Page 3
“Hurry, Russ.” My voice comes out tight. Thin. Not strong enough for this. Not loud enough to matter.
Poppy shakes against my side as the dead close in.
“I’m trying, shit.” Russ fumbles, fingers shaking as he digs into his pocket and pulls out a single bullet.
Just one.
He slides it into the chamber, metal scraping metal, then snaps it shut.
“This is it.”
Every direction fills with bodies. Faces I recognize. Faces I don’t.
No way out.
I lift the crowbar anyway, even though my arms scream, and shift Poppy behind me. If this is it, then they’ll have to go through me first.
“What do we do?” I throw over my shoulder.
The groans get louder. Closer. Engulfing us.
Cold settles over me.
Russ is too quiet.
He’s never quiet.
I turn my head, keeping Poppy tucked behind me. “Russ—”
Bang.
I choke on a scream as pain explodes through my leg, white-hot and blinding. I hit the pavement hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. The world vanishes into a high, sharp ringing as blood pours between my fingers, soaking through denim, hot and fast.
“What did you do?!” Poppy drops beside me, throwing herself between us like her tiny body could stop a bullet.
Russ stands there with the gun still raised.
Pointed at me.
Smoke curls from the barrel, drifting between us like a ghost. His light blue eyes, half hidden beneath wisps of blond hair, are flat. Empty.
I’ve seen coldness in him before, but never this.
Like I’m not his wife. Not Poppy’s mother.
Just an obstacle.
He shoves the gun into his pocket. “You wouldn’t have made it far anyway,” he says, already stepping backward. “Besides, I can’t keep carrying dead weight.”
“No.” I scramble forward, dragging my leg behind me. My palms scrape across the concrete, glass and grit biting into my skin, but I keep crawling. “Russ, stop! Wait!”
He can’t leave us.
Russ turns toward the alley and then he’s gone.
Never looking back.
The dead fill the space he leaves behind, groans rolling under the siren. Fingers twitch. Jaws snap. Every clouded eye turns toward me.
