to draw the zombies and some of those maniacs with guns are still out there.”
She leads the way out of the shop. It’s not yet full dark outside, but dusk is in full swing.
The blaze burns hot and thick in the futon shop next door. Zombies might not be attracted to light due to their blindness, but the roar of the flames as it consumes the old buildings makes enough noise to draw them.
Reed stops dead, mouth sagging open at the sight of the drug dealer on the sidewalk. Five zombies crouch over him, sinking their teeth into various body parts. My chest seizes at the sight.
“Carlos,” Reed whispers.
“He can’t hurt you now,” Kate says. “Come on.”
“But—” Reed begins.
There’s no time to explain that Carlos tried to keep us safe from Mr. Rosario’s men. I grab Reed’s arm, urging him to keep moving.
“But what about Jesus?” Reed asks.
“We have to go,” Carter tells him, taking Reed’s other arm.
The undead advance from all directions, hands outstretched as they moan and hiss and fumble their way forward. They pour in from every street corner, coming straight for us.