“Yeah.” I nod, immediately regretting the movement. “Put me down.”
He hesitates, studying my face. “You sure?”
“Yes.” I press my palms against his chest. “I’m not helpless.”
After a beat, he slowly lowers my feet to the floor, keeping one arm firmly around my waist. My knees buckle, and I clutch his shirt to stay upright.
“Clearly not helpless at all,” he mutters.
“Just give me a second.” I take a deep breath, willing the room to stop spinning. “I’m fine.”
“You say that word too much.”
“What word?”
“Fine.” He practically spits it out. “Nothing about this is fine.”
A thunderous crash echoes from the front of the church, followed by the sound of splintering wood. My heart leaps into my throat.
“They’re through the first door.” He reaches around his back and hands me a knife. “We need to move. Now.”
The blade gleams dully in the candlelight, its edge smeared with—Is that my blood? My stomach turns.
“Better than nothing,” he says.
I wrap my fingers around the handle, trying to ignore the slickness. “Thanks.”
He reaches for his machete. “I’d give you this, but I have a feeling you’d kill yourself with it before you killed a zombie.”
“Probably.” My laugh comes out shaky. “I barely passed home ec. Sharp objects aren’t my forte.”
“Stay close.” His free hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. “Back entrance. Through the sacristy.”
I take a step and immediately sway, the floor tilting beneath my feet. Julien catches me.
“Sorry.” I fight another wave of nausea. I can’t be a burden. “Reverend hit me harder than I thought. I’ll be f?—”
His face darkens. “If he wasn’t already dead…”
Another crash comes from the front of the church, and the distant sound of shuffling feet and hungry moans fills the corridor.
“Back entrance.” I force my feet to move. “Lead the way.”
We slip through the chapel doorway, turning away from the main entrance. Julien keeps me close, one arm around my waist, the other holding the machete ready. I grit my teeth and keep moving. The knife feels heavy and awkward in my hand, but I clutch it like a lifeline.
“Through here.” Julien guides me toward a small wooden door half-hidden behind a tapestry. “Sacristy first, then out the back.”
He opens the door, revealing a small chamber filled with robes and liturgical vessels. The space smells of incense and dust, undisturbed by the chaos outside. We cross it quickly, emerging into a narrow service corridor.
“How do you know this place so well?” My breaths come faster as we pick up the pace.
“Mapped it when we arrived.” His eyes never stop moving, scanning ahead and behind us. “Always know your exits.”
The moaning grows louder, echoing down the hallway behind us.
“How many?” I whisper.
“Too many.” His fingers tighten around mine. “Don’t look back.”
