Chapter 10 #2
She shakes her head again. “No. Just… scared me.”
His shoulders drop an inch. Then his eyes lock on mine, a storm brewing behind them. “And you?”
“Fine,” I say automatically.
The hand at his side clenches into a fist. “Why did you volunteer?”
Cameron wraps Sienna in a crushing embrace, burying his face in her hair. “I thought—Fuck—”
“I’m okay.” She clutches him just as tightly. “I’m okay.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I step back from Amelia, arms crossing over my chest. “Let them take her? That knife was on her throat!”
Julien moves into my space, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. “You could’ve let me handle it.”
“They took everything.” The reverend drops to his knees in the gravel. “Oh God, we’re going to die here.”
“Shut up,” Julien says. “We’re not dead yet.”
“They didn’t want you.” I stomp my feet. “It was clear he was a misogynistic asshole wanting his power trip. So I gave it to him.”
“Julien.” Amelia leans on him, pointing to the gate. “Look.”
Groans rise from the street. Three zombies shuffle toward the open gate, their movements quickening at the sight of fresh meat. Behind them, more dark figures appear on the horizon.
“Fuck.” Julien guides Amelia to sit on the ground. “You stay here.”
Cameron releases Sienna. “I’ll help Julien. You get back inside.”
“What about the car?” I ask.
“No time.” Sienna, against Cameron’s instructions, moves to close the gate. “We use another car to block it from the inside.”
“Come on.” Julien claps my shoulder, then points to a car close to the gate. “We take that one.”
Sienna fumbles with the chain, threading it through the bars with shaking hands while Cameron holds the gate closed. The padlock clicks shut, and they jump back as a zombie throws itself against the metal, fingers clawing through the gaps.
Julien and I stop at an old dusty coupe.
“This one.” Julien circles the vehicle to peer through the window. “Older model. No alarm system.”
I grab the door handle and tug. Locked. “Shit.”
Julien signals to Cameron, who jogs over with Sienna close behind. “Give me that.” He takes the firepoker from Cameron’s grip, weighing it in his hand. “Everyone, back up.”
He measures his swing, his shoulders bunching beneath his jacket, muscles flexing as he drives the firepoker into the driver’s side window. Glass explodes inward, raining across the seat in a shower of crystal shards.
The sound makes me flinch, eyes darting toward the gate where more dead faces crowd against the bars.
Julien stretches through the shattered window, unlocking the door from inside. He yanks it open, then sweeps glass fragments from the seat with his forearm, before grabbing a blanket from the backseat.
“Get in.” He gestures at me to the now-covered driver’s seat. “You steer while we push.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Why me?”
“Just do it, please.”
I slide onto the blanket. The steering wheel feels alien beneath my hands. I’ve never driven anything in my life except bumper cars at the fair once when I was thirteen.
“Just point it toward the gate,” he says, reading my thoughts. “Don’t hit the brakes.”
I nod, gripping the wheel tighter. Through the rearview mirror, I see Julien position Cameron and Sienna behind the car.
“On my count,” he calls. “One. Two. THREE!”
The car lurches forward, moving painfully slow at first. I focus on keeping the wheel steady, fighting the urge to look back at them. I can hear their grunts of exertion, the scrape of their shoes against pavement.
“Little more to the left,” Julien calls out.
I turn the wheel, guiding the car toward the gate.
“Almost there,” Cameron gasps. “Keep pushing.”
The car picks up speed, rolling toward the gate.
“Brake now!” Julien shouts.
I slam my foot down, praying it’s the right pedal. The car jolts to a stop just inches from the gate, effectively creating a second barrier against the growing horde outside.
Julien sprints to my side, opening the door. “Good job.” He reaches across me, his chest brushing my shoulder as he sets the handbrake. The scent of sweat and copper fills my nostrils.
“Thanks,” I mutter, unsure if I’m thanking him for the compliment or for taking over the car situation.
“You can let go of the wheel now.” His voice sounds amused.
I look down at my white-knuckled grip and pry my fingers loose one by one. “Right.”
He offers his hand to help me out, and that’s when I see it—several tiny little gashes from his wrist halfway up his forearm, blood seeping into his rolled-up shirt sleeve.
“You’re bleeding.” I grab his arm, turning it to examine the wound.
Glass must have sliced him when he swept it off the seat for…
He scans the yard. “It’s nothing.”
“But—”
“Later.” He nods toward the church doors where my parents have emerged, my father supporting my mother, who looks like she might collapse. “Inside first.”
“You realize you could bleed out, right?”
His eyes sharpen. “Didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t,” I snap, then immediately regret it. “I mean—We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
“Touching.” He grips my elbow, urging me forward. “But it’s not that bad.”
“Typical.”
A shadow of a smile crosses his face. “We need to get inside.”
I nod, letting him guide me away from the gate that rattles with undead fists. I hope it holds. My lungs burn, legs trembling with exhaustion and fading adrenaline.
When we reach my sister, I crouch down beside her. The thin red line across her throat stands out like an accusation. I was supposed to protect her. That was always my job.
“Amelia.” I raise my hand—
“I’ll do it.” Without hesitation, Julien bends down and scoops my sister into his arms like she weighs nothing.
An ugly feeling twists my stomach as her head lolls against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. Everything else fades except how her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.
What is wrong with me? She’s my sister.
“Is she okay?” I hurry to keep pace.
Julien doesn’t look back. “She needs rest.”
“I can—”
“You’ve done enough.” His tone isn’t accusatory, just matter-of-fact, but it lands like a slap anyway.
Cameron and Sienna rush ahead to hold the church door open after the reverend and my parents disappear inside. As we pass through and the door closes, Sienna catches my eye, her gaze soft.
She takes my hand and pulls me into a hug. “You did the right thing.”
Did I?
If I hadn’t left to check the bell tower, Julien wouldn’t have left to search for me, and the strangers wouldn’t have gotten in. We’d still have supplies and cars. Amelia wouldn’t have had a knife at her throat, but me.
Over Sienna’s shoulder, I observe Julien carry my sister through the corridor, his steps careful not to jostle her while my mother walks beside him. The tenderness in his movements makes my chest ache.
Whatever happened in the bell tower—if anything at all—I can’t interpret stupid feelings into it.
Maybe I’m the worst monster of all.