Page 10 of Zinnia and the Zombie
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice alarmingly weak. “Let’s hope its inhabitants are friendly.”
Inhabitants? Damn. She hadn’t even considered the fact that they’d be facing more aliens.
Another alarm shrieked through the cockpit. This one sounded different—more urgent, more final.
“What now?” she asked.
“Engine failure.” The words were clipped, his energy clearly fading.
“Can we fix it?”
“No time.” His skin had faded to a dull, matte finish, almost like tarnished brass. “Need to… make… emergency landing.”
The ship began to shake violently as they approached the planet’s atmosphere. Warning lights flashed across every functioning panel. The temperature in the cockpit rose dramatically as friction heated their hull.
“Jaxx?” Panic edged into her voice as she gripped his arm tighter.
“Hold on,” he managed as he fought with the controls, trying to force the dying ship into a controlled descent. “Trying to… find… clearing.”
Through the viewport, she could see they were plummeting towards the planet but the ship was spinning too much for her to make out what was below them. Fire streaked past the windows as the atmosphere burned around their hull.
A mechanical voice came over the speakers: “Warning. Critical system failure. Impact imminent.”
Jaxx struggled to keep the nose of the ship up, but his movements were becoming sluggish. The gold of his skin had faded almost completely to a flat, pale champagne.
“Jaxx!”
He turned to look at her, his amethyst eyes dull and unfocused. “Zinnia,” he whispered.
She grabbed his face between her hands. “Stay with me!”
For a moment, color flooded back into his skin where she touched him, but it wasn’t enough. His eyes slid closed, and his hands fell away from the controls. She lunged for them, trying to imitate what he’d been doing, but the ship was still plummeting, the ground rushing up to meet them.
“Warning. Critical system failure. Impact imminent,” the mechanical voice repeated.
“I don’t fucking care!”
Bracing her feet against the edge of her chair, she fought with the controls.
“Come on,” she pleaded. “Hold together. Just a little longer. Please!”
The ship jerked as something broke free, and she cried out in panic. The nose started to dip again, but somehow, she managed to regain control.
“Warning. Critical system failure. Impact imminent.”
“Not. Helping,” she gritted.
Through the viewport, she caught a glimpse of something that looked like a tall spire. The ship clipped the top of it, sending them into a violent spin. She was thrown against her harness, the breath knocked from her lungs.
The last thing she saw before squeezing her eyes shut was Jaxx’s face, peaceful despite their impending crash. His final conscious thought had been of her—she knew it as surely as she knew her own name.
Then the ship collided with the ground with a deafening crash.
CHAPTER SIX
The sudden silence was almost as shocking as the collision. The chaos of rending metal and blaring alarms was replaced by the soft groan of settling debris.
