Page 43 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

‘That’s them,’ agreed Nick. ‘I haven’t found the exact type growing anywhere else around here, and believe me, I’ve done my fair share of foraging.’

‘And that mark’s from the lightning strike?’ Zoey had never seen anything like it.

‘We got struck not long after I moved in. Twice, actually. I thought it was Bozo with his Tannerite, but it was a stray bolt from a storm way off. I’m just glad Alice and I were inside, or you and I might not be having this conversation right now.’

Alice grunted in agreement.

‘Anyway, the lightning must have affected the soil in some way, because a few weeks back, it suddenly looked like that. Mushrooms everywhere.’

‘No wonder people want to do foraging tours here,’ said Zoey, as the engine idled. ‘I know I would.’

‘The bachelorette parties are all about it, apparently.’

A hot mushroom farmer did sound more appealing than a stranger breaking down your door and pretending to arrest you to the tune of ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’.

‘There will be no mushroom-farmer striptease,’ clarified Nick, who’d apparently read her mind. Or perhaps her raised eyebrow.

‘Well, I was about to invite myself along until you said that.’

‘You’re welcome to, when this place is ready for it. But I’m not quite there in terms of amenities. Or even a proper fence.’ Nick directed Zoey to take the truck up a rocky trail.

‘Can this little truck handle that?’ Zoey grimaced as she pressed the accelerator. The truck grumbled, but made its way up the trail.

‘Look at her go,’ said Nick approvingly. ‘She can handle most things, as long as you’re not silly and get bogged on your own property.’

Zoey scoffed. As if that was going to happen in the height of summer. The Pacific Northwest might be renowned for its rainfall, but summers were strangely dry and hot.

‘Here we go,’ said Nick, as the truck crested the hill, wheels spinning on the loose rocks. ‘Can she do it? I believe in her. Even if I’m holding on very tightly to my seat right now.’

Zoey’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

The truck roared, then hurtled up over the crest of the hill, stopping on the flat area at the top.

‘Oh shit, we actually did it,’ said Zoey, putting the truck into park. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her pulse was whooshing like a river during the snow melt.

Nick leaned over and punched the horn, sending napping doves up into the sky.

‘C’mon.’ Opening his door, he reached for Zoey’s hand, easily sliding her across the vinyl bench seat and out the passenger-side door.

‘Wow, you are lucky that it’s not too hot out, or I would’ve left half my skin on your seat just now.’

‘That is lucky, because I quite like your skin on your body where it belongs.’

Zoey chuckled. ‘I’m glad you didn’t drag me out to a farm so that you could flay me and turn me into a piece of furniture.’

Nick scrunched up his face. ‘Ugh, human skin for furniture? Uncomfortable. Now human skin for books …’

‘Okay, we are ending this conversation right here.’ Zoey put her hands on his chest, as though to shut him up. But really she just wanted to kiss him. Because this evening had been perfect.

And the views at their feet! The huge patches of pink and purple phlox that made a chequerboard of the hill. The endless rolling forest lit by the occasional set of headlights or a warm porch light. The nodding tops of the uncannily tall fir trees that reached well above the rest of the forest, which Nick had told her had burnt in a fire in 1902. The dark twisting sinew of a river that ribboned through it all.

‘Can I kiss you?’ asked Nick, dipping his face to hers.

Apparently Zoey’s eyes said it all. Their lips met, and a Zoey from another time might have said that she was transported. But not this time, because she didn’t want to be. She wanted to be right here, in this particular moment, with this particular man, with his long-lashed eyes and his gentle hands, and his warm, kind way of moving through the world. He made her feel alive, alight, like she wanted to slow the entire world down and see every sight, hear every sound, experience every feeling. But not alone. With him.

When they broke apart, Nick looped an arm around her waist, the way he’d got in the habit of doing, slipping his hand into her skirt pocket.

‘Careful, that’s where I keep my used gum,’ she warned.