Page 151 of Romancing in Rot

I take the closest infected with an arrow through the throat. It keeps coming, choking around the shaft, black spit bubbling between its teeth. I yank the hatchet from my thigh and bury the blade in its skull. Bone gives with a wet crunch, and the body folds against me before sliding off the steel.

Another shot cracks from the oak.

Then another.

Then silence falls in a strange, uneven wave.

No groans. No gunfire. Just breathing.

Heavy. Ragged. Alive.

I lower my bow.

Bodies litter the clearing, tangled in the dirt between vehicles, stakes, and supply crates. Smoke drifts from gun barrels. Blood drips from the wooden barricades in thick black strings. Someone’s can of peaches lies crushed near my boot, syrup leaking into the dirt like blood.

I turn toward the oak.

Clair is already climbing down.

Not slowly.

Oh, she’s pissed.

Her boots hit the ground, and she storms toward me with the rifle still in one hand, hair loose around her face, cheeks flushed, eyes bright enough to burn me alive.

Beautiful.

Dangerous thought, considering she might actually murder me.

She reaches me and shoves both hands against my chest.

“What the hell was that?” she snaps.

I blink at her.

She shoves me again. “Do not give me the silent, innocent thing. I know exactly what you did.” Clair points at me, finger nearly touching my chest. “You stood there. In the middle of them. Like a lunatic.”

I glance at the bodies.

Then back at her.

She’s shaking. Not from fear. From adrenaline. From anger. From being forced to feel how close that could have been.

I don’t regret it.

Not when her rifle is still warm in her hand. Not when so many infected are dead because of her. Not when she stood above camp like a damn avenging angel and owned every shot.

A groan scrapes behind her.

One infected drags itself from beneath Max’s bumper, one of Poppy’s arrows buried in its back, fingers clawing through the dirt toward Clair’s ankle.

My hand goes for my hatchet.

Clair doesn’t even turn all the way.

She spins, raises the rifle, and fires.

The corpse drops.