Page 9

CLAIR

Now…

We’re screwed.

Or I am, anyway.

The dead thing in front of me stumbles closer, one boot dragging across cracked pavement, jaw working like it’s chewing on air. Its lips are peeled back from broken teeth, each wet little click loud enough to scrape down my spine. Cloudy eyes stay locked on mine like it already knows exactly where it wants to bite.

Me.

“Closer,” Lyla says behind me, calm like we’re not standing in the middle of a corpse-filled street with a rotting PTA dad trying to make a snack out of my face. “Quick and quiet. No hesitation.”

Right.

Quick. Quiet. No hesitation.

Easy.

Totally easy.

I tighten my grip on the knife, fingers stiff from the cold. The handle feels wrong in my palm. Too small. Too light. Not like the rifle, where distance makes me brave and the scope narrows the world into one simple choice.

Aim.

Breathe.

Fire.

This is different. This is close enough for rot to leak from its mouth, for cracked skin to pull tight around its eyes, for dried blood to crust beneath its fingernails. If I mess up, there won’t be time to fix it.

I force myself to step in.

The undead’s sweater is torn down the middle, dried blood crusted into the fabric. A little pumpkin pin is still clipped near its collar, orange and cheerful against the ruined gray knit.

Great.

Festive death.

I move toward it, aiming for the soft spot Lyla showed me, but I’m half a second too late.

The infected lunges.

Its fingers snag my jacket, yanking me forward. Its breath hits my face, rancid and wet, like spoiled meat left in a hot car. Teeth click beside my ear.

A sharp thunk cuts through the moment.

The body goes slack and drops at my feet.

An arrow juts clean through its skull.

I can’t move. I just stand there with my arm half raised, knife shaking in my grip, breath tearing in and out too fast. My skin still expects teeth.

Leon stands a few feet back, already lowering his bow. His face is unreadable except for the tight line of his jaw. Like it was nothing. Like he didn’t just stop me from losing a chunk of my face.

Again.

Heat crawls up my neck. Not from fear this time.