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Mario.

“I didn’t get dead.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

A queer feeling came over Miranda. He really means it. Mario had been afraid for her but had not let it get in the way. He was happy she was there next to him, she could tell. She opened her mouth, but Connor swooped in, saving her from saying something she would only regret later.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he whispered.

Miranda looked up into his frightened eyes. She knew it was the fear talking. He had to know that was a promise she could never make, let alone keep.

“I’m okay.” She stepped back and put her hand over his heart. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Jesus, that was close!” Doug gasped. He caught Miranda’s eye and began to laugh. “That was way too close.” He regarded the strangers, then stuck out his hand to the one nearest to him. “I’m Doug Michel. Who the hell are you?”

“I am Finn Butler,” the man said. “It is time we get out of here.”

38

“Liley, stop that.”

Miranda twitched her head away. Delilah merely wriggled and whined and licked Miranda’s ear again. She did not like being wrapped into a sling on Miranda’s back. Miranda was not crazy about the arrangement herself. The zombies had thinned out considerably; perhaps two hundred fifty were left. Much of the horde had drifted away into the woods over the past hour. Scent bombs, Finn and Dalton said. Miranda had never heard of such a thing, nor knew of any scent that could lure a zombie away from a human.

Finn and Dalton’s original plan had been to wait it out at the house until the zombies moved on, but the propane leaking into the airless basement made their rescuers uneasy. It had started raining again, which apparently made the scent bombs less effective.

“See the one with the white ring around the trunk?” Finn asked. “That is where the ladder is. We should all be able to get to the outbuilding in ninety seconds, give or take. We stay together, head for the ladder.”

“That’s still a lot of ground to cover, especially using hand weapons,” Doug said as he sized up their route.

Miranda agreed. Two hundred yards lay between the house and the banded tree. The zip line would take care of not quite half, but it took them off a straight path. Even thinned out, it was a fair distance and a lot of zombies. Finn and Doug had agreed using guns in such close quarters could result in friendly fire, so they had to get through the old-fashioned way.

She studied the young man, this Finn Butler, as he rattled off instructions. He was just a kid, couldn’t be more than twenty. Despite the strength of his wiry frame, Miranda estimated he might be a hundred forty pounds soaking wet. His cousin, Dalton, stood beside him. Dalton’s build was stockier, and he looked older, but Miranda could not judge by how much. People living rough tended to age faster. Younger or not, Finn was in charge.

Everyone crouched low on the ridgepole of the roof. The zip line extended from the chimney to what looked like an oversized chicken coop about halfway to the tree line.

“Our archers will cover us when they see that we’re coming,” Dalton said. His lips barely moved as he spoke, and his monotone voice sounded as if it were being ripped from his mouth by force.

“But do they have better aim?” Miranda heard Mario mutter.

“Will you be okay on the ladder?” Seffie asked Mario, her voice low.

“The alternative is to be ripped apart by zombies. Let’s hope they have better escape technique.”

They know it was just bad timing, Miranda thought as she eavesdropped. Finn and Dalton had apologized profusely for almost knocking Mario and Seffie off the roof. It had just been bad luck.

Connor raised his head in an attempt to peek over the lip of the roof. When he noticed Miranda watching him, he smiled tightly.

“You still hate heights?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Then don’t look down.”

Connor grimaced. Everyone scooted closer to the chimney while Dalton reached up and clipped on to the zip line.

He jumped off the roof without a word and sailed through the air. Miranda’s stomach dropped as she watched the line dip, but he touched down safely and immediately pulled out a crude sword. It took the zombies a few moments to realize their prey was on the move. When they did, the shift in their direction was like a breeze rippling across the surface of a pond. Soon everyone was safely down except for her, Doug, and Finn.

“Go on, Doug,” said Miranda. “I went first last time.”

Doug snapped onto the zip line and hopped off the roof. Miranda moved closer to Finn, who handed her a short strap and a clip.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Finn said.

