Page 36 of Ghosts of the Dead

It sinks its teeth into the man’s cheek. His scream is animal, guttural. He thrashes, but it was already over the moment the rotter broke skin.

Jace jumps back and yanks me behind him. I stumble, frozen in horror, while I watch the nightmare before me.

Blood sprays across the tile and into the crevices of the wall. Choked gargling takes the place of words. Screams transform into wet gurgles.

“Do something,” I gasp, voice shaking.

Jace doesn’t move. He stands there, blade at his side, and eyes hollow while he watches the scene unfold. He doesn’t take his eyes off the horror in front of him, not even to blink.

Only when the screaming stops does he move. One clean thrust of the blade through the rotter’s skull and it collapses.

I stare at him in disbelief. “Why did you wait so long? You could have saved him.”

“He was already turning while the rotter was eating him. There was no further questioning I could have done.”

“You don’t know that,” I argue, even though I know it’s true.

Jace turns to me and his gaze meets mine. His eyes are empty, colder than I’ve ever seen on anyone before. A shiver runs down my spine, punctuated by the chill in his voice. “He was already a dead man the second he pointed a gun at you.”

13

JACE

The rotter collapses in a twitching heap with my knife still buried deep in its skull. It jerks once, then goes still. Blood spreads beneath what’s left of the man it tore apart, if it can still be called a man. What’s left is pulp and ruin. Torn muscle. Shattered bone. No face anymore. A pile of meat with flies already buzzing around the carcass.

Autumn doesn’t move. She stands frozen beside me. Her face is pale and her eyes wide and locked on the carnage. Her breath comes fast and shallow.

She looks at me. “Why did you wait so long? You could have saved him.”

“He was already a dead man the second he pointed that gun at you.” My voice sounds distant and detached, even to me, but the words betray how she’s been getting under my skin with each moment I’m with her, and unraveling pieces I thought were long buried.

I don’t know why the hell I paired us together. Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe I wanted to stay in her light a little longer. Even if it burns.

The scrape of shuffling feet cuts through the silence and echoes through the long tunnel.

Shit.

“Move,” I growl out.

Autumn jerks into motion and we sprint through the cavernous train station with our boots slapping across broken tile and scattered gravel. The rotter’s moans echo behind us. I grab her good hand and yank her toward the terminal exit, but another group of rotters pours from the tunnel access on the left. It becomes a sea of gray skin, open mouths, and empty eyes barricading us in.

“Left,” I snap. That bastard’s gun going off attracted far more attention than I feared.

We veer hard into a dim hallway, dodging scattered glass, random limbs, and twisted metal. The lights overhead flicker, casting everything in jittering shadows. Autumn stumbles once and her palm slips in mine, but I squeeze tighter. No way in hell I’m letting go. I’ll carry her the whole damn way if I have to.

Another rotter bursts from a side door. I react on instinct and slam it against the wall before driving my blade into its skull. The sound of bone crunching fills the corridor. Something sparks behind the rotter and I glance up to see a busted electrical panel with exposed wires. The short circuit flares.

Shit.

There’s a blinding flash and the sharp pop of electric fire. It’s small and flickers out within seconds, but still. The heat, the scent, and the crackling hiss crawl down my spine with the memories it brings.

“Wait,” Autumn says with a stop so abrupt she nearly yanks my arm from its socket. Her eyes fix on the sparking panel, then they dart to a red emergency box mounted on the wall. “I have an idea.”

“Autumn, we don’t have time?—”

But she’s already moving. She rips open the emergency box and yanks out what looks like an old flare. “This wholeplace is falling apart. Gas lines, electrical, it’s a powder keg waiting to blow.” She grins, and there’s something wild and brilliant in her eyes. “All we need is to give it a little encouragement.”

She strikes the flare against the rough concrete. It hisses to life, bathing us in a red light.

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