Chapter 27 #2
That made her smile. “Because it is. I’ve spent a lifetime watching his beloved war documentaries, and between that and deer hunting with him and my brothers, I feel like I’m unhealthily excited to kick some zombie ass.”
“Yeah, you are definitely that,” I said, “but it’s surprisingly cool.”
“Surprisingly cool, huh?” she said quietly, still smiling as she added, “High praise from the MVP.”
“There you go, busting my ass again,” I said.
“The ass that slipped impressively through that window, by the way,” she said with a laugh.
“You doubted it’d fit, didn’t you?”
“I am simply stating a fact,” she said, feigning innocence.
“Or simply being a dick,” I replied.
“I think you can handle it, Mr. Thirst Trap,” she said with an eye roll. “That fitness tracker ad with you wearing only tiny shorts is obscene.”
“First of all, don’t pretend you don’t love my slutty little short-shorts. Also, do people still say ‘thirst trap’?”
“I don’t think so, actually.”
“We can discuss our thirst traps and ignorance of modern slang later, but maybe let’s focus on zombies right now?”
Her eyes crinkled as she gave me the biggest grin, the kind of smile that felt like we were about to do something magical together. “Okay.”
“I think—”
“Here’s the thing, though,” she said, holding up a hand.
“I know how fast you are, with your four-point-four forty at the combine, but you can’t be heavy-footed.
It’s better to be slow and lighter on your feet—conjure Ja’Marr Chase with a sideline catch—than to make a lot of noise and get their attention. ”
“Smart,” I said, nodding. It cracked me up the way she knew things like how fast I ran my forty; she was definitely the biggest football fan I’d ever dated.
“But also consider this. Maybe if we wait until someone stumbles out the front door and gets their attention, everyone will be making noise and—”
“Brilliant,” she interrupted with a smile. “Now you’re thinking—I’m proud of you, buddy.”
“Oh, joy,” I quipped.
“By the way,” she whispered, the teasing grin simmering into something softer.
Sweeter. A little shy. “Unless I end up having to kill you or I literally die out here tonight, this might be the best date ever in the history of the world. Like, I literally can’t think of anything I’d rather do on a Friday night.
You could’ve planned a normal, boring dinner date, but you threw me on a flatbed truck and gave me zombies and a paintball gun. I mean, talk about swoony.”
I felt a twinge of guilt as she said this, because she was giving me credit I didn’t fully deserve. Yes, I may have discovered the zombie activity, which was perfectly tailored to her interests, but the pumpkin patch idea had been Bethany’s.
God, I hated remembering that.
I hated remembering that any part of us started as a career favor. It had switched to something genuine almost instantly, but it still felt gross every time Bethany’s part popped into my head.
“Here,” she said, handing me a huge rock.
“Where did this come from?” I asked, taking the heavy stone from her hands.
“I brought it with me in my pack,” she said, giving me a hesitant smile that let me know she was embarrassed that she had given it forethought. “Do you think you can throw this over the cabin?”
“Are you seriously asking me if I can throw?”
“You’re not a quarterback, so this isn’t me busting your ass,” she said. “It’s a heavy rock and it would be difficult for anyone to throw it over a cabin. But if you can, they’ll hear it land, take off in that direction, and then we can run the other way.”
“Of course I can throw it over the cabin,” I said. “Do you want me to do it now?”
“No time like the present,” she said, tightening the straps on her backpack and gripping her weapon.
“Let’s go.” I launched the rock before grabbing my weapon from the ground, and I wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence or if one of the other participants saw the rock fly, but just as I heard the thud of it hitting the ground, the front door of the cabin opened with a squeak.
And Duffy was right—the other players were absolutely unprepared for the reality that the zombies had them surrounded. They were laughing as they exited, from what I could hear, and then immediately silenced by the pops of paintballs bursting.
It was a barrage.
“Let’s go!” she whisper-yelled, then took off sprinting into the woods.
I followed, suddenly hyperaware of how heavy my footfalls were as we ran in the opposite direction of the end point. We heard laughing and yelling, which wasn’t surprising because no one else was in it for the win, so odds were high that most of the other players were already tagged.
We ran for a few more seconds before Duffy stopped and crouched behind a tree and its surrounding bushes.
“Can you see anything?” she asked, gesturing in the direction of the shed.
I stood and looked, impressed by our vantage point.
She’d taken us up a hill, so it was easy to see what was happening below, and I started counting.
Every person who’d been in the shed with us had apparently been taken out—or they just didn’t care—because the entire group was walking with the zombies.
We’d been given a cute little pamphlet of the “zombie squad,” along with the map, so we knew the five that were coming for us.
I immediately spotted Conan the Zombarian, the green-haired zombie who was as tall as I was, and I also had a visual on Zedd the Undead, a scrawny little guy in purple face paint.
