Apocalipstick (Hell in a Handbag Book 1) by Lisa Acerbo (the best e book reader txt) 📗

see if it held true after putting down some Streakers.

Those corpses wanted to wipe out the world by lunching on it. From all indications, they were doing a good job. Her mission since being rescued from the cemetery had become destroying every stinking, rotted moving undead bag of bones she could before they took her down.

A stacked jumble of long-toppled desks had decayed into rusted metal and splinters. They’d make a terrible shield. She turned to find some other form of cover, but Caleb blocked her view.

Peering into his eyes, she asked, “Am I worth losing? Is that why you made me come downstairs with you?”

He stepped back and studied her. “I’m not putting you in harm’s way. Nothing bad will happen to you. There’s only two of us so others don’t get hurt. I don’t want to accidentally slash one of the human with this. They won’t heal like the New Race.” The machete glinted in the little light.

“What could go wrong?”

“Not a single, damn thing.” His chin angled toward the door. “Ready to start this little party?”

“I’ll hang by the security office, but there’s no cover or protection.”

“After you open the door, bring as many down as possible from your position in the back. Anything gets by me that you can’t shoot, run upstairs for help. Don’t be a hero. What you don’t slow down when the Streakers first enter the hallway are mine to deal with. I told the group to be waiting, but we won’t call on them. You’re the best shot.”

She huffed and bit back a thank you.

He began to walk away but turned back. “If this goes awry, call for Ford.”

“One minute ago, you said you had it under control.”

“Please, Jenna.”

“Fine.” Jenna peered over her shoulder at the empty steps.

“Don’t miss.”

“I won’t miss the shot”—the words were clipped—“If I hit you, it will be on purpose.”

“Kidding. I trust you.”

She pursed her lips. Sure, he does, she thought. He just brought me down to dazzle me with his almighty fighting skills. It’s always a competition. Why can’t he pick someone else to spar with?

Caleb pulled her close and his frost-bitten breath made her dizzy. Their eyes met. “Nothing is getting into the gym behind us.” He pointed at the door. “Good?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She stalled, gathering the strength to do what she needed to. “Wouldn’t you rather wait until after breakfast?”

“More will show if we don’t dispatch them now. I have no idea how they communicate, if they do, but when one arrives, others follow unless we take them out.”

He didn’t get the joke. Always so serious.

Swallowing the fear, she drew away from him. No matter how many times she dined with death, the rot and decay were always unnerving. Only fools felt different. Pre-game jitters. She shook them away.

Images of the cliché female character running into or out of harm’s way scampered through her mind. She’d loved scary movies growing up, especially when they’d been part of family nights with her terror-loving parents. The more gore the better for Mom and Dad. Then they became the evil, and this wasn’t a movie. She’d never run even when the fight lasted until death.

A laugh climbed her throat like a spider on the wall. She squashed it.

Striding to the entrance, she tore away the wood. When the last board came free with a snap, the door reverberated from the weight of the Streakers pushing against it.

The undead shrieked and clawed and chomped. She hated the chomping teeth the most. The endless gnawing and masticating unnerved her.

From the shadows, Caleb said, “Get by the stairs and cover me. I got this. Don’t put yourself in danger.”

“It’s not safe for you. It’s daytime. I’ll move after I open the door.” She braced her shaking hand on the knob.

After a second of hesitation, Jenna pawed at the lock.

She jumped when Caleb’s hand covered hers, stopping the turn of the knob clasped between her fingers.

Damn, he was stealthy.

“I worry about you.”

Her lips became a dash and she refused to meet his gaze though she could imagine his intense, red-eyed stare. “I’m fine.” Words erupted like a geyser. “If you’re so worried, get more people down here.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, but others will just be in the way. Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘too many cooks spoil the meal.’ All I’m asking is you don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger like I’ve seen you do. I’ve got this covered.”

Tipping her head, she processed the words, but fell back into the habit of ignoring him. She peeked through a crack in a close by, boarded-up window, focus shifting to the Streakers writhing like a mass of maggots outside.

The undead scratched and tore at the wood, trying to get closer. Their malfunctioning brains unable to grasp the idea of using the doorknob.

Jenna squirmed herself, coming to terms with the fact she had to let them inside to destroy them.

Caleb whispered her name, but she disregarded him. He caught her shoulder, pulling her close.

“Listen to me.” They fit together like pieces of a puzzle. “Open the door and run. Be safe.”

“Stop playing my dad.” She tried to shrug away, but his tight grip refused to lessen.

Back off, she thought. I scorn you, scurvy companion. Thrice-double ass.

Damn, danger brought out the snark and the Shakespeare. “I’ll be careful, open the door, and lead them to you. That’s it. Then you do your thing, all right?”

“My thing?”

“Dispatching Streakers. Acting lordly. Our savior. Being the superhero.”

“What do you mean? I’m none of those things.”

“Whatever. I’ll stay in the shadows and cover your ass from the rear. And, yes, I’ll stick to your plan, whether I agree or not. My opinion obviously doesn’t matter.” She raised her eyes to his. “We good?”

“Yes.”

His grin irritated her. Anger drove her to want to open the door and fight the undead. Still, she recognized that at the worst time ever, he aroused some deeper emotions. Obviously, the end of the world had left her without