Page 152 of Romancing in Rot

Then she moves.

One near the firepit. Gone.

One pinned beneath a crate, mouth opening around a broken snarl. Gone.

Another crawling from behind Bessy, jaw snapping at empty air.

Clair reloads with steady hands, curses under her breath, and drops it clean.

Camp goes silent again.

Clair turns back to me, chest heaving, rifle still braced in her hands like she’s ready for the next stupid thing to move. Blood flecks one cheek. She looks wild.

I probably do too.

I can’t help it.

I lift one hand, lick the pad of my thumb, and swipe a quick tally mark through the air.

Then I smile.

She looks like she might hit me again.

I lift my hands and sign.

Jacob points at me. “He says, ‘I will always trust you to have my back.’ ”

Lyla, standing beside him, gives me two thumbs up.

Clair’s glare flickers.

Jacob keeps going for me. “ ‘You won’t fail to protect me. Same way I won’t fail to protect you.’ ”

Such a good wingman.

Clair looks back at me. “You’re still an idiot.”

I nod. Absolutely.

Her mouth trembles. Then she steps into me, grabs the front of my shirt, and kisses me hard.

The camp erupts around us.

Joanie groans, “Can we not do this next to the festering bodies?”

Clair breaks the kiss on a laugh, forehead dropping against my chest.

Then the wind shifts.

The reek hits harder.

Blood. Rot. Burned powder. Split guts cooling in the dirt.

I lift my head toward the trees.

The trap line caught them. The barricades slowed them. But that many infected should not have moved this close without us hearing them sooner. They came in a cluster, too fresh, too fast, all from the same direction.

Not wandering.