Erin M. Leaf (11 page)

Lark shuddered and backed into the trees. She wasn
’t safe, not yet. There had to be more zombies and she had no knife now. The gun wouldn’t keep a zombie away. In fact, the shot would probably attract more of them.

Time to get the hell out of here,
she told herself. A rustling in the trees had her whirling around, gun pointed. “Fuck,” she muttered when she couldn’t see anything. She kept the weapon up, arms trembling. Waiting.

“
Don’t shoot,” a man said.

Lark
forgot all about running. Forgot about the zombies. “Ben?”

C
hapter Ten

Ben walked forward, eyes drinking in the sight of her. “Lark,” he said, voice cracking. She was wet and bloody and so damned beautiful he felt his heart seize up.

“
Ben,” she said, pointing the gun at the ground, thank goodness. He could see her hands shaking.

“
I thought you were dead.” Her eyes shifted and he knew she saw Dillon right behind him. “Dillon.” Her voice shook, along with her body.

“
Lark.” Dillon sounded like someone had punched him. Ben knew the feeling. Before he could figure out what to do, she was in his arms, hugging him so tightly it hurt to breathe. He felt Dillon move in behind him. Lark reached out and dragged him into the hug and the three of them stood there for a long moment. Ben never wanted to let go of her and from the way Dillon was hanging on, neither did he, but it wasn’t safe to stay like this. When Dillon let go, Ben moved back.

“
We need to get out of here,” he said, eyes going the man on the ground and the zombie occupied with eating him. They didn’t have much time. Hell, they had
no
time. He couldn’t believe they’d stood there while that thing— Ugh. His hands itched to grab Lark again, hold her tight, but he knew they had to get the hell out of there.

She nodded and stepped back, shoving the gun into her jacket pocket.
“There’ll be more.” She wiped her face, but only succeeded in smearing the blood around on her cheeks.

“
Are you hurt?” Dillon asked.

Lark shook her head.
“No. It’s all his blood.” She pointed to the corpse on the ground. “We need to go. Please tell me you have a car or something?”

Ben let out a harsh breath, relieved she was okay enough to think rationally, because God help him, he wasn
’t able to. “Yeah.” He didn’t move. He couldn’t seem to make his feet work.

“Maybe we should kill the zombie.” Dillon stared at the man on the ground.

“No,” Lark said shortly.

Ben looked at her.

“No,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “That man deserves to be eaten.”

Ben took a deep breath
, anger mixing with worry in his gut. He didn’t feel so great. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Not enough to matter.”
She walked back to him. “Come on, Ben.” She grabbed his arm. Her fingers dug in, but he didn’t care. The pain meant she was real. Alive. “You too, Dillon.”

Dillon moved up on the other side and he grabbed Ben too and began towing him through the woods, back to the car.

“We need to hurry,” she said again, her voice rising. “Are you okay?”

Ben swallowed.
“I’m okay. Tired.”

“
She’s right, come on Ben,” Dillon said, moving faster, until he was nearly running. Lark hung onto him, letting him tow her through the woods. She dragged Ben behind them both, fingers locked in his jacket.

Ben felt
wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Exhaustion? Relief? They’d been driving for three weeks, searching for Lark, only to find her in the middle of nowhere, standing over a dead man and a zombie. When Dillon abruptly stopped, he nearly plowed into them. A harsh sound echoed through the mist and all of a sudden, he could think again.

“More zombies,” Dillon said, tensing. “They’re hunting.”

“Shit,” Ben muttered, easing Lark’s hand from his arm. He kissed her palm, then set her behind him.

“
We can’t stay here,” she said, drawing out the pistol.

Ben was already searching for an exit. Luckily, Dillon had moved them in the direction of their Range Rover.
“We’re not far from the road.”

“
I think the zombies are on the car,” Dillon said, sounding frustrated. “Again.”

“
What is it with your car and zombies?” Lark asked, a hint of amusement riding through the strain in her voice.

“
Fuck if I know,” Dillon said, already moving. When they broke through the trees, the first light of the day lit the faces of four zombies on the car. Their heads moved in unison, like dying flowers, desperate for more light.

Ben shoved Lark behind him, but she didn
’t stay put. She pointed her gun and shot one in the face. It went down, growling as its flesh began to reshape itself back into order. The only thing that killed the monsters was fire or beheading. They all knew that. For some reason, Ben couldn’t move. Dammit. He really needed to get more sleep.

“
Don’t just stand there, cut its head off,” she said, shooting another one. It fell against the door of the car with a thick wet thud.

She shot the third one before Ben
shook himself out of it, and then he was off, running toward the zombies instead of away, like usual. The last uninjured zombie was almost on top of them before he beheaded it with one hard slice of his machete. It felt good. Really good. He didn’t even remember drawing the blade. Dillon was right next to him, taking the head off the first one before it could completely regenerate. The smell of ozone floated on the mist like a toxic perfume. Ben took out another one and Dillon beheaded the fourth. As soon as the bodies vaporized, Ben reached out to Lark. They had to get out of here.

She was looking behind
them, into the trees. “They’re coming.”

“
Get in the car,” Dillon said, dashing for the driver’s side.

She ran. Ben opened the back door, waiting for her to dive inside. Halfway to the road her eyes went wide and she lifted the gun, pointing it
right at him. Ben had a second to figure out that no, she
wasn’t
aiming for him, and then something hit him in the shoulder so hard the world went black.

****

Lark watched the soldier she’d just shot fall to the ground, her heart hammering in her chest. She should’ve known the men from the compound would hear the shots. More would be coming, she was sure. She shoved her weapon into the waist of her leggings, praying it wouldn’t fall out, and grabbed at Ben to keep him from going down. Her hands went red with his blood way too fast. His weight was too much for her and she staggered back against the car.

