Chapter 41 Loose Ends
FORTY-ONE
LOOSE ENDS
LYLA
Jagged rocks tear at my already shredded skin as I twist, gasping, trying to see who tackled me—
And my stomach plummets.
Pale, lifeless eyes.
A face I once knew, now twisted, slack-jawed, and ravenous.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I hiss.
Her once-perfect hair hangs in filthy clumps, matted with blood. Skin waxy gray, gold hoops still swinging in her ears—bright, mocking.
Even in death, she’s a pain in the ass.
“Wow, Jessica,” I grunt, struggling beneath her, “you look refreshed.”
She snarls, jaws snapping inches from my face. Raw, animal hunger.
Her grip is iron. Still fresh—no rot, no sluggish decay.
I shove hard. She barely moves.
“Easy there, sweetheart,” I pant, “I don’t bite on the first date.”
My arms tremble, muscles screaming. Franklin, the church fight, the swarm—it’s all caught up to me.
She presses closer.
Rotted, wet breath ghosts my cheek.
Panic cuts sharp.
“Jacob!” My voice cracks.
Too far.
Jessica lunges, jaws open for my throat.
I catch her face, shove her head aside, barely keeping teeth from flesh. She straddles me, pinning me down, fingers clawing at my jacket.
I buck, twist, kick—nothing.
She doesn’t move.
Her head snaps up. Dead eyes lock on mine. Lips twitch. Almost a smirk.
My arms shake, tingling from strain. I can’t hold her much longer.
She dives again.
Mouth open. Teeth ready. Saliva pooling in her gums.
Shit—
BANG.
Her skull jerks back. A perfect hole between her eyes. The light, dim and hollow, snuffs out instantly.
Her body slumps onto me, heavy and still.
I shove her off, her corpse thudding into the dirt.
“And here I thought we were bonding,” I mutter.
Trish stands a few feet away, pistol raised, smoke curling from the barrel. Her gaze flicks from me to Jessica’s body.
I push up, breath ragged, every muscle burning. My ribs ache, legs heavy. I wipe blood from my arm and flick it away. It doesn’t help.
Jacob rushes in, scanning me before his eyes drop to Jessica’s ruined corpse. His jaw tics. Fingers twitch.
“You okay? Did you get bit?” He steps close and runs his hands over me, checking for damage. His fingers linger at my waist, then my ribs, then maybe somewhere that doesn’t need checking, but I don’t stop him.
I pat myself down along with him. “No, but give me a few more seconds to be sure.”
Jacob grabs ahold of my face and watches my eyes. I grin, but wince at the throbbing pain in my shoulder. A few seconds tick by and I’m still me.
Phew.
Jacob glances at the body. Jessica’s limbs are twisted, mouth still half-open like she never got the last word. “Guess she couldn’t take a hint,” he mutters.
“She was always persistent,” I say, but the words fall flat in my throat.
Jacob exhales, lifts his shotgun.
One breath.
BOOM.
Her head vanishes into pulp and bone. Blood pours from the torn neck, seeping into the dirt.
I whistle low. “Well, that’s one way to get closure.”
Jacob gives me a sly wink, steps in close, tilts my chin. His thumb smears away blood on my cheek. “You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs.
I let his touch anchor me. “Better now. Though I could do without the surprise tackles.”
Jacob chuckles. “Adds a little excitement to the night.”
I smile. “As if we needed more.”
“Hey, lovers!”
Joanie’s voice kills the mood instantly.
Joanie jogs over, shotgun slung over one shoulder, face smeared with gore and sweat. Her eyes are wide, locked past us.
“Hate to interrupt your little moment, but we’ve got a big fucking problem.”
We spin.
Shadows move. Groans rise.
A fresh wave of undead shuffles toward us drawn by the noise, the blood, the bodies. Their empty eyes locked on us.
“Can’t they take a damn hint?” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face, smearing blood across my cheek.
“Apparently not,” Trish snaps, reloading smooth and fast. She claps a hand on Joanie’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Jacob grabs my wrist, pulling me toward the wreckage.
The red truck burns hot, flames devouring it from the inside. Smoke pours upward, a beacon for the dead.
