Page 173 of My Undead Love Life

Luck’s posture immediately became more dramatic. “Sofia said I’d keep it.”

“She also told you not to put too much weight on it.”

Luck gestured toward the woods with his shovel. “Would you prefer I levitate?”

Oxi glanced at him. “I would prefer that immensely.”

“Same,” I said.

Luck looked over his shoulder at us. “No support from my family. Tragic.”

I snickered, and warmth flooded my heart at the word family.

Keith’s hand brushed mine as we stepped over a fallen branch. Oxi steadied my elbow when my boot sank deeper than expected into the snow. Mad looked back every few minutes to confirm we were all still moving. Luck kept talking, and it helped pass the time.

We were almost home.

Through the thin lattice of bare winter trees, something moved ahead. I stopped so suddenly Oxi nearly bumped into me.

My hand tightened around the hilt of my katana before I drew it in one smooth motion. The blade slipped free with a soft, unmistakable hiss that seemed too loud in the dead woods. Keith swung his M4 off his back. Luck raised his pistol. Mad lifted one hand in front of us, signaling for everyone to stop while his other gripped the handle of his axe. Oxi pulled the sword from his cane’s sheath, green eyes fixed on the movement between the trees.

For several seconds, we saw only fragments. There was a dark coat and the flash of a face. The crunching sounds of human boots stepping over snow.

My pulse began beating harder. They weren’t undead. Seven figures emerged fully onto the path ahead of us.

Five men and two women stood in a loose semicircle between the trees. They wore mismatched winter gear and carried an assortment of weapons. Two rifles. A revolver. Several knives. One hatchet. Their clothes were worn, but not falling apart. Their cheeks weren’t hollow, and their packs looked heavy.

They were fully alive, armed, and positioned directly across our route.

“Shit,” Luck muttered.

The wind moved through the branches above us, making them groan softly.

One of the men stepped forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a heavy brown coat and a dark beard crusted with ice near his mouth. A rifle hung across his back, but his hands remained empty and far too relaxed.

“Well, look at this,” he called, voice carrying easily through the trees. “Didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

My grip tightened on the katana.

We rarely saw other survivors. Before reaching the mall, months had passed without us finding anyone alive outside the Oasis. Now we had encountered Sofia, Frank and Jan’s group, the cult over the radio, and these people. Too many too close together. And far too close to the Oasis.

Keith shifted closer until his arm brushed mine. “Neither did we.”

The man grinned, but it wasn’t friendly.

One of the women stepped forward next. Her coat was open despite the cold, exposing several knives strapped across her chest. Her gaze dragged slowly over my men, lingering on each of them with an interest that made my skin crawl. “Drifting?” she asked.

I scowled.

“Passing through,” Mad answered gruffly.

“Through where?” another man pressed. He stepped slightly to the left.

A second person shifted on the right. They were widening the semicircle.

“No specific direction,” Luck said lightly. “Just surviving. You know how it is.”

The tall man’s gaze dropped to Luck’s pistol, then Mad’s axe, then my sword. “Sure.”