Chapter 27
Connor
“Okay, so we’re dropping you off at the shed, which is your starting point,” said the guy in the Peterman’s Pumpkin Patch trucker’s cap. “Go inside, get ready, and whenever you feel good to go, venture out and start hunting zombies…before they start hunting you.”
I glanced over at Duffy and she widened her eyes, giving me a look that said, It’s go time.
She hopped off the flatbed truck without waiting for help and I followed, charmed as shit by her buy-in.
She’d exited the house in full hunting camo when I arrived, like she was ready to take this shit seriously.
She’d actually eyeballed my clothes when she got in the car like I was the one in the wrong.
“You’re wearing a tan jacket and jeans,” she said, her eyebrows all scrunched together.
“Yeah…? So?”
She scowled as her eyes dipped down to my shirt. “So you’re not going to blend very well in the woods, especially when it’s getting dark.”
“You know we’re not going to be running from actual zombies, right?”
According to the online registration, the zombies were fully trained paintball experts whose priorities were “customer safety” and “delivering a rollicking good time.”
“You sound like you’re going to lose when you say things like that,” she said quietly as she got in the car. “Are we not taking this seriously, Cunningham?”
“My apologies, Distefano; I was foolishly thinking of this as a date,” I said, unable to keep a straight face.
I loved that she was nerding out over zombie paintballing, and I felt a sense of accomplishment that I planned the perfect date for her.
“I will now concentrate on the more important task at hand of ‘winning’ against the zombies, who are probably just adolescents doing this for minimum wage.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t underestimate the zombies. It’s a historically accurate fact that everyone who’s ever lost a battle in a war lost because they underestimated their enemies.”
“Not a historically accurate fact,” I said, shaking my head.
“But I bet it still tracks,” she insisted as she buckled her seat belt.
We fell into easy conversation on the way to the pumpkin patch, her telling me about the latest drama at her office.
Apparently, there were some inappropriate relationships going on between the head of HR and one of the executives, and no one was getting any work done because they couldn’t stop talking about it.
Which made Duffy crazy.
It was so her that she was annoyed by the fact that no one was working. She wasn’t above being mildly entertained by the news, but she didn’t understand why people weren’t able to multitask while gossiping.
I swear to God I could just listen to her for hours because she was so uniquely Duffy.
We followed the rest of the group—there were ten of us total—into the shed and closed the door behind us.
It was literally just a shed with nothing inside but a dirt floor and big wooden crates that the other players used as seats.
The rest of the participants were dressed in regular clothes, relaxed and exchanging small talk as they settled into the scene—the total opposite of Duffy and her current vibe.
Duffy looked on edge and ready to hunt.
“Hey,” she whispered, stepping a little closer, distracting me with the smell of her perfume. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t?” I asked, letting my eyes drop down to the shine of the gloss on her bottom lip.
“Why would they drop all of us in one central shed without an official starting shot?” She tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “I mean, it makes us sitting ducks. The second we walk out that front door it’s going to be easy for them to take us all out in one fell swoop.”
I didn’t say anything because I was trying not to laugh at her hypercompetitiveness.
“I bet they love this,” she said, and she leaned closer so no one else could hear. “They get all these people to spend money to hunt zombies, then they take us out in five minutes.”
“That’s…actually probably true,” I agreed, though the idea of it didn’t really bother me.
“Let’s not let them,” she said, her eyes sparkling like she had a plan.
I was too mesmerized by her eyes to answer. People always talked about blue eyes like they were magic, but there was something about her brown eyes that felt so warm and inviting and playful and shit—I needed to focus.
“Let’s not go out with the rest of them. Look,” she said, giving my arm a tiny smack.
I followed her eyes to where she’d pointed with her chin to a window in the back of the shed.
“Holy crap, if we stealthily slide out that window, we can totally take off into the woods without the zombies even knowing,” she said.
“What?” I looked at the window and clearly didn’t see what she was envisioning.
Because it wasn’t a big window. Like, at all.
“Hear me out,” she said emphatically. “They’re expecting all of us to stumble out the front door like a bunch of idiots, where they can just tag us immediately.
