Page 28 of Nightmare Island

Where there should be eyes, there are only black holes, and its mouth—oh gods, its mouth—is a gaping maw, filled with teeth that seem to go on forever.

It staggers toward me, each step accompanied by the sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing. The air grows cold, so cold I can see my breath misting in front of me. The thing reaches out a hand—if you can call it that—toward me, fingers elongated.

Are you kidding me?

A fucking zombie! We have them back home, and we barricaded ourselves into our secured town—a way to deal with them—so what the hell is this thing doing down here when the island doesn’t seem to have any… well, as far as I’ve seen?

A scream builds in my throat.

Suddenly, the thing lunges at me, and I see it clearly for the first time.

Flesh hanging in rotting strips and patches of its skull are visible, with yellowed bone peeking through decayed skin. Its mouth hangs open.

I scream, the sound tearing from my throat as pure terror takes over. My mind goes blank, all thought obliterated by the desperate need to survive.

The zombie slams into me, its weight surprisingly light but its strength terrifying. We crash to the ground, the air rushing out of my lungs. Its face is inches from mine, jaws snapping as it tries to bite. The stench of its breath makes me gag, a rotten-meat smell that clogs my nostrils and makes my eyes water.

I manage to get my arm up, pressing it against its throat, my whole body trembling. My other hand shoves at its bony shoulder, feeling flesh slough off under my fingers. The sensation makes me want to vomit, but I can’t afford to give in to the nausea. Its skin is cold and slimy, like touching raw chicken left out too long.

“Get off me, you rotting piece of shit!” I yell, my tone high pitched and panicked.

The zombie’s strength is relentless, though. Its teeth snap inches from my face, and I can feel its fetid breath on my skin. My arms tremble with the effort of holding it back. I know I can’t keep this up for long. I manage to knee it in the stomach, but the thing doesn’t budge or even seem to feel pain.

I can’t die in this fucking basement. This can’t end here.

In a flash, something yanks the zombie off me.

I gasp, frantically drawing backward and scrambling to my feet.

There’s a blur of movement in front of me, and suddenly, Ghost is there, ripping the creature in half with his bare hands, as if it’s made of paper.

I’m about to say something when movement behind him catches my attention.

Apparitions, faint but undeniably there, hover in the darkness of the basement. Translucent figures flicker in and out of existence, their faces twisted. And for a moment, Ghost looks like one of them—pale, almost transparent in the moonlight, more spirit than flesh.

A gasp falls from my lips as I back away, trembling. Fear, real fear, floods through me.

What is he?

Ghost tosses the twitching halves aside, dust and bones everywhere, but impossibly, horrifyingly, the thing is still moving. Its upper half drags itself toward me.

“Oh, shit!” I gasp.

With a growl that sounds more animal than human, Ghost pulls a blade from his boot and rams it into the zombie’s skull. The crack of bone is sickeningly loud. Finally, it goes still.

There’s silence, broken only by my ragged breathing and the hammering of my heart. Then Ghost turns to me, his mask gleaming in the dim light. Even with his face hidden, I sense the intensity of his gaze on me.

“Did it bite you?” he demands. “I had no idea there were any fucking zombies on this island. Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, unable to form words. My whole body is shaking, adrenaline coursing through me. We live in a broken world where the virus that eliminated civilization resulted in many of the dead rising into zombies. Because living with dominant wolf Alphas isn’t challenging enough.

Ghost strides toward me, and I flinch involuntarily, my body reacting before my mind can process that he’s not a threat.

“Easy,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t feel safe.” I scan the darkness around us, ready to jump out of my skin.

He reaches for me, and suddenly, I’m clinging to him, my face pressed against his chest. I can feel the solid muscle beneath his shirt and smell his scent—earthy and masculine, with hints of cocoa and something wild. It grounds me, pulling me back from the edge of hysteria.

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