Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
DAKOTA
“Julien…” My voice dies as the buzzing grows louder.
The bell swings again, the metal groaning as it shifts back and forth.
I stare at it, unable to process what I’m seeing until it reaches the apex of its swing, and for a suspended moment, everything goes quiet.
No birds. No wind. No heartbeat.
Then it falls, momentum carrying it down forward, and the clapper inside hits the wall with a resounding GONG that shakes the entire tower, my bones, my teeth, and my skull.
Julien’s eyes lock with mine, wide with the same horrified realization.
That sound—that fucking church bell—brings every walking corpse straight to our door.
“Shit!” Julien grabs my wrist, yanking me toward the staircase. “Move!”
The second gong hits as we reach the top step, the sound even louder now, pulsing through the stone tower like a death knell. We sprint down the spiral staircase, our footsteps creating a frantic counterpoint to the steady tolling above.
My foot catches on a worn step. My ankle twists, body pitching forward into empty air. I don’t even have time to scream, imagining my body tumbling down the stone stairs, bones shattering—
Julien’s arm jerks me flush against him. My back slams into him, knocking the breath from my lungs, but his grip holds.
“I’ve got you.” His breath is hot against my ear. “You okay?”
I nod, unable to speak, heart thundering against my ribs. His hand slides down my arm to grasp mine, fingers interlocking.
“Stay with me,” he says. “Slower now.”
Another GONG vibrates through us. We descend at a more controlled pace, though every instinct screams at me to run as each gong puts another nail in our coffin.
We burst into the main room to find everyone already awake, a storm of movement and panicked voices.
My mother hovers with a bottle of water over my father, who clutches his head, face gray with hangover. Sienna kneels beside Amelia, stuffing granola bars and cans into a bag. The reverend paces back and forth in prayer while Cameron darts between people, distributing the few weapons we have left.
Rosa stands in the center, arms raised, trying to restore some semblance of order. “Everyone, please—”
“What the fuck is happening?” Cameron spots us, eyes darting between our joined hands and the ceiling. “The bells—”
“Automated system.” Julien lets go of my hand and crosses the room to the reverend, the Bible clutched to his chest. “You didn’t think to mention they ring?”
“I—” The reverend shrinks back. “It’s Sunday. The Lord’s day. They always ring. It’s a test of faith.”
“A test?” Julien yanks him by the front of his shirt. “That bell just rang the dinner bell for every zombie within two miles, and you’re talking about faith? How do we turn it off?”
“We can’t. God protects His house,” the reverend says. “His plan—”
“Look around you,” Julien grits out. “Does this look like divine protection?”
“God works in mysterious ways.” A serene smile ghosts over the Reverend’s lips. “Perhaps this is His sign.”
“You sanctimonious piece of—” Julien releases him with a slight shove that sends him stumbling back, and addresses the room. “We need to leave. Now.”
My father struggles to his feet. “You can’t be serious. It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s morning.” My mother steadies him. “And he’s right. Those things will be coming. Where would we even go?”
“Pine Lake Lodge,” Cameron says. “About four hours north if we’re lucky. Isolated cabins, defensible position, possibly stocked with supplies.”
“And if we’re not lucky?” My mother’s voice is thin with fear.
“Then we make our luck.” Julien scans the room. “Whatever you can’t carry, leave it.”
I rush to Amelia, dropping to my knees beside her. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”
She nods, though her face is pale, pinched with pain. I slide my arm around her waist, helping her to her feet.
“Let’s go, everybody!” Cameron checks his watch. “We have maybe three minutes left before—”
GONG. The sound feels like it’s coming from inside my head now.
“We’re taking the truck and the minivan,” Julian says. “Nicklas, Carmen, and Amelia in the minivan, more room for her to lie down. The rest of us in the truck.”
The Reverend straightens his collar. “I’m not leaving my church.”
Julien shrugs. “Be my guest.”
“You can’t just leave him,” my mother says.
“He’s made his choice.” Julien grabs a backpack, tossing it to Cameron. “Anyone else want to stay behind and pray? No? Then move.”
Amelia nods, face pale but determined. “Let’s go.”
“Lean on me. Just like when we were kids.” I guide her toward the door. “Remember when you sprained your ankle at the pier, and I helped you all the way back?”
“You were eight.”
“And stronger than I looked.”
The bell continues its relentless rhythm—eight, nine, ten—as we move through the corridor toward the church entrance. Cameron kicks the door open, and the morning air hits us, cool and damp.
The gate rattles in the distance, groaning figures pressing against the metal bars, and the car we pushed against it yesterday still blocks them, but more are gathering, drawn by the sound.
“Fuck,” Sienna breathes. “There are twice as many already.”
“And more coming.” Julien grips his machete. “Cameron, Sienna. We clear the gate before there are too many. Spread out. Everyone else, get inside the cars.”
I help Amelia toward the minivan, my mother and father following close behind. Rosa heads straight for the pickup, climbing into the backseat.
“Mom, you drive,” I say.
My mother nods, settling into the driver’s seat. My father takes the passenger side, his movements slow and pained, while I open the side door and help Amelia inside.
“Easy.” I support her head as she lies across the backseat.
At the left and right sides of the gate, Julien, Cameron, and Sienna work with brutal efficiency.
Julien’s machete rises and falls in a deadly arc.
Cameron impales one zombie after another through the eye with his firepoker, kicking the body back as it falls.
Sienna ducks beneath grasping arms, driving her cleaver into the base of a zombie’s skull.
“Fuck!” Sienna jumps back as clawed fingers catch her sleeve. “There are too many!”
I turn back to Amelia, tucking a blanket around her. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get to the lodge, and you can rest properly. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!” Her fingers close around my wrist. “My medicine—I think it fell out when we were packing.”
My stomach drops. No. No. Why now? “Where?”
“Where I was sleeping.” Her eyes dart toward the church. “I need it, Dakota. You know I can’t—”
I do know. The new experimental drug she started on three months ago has been the only thing keeping the worst symptoms at bay. Without it, she’ll deteriorate fast.
I glance toward the gate where Julien, Cameron, and Sienna push the car, creating a narrow gap. The bell’s tolling slows. I can make it. I just need to be quick.
“I’ll get it.” I squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry.”
“Hurry,” she whispers.
“I’ll be quick. Promise.” I sprint back inside the church and race down the corridor to the main room.
Our makeshift sleeping area is a mess of discarded blankets and forgotten items. I drop to my knees where Amelia slept, frantically searching through the tangled bedding.
“Come on, come on…”
I crawl on hands and knees, patting down every fold of fabric. The pill case is small. Neon pink plastic with compartments for each day. It should be easy to find. So why is it not here?! Did it fall out later?
The bell finally stops, leaving behind a ringing silence that weighs on my eardrums.
A step behind me. “Lord. Save my soul.”
I start to twist.
Something hard slams into the back of my skull. Light explodes behind my eyes, then darkness rushes in from the edges of my vision. I crumple forward, my face hitting the carpet.
The world tilts, spins, fragments.
Rough hands grab my wrists, dragging me. My cheek burns with friction. I try to move, to kick, but my limbs won’t respond. Just drifting in and out of consciousness, fragments of sensation reaching me through the haze.
I need to get the pills.
“—cleanse this place—” The words sound as if from a great distance. “—save His subjects for it must—”
My eyes flutter open. The ceiling spins above me. Stone arches. Stained glass. The chapel? Did I imagine everything?
“The bell calls them.” The reverend’s face swims into focus, his features distorted with religious fervor. “But blood will turn them away.”
The smell of incense.
Cold stone against my back.
Darkness swallows me again, deeper this time.
Seems like I will never dance in the rain.