But if you and I quietly slip out the back window and don’t make any noise, when all of these other people go through the front door, we can take off in another direction.
They won’t even realize they’re missing two people at first. Then we can hide and we can stalk them and we can win. ”
“Is it possible to win at this? I’m pretty sure it’s just a random shooting game.”
Hell, I had no idea, even though I was the one who’d set up the excursion.
She looked at me like I was ridiculous. “If we make it to the end without getting shot and we take out a few zombies while we’re at it, then it’s a win, right? Pretty simple.”
All of a sudden this seemed like the greatest idea. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and this sounded really fucking fun.
I glanced at the window. “Do you honestly think I’ll fit through there?”
“It’s a ridiculous time to fish for compliments on your body, Cunningham,” she teased, “but for sure you will.”
“What if the others follow us out?” I asked, glancing toward the group, who were still just leisurely hanging out like there wasn’t a zombie war about to begin.
“They won’t because you’re going to tell them not to,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Everyone was giving you the whole ‘ohmigod it’s him’ look on the truck, so they’re all in awe of the football golden boy.
So if you just say something like ‘We’re going to provide a distraction so you guys can get out safely, no one follow us’ they will totally listen. ”
“You want me to lie and get them thrust into the gunfire?” I asked with a laugh. She was fucking cold with this. “I can’t do that.”
“Oh my God, you were the one saying this isn’t real so why with the ethics,” she whispered, her mouth turning up into a smile as she gave me an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine, don’t lie, just tell them not to follow us and they’ll still listen to you because you’re you.”
“Um—”
“Listen,” she interrupted. “We need to go now because you know the zombies are all lined up, waiting for these people to move. We gotta go before it’s too late.”
Without missing a beat, she turned toward the group.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping away from me.
“We’re going to go out this window because we want to split up the group and try to not all get mowed down by gunfire at the same time.
Hopefully some of the zombies will chase us and you guys will have a better chance, but the goal is to scatter them.
I just wanted to let you know so you don’t freak out when you see us go through the window. ”
“But don’t follow us,” I added, feeling slightly guilty for saying that when this was just a silly game that no one truly cared about except for Duffy Distefano.
“Why not?” asked a man with huge square glasses that reminded me of Harry Caray. “Why can’t we follow you?”
“I mean, it’s a free country, so you’re welcome to follow whoever you want, but this is her idea, and I think it’s terrible,” I said, realizing how to make this work. “She’s not actually known for her good judgment.”
“That’s right, she’s the girl who beat up Carl,” the man’s wife said, nodding.
“I didn’t beat up—”
“That’s her,” I said, cutting off Duffy. “So we’re going to go through the back, but please think about your next moves. It really may not be the best idea to follow us.”
As soon as I said that, I heard her sliding the window open behind me.
“It’s so sweet that he’s willing to lose for her,” the big-haired blonde in the corner said. “And that he warned us not to follow. I really don’t think we should.”
“He’s a good guy,” someone else said.
I turned and watched as Duffy hoisted herself up with her arms and quickly popped through the open window. I still wasn’t sure my ass was going to fit through there, but I was willing to risk it to follow her.
She immediately disappeared from my line of sight, and I loved her verve. I hurled myself through the opening, squeezing and wriggling a little to get through. There was a solid half second where I thought the jaws of life would have to pull me from the window, but fortunately I made it.
I dropped to a crouch next to Duffy as soon as I landed. It was getting dark, and we were underneath a bunch of bushes, but you could hear the sounds of the pumpkin patch off in the distance and smell the smoky scent of firepits.
“So I think we should sprint in that direction,” she said, pointing toward the dark forested area. “It’s the absolute wrong direction, but that’s how we get on the offensive and start tracking them.”
“You want to go backward?” I asked.
“Feigned retreat, Football. We run backward, we hide, then we get to see them in front of us and know where everybody’s at while they try to figure out where we went and what we’re doing. Once we have them in our sights, we make our move.”
“Why do I feel like this is very Tony-coded?” I asked.