It was a strange feeling, to jump off a perfectly safe building and glide through the air, zombies trailing in her wake. Their wasted hands reached toward her as she flashed by, rain pelting her face. Delilah whimpered in fear and squirmed. Please don’t let her get loose, Miranda prayed as she tucked her feet and held tight to the knots of the sling. And then she touched down. She felt a tug on the line as Finn started down before she finished unclipping.

She turned and reached for the machete on her left hip. Delilah whimpered and growled.

Finn dropped down beside her, unclipped from the line, and pulled out a long pipe slung across his back.

“Throw those grenades,” he said.

The number of zombies seemed greater at ground level. They were everywhere—staggering closer, slipping on the wet grasses and redwood needles, never stopping—but Mike and Doug were ready. Doug stepped out from behind the shelter of the coop and threw his grenade in the direction they were going, then ducked back. Rotted body parts—legs and arms, only God knew what—flew through the air when it detonated. Finn waved them around the corner of the coop. Mike brought up the rear. He paused and heaved his grenade toward the house, his strength propelling it across the gray sky.

It’s not going to make it, thought Miranda as she traced the arc of the grenade across the sky, but a flash and roar shook the ground. Debris flew through the air as the shockwave of displaced air buffeted them. The propane-fueled flames transformed the little house into an inferno.

Finn led the way. His cousin and Connor fell in step beside Miranda. A zombie on her left lurched close. Miranda raised her machete and hacked into its skull. From all around came thuds and thwacks, grunts and shouts, zombie moans, and the soft pffft of arrows. Zombies would suddenly drop, arrow fletching sprouting from their heads. Snarling and snapping, Delilah scrabbled her legs against the restraints of the sling, her hard nails digging into Miranda’s back.

“Duck!” Dalton shouted as she tugged her weapon from a crumpled corpse. Miranda dropped to the ground. Dalton slashed over her head. The zombie fell, bumping into her and Delilah. She took Dalton’s hand and scrambled up.

Finn and Doug fought back to back, hacking their way through the thickening hoard. Mario fought beside Mike, his strikes clumsy using his nondominant arm. Connor dashed forward to help Seffie. Miranda slipped, regained her footing, and hacked into dead flesh.

I will never go anywhere again, she vowed.

“Almost there,” someone shouted.

Miranda looked past the zombie she had just killed. The others had gotten a little ahead of her, but the tree was only thirty feet away. Then Delilah twisted in her sling, knocking Miranda off-balance. One moment she was slipping, then mud filled her nostrils and eyes. Stabbing pain ripped through her right leg. Delilah thumped against Miranda’s back, her solid sixty-pound weight knocking the wind from Miranda’s lungs.

Miranda choked and hacked as she crawled to hands and knees, swiping at the mud in her eyes. Delilah barked and snarled, struggling frantically. There were zombies on all sides. On her knees, Miranda tried to stand, but searing pain ripped through her right knee.

Miranda squinted at the approaching zombies through mud-smeared eyes. She hacked at their ankles, trying to get them down where she could deliver a death blow. But more were coming, far too many to fight from her knees.

This is it, she thought.

Adrenaline, rage, fear, and regret flooded her brain. She would never make amends with anyone. She was going to die on her knees, in the mud. They’ll kill Delilah, too. She cried out in pain and fear, jerking away from a fallen but not dead zombie that pawed at her. A sudden dread of what came after death overwhelmed her.

A flurry of pfttt sounds from arrows engulfed her. Then Dalton was there, with Connor and Mario. Dalton lifted her and Delilah over his shoulder. Miranda cleared her eyes enough to see Connor and Mario covering their retreat, fighting side by side. At the tree, she was hoisted up and shoved toward the rungs of a ladder that started six feet up the trunk. Miranda winced as she climbed but did not dare accommodate her twisted leg. She couldn’t look down without slowing, so she concentrated on climbing.

When she finally reached a platform overhead, Doug was there, his hand outstretched to hoist her through. Miranda shimmied out of the way. Connor didn’t say anything when he got off the ladder, just held her and the whimpering Delilah tight. Tears sprang to her eyes when Dalton announced he was the last. They had all made it. Relief flooded her

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