“Get the gas canisters,” Jacob says, already sprinting.
“Shit.” I run beside him.
Joanie and Earl flank us, weapons swinging—Earl’s bat crunching skulls, Joanie carving flesh with Jacob’s machete.
Trish guards the van with Poppy and Edith. Leon and Clair haul crates—medicine, food, ammo.
“Watch out!” Clair yells as the truck frame groans and then explodes. Leon throws himself over her, shielding her from the blast.
Jacob and I grab the last jug, fingers brushing as we haul it toward the camper.
The moans grow louder. Closer.
Clair fires her last round before switching to a knife. Leon’s hatchet clears a path. Jacob and I slam the truck and camper doors shut, locking them down.
“We’re running out of time!” Joanie calls.
Jacob looks at me, then at the bodies piling around us. His jaw hardens. “Split up. Get the vehicles moving.”
Leon takes the wheel of his truck. Clair heads for her car.
I toss Joanie and Earl Lucy’s keys. They sprint off, doing rock, paper, scissors midrun. Classic.
Engines roar. Headlights cut through the smoke.
I dive into the back of the med van. Barbara’s at the wheel, Poppy beside her. Trish and Jacob pile in. Joanie peels out ahead of us, tires screeching over blood-slick dirt. Guess Earl lost.
Trish shoves me back on the bench, grabbing bandages. “Let me guess. You were too busy playing badass to notice you’re bleeding everywhere?”
I glance down. My arms and shoulder are shredded, smeared with blood. Most of it mine. All of it ignored until now.
Jacob grins. “She was a badass.”
Trish rolls her eyes and presses disinfectant to my shoulder.
I flinch. “Shit, Trish, buy me dinner first.”
“Psh, I’m way out of your league,” she says dryly.
I glance at Jacob—face streaked with blood and dirt, knuckles split, hands coated in dried gore. Worn down but unshakable.
The van jolts over rough ground, fire shrinking in the mirror.
Jacob takes Edith’s hand.
Her arm and leg are scorched, burns blistered across skin. One arm broken, splinted with duct tape and sticks. She’s breathing, barely.
Her eyes are glazed, pupils dulled by painkillers Trish must’ve pumped into her to keep her from screaming.
“Hey, E.” Jacob’s voice softens as he strokes her hand, careful to avoid the burns. “How you feeling?”
She smiles, slow and sleepy. “I’m okay, sweetie. You know it’ll take more than a few burns to send me packing.”
Jacob huffs out a laugh, blood trickling down from a cut on his forehead. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
She lets out a breathy chuckle, then drifts, her eyelids fluttering closed.
Jacob’s gaze slides to me, warmth spreading in my veins.
“You good?” he asks, voice low, just for me.
I take a breath. My chest still feels tight, like the fight is sitting on top of it. But I nod. “Yeah. You?”
He reaches up to push a blood-crusted strand of hair from my face. His touch lingers, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “I’d be better if I got my reward.”
I blink. “Reward?”
His grin widens. “I lost the bet, remember?”
Heat rises in my cheeks, but I play innocent. “Doesn’t count as a reward when you lost.”
His hand slides down to my waist, fingers dipping in and out of the back of my jeans just enough to make me forget I’m covered in blood. “Depends on how you look at it.”
My breath hitches. His lips brush mine—barely there.
I fist his shirt and pull him in.
His mouth is sure and warm, his hand tangled in my hair. It steadies me in a way nothing else can.
“Aww,” Edith mumbles sleepily from the gurney.
Trish groans in front of us, still stitching up my shoulder. “Christ, I’m working here. Can we not?”
We break apart, grinning.
“Sorry, Trish,” I say.
Jacob wipes my lip with his thumb, eyes still on me. “Definitely not sorry.”
I lace my fingers with his as the fire fades in the distance.
He and Trish are still bickering, voices low and sharp, but it all fades to background noise as I stare out the rear window.
Smoke curls into the night sky, the last shadows of dark bodies swallowed by distance.
The world is still broken. The road ahead unknown.
But with his hand in mine, it doesn’t feel so terrifying anymore.