Breathless, chests heaving, Willow and I collapsed shoulder to shoulder, her hand fumbling for mine, and for long several moments we merely surveyed the scene around us—body parts strewn over the concrete and surrounding grassy areas, everything covered in varying colors of muck and gore.
“You good?” I wheezed.
“Uh-huh,” she replied tightly, equally out of breath. “You?”
“Me? I’m fucking great. It’s a beautiful day—I’ve got a beautiful girl.” Squeezing her hand, I smirked at her. “What could possibly be wrong?”
Despite the hellish landscape and her clear exhaustion, Willow began to laugh. “Logan, did you just make a joke in the middle of a life-or-death crisis?”
“Nope. At the end of a life-or-death crisis.”
Still smiling, she gave me a long, heavy-lidded look that made my entire body jerk to attention. “You shouldnot jokemore often. It’s kinda hot.”
Brows raised, I grinned at her. “Yeah? How hot? On a scale of one to you need me naked?”
“You need a minute off in them trees, lovebirds?” Britta sauntered toward us, holding a long-handled sword in each hand, both blades dripping with innards. Grinning, she tilted her face to the sky and inhaled. “Lawd, I sure do love the smell of death in the mornin’!”
“Woman, you’re straight fuckin’ nuts.” Davey staggered up a steep incline, his jacket torn and covered in dark spots. At the sight of him, Willow gasped.
“Davey, you bit?” Britta’s swords clattered to the ground as she rushed Davey, fumbling with his jacket. “Where ya hurt?”
“Nah, nah, everything’s fine.” Davey waved her off. “Fell down the embankment and fought with a tree stump at the bottom, is all.”
Britta sent her fist into Davey’s shoulder. “Goddang it, Davey-cakes, you fuckin’ scared me.” In response, Davey shoved her sideways, forcing her to hop over several bodies. “Y’all, it’s Dead Head hopscotch!” Laughing, she continued hopping over fallen Creepers.
“Hold up now…” Davey glanced at each of us before turning in a slow circle. “Where’s Joey?”
“I seen him down the road a bit.” Britta pointed a sword in the direction of the horde. “But that was back when we was still fightin’ by the trucks.”
“Last I saw, he’d been over there,” I said, pointing to the tree line.
We were all turning in circles now, looking up and down the long stretch of gory road, taking turns calling out Joe’s name.
Britta cocked her head to one side. “Hush now. Y’all hear that…?”
Everyone quieted, our gazes on the tree line where the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves crushing underfoot could be heard.
“What is that?” Willow asked quietly, glancing at me. Ears straining, I merely shook my head in reply.
“Whatever it is, it’s about to meet the end of my sword!” Brita grinned. “Come out, come out, whatever you are—”
A figure suddenly broke through the tree line. “Shut up and run!” Joe shouted, waving frantically. “Run, get to the trucks! There’s another horde! They’re right behind me!”
The trees had already begun to move—swaying as if they too wanted to get as far away from the approaching doom. Then the eerie, inharmonious moans of the dead came rushing up through the undulating trees, echoing up and down the otherwise quiet highway.
“Holy shit,” Willow breathed, her hand tightening around mine. “Logan, look. They’re everywhere.”
Up and down either side of the highway, Creepers were spilling out of the woods, stumbling out from behind trees at a rapid rate, one after another after another.
“I think they doubled back from up ahead,” Joe gasped, as the five of us banded together in the center of the road. “Either that or they were lagging way behind the first group. And all that noise we were making—we called ‘em straight to us.”
“We gotta get back to the trucks,” Davey ground out. “We can’t let ‘em head toward camp. We gotta lead ‘em north.”
“We’ll be fightin’ our way back to them trucks.” Britta, both swords in hand, leaped from our small circle to neatly cleave the heads off the first approaching Creepers.
“You got another idea?” Davey asked, as Britta reclaimed her place in our group.
“Nope,” Britta said. “Fightin’ it is—y’all ready for round two?”
