Not on my watch.
The closer we drew together, the faster we both pushed ourselves. Then she darted through me, the contact shoving my spirit out of my body, making Z.A. shriek in pain.
I stumbled backward, my body remaining in front of me. The cold should have thickened. Instead, I felt embraced by warmth. I looked back. Emma had finally stopped—in front of Ethan. She swung her fists at him, but no contact was made. He stood beside a tree, his hand resting on the bark. He was unaware of what was happening around him, watching me, his expression grim. The girls were nowhere to be seen. They must have obeyed me and climbed.
I turned back to the zombies, aimed the gun and squeezed the trigger. Boom, boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom!
Bodies fell...only to crawl back up. I threw down the gun, the clip empty, and grabbed a second dagger. The creatures came closer and closer, moving faster than ever before. Almost within reach... For the first time in weeks, those red, evil eyes were utterly focused on me. Eager for a go at me? Oh, yeah. Whatever the reason—had Emma done more than freak out Z.A.?—I was once again a target. I pounced.
My daggers slashed through one throat, two, six, then severed a spine, two, eight, rotted arms continually reaching for me. Blackened teeth chomped at me. At least no other whispers bombarded me. I arched backward, forward, avoiding being grabbed. I turned, stabbed. Turned, stabbed, staying in constant motion, knowing a single moment of hesitation would lose the battle for me.
I swung a zombie in front of me, using him as a shield as I spun around and stabbed his partner in the side. Black goo sprayed in every direction. Then I decapitated my shield.
No one else made a play for me, and I realized a wall of writing bodies had formed, blocking the others.
I climbed out, on alert, and my new targets stalked around me as if pondering the best course of action.
Some were mindless. These were not. And they weren’t just stalking around me, but were inching closer and closer, closing in. I exploded into motion—crap, I’d lost my daggers. I slammed the heel of one hand into the jaw of the zombie on my left, and the heel of the other into the throat of the zombie on my right.
As multiple other arms stretched out, I rolled to the ground, knocking several of the creatures off their feet. Coming up with two new guns, I aimed, fired, aimed, fired, taking no more than a second for each action, but always swinging my arms to ensure that I got the zombies closest to me.
I shot a zombie in the face, and both guns clicked. Out of bullets.
As a new horde approached me, I pressed the button on the side of the handles, causing blades to extend from under the barrel of the guns. Gnarled arms reached for me. I crossed the weapons in front of me and hit two creatures in the temple, twisted, hit two more, twisted, hit two more— A hard fist slammed into my jaw.
Stupid stars, winking at me. Still I managed to duck, missing a second blow and forcing the zombie behind me to take the brunt of the impact. I straightened, grabbing another zombie, intending to use him as a shield, but his arm detached. I stumbled to the side, my momentum jacked. One of the creatures shackled my wrist and tugged me to the ground. Jerking free, but losing my hold on the weapons, I rolled, once again knocking down several of the zombies.
“Light up!” I shouted.
The smallest of flames flickered across my knuckles, and it was white. Relief speared me.
Footsteps behind me.
I twisted, reached out to brush my fingertips against the zombie closest to me. He didn’t ash, but he did hiss and stumble away from me.
He came back for more, the fool, and I did it again. This time, he batted my hand away, determined. Someone stepped up behind him, stopping him, attaching a metal collar to his neck. He sagged to the ground, motionless.
I looked around, confused.