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Jax was beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “What was it?”
“Fuck if I know.”
She pivoted and strode with him to the humanoid body, which had crumpled to the floor. What was left of the dead man’s clothes were scraps of what might have been blue cotton, but had faded to a washed-out gray. His pants hung to the middle of his bony shins. When alive, he must have stood at least seven-feet tall, and his feet were huge.
Using the toe of his boot, Jax pushed the body over.
His knife had pierced the creature’s right eye, gone in straight to the hilt, but without spilling any blood. Veronica’s stomach heaved and she knew if she looked in the mirror her pale skin would be more than a little tinged with green. She concentrated on taking deep breaths of cotton candy-scented air.
“That’s weird.” Jax pulled his knife free.
“What about this place isn’t weird?”
“No, look closer.” He hunkered down by the body and pointed the beam of his flashlight. “He’s missing a chunk of skin under his eye. It’s almost as if it rotted away.”
Her heart hiccupped. Those were rumors, old wives’ tales. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Look for yourself.”
That was the last thing she wanted to do, as evidenced by her roiling stomach, but she still ended up squatting beside Jax looking at the dead creature’s face. Torn, puckered ashen skin circled a one-inch-in-diameter hole directly underneath his eye socket. Quarter-sized purple sores dotted his face and exposed skin. Ragged teeth poked outward from his gaping mouth.
“It can’t be.” There had always been stories. Her cousin Lulu had whispered the tale to her late at night as a test of pre-pubescent courage. No one ever had experienced an actual sighting–well, and lived to tell the tale. The proof, however, lay dead in a heap at their feet.
She glanced up at Jax.
“Zombie,” they said together.
Somewhere out in the darkness another giggle sounded.
Then, another.
They snapped off their flashlights.
The world turned inky black.
She strained in an attempt to pinpoint the zombies’ location by hearing but that information remained elusive. Fear settled in her stomach like a bad Mexican dinner, making her queasy and clammy.
“We have to get Antoine and get the hell out of here,” Jax whispered.
God, yes. All she wanted to do was run screaming for the beanstalk. But they couldn’t. She squeezed his forearm. “Agreed, but we need to be smart about this. We can’t attract their attention.”
“I know you like to make a plan for everything, but we have about two minutes before we’re lunch,” he snarled.
If they went into ninja mode, it could work. “Brunch, it’s only ten thirty in the morning.”
Jax looked like he was barely restraining the need
to shake her senseless. “This is not the time or place for semantics. What’s the plan?”
“Zombies are attracted to shiny things, movement and sound. So, stay low and move slow. Once we’re inside the room, we can pick up the pace to find Antoine. He’s still using his flashlight so it shouldn’t take long to find him. We have to find him before they do.”
Another set of giggles rang out. This time, closer.
Sliding his fingers between hers, Jax squeezed her hand. “Let’s do this.”
Smooth as a freshly swept ice rink, they stood and slunk toward the door. With each step, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing a strange world of giants and their belongings. Half of a ten-foot chair tilted against one wall. A cracked coffee cup, nearly as tall as her stood like a lonely sentry in the hall. Distracted by all the oversized scraps of giant life, when she stubbed her toe on something solid, she pitched forward.
