Page 43 of Ghosts of the Dead

Autumn hasn’t moved. Her lashes tremble like she’s dreaming, and her fingers twitch against her chest where her bandaged wrist rests.

I kneel beside her and drape the blanket over her shoulders, then tuck it around her. I make sure it covers her fully, from her shoulders all the way down to her toes, where I’m reminded we both still need new socks. Maybe that’ll be my next personal scavenging mission.

She murmurs something soft in her sleep, but doesn’t wake.

The shivering stops. I brush a stray lock of purple hair from her forehead, and my fingers linger longer than they should. I can’t stop watching her, noticing every little detail down to the single strand of brown hair she missed when she colored it. Her bandaged wrist rests against her chest with her fingers curled, like she’s bracing herself even in her sleep.

She looks so small like this. Breakable, even. Not weak, because she’s anything but. She’s exhausted and worn thin. It’s going to take a lot more than a blanket to fix that, but at least it’s a start.

I think about kissing her again, stealing one like she stolefrom me while I was asleep. It would be poetic to wake her with a kiss as well. As an experienced sleep-kisser, I can confirm it’s a hell of a way to wake up. Too bad I don’t get the chance.

A scrape. The crunch of gravel. A wet gurgling groan.

I shoot to my feet and spin around in the direction I came from. Figures shamble out of the dark. Three—no, four—rotters, pale and caked with blood, stumble into the firelight. Then more join them. I can’t count how many there are for certain. They keep coming out of the shadows. Their eyes are glazed over and their teeth snap at the air. Their movements are slow and staggered, but they’re a threat, and they’re here in our campsite.

“Shit.” I think the single curse word is more than enough to convey the situation.

The car door slams and Jace bursts out. He swipes the wrench off the ground and jams it into the nearest rotter’s eye socket without hesitation.

“Wake up!” I shout and widen my stance, positioning myself between the rotters and Autumn. She bolts upright, and the blanket slips to her waist. Caspian’s already moving with his blade drawn.

Jace reaches for his knife, then pauses. “Shit, I left my knife back at the train station.” He slams his boot against another rotter’s chest, but it only sinks into brittle ribs. He pulls back, grabs a rock, and smashes it into the skull. “Where did they come from?”

Caspian throws more wood onto the fire, but the flames don’t rise fast enough.

“They must’ve followed me back when I grabbed the blanket.” I shove my knife into a rotter’s skull, all the way to the hilt, then yank it free.

“You brought them back here?” Jace snarls, but he’s already moving, smashing in another rotter’s skull with a sickening crunch.

“I mean, you know, things were getting a little dull here with all your brooding. So I figured, why not throw a little party in the middle of the night?” I send a rotter flying with a roundhouse kick. “No, I didn’t send out invitations, you ass.” I duck and spin around to shove the knife into the back of the rotter’s neck, severing the spinal cord. “So, yeah. I didn’t know I brought them,” I yell back at Jace before moving to retake my place between the rotters and Autumn while she scrambles to her feet, still dazed. Fuck, I should have noticed all these rotters following me back.

The next rotter lunges, and I slash across its throat, pivot, then drive the blade through its temple. It collapses into a twitching mess on the ground.

Caspian dives left and takes down another rotter in a smooth, clean motion.

“No. No. Shit. I don’t have a weapon.” Autumn pats down her pockets and feels around on the ground.

“I’ve got you.” I shift to block her from a rotter, shoving my knife through the eye socket. The rotter falls. I stay close to Autumn. She won’t need to worry about a weapon with me here. I am her weapon.

More rotters tumble into the camp area, and Jace pulls out his pistol, then hesitates. It’s just long enough for me to notice, and that tells me plenty.

“If I fire, the sound will only draw more,” Jace says before shoving the gun back into his holster.

“Great options,” I growl out. “Let’s keep brainstorming, shall we?”

“There are too many,” Caspian pants, ducking away from one rotter only to take another down with a well-placed kick to the head before shoving his knife through the skull.

A rotter gets close to Autumn from the opposite side, but before I can throw myself between them, a blur of fur leaps into the air and takes the rotter down. A German Shepherd sinks her teeth into the rotter’s neck until it stops moving.

What the hell?

When the dog emerges from the shadows, she’s carrying something in her mouth. I do a double-take. It’s a rotter leg, and she’s prancing around with it like it’s the world’s best chew toy. She shakes it once, twice, then drops it with a wet thud when another rotter stumbles too close. Without hesitation, she lunges at this new threat and latches onto its leg, tearing flesh from bone with savage bites.

I can’t help but grin. “Damn. That’s a good dog.”

“Shit. Everyone in the car.” Jace turns toward the car, but it’s already surrounded by rotters. “Never mind.”

Autumn’s voice slices through the chaos. “Cover me.”

---