Page 40 of My Undead Love Life

Oxi’s voice sounded too loud even though he was nearly whispering. “I’m surprised none of them came to check it out.”

“I know,” Luck muttered. “I was thinking the same thing. It doesn’t line up with their usual behavior.”

Mad walked a little ahead of us, axe in hand, shoulders set in a way that made the space around him feel narrower. The flashlight beam caught on the edge of the blade, turning the metal briefly silver before the light shifted again.

“They usually only avoid things if it’s dangerous or if they realize that they are not able to infect their target.” His grip tightened around the handle until the tendons stood out along the back of his hand. “They didn’t even scope it out.”

“If they had, they’d realize they had easy prey,” Luck chirped.

A dreadful chill zipped down my spine, and I straightened. “I don’t like that.”

“None of us do,” Oxi agreed. His cane sword was up and ready to use, the hidden blade catching the flashlight in a thin line.

“What if the animal came back?” I whispered, my hand shaking on the hilt of my katana.

“I don’t think so. I don’t have that same dreadful feeling as when it was nearby.” Luck fell into step closer to me. He kept his shovel low but tight in his hand, ready to bring it up. His other hand was on his gun in the holster.

“I don’t either,” Oxi agreed.

“It would’ve probably attacked by now,” Mad assured me.

My heart dropped. “True.”

“Still. We should get out of here in case we’re wrong,” he added.

Our boots scuffed against the concrete, and the sound bounced too far. The constant drip of water echoed behind us, and I hated how quiet it was. Mad’s flashlight moved over the old concrete walls beside us as we walked. They were stained and cracked with graffiti markings over some spaces.

I readjusted the strap of my backpack where it dug into my shoulder. The movement made my jacket pull uncomfortably tight across my back, and the quiet scrape of fabric against fabric sounded in the stillness. I lowered my hand to the hilt of my katana again and let my fingers close around it. The handle wrapping was worn smooth where I had always held it. My thumb found the same place it always did. I’d worn a shallow groove in the wrapping where the material had softened from use.

We kept walking for at least an hour…until beams of sunlight shone down the tunnel ahead. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. After so much darkness, the light looked too bright to be real.

A pale spill of sun splashed across the tracks, which turned the damp concrete almost white. Dust drifted through it in slow, glowing specks, floating down from somewhere above.

“This is the one.” Mad moved toward the platform, and we followed, stepping into the light.

The sunlight pulled at hope in my chest. I knew better by now that the world aboveground was not safer just because the sky was visible. Sometimes, it was worse because there was room to see how ruined our world had become. Still, I craved the sunlight.

I preferred being up in the treehouses to being underground.

We hoisted ourselves up onto the cracked tile platform. Mad hopped up without issue, and Luck followed. My boots crunched on the jagged edges of the fractured subway tile, and a piece snapped under my weight with a sharp click that made me flinch back.

Before I could fall, Luck reached for me, his hand grasping my elbow to steady me.

“Thanks,” I breathed.

“No problem.” He let me go gently.

“Wow. Luck wasn’t the one about to go down.” Oxi climbed up after me with a muttered curse, favoring one side as he dragged himself onto the platform. “I’m impressed. He even saved you.”

“Shut up,” Luck mumbled, cheeks turning red.

“It’s shocking, honestly,” Mad teased him as we pushed toward the stairs.

My eyes took a minute to adjust to the harsh sunlight spilling down from above. The glow at the top was too bright after the tunnel.

The stairs groaned under our weight as we climbed them. Dust mites floated in the sunlight, disturbed by our movement, coating the back of my throat until I had to swallow. The railing was cold beneath my hand when I brushed it, tacky with old grime and rust. My fingers came away gritty, and I rubbed them against my pants without thinking. Each step gave a tired metallic creak, and the sound climbed ahead of us, then fell back down behind us into the tunnel we were leaving.

The air changed before we reached the top. At first, it was only a little less damp. The stale underground smell thinned, and for one breath, I caught something almost clean and cold from outside. Then, the rot hit. It rolled down over us in a thick, invisible wave.