“
Fuck, Dillon. We’ve got to get him out of here,” she said, hauling on him. The last thing she wanted to do was get mud into his wound, but she didn’t think she’d be able to help it. She yanked on the door and shoved it open, dragging Ben inside. Dillon was suddenly there, helping to get him in the car.

“
Where the fuck did they come from?” he asked her, voice harsh and urgent.

“
They’re the men I escaped from,” she said, ripping open her pack. She pulled out a shirt and shoved it against his shoulder, pressing hard. “He’s bleeding, but it’s already starting to slow down, thank God.”

“
I can patch him up, but we need somewhere safe.” Dillon shut the door and climbed up over them into the driver’s seat. He started the car just as more shots rang out.

“
Fuck!” Lark grabbed her gun and rolled down the window, shooting into the trees. With the rain, she could barely see where she was aiming.

“
How many?” Dillon yelled as he stomped on the gas.

“
How many what?”

“
Men. At the compound. How many are there?” he asked, swerving on the gravel.

Lark bit her lip, thinking.
“There are only eight left. Wait, no, seven.” She’d already taken care of Patrick and the man who’d shot Ben.

“
Will the zombies stay out?” Dillon asked, pushing the car into a hard turn.

“What?” She had no idea what he meant.

“Where are the zombies?”

“I don’t see any more right now,” she cried as he swerved.
Shit, he’s going for the compound,
Lark thought, peering into the trees on the side of the road. The sun was beginning to light the woods. She wedged herself down next to Ben a little further, trying to keep pressure on his wound.

“
Lark! Do they have a fence at the compound?” Dillon yelled, both hands fighting with the wheel. The soldiers hadn’t bothered to maintain the road and it was pitted and rough with tree branches and cracked asphalt.

“
Yeah, there’s a fence,” she replied. Her shoulder hit the back of the front seat, but she hardly noticed. Ben was waking up, not good.

“
Lark?” he asked thickly.

“
Stay down,” she said, pressing on his good shoulder. “You were shot.”

“
Fuck,” Dillon said, slamming on the breaks.

Lark peered up over the seat. Five men stood in the roadway, guns pointed. She didn
’t think they could see her in the backseat.

“
Shoot them,” she whispered.

Dillon tilted his head in acknowledgement of her words, but didn
’t speak.

“
Dillon,” Ben said. Lark shushed him, but he fought off the hand she put to his cheek. Fresh blood seeped through the shirt she held to his wound. He struggled enough that she worried he’d do himself serious harm.

“
Ben, please,” she begged, leaning over him. “You have to lie still.”

He shook his head, face grey with effort.
“Shotgun,” he said, hand lifted to the space between the seat and the door.

Lark
looked where he pointed and her eyes widened as she saw the gun. She glanced up at Dillon. He’d rolled down the driver’s window and was holding up his machete as if that were his only weapon. She knew he had a pistol in his lap. She squirmed down, trying not to jar Ben, and grabbed the shotgun. It was loaded. She swallowed, then slowly eased the muzzle up over the seat. As soon as one of the soldiers came to his window, Dillon ducked and she shot the man point-blank in the chest. The four on the road began firing. The front window shattered and she prayed that Dillon was okay. Ben had his hand around his machete, not that he could move to do anything.

She stared at him until the noise stopped, then swung up and shot another soldier. Dillon took down the other three with his
pistol.

“
Shit,” she muttered, hunting for more shells. She refused to think about what she’d just had to do. Those men would’ve tried to take them alive to feed them to the zombies. “We have to get out of here.”

“
I’m on it,” Dillon said, stomping on the gas. “You okay back there?”

Lark
grabbed two rounds from the floor of the car. She had no idea where the box of ammunition was, but at least she had something. “Get to the compound. You can’t miss it. It’s just at the end of this road.”

“
You said maybe seven men?” Dillon asked.

Lark nodded.
“Two left.” When she looked down, Ben had passed out again. “Fuck. Dillon, hurry. He’s bleeding again.”

“
We’re here,” he said, voice rough. “Keep pressure on the wound.” He stopped the car and opened his door. He’d driven through an open fence and right up to the front of the school.

“
Dillon? Where are you going? There’s two more men out there.” Lark didn’t know what to do. She had to stay with Ben or he’d bleed too much, but the thought of Dillon taking on those soldiers by himself had her freaking out. “Fuck.”

“
I’ll be fine. Here,” he handed her a box of shells. “Shoot first, questions later.”

“
Dillon, wait,” she cried as he walked away. He paused, his dark hair plastered to his face from the rain. A smudge of blood ran down one cheek, fading in the wet as she watched. “I love you,” she said.

He smiled.
“I love you too. Stay alive.” He pivoted and went toward the school.

Lark prayed
harder than she’d ever prayed in her life.
Please God, let us live.

****

Dillon strode across the clearing, ignoring the mud splashing up onto his jeans. The rain hadn’t let up at all. Two men came out of the school, armed to the teeth. He dropped to his knees before they saw him and shot from below. He didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to wonder if they were going to kill him. They had guns. They were pointing them toward the car. Ben was wounded and Lark needed him. He’d be damned if he was going to fail the two people he loved most in the world.

The two men went down,
blood splashing into the wet, and Dillon sprinted forward. He checked the bodies, kicking their weapons out of the way. He glanced back at the car and found Lark scanning the forest, shotgun poised. She impressed him, over and over again. The fence hung open, gates unlatched. From what he could tell, it was kept bolted shut most of the time, but now, chains hung from the posts. He’d have to check for zombies inside before he could help Ben.

Lark got out of the car.

“Lark, no!” he yelled, but she ignored him, running to the gates and dragging them closed. He cursed, but her instincts were good. That wouldn’t stop the zombies, but it could slow them down.