The kiss is hard and fast, almost bruising in its intensity.
A claiming.
A promise.
And over way too soon.
“Stay close to me,” he whispers against my lips, voice rough.
My heart thunders in my chest. “Always.”
He releases me, strikes a match against the doorframe, and touches it to the torch. The fabric catches instantly, flames leaping up with a whoosh that illuminates the cabin in flickering orange. Heat pulses against my face as I grip the makeshift torch tighter.
“Ready?” Julien asks.
No. Not even close. But I nod anyway.
He opens the door.
Cold night air hits me like a slap. We move onto the porch, Julien slightly ahead of me, his body tense and ready. The wolf zombies are still focused on the other cabin, claws scrabbling against the logs, throaty growls rising into the night.
“Hey!” The man with the rifle calls out, drawing their attention. “Over here!”
All six heads swivel toward him in unison.
“Run!” I shout, waving the torch as we sprint across the clearing.
The wolf zombies hesitate, caught between prey. Two break off from the pack, loping toward the man, while the others drop to all fours, heads swinging between us and the cabin they were attacking.
I reach the man just as the first zombie lunges at him. I thrust the torch forward, flames licking at the creature’s face. It recoils with a high-pitched whine, skittering backward on all fours. And its eyes?—
Calculating. Clear in a way the regular dead aren’t.
The man moves to stand with his back to mine and Julien’s, forming a triangle with the torch at the center. The wolf zombies circle us, growling and snapping, but keeping their distance from the flames.
One zombie, larger than the others with half its face torn away, edges closer despite the flames. It tilts its head, like it’s… studying us?
“They’re smarter than regular zombies,” the man says, rifle trained on the nearest creature. “Don’t?—”
Suddenly, it darts in, snapping its jaws before retreating.
Another one does the same on Julien’s side. He pivots, swinging the machete in a wide arc that catches the creature across its outstretched arm. Black ichor sprays from the wound, and the zombie flinches, limping back.
The larger one—the leader?—makes a series of clicking noises, head cocked at an unnatural angle. The others respond with similar clicks and growls, a macabre conversation taking place before our eyes.
“Are they communicating?” I ask.
“Looks like it,” Julien says, machete raised defensively.
The leader clicks again, more urgently this time. As one, the pack begins to back away, still facing us but creating distance. They move with eerie coordination, retreating toward the gate we entered through earlier.
“That’s new,” the man says, gun still raised.
One by one, they slip through the opening until only the leader remains. It rises to its full height, eyes fixed on us, giving us one last snarl before disappearing after its pack.
As soon as the last zombie fades into the trees, the man breaks from our circle, sprinting toward the gate. He shoves it closed, winding the chain through the metal links and securing it with the padlock. “That should hold them.”
I lower the torch, my arm starting to shake. “What were those things?”
