Page 83 of Glitter Rose
I circle wide around the zombie pack, my shoes silent on the damp earth. A middle-aged woman in what was once a power suit staggers at the end of the group. Knox claps his hands while Miller pathetically rattles some branches.
I sneak behind Power Suit. Brain stem. Quick thrust. No hesitation. You can do it, Paris. I drive the blade through the top of her skull, using my whole body weight to get it deeper.
“Hey!” Knox calls, clapping continuously. “Over here!”
Her body goes limp beneath me, and with the resistance gone, I stumble forward, knees cracking against the ground as I nearly faceplant onto rotting fabric still faintly smelling of office sweat.
The zombies don’t turn, staying focused on Knox.
Thank God, it works.
I force myself upright and circle to my next target. An older man in coveralls, jaw hanging at an impossible angle. The stench hits me as I approach. Rotted meat left too long in the summer heat. I swallow bile, focusing on the exposed neck, the soft spot where the skull meets the spine.
Steady. I raise the knife again. Don’t think. Just do.
Blood sprays across my face as I drive the blade home. Hot, black, and viscous. I gag but keep moving.
“Here!” Knox slams his own knife into a zombie’s eyesocket, wrenching it free with a sickening squelch, and moving onto the next. “Three left!”
A farmer-looking zombie lurches toward Miller, who’s frozen against a tree.
“Move, you idiot!” I run and grab the zombie’s tattered shirt, hauling it backward. The thing stumbles, giving me the opening I need to drive my knife into its skull.
Something grabs my ankle.
A legless zombie crawled through the grass, teeth snapping inches from my skin.
“Shit!” I kick at its face, trying to free myself.
Where did you even come from?
The rotting hand clenches, bony fingers digging into my ankle like rusty fish hooks. I swing the knife down, the blade glances off its skull, leaving only a shallow gash.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck?—”
One bite. That’s all it would take for normal people. For me? I never tested it, and I don’t intend to start now.
A blade flashes past my face, embedding itself in the zombie’s skull with a wet crunch. Its grip loosens, fingers slackening as Knox frees his knife.
“Knox.” I stumble backward.
His eyes burn into mine, rage and fear tangled into something primal. “Stay behind me.”
“I was?—”
“Later.” He spins, burying his knife into another zombie’s head. “One left.”
One?
Miller screams behind us. I whirl to see him pinned against a tree, the last zombie lunging for his throat.
I dart forward, knife held high, but Knox is faster. He tackles the creature, sending them both tumbling down the muddy hillside in a tangle of limbs. My heart lodges in my throat as they disappear into the underbrush.
“Knox!”
A sickening crack echoes from below, followed by silence.
Oh god. No. Please?—
