“Ali?” Reeve said. “What’s going on?”
He nodded readily. Too readily? “The car.”
“I’ll let Ethan explain it later.” We reached a small, round clearing, the sky no longer shielded by the tops of the trees. A big white cloud shaped like a rabbit appeared to be...pulsing. There. Gone. There. Gone. There.
I stopped, stiffened. Smelled nothing I shouldn’t.
Hungry, a voice whispered. So hungry.
Hmm. Smells so good.
Must have.
Want.
Mine. Mine, mine, mine.
The zombies were out, and they were nearby.
“What is it?” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling.
“Kat, Reeve, climb the trees behind you,” I demanded, palming a dagger and a gun. “Now!” I scanned the line of trees in front of us. At the far right, a bush shook, snow dancing to the ground.
A second later, Emma burst through, even though I hadn’t summoned her.
Panic bathed her expression as she ran, her tiny arms pumping quickly at her sides. “They’re coming!” she screamed. “Leave! Alice, leave now! It’s a trap!”
A trap? I couldn’t leave and protect my friends. What was more, I wasn’t going anywhere without my sister. I launched into motion. As I raced, I tried to push my spirit from my body, but Z.A. wrapped her hands around me and anchored me inside.
“Let go,” I screamed at her.
She laughed.
Behind Emma, zombies broke through the thicket.
They were chasing her?
Oh, heck no. She was a spirit. They were spirits.
They would be able to touch her.
Not on my watch.
The closer we drew together, the faster we both pushed ourselves. Then she darted through me, the contact shoving my spirit out of my body, making Z.A. shriek in pain.
I stumbled backward, my body remaining in front of me. The cold should have thickened. Instead, I felt embraced by warmth. I looked back. Emma had finally stopped—in front of Ethan. She swung her fists at him, but no contact was made. He stood beside a tree, his hand resting on the bark. He was unaware of what was happening around him, watching me, his expression grim. The girls were nowhere to be seen. They must have obeyed me and climbed.
I turned back to the zombies, aimed the gun and squeezed the trigger. Boom, boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom!
Bodies fell...only to crawl back up. I threw down the gun, the clip empty, and grabbed a second dagger. The creatures came closer and closer, moving faster than ever before. Almost within reach... For the first time in weeks, those red, evil eyes were utterly focused on me. Eager for a go at me? Oh, yeah. Whatever the reason—had Emma done more than freak out Z.A.?—I was once again a target. I pounced.
My daggers slashed through one throat, two, six, then severed a spine, two, eight, rotted arms continually reaching for me. Blackened teeth chomped at me. At least no other whispers bombarded me. I arched backward, forward, avoiding being grabbed. I turned, stabbed. Turned, stabbed, staying in constant motion, knowing a single moment of hesitation would lose the battle for me.
I swung a zombie in front of me, using him as a shield as I spun around and stabbed his partner in the side. Black goo sprayed in every direction. Then I decapitated my shield.
No one else made a play for me, and I realized a wall of writing bodies had formed, blocking the others.
I climbed out, on alert, and my new targets stalked around me as if pondering the best course of action.
Some were mindless. These were not. And they weren’t just stalking around me, but were inching closer and closer, closing in. I exploded into motion—crap, I’d lost my daggers. I slammed the heel of one hand into the jaw of the zombie on my left, and the heel of the other into the throat of the zombie on my right.
As multiple other arms stretched out, I rolled to the ground, knocking several of the creatures off their feet. Coming up with two new guns, I aimed, fired, aimed, fired, taking no more than a second for each action, but always swinging my arms to ensure that I got the zombies closest to me.
I shot a zombie in the face, and both guns clicked. Out of bullets.
As a new horde approached me, I pressed the button on the side of the handles, causing blades to extend from under the barrel of the guns. Gnarled arms reached for me. I crossed the weapons in front of me and hit two creatures in the temple, twisted, hit two more, twisted, hit two more—
A hard fist slammed into my jaw.
Stupid stars, winking at me. Still I managed to duck, missing a second blow and forcing the zombie behind me to take the brunt of the impact. I straightened, grabbing another zombie, intending to use him as a shield, but his arm detached. I stumbled to the side, my momentum jacked. One of the creatures shackled my wrist and tugged me to the ground. Jerking free, but losing my hold on the weapons, I rolled, once again knocking down several of the zombies.
“Light up!” I shouted.
The smallest of flames flickered across my knuckles, and it was white. Relief speared me.
Footsteps behind me.
I twisted, reached out to brush my fingertips against the zombie closest to me. He didn’t ash, but he did hiss and stumble away from me.
He came back for more, the fool, and I did it again. This time, he batted my hand away, determined. Someone stepped up behind him, stopping him, attaching a metal collar to his neck. He sagged to the ground, motionless.
I looked around, confused.
Hazmats surrounded me, and they were snapping collars on the rest of the zombies.
Realization sent me backpedaling, but I ran into something solid. I turned, already swinging, and nailed a Hazmat in the chin. He stumbled to the side and would have given me a clear shot to my friends, but three other Hazmats took his place.
Before I realized what was happening, a collar was being snapped around my neck, sharp electrical pulses shooting through me. Suddenly I couldn’t move, could barely breathe. Panic filled me, joining the adrenaline rushing through me, and my body wasn’t sure how to react. Keep fighting, or shut down.
“What are you doing?” I heard Kat scream. “Let her go!”
She could see me? The collar, maybe...
Keep fighting. Definitely keep fighting. I tried to stand, but my legs refused to cooperate.
“You want me docile? Leave the girls out of this,” I tried to shout, but only gurgles escaped.
“Ethan?” Reeve gasped. “Help us!”
“You told me you wouldn’t hurt Reeve,” Ethan shouted.
Instant comprehension. He knew the Hazmats, because he was one of them.
He was the spy—no doubts about that now—and he had gotten some of his information from Reeve. When I’d lived with her, she’d known my schedule. The rest he must have gotten by watching me.