I walk over and snatch the bar out of her hand. “What’s mine is mine.”
Her cheeks flush. “We could be together for a few days or a few years. From what I gather, there’s no time stamp on Ali’s vision. Why don’t you pretend to be a mature adult and—”
I flip her off without glancing in her direction. I throw the bar in the trash, fix my sandwich and take an exaggerated bite as she peers at me.
“Wow. So mature,” she mutters. “Can you at least try to be civil?”
“You’re still alive. That’s all the civil you’re going to get from me.”
She looks away, her shoulders rolling in. “Fair enough.”
The sandwich settles like lead in my stomach. I return to my room, where I stay for several hours, just lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, hoping Kat will visit me. But she doesn’t, even when I call her name.
Where the hell is she? She owes me a visit. I’ve done everything she—
No, I realize. I haven’t. Help friends. Fight. Smile.
I arm up before returning to the living room. Camilla is still on the couch, but this time she’s cleaning a semiautomatic.
“We’re going out to hunt zombies,” I announce.
Her relief is palpable as she puts the gun back together. “I want to return to Shady Elms.”
The cemetery. “Why? Hordes take weeks and months to form, and we left nothing of the last one. At least, I’m assuming you weren’t dumb enough to leave the parts behind.”
“I ashed them, but...there was something odd about these zombies. They were more rotted than usual for first-timers.”
“Here’s an idea. They weren’t first-timers.”
“But they rose from graves. Why would zombies return to their bodies, just to rise again?”
“How would I know? I’m not a zombie.” But fine, whatever. “We’ll go to Shady Elms.” I grab my keys and head to my truck.
The moon is full, the sky completely black. No clouds, no stars. Just a sense of gloom and doom.
Nothing new.
Wait. A rabbit cloud whisks overhead, and I stiffen. Rabbit clouds—Emma’s way of warning Ali. Zombies are stirring tonight.
Adrenaline jacks me up. “There will be a battle tonight.” All I have to do is find the nest.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
Camilla jumps into the passenger seat rather than the back bed and casts me a mutinous glare, daring me to comment. I don’t. What good will it do?
We maintain terse silence the entire drive. I continually scan for any sign of zombies. Nothing...nothing...for a moment the scent of roses and pecans distracts me. A scent that clings to Camilla no matter where she is or what she’s doing.
When we reach the cemetery, I park between two towering oaks, surprised to find Cole’s Jeep there. Camilla and I exit, and I use my phone to shine light inside the vehicle. Cole, Ali and Gavin are sitting inside, as still as death, their spirits obviously elsewhere.
“Great,” Camilla says. “Now I have to fight the living and the undead.”
I know the words aren’t a threat, but I react as if they are. “Go after my friends, and I’ll end you.”
She sucks in a breath. “I’m not going to hurt them. I just—”
“Save it. Don’t want to hear it.” I stalk forward, listening for an indication a battle is waging. Searching...searching...
The sky is even more ominous out here, the sense of doom and gloom stronger.
A twig snaps about ten yards away. I palm two .44’s just as Bronx steps from behind a statue of an angel, .44’s of his own extended. The second our identities click, we lower our weapons.
“Frosty the Ice Man. You don’t call, you don’t write. You just show up to the battlefield unannounced.” His gaze flicks to Camilla and narrows. “At least you’ve spoken with Kat.”
He knows what’s going on? “What are you doing here?”
“Guarding the Jeep and the bodies inside it.” Bronx isn’t stupid. He knows I asked why he’s in the cemetery; he simply chose not to answer. “I’ll guard you and yours, if you want to join the others. But don’t be surprised if you have a few cuts and bruises when you return.”
He’s pissed at me. I get it. “If using me as a punching bag will untwist your panties, go for it.”
He flips me off, but he can’t hide the amused glitter in his eyes.
“Any zombies?” I ask.
“A few.”
I step out of my body as easily as breathing. As I wind through the cemetery, Camilla’s spirit catches up to me. We come across Cole first. He’s leaning against a gnarled tree, the limbs seeming to embrace him and push him away at the same time. His arms are folded over his chest.
“What the hell is going on out here?” I ask.
Just like Bronx, he flicks a glance in Camilla’s direction. I know he’s debating what to say in front of someone so untrustworthy.
Camilla notices, lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.