At the left and right sides of the gate, Julien, Cameron, and Sienna work with brutal efficiency. Julien’s machete rises and falls in a deadly arc. Cameron impales one zombie after another through the eye with his firepoker, kicking the body back as it falls. Sienna ducks beneath grasping arms, driving her cleaver into the base of a zombie’s skull.
“Fuck!” Sienna jumps back as clawed fingers catch her sleeve. “There are too many!”
I turn back to Amelia, tucking a blanket around her. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get to the lodge, and you can rest properly. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” Her fingers close around my wrist. “My medicine—I think it fell out when we were packing.”
My stomach drops. No. No. Why now? “Where?”
“Where I was sleeping.” Her eyes dart toward the church. “I need it, Dakota. You know I can’t?—”
I do know. The new experimental drug she started on three months ago has been the only thing keeping the worst symptoms at bay. Without it, she’ll deteriorate fast.
I glance toward the gate where Julien, Cameron, and Sienna push the car, creating a narrow gap. The bell’s tolling slows. I can make it. I just need to be quick.
“I’ll get it.” I squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry.”
“Hurry,” she whispers.
“I’ll be quick. Promise.” I sprint back inside the church and race down the corridor to the main room.
Our makeshift sleeping area is a mess of discarded blankets and forgotten items. I drop to my knees where Amelia slept, frantically searching through the tangled bedding.
“Come on, come on…”
I crawl on hands and knees, patting down every fold of fabric. The pill case is small. Neon pink plastic with compartments foreach day. It should be easy to find. So why is it not here?! Did it fall out later?
The bell finally stops, leaving behind a ringing silence that weighs on my eardrums.
A step behind me. “Lord. Save my soul.”
I start to twist.
Something hard slams into the back of my skull. Light explodes behind my eyes, then darkness rushes in from the edges of my vision. I crumple forward, my face hitting the carpet.
The world tilts, spins, fragments.
Rough hands grab my wrists, dragging me. My cheek burns with friction. I try to move, to kick, but my limbs won’t respond. Just drifting in and out of consciousness, fragments of sensation reaching me through the haze.
I need to get the pills.
“—cleanse this place—” The words sound as if from a great distance. “—save His subjects for it must?—”
My eyes flutter open. The ceiling spins above me. Stone arches. Stained glass. The chapel? Did I imagine everything?
“The bell calls them.” The reverend’s face swims into focus, his features distorted with religious fervor. “But blood will turn them away.”
The smell of incense.
Cold stone against my back.
Darkness swallows me again, deeper this time.
Seems like I will never dance in the rain.
FOURTEEN
JULIEN
