Page 34 of Faith Among Monsters

Two more zombies shamble toward us from farther down the hall. One drags a destroyed leg behind it, the limb twisted at an impossible angle. The other looks like it’s been through a shredder, its arm hanging by a strip of flesh, flopping grotesquely with every jerky step.

Wilkes doesn’t hesitate. He fires twice in quick succession.

Both zombies drop, their heads snapping back as blood sprays against the walls.

I open my mouth to say something, but the words are lost in the muffled ringing in my ears.

Wilkes turns to me, his lips moving. I catch the faint edges of his voice. “Stay back.” But I don’t think he really expects me to listen.

He races forward, kicking the zombie off the guard with a brutal stomp before firing a shot into its head. The body jerks once, then goes still.

The guard groans beneath him, clutching at his arm.

Wilkes’s sharp gaze lands on a bite wound, deep, messy, and still bleeding. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. His jaw tightens as he raises the gun.

The guard freezes, his eyes wide with terror. “Wait…”

The shot cracks through the air before he can finish.

The man’s body slumps, lifeless.

I gasp, stumbling back a step as bile rises in my throat.

Wilkes glances at me, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You did good,” he says, his voice rough. He clears his throat awkwardly, like he’s not sure how to say more. “I mean it.”

The words are meant to comfort me, but they don’t settle right. My hands tremble slightly as I grip the pistol, my finger hovering just outside the trigger guard.

More gunfire echoes from farther down the hall.

“Anyone alive?” Wilkes shouts, his voice booming over the noise.

“In here!” a voice answers, sharp and urgent.

Wilkes starts toward the sound, his boots crunching over shards of glass scattered across the floor. I follow close behind, scanning every room we pass.

The rooms blur together, beds soaked in blood, bodies lying motionless in unnatural poses. I force myself to keep moving, but my fingers tighten around the gun as unease claws at my chest.

Any one of them could get back up.

More gunfire echoes ahead, but it feels distant, like I’m moving through a nightmare.

“Where the hell is Dax?” I whisper under my breath, the thought slipping out before I can stop it.

Wilkes glances at me but says nothing, his focus already on the next door.

The screaming down the hall grows louder, sharp and desperate.

Chapter Thirteen

Dax

I release my grip on Doc, watching him sag to the floor like the limp sack of shit he is. My knuckles sting, the tension still buzzing in my veins.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.Half the fucking inmates.He injectedhalf.

“We’re so screwed,” I say, my voice low and sharp. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t expect an answer that’ll make a difference. There’s no undoing this. No way to fix what he’s done.

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