Page 54 of Once Upon an Apocalypse

“Crossbows and bats aren’t going to keep a horde from biting, ripping, scratching us to shreds. Amos, you could die from the smallest scratch. I’m not taking that chance. If you want to know if there are any survivors, I’ll go.”

That gets his attention. Amos snaps his head around to glare at me. “And you think I’m willing to take that chance on you? Fuck that. We do this together.”

“But Amos, I can take on any zombie and come out alive.”

“Until the day you don’t. No, Lori. I will not let you go out there alone, not knowing if something happened to you. What if Dr. Tuwile’s men are out there waiting for you?”

That icy dread is back, spreading like wildfire, ready to suffocate my lungs. Am I ready to take on humans? I’ve killed the living before when Doctore had put me in the arena with anyone who broke his rules. I should have found a way around death. I should have convinced them to fight with me and not against me. But I was living for one reason.Fight.Survive. Live.

Now? I’ve been given a chance at humanity again. A chance at life. I don’t want to tarnish that. But I need to survive. Amos and I need to survive together.

“Have you ever killed before? A living person?” I ask Amos.

He looks down in shame as he says, “Yes.”

I reach out and cover his hand in mine. “So have I. It’s not something I intend to do again unless I have to. And if Doctore’s men are waiting for me in those woods. I will slaughter every last one of them. I will not let them get you. I will not go back there.”

The gold flecks in Amos’ eyes shine bright in something that feels like admiration, desire, fear? I’m not sure. But I know I would kill to protect this man as he would do for me. We are in this hellish world together. We will fight to stay alive together.

“Okay. We both go in. But we need a plan if shit hits the fan.”

Amos’ face loosens into a laugh. “Do you have a plan already, Copperhead, or should I think of one for you?”

I punch him lightly on the shoulder and think for a minute. “When we exit the car, lock the doors immediately and keep the key fob in your left hand. At all times. What weapons do we have?”

My developing plan is interrupted as I had forgotten about the weapons that Amos mentioned. He turns toward the backseat and grabs one of the duffle bags Jeremy and Anna loaded into our car.

Guns. Lots of guns. We’d only practiced with paint guns at The Valley so as to not waste precious ammunition, but I didn’t think we had a cache of real guns. I twist around so I’m kneeling on the car seat facing the back of the car and gently pick up a rifle, testing the weight of it in my hand and nod. I pull some twine out of a side pocket of the duffle and ask for the key fob. Placing the rifle on the backseat, I grab the key fob from Amos’ outstretched hand and thread the twine inside the keychain hole of the fob. Before I tie the end of the twine, I turn myself toward Amos.

“We are not going to be those stupid people in a horror movie who drop the keys to the car, okay?”

Amos chuckles as I lean over the center console to tie the twine around his neck. With the key fob securely in place around Amos, I place my hands on his wide shoulders and give his cheek a gentle kiss before sitting back down on my seat to tell him the rest of my plan.

Ten minutes later, my hair is tied back in a braid. Amos and I have our guns loaded, each of us carrying a rifle ready to fire and a handgun safely tucked into holsters. Since I’m wearing yoga pants, the belt of my holster is fastened across my torso. As I demanded, Amos locks the doors of the car behind us and we walk toward the woods.

Going into an unknown battle was the norm for me in the four years I was held captive at Novus Seclorum, Doctore’s bunker. This time, it’s different. I’m armed. I’m ready to fight. And I have someone by my side. I breathe in deeply, keeping my adrenaline from pumping too loudly in my ears. As I breathe out, Amos and I take a step into the woods.

The trees surround us after a few minutes of walking and I have to remind myself of my plan. Walk straight, don’t look back, count your steps. Amos and I put a few feet of distance between each other, but no more than three. We will always be a step away from each other. Another one of my rules for this stupid mission into the unknown woods to investigate if there are any survivors from that crash. My gut tells me there are none. And if there are survivors, they are no longer alive.

But Amos needs to know. He needs to see for himself. He needs to do everything he can to make sure there is nothing he could do to help. We agreed to only go a mile in, no further. I’m just hoping he keeps his promise.

Keeping my mind focused on this mission, I scan the surrounding trees and push out unwanted thoughts from clouding my hearing. I have never been this aware of my body. Even my skin is on high alert. My bones and muscles are ready to move on their own, without my brain making commands.

Amos puts up a fist, signaling me to halt beside him. We’ve walked 156 steps, a little more than the length of a football field. A doable distance to sprint. While Amos scans the woods to the right, I turn my head to the left. About ten feet away I see a lone boot, no body attached to it. I focus on the trees and bushes around the boot until my eyes fall on a hunched figure. It’s leaning over something.

Reaching my right hand back, I tap Amos on the arm twice, our silent signal for “warning” then grab hold of my rifle, sliding it into place. I turn left, careful not to lose direction of where our car is parked. Amos follows close behind, three feet to my right.

The sound of sucking and chewing makes my stomach churn. Breathing in deeply allows me to ground myself in this moment. Breathing out washes away the fear that threatens to freeze me in place again. As the figure comes into full view, I can now see what it’s hunched over. The zombie is feasting on a fresh corpse, likely one of the survivors from the car crash.

Amos confirms my theory in a whisper. “That’s Earl. He’s one of the leaders of The Manor House.” Then, without warning, Amos fires two shots. One in the zombie’s head, and the other smack in the middle of Earl’s forehead.

We both have suppressors on our rifles to muffle the sound, but I’m still pissed he took that chance. Sometimes people act impulsively, even if they have mastered self-control. As I feared, the shots are loud enough for the surrounding zombies to make themselves known. It’s like they were waiting for the best opportunity to strike, leaving us with few seconds to react.

“Run,” I say loud enough for Amos to hear me and pivot my body to the left.

Sprinting at full speed, we make it to the edge of the woods in thirty seconds. As instructed in my exit plan, Amos pushes the button on the key fob, opening the trunk. We speed up our pace, desperate to outrun the freshies hot on our tales. My skin crawls with the closeness, imagining their breath and rotten teeth. Amos jumps in the trunk, not waiting for me—as instructed—then spins around, aims his rifle over my shoulder and shoots.

A gentle spray of something slimy hits the back of my neck. As I jump into the trunk, I turn my body and start shooting at anything that moves. The trunk closes with both Amos and me safely inside, keeping aim at the last of the horde. We don’t drop our aim until we hear the lock slide into place.

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