“Or us.”
He positions himself between me and the door, machete raised. We wait, muscles coiled tight as springs. Its shadow is visible beneath the door crack as it sniffs along the threshold.
A high-pitched scream shatters the silence. One that sounds like a… child.
My stomach drops to my feet.
Howls sound from the clearing, answered by several more. The shadow beneath our door disappears, bolting toward the source of the scream.
“There are kids here?” I rush back to the window.
The pack of wolf zombies converges on another smaller cabin down the hill on the other side. Wood groans as they throw themselves against it, claws raking down the logs. Another scream joins the first, a woman’s this time, and my heart races.
“We have to help them.” I move toward the door.
Julien catches my arm. “Those things will tear us apart before we get halfway.”
I stare at him. They look like wolves. They definitely howl like ones. They move in a pack. “What are wolves afraid of?”
“What?”
“Regular wolves. What scares them?”
His eyes narrow, understanding dawning. “You want to?—”
“Fire.” I turn toward the fireplace, where embers still glow orange in the darkness. “Torches. Anything big enough to keep them at bay.”
I cross to the hearth and grab one of the longer firewood logs, partially burned at one end.
Julien moves to the kitchenette, rummaging through drawers. “Cooking oil or alcohol should work. Stay here.” He disappears while I check the window again.
The man from the other cabin has emerged, a hunting rifle clutched in his hands. He moves cautiously along the tree line, trying to circle toward the cabin under attack, not yet attracting the wolf zombies’ attention.
“Hurry,” I call softly. “That guy’s trying to help them.”
Julien returns with another towel and a plastic bottle. “Rubbing alcohol.”
“Perfect.” I help him wrap it tightly around the end of the log.
His hands work quickly. “You realize we’re betting our lives on the hope that these things behave like actual wolves.” He pours the alcohol over the wrapped fabric.
“Got a better idea?”
His mouth twitches. “No.”
I glance out the window again. The man with the rifle has moved closer to the besieged cabin, but one of the zombies has noticed him, head lifting to track his movement.
“He’s going to get himself killed,” I say. “We need to go now.”
Julien finishes the torch, handing it to me along with my knife. “Here.”
“What about you?”
He points to his machete. “I’ll manage.”
We move toward the door, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Three steps in, Julien pivots.
I barely have time to register the movement before his hand is in my hair, tilting my head back, and his mouth crashes against mine.
