Page 46 of My Undead Love Life

Somewhere far off, something creaked.

My shoulders tightened.

Mad adjusted his grip on the axe. “Let’s clear it. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck here.”

Outside, the horde pressed against the mall. Inside, the mall waited with all its forgotten stores.

I looked down the corridor, past the abandoned kiosks and tried not to imagine how many threats could hide in a place built to hold thousands of people.

Luck stepped closer to me. “You okay?”

I swallowed and kept my eyes on the shadows. “No.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Luck held his shovel up.

“But I can move.” I drew my katana just enough for the blade to whisper against the sheath.

“That’ll do.” Oxi lifted his cane sword again.

Mad glanced back once, axe ready, making sure we were with him.

I breathed in the cold, dusty air of the mall, tightened my grip, and followed them into the dark.

8

SPENCER

The first floor was filled with dark storefronts, several overturned kiosks, and scattered trash drifting across the once-polished tile. It didn’t look the least bit familiar. I went to this mall a few times…before the world ended. It had the same wide walkways, glass railings, and benches arranged around dead planters, but everything was different. It was silent.

Our footsteps echoed. Every step sent a soft squeak or scuff across the tile, and each sound traveled down the corridor before fading into the distance.

Several groans came from different parts of the first floor. They didn’t belong to the horde outside. The sounds scraped through the stale air, bouncing between the storefronts until it was hard to tell where they came from.

Luck tightened his grip on his shovel. “I see four,” he whispered, nodding toward the central walkway.

I followed his gaze. Four zombies shambled near an overturned kiosk. They shuffled toward us, slow and uncoordinated. Their movements were clumsy, almost lazy, and their heads tilted at odd angles as they wandered forward.

One dragged a foot behind it like it didn’t work anymore. Another bumped its shoulder against the edge of a trash can and kept walking in place for two full seconds before it figured out how to turn.

A month ago, that would have made me feel better about the intelligence level of the undead. Now, I only wondered why they differed.

“These don’t look like the intelligent ones,” Oxi muttered.

“No,” Mad said quietly. “They don’t.”

His voice held the same caution as before.

The slow ones had killed plenty of people before the fast, clever ones had evolved. A stupid mouth could still infect, and a clumsy hand could still grab.

The first zombie stumbled toward me with its arms half-raised. It had once been an elderly person, maybe. There wasn’t enough left to prove it. Its shirt hung open over a caved-in chest, the fabric stiff with old blood and dust. Its jaw hung crooked, with only two teeth left, clicking uselessly as it moved.

It walked straight into the bench between us. The impact flipped it over with a hollow thud.

I blinked from the sheer absurdity of it. Then, it began pushing itself up, fingers slipping on the polished tile, mouth still working.

I stepped forward, drawing my katana and swinging it. The blade moved cleanly through its neck.

Its head separated, hit the tile, and rolled once before stopping against the leg of the bench. The body dropped in a limp heap as blackened blood spread in a slow, dark spill across the floor.