Page 35 of My Undead Love Life

We walked for several hours, only running into a few straggler zombies, before our stomachs growled loud enough for us to hear.

“We need to find somewhere to bed down tonight.” My voice bounced off the tunnel walls. “We need to eat something.”

“No more service closets, please,” Luck groaned.

“Agreed,” Oxi muttered. He pointed ahead with his cane sword. “What about that train car?”

My gaze tracked his gesture. Up ahead, a subway car sat motionless on the tracks. Its doors stood partially open. Darkness filled the interior.

“That sounds dumb,” Spencer muttered. Her words came out flat and tired. But there was pain underneath them.

I glanced toward her. Her eyes were already fixed on the train. She had to be thinking about her last moments with Keith.

Luck noticed, too, but we didn’t comment on it.

“It isn't broken like the others we’ve passed,” I pointed out as we approached.

The closer we got, the better it looked. All of the windows remained intact, which was fucking surprising. There was no obvious structural damage or signs of recent activity. There was only old, dried blood smeared along the exterior metal.

It looked to be years old. The dark stains had faded almost brown with time.

“It looks like they got out before anyone turned,” Luck observed.

“Or before they realized what was happening,” Oxi replied.

The train sat frozen in time. Like the people who had once ridden it had simply vanished.

Spencer's shoulders tightened. “I don't like being trapped.”

I knew she didn’t want to stay in a train car because it reminded her of where she'd lost Keith. If we had any other option, I wouldn’t do this to her.

“We have a better chance of getting out of this than we ever did the closet,” I explained gently. “More exits. More room.”

She didn't answer but followed us inside.

The air still smelled stale. Dust coated the floor and seats, and abandoned backpacks rested beneath the benches. A child's stuffed bear sat near one window, gray with grime. A purse hung from a seat near the rear of the car. Everything was abandoned in what were probably seconds. I hadn’t seen anything this well preserved in years.

“We're staying,” I declared.

Spencer didn’t argue this time.

I turned back toward the doorway we’d just come through and grabbed the edge of the subway doors. Cold metal bit into my palms as I shoved. The doors barely moved. Their rollers ground stubbornly against the track overhead. With a pop, the panels lurched inward a few inches before it stopped with a gap between it.

I gritted my teeth and pushed harder. The doors shifted another inch. Dust drifted from the mechanism above.

“Help me!” I hissed.

Luck’s hands joined mine, our palms slipping on the cold steel. Together, we forced the doors along their rails. The rubber seals dragged against each other with a harsh squeal that echoed.

The gap between them shrank inch by inch with our efforts. Metal rattled overhead while our shoulders slammed against the panels over and over again.

“Come on,” Luck grunted.

“I am coming on.” I shoved again.

“That sounded wrong,” he snickered.

“Shut up and push.”