He leads me straight to the rear door, testing the handle. Locked. He curses under his breath, then steps back, driving his boot into the wood near the lock. Once. Twice. On the third kick, the frame splinters and the door swings open, revealing a small herb garden enclosed by a stone wall.
Fresh air hits my face, clean and sweet after the church’s death-smell. I gulp it down, the oxygen clearing some of the fog from my brain.
“See that?” Julien points to a small gate in the rear wall. “That leads to the woods. If we can make it there, we might be able to avoid the main horde.”
“And if we can’t?” I clutch the knife tighter.
His eyes meet mine, grim determination replacing the fear I saw earlier. “We will.”
The back courtyard seems clear, but as we step out, a woman in a waiter’s uniform lurches from behind a garden shed, her throat a ragged hole.
Julien shields me with his body, machete raised. “Stay back.”
She lets out a gurgling cry.
He meets her charge with his blade, arcing through the air to connect with her temple. The woman drops like a stone, limbs twitching once before going still.
“Keep moving.” He wipes the blade on his pants. “Where there’s one?—”
“There’s more,” I finish.
We make it halfway to the gate when two more appear from around the corner of the church. A teenager in a bloodied polo shirt and an older man in coveralls. They spot us immediately, changing direction with single-minded purpose.
“I’ll take them.” Julien positions himself between the approaching dead and me. “Get to the gate.”
“Not without you.” I clutch his arm.
He shoots me a look I can’t interpret. “Together, then. But stay behind me. You’re in no condition to fight.”
The coverall man reaches us first. Julien sidesteps his grasping hands, driving the machete down through the top of his skull.
Meanwhile, the teenager wants to eat me, mouth open in a silent scream. I stumble back, knife raised in shaking hands.
“Fuck.” Julien braces his foot against the corpse to wrench his weapon free. “Aim for the eye!”
The zombie’s fingers catch my sleeve. I twist away, the movement sending fresh pain through my skull, vision blurring. It lunges, and with all the strength I have left, I drive the knife forward, feeling resistance, then a sickening give as the blade sinks deep into its eye socket.
The body drops, dragging me down with it, the knife still embedded in its skull. I land hard on my knees, a scream caught in my throat as the corpse twitches beneath me, one hand still clutching my sleeve.
“Let go,” I whisper, tugging at my arm with increasing desperation. “Please. Let go, let go, let go.”
The dead fingers remain locked around the fabric. I yank harder, panic rising as dark blood seeps from the eye socket, inching toward my skin.
“It’s okay.” Julien pries the dead fingers from my sleeve, tossing the arm aside. “You got him. Good job.”
He laughs as he helps me to my feet. His amusement feels out of place with dead bodies surrounding us and more shuffling our way.
“What?” I sway, steadying myself against his arm.
“Nothing.” His mouth twitches, eyes crinkling at the corners despite the blood and grime coating his face. “You’re gonna kill me if I tell you.”
“Try me.” I tug the knife free from the corpse’s eye socket with a wet squelch that turns my stomach. “After nearly being sacrificed by a psycho priest, I could use a laugh.”
He shakes his head, smile widening. “You were talking to it. ‘Let go, let go.’” His impression of my voice is absurdly high-pitched. “Like you were scolding a dog that stole your shoe. It was cu—funny.”
“I did not sound like that.”
“You absolutely did.” He glances over my shoulder, humor fading as he assesses the situation. “We need to move. Get on my back. It’ll be faster.”
