Page 27 of Zinnia and the Zombie
“This is better,” she said, peering into what appeared to be a suite of rooms. “Let’s check all the options before deciding.”
They moved methodically through the floor, exploring each viable space. In the third section they checked, she found a room that made her pause.
“What about this?”
The space was remarkably intact—four walls, a ceiling without major breaches, and what appeared to be the remains of built-in furnishings. Most importantly, it had a solid door.
“This could work,” she said thoughtfully. “We could move our supplies down here, set up a real?—”
A sound cut through her words—a faint mechanical whirring that raised the hair on the back of her neck.
He went completely still, his head tilted slightly. “Movement,” he whispered. “Behind that wall.”
The whirring grew louder, more distinct. Something was approaching—something mechanical.
A metallic form emerged from a shadowed doorway across the room. It resembled a spider, with eight jointed appendages supporting a central body the size of a basketball, but each legwas as tall as she was. Red optical sensors swiveled toward them, locking onto their position.
She froze, paralyzed by the unexpected sight. The spider robot picked its way with astonishing delicacy through the debris cluttering the floor. As it drew closer, she saw what appeared to be cutting tools extending from its forward appendages.
“Stay back!” Jaxx pushed her behind him just as the robot lunged, its cutting appendages whirring menacingly.
He dodged the first attack with preternatural speed, then reached for a length of metal pipe that had fallen from the ceiling and wrenched it free from the debris.
The drone recalibrated, its red sensors tracking his movements, then it scuttled sideways, attempting to circle around him—toward her.
He intercepted it, bringing the metal pipe down on the round center unit. The outer casing cracked but held, and one sharp appendage sliced through the air where his chest had been a split second earlier.
She pressed herself against the wall, heart pounding as she watched. He moved with lethal grace, the golden hue of his skin intensifying, as if his body was channeling energy for the fight.
The robot made a mechanical chittering sound and reared up, exposing its underside. He didn’t hesitate. He drove the pipe upward, piercing the less protected area beneath the central body. The machine emitted a high-pitched whine, its appendages spasming wildly, and Jaxx crushed the optical sensors. The robot collapsed, its appendages twitching briefly before going still.
The entire confrontation had lasted less than thirty seconds.
Before she could catch her breath, he was beside her pulling her into a narrow alcove and pressing her against the wall with his body. Her hands instinctively came up to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingers.
“More may come,” he said urgently. “The noise?—”
They stood frozen, listening intently. His body was tense, his attention focused outward, scanning for threats. She was acutely aware of every point of contact between them—his chest against her palms, his hips against hers, his breath stirring her hair. Her nipples tightened, remembering the way he’d touched her the previous night.
The moment stretched, but no more robots appeared, and his shoulders relaxed, though he didn’t move away.
“I believe we are safe,” he said quietly. “I can’t detect any additional units.”
She tried to focus on his words despite the rising tide of arousal sweeping through her body.
“What was that thing…”
“Some sort of automated security drone, I suspect.”
“Why did it attack us?”
“It considered us a security threat.”
He looked down at her then, and something shifted in his expression. His eyes started to glow as they dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes, a question in their depths.
The air between them seemed charged with electricity. Her heart rate accelerated for reasons entirely unrelated to danger, and her hands flexed against the thickened skin protecting his chest.
“Jaxx,” she whispered, half question, half invitation.