Zombie Quinn—dressed like Harley Quinn but with a green face and blood around her mouth—was walking behind the group, twirling her paint guns as she did her best to look menacing.
But the twins—Shaun and Zaun—didn’t appear to be with them. Duffy must have realized the same thing, because she looked at me and whispered, “We’re missing two.”
I nodded. “Let’s just hold tight for a minute because they have to be circling somewhere.”
It got a little eerie when the group disappeared from our line of sight and the woods grew quiet. It actually felt like we were hunting or being hunted. “This is a little creepy.”
“Are you scared?” she teased, her eyes dancing in the darkness.
“Of course not,” I said, making a face and reaching out a hand to give her a little push.
“Sure you’re not,” she said, pushing back. “Do you need a snack, by the way?”
“What kind of snack?” I asked, looking down at her in surprise. “You brought snacks?”
“I mean, just some energy bars, a few nut mixes, and a couple sandwiches,” she said, quietly taking off her backpack.
“How long do you expect us to be camping out here?” I asked. “You brought fucking provisions?”
“I believe in being prepared, and the twins are still unaccounted for,” she said with a shrug. “Do you want something or not?”
“THE TWO REMAINING PAINTBALL GAMERS!”
Someone was shouting into the woods.
At us.
“YOU NEED TO COME OUT NOW!”
“No,” Duffy said, grabbing my arm. Her eyes were a little wild when she whispered, “Don’t move. That’s what they want us to do.”
She was insane and I loved it. “I think we should probably—”
“No,” she insisted, frantically shaking her head. “They’re just trying to get us to come out so they can shoot us.”
I tried not to laugh but it was impossible. “We can’t just hide forever, Duff.”
“I know, but if we just wait a few minutes and they come looking for us, then we can get our shots in.”
My phone buzzed—hers did, too—and when I pulled it out of my pocket, I could see it was a notification from the Zombie Hunt app (which she hadn’t allowed me to download until I turned off my location).
REMAINING PLAYERS—RETURN TO THE SHED. THE PARK IS CLOSING IN 15 MINUTES.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I just want to shoot them. You paid for us to hunt zombies, dammit, and we should be allowed to finish. If we wait a couple more minutes, just until we get them in our line of sight, then we can take them out and return to the shed.”
“Duffy.”
“I know I sound crazy—”
“No, I love it,” I said, and I meant it.
I hit reply in the app, then typed: THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT US TO THINK. YOU’RE TRYING TO GET US TO COME OUT IN THE OPEN SO YOU CAN TAG US.
She giggled as she nodded for me to hit send, and I was in love with the sound of her laugh.
With this ridiculous moment that I couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone else.
“If we get arrested, promise me you’ll smile in your mug shot,” I said.
Her eyes met mine and she nodded. “Deal.”
A few seconds later the app buzzed again, and it had to have been a teenager in charge of communication because all it said was: NO SERIOUSLY.
Duffy snorted and texted back on my phone: NO SERIOUSLY.
This was becoming the funniest fucking thing I’d ever participated in, her stubborn refusal to give in to something that totally didn’t matter.
It might’ve seemed unhinged if she weren’t having so much fucking fun.
Those pretty eyes were sparkling and she was basically buzzing, looking like she was going to fall on the ground laughing at any minute.
She sent: YOU NEED TO CROWN US THE WINNERS—THEN WE WILL EMERGE FROM COVER. OVER.
“We aren’t on a walkie-talkie, dumbass,” I teased.
“It feels right, jackass,” she teased back.
The phone buzzed, and the response was simply: NO.
That had her laughing so hard she couldn’t speak, her hand over her mouth as she tried staying quiet.
“I can’t believe those little shits said no,” I laughed. This situation was so bizarre, but I found that I didn’t want to leave this spot where I was sitting behind a bush with Duffy in the woods in the dark, hiding from Peterman’s Pumpkin Patch employees.
“Right?” She leaned closer—so close but not close enough—and said, “I’m a little afraid that we’re going to have to live here now because I just can’t give in to not getting the W.”
My phone buzzed again.
THE PATCH IS CLOSING AND WE NEED TO brING THE GROUP BACK.
“Okay, suppose we put ourselves in the park’s shoes for a minute, Duff. They can’t just leave two random customers in the forest after they close. I know you don’t want to, but we probably need to go back.”
She bit her bottom lip like this was a major decision to consider. “I know you’re right, and you definitely can’t afford to be in the news because of my nonsense, but I just don’t want them to get the win. Is that so wrong?”
“No,” I said, and then it hit me.
An idea came to me, so damned perfect, and she was going to fucking love it.
“Holy shit, you can still win, Duff.”
Her eyes widened, her smile huge. “How?”
“We’re going to go out in a blaze of glory, honey.”