Page 48 of Zinnia and the Zombie
“Always,” he agreed, tightening his arm around her. The word encompassed far more than this single battle—it was an acknowledgment of how essential she had become to his existence.
They stood together in the aftermath of violence, the bodies of their enemies lying broken on stones that had witnessed the rise and fall of an entire civilization. He felt the weight of that history now, alongside the weight of his own. So much loss. So much destruction.
But Zinnia was warm against him, her heartbeat strong and steady where their bodies touched. A future, not just a past.
Slowly, he turned to look at the fallen Grorn. The priest’s face was frozen in an expression of shocked outrage, his uniform stained with blood. The acolyte lay sprawled nearby, the fanatical light in his eyes extinguished forever.
“Do you realize what this means?” he asked quietly, his gaze shifting from the dead Grorn to the center of the city where their ship had landed.
She followed his gaze, understanding immediately dawning in her eyes. “The ship,” she breathed. “Their ship is…”
“Ours,” he finished. “Our ticket off this planet.”
Excitement flickered across her features, quickly followed by uncertainty. She looked around at the plaza, at the towering buildings that had become their sanctuary. Her gaze lingered on the distant rooftop where their garden flourished.
“We’ve made a home here,” she said softly.
He understood her hesitation. This ruined city had given them shelter, food, and the precious gift of time together without pursuit or danger. It had witnessed their coming together, held their laughter and their passion. In some ways, it had become more of a home to him than any place he’d ever been.
But it was also a dead end—a beautiful cage. The Grorn had found them once; others might follow. And somewhere out there might be answers about his people, about why the Grorn had hunted him so relentlessly.
“We can make another home,” he said gently. “Somewhere safer. But I need to find out if any of my people survived. To find out why the Grorn were hunting me.”
She nodded, and smiled up at him. “Time to leave,” she agreed.
Relief washed through him. He hadn’t wanted to force the choice on her, knowing how much stability meant to a female who had known so little of it. That she chose their future together over the safety of what they’d built here filled him with pride.
“We should take whatever we can carry,” he said, practical considerations taking precedence now that the decision was made. “Food, clothing, any useful tools or weapons. The ship will have provisions but I suspect we would prefer to limit our contact with what they left behind as much as possible.”
She nodded, her mind already working through the logistics. “The garden first. We can fill those storage containers we found with fruits and vegetables.”
He smiled down at her affectionately. Even faced with leaving the safety they’d established, she was thinking ahead. Not for the first time, he marveled at the quiet strength that ran through her like a vein of precious metal.
“I’ll need to check the bodies,” he added, more gently. “They may have communication devices or weapons we can use.”
She flinched slightly at the reminder of the violence, but nodded. “I’ll start gathering our things. Meet you back at the apartment in an hour?”
He caught her hand before she could turn away, bringing it to his lips. “Be careful,” he said against her skin. “There may be more security drones active now that the systems are disturbed.”
“I will.” She smiled, some of her natural warmth returning. “Don’t take too long.”
He watched her go, climbing the steps towards their building with determined strides. Only when she was safely inside did he turn his attention back to the fallen Grorn.
The search of their bodies yielded more than he’d hoped for. Both carried standard-issue Grorn pulse weapons—brutal, efficient tools designed for close-quarters combat. The priest also carried a communications device, still active, which would allow them to enter the ship without setting off an alarm.
Most valuable, however, was what he found in the priest’s inner pocket: a small data crystal, glowing with faint internal light. He recognized the technology instantly—Zathix in origin, notGrorn. It was a storage device, one that his own people used to record important information.
His hand closed around it, a chill running down his spine despite the warmth of the morning. Why would a Grorn priest be carrying Zathix technology? What information could be so valuable that he would keep it on his person rather than in the ship’s database?
The questions multiplied, each more disturbing than the last. But answers would have to wait until they were safely away from this planet.
He pocketed the crystal and the communications device, then gathered the weapons. The bodies he left where they had fallen. Let the city reclaim them as it had reclaimed its original inhabitants.
As he climbed the steps toward their apartment, he felt a curious mixture of emotions. Even though he was eager to resume his search, he would regret leaving this place that had sheltered them. And what might they discover about the fate of his people? But beneath it all ran a current of fierce determination.
He would protect Zinnia with every fiber of his being, and make sure she was safe and happy as they sought answers about his past.
The thought steadied him as he reached their apartment. Inside, he found her efficiently packing their few possessions. She looked up as he entered, a question in her eyes.
