The cabin's in sight when two zombies lurch out from behind my workshop, cutting us off. Ruby fires, dropping one, but her pistol clicks empty. The second zombie lunges for her.
I don't think, just react. I slam into the thing with my shoulder, knocking it sideways, then bring my axe down on its skull. It drops like a puppet with cut strings.
"You good?" I ask Ruby.
"Yeah. You?"
"Fine."
Movement to my left. Another zombie, this one fast, already too close. I twist, trying to bring my axe around, but I know I won't make it in time.
Ruby's knife flies past my ear, burying itself in the zombie's eye socket. It collapses inches from me.
For a frozen moment, we just stare at each other, both breathing hard, both realizing how close that was. Then I grab her hand and we sprint the last thirty feet to the cabin.
Inside, I slam the door and throw the bar across, listening to the moans outside. Not many—the storm will slow them down, maybe drive them elsewhere. But enough that we need to stay vigilant.
Ruby's leaning against the wall, her chest heaving, face flushed from exertion and adrenaline. There's zombie blood on herjacket and her hair's come loose from its tie, falling around her face in waves.
I'm suddenly, acutely aware of how close she is. How good she was out there, how she didn't freeze or panic, how she watched my back without being asked. How alive she looks, with her eyes bright and her pulse visible in the hollow of her throat.
"That was close," she says.
"Too close."
"You saved my life. That thing would've killed me."
"You saved mine first. With the knife throw."
"So we're even."
"I guess we are."
We're still standing close, too close, and the air between us feels charged with more than just post-battle adrenaline. Her eyes drop to my mouth, then back up, and I can see the same awareness in her expression that's currently making my pulse race.
I should step back. Should put distance between us. She's leaving in a week, and getting involved is the last thing either of us needs.
But I don't move. Neither does she.
"Mayson," she says softly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For coming with me. For having my back out there."
"Seemed like the right thing to do."
"Still. Not many people would've done it."
She's so close I can smell the cold on her skin mixed with fear-sweat and determination. My hand comes up without conscious thought, almost touches her face, almost…
I pull back, stepping away deliberately. "You should shower. Get the blood off. I'll keep watch."
She nods slowly. "Yeah. Right. Good idea."
She disappears into the bathroom, and I lean against the door, listening to the zombies outside and trying to ignore the sound of water running and the knowledge that Ruby's in there, naked, just a few feet away.
three
