Page 207 of Romancing in Rot

The first wave slams into the front entrance and bunches there, clawing at the chained doors and half-dropped security gate. Bodies crush against glass. Hands slap against metal. Faces split open against the frame as the horde behind them keeps pushing forward, too hungry and stupid to understand there isn’t enough room to get in.

A horn blares behind us.

I look back.

A maroon Highlander barrels down the street straight at the mall, engine screaming, front end wobbling like the whole thing is held together by duct tape and bad intentions. One of my little specials is strapped to the hood beneath a nest of wire, tape, and ugly metal casing, Lyla’s detonator tucked into the bundle like the world’s worst bow.

Carlos is behind the wheel.

Joanie is hanging halfway out the passenger window like a deranged parade marshal.

“This way, trauma survivors!” she screams at the undead. “Free buffet and emotional closure!”

The horde turns toward the Highlander. Carlos holds the wheel steady, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the blocked entrance. At the last second, he cuts toward the empty lane beside the curb and slows just enough that jumping might only break something instead of kill them.

“Carlos!” I yell, even though there is no way he can hear me over the music, horns, and hundreds of dead feet slapping pavement.

Joanie disappears back inside the car. A second later, both front doors fly open.

They jump.

Carlos rolls hard across the pavement, shoulder first, then flips onto his back. Joanie hits a second later, less graceful and more angry starfish, skidding through broken glass with a shriek that sounds mostly offended.

The Highlander keeps going.

Straight into the mall’s front doors.

Metal screams.

Glass spiderwebs.

For one impossible second, the whole entrance bows inward but doesn’t give.

Then I hit the detonator.

The explosion punches the air from my lungs.

Fire blooms orange and white across the doorway. Glass bursts outward in a glittering wave. The chained doors rip free, the security gate buckles, and the barricade behind it blows apart in a storm of metal, plastic, and burning debris.

Infected closest to the blast come apart instantly, limbs pinwheeling through the air. One torso slaps against a concrete pillar and slides down without its head.

The opening is wide now.

The horde surges in.

Carlos staggers to his feet, blood running from his forehead. Joanie pops up beside him, one sleeve torn and a chunk of glass stuck in her hair.

She throws both arms up. “Sadie!”

Carlos grabs her by the back of her jacket and hauls her toward the truck. “Mourn later!”

Leon half-drags me toward the far curb where his truck waits with Edith behind the wheel, engine running. Wesker is in the front passenger seat, barking his fool head off while Luis and Poppy crouch in the back seat.

Edith leans across to shove the rear door open. “Get in!”

Leon boosts me into the back seat first. I land on the bench with a pained grunt. A heartbeat later, Poppy throws herself at me from the floorboard.

“Mom!”