2

The second Ethan looked at me, he froze.

The fog in my head split open.

I looked at him. I looked at Annie tucked against his side. Her white dress had one dirty smear along the hem and nothing else.

Clearly, someone had protected her very well.

Me? I had been bitten on the first day. My clothes hung off me in ripped, filthy strips. The bite on my wrist was deep enough to show I had fought hard before I lost.

The thought made something sour twist in my chest.

Good thing I was a zombie. My face was too stiff to give me away.

Drew shouted, "Holy hell. That's Maya Reed. She really turned!"

He raised a black pistol and aimed it at my head.

I tilted my head at the gun.

Being a zombie was already a rough day. Waking up with a mind again and getting shot within one minute seemed excessive.

I was almost ready to accept it. Then my old temper kicked in.

I had never been good at lying down and waiting to die.

So I turned and ran.

Well, "ran" was generous. I lurched away with my arms stiff and my knees locked, moving like every low-budget zombie extra in a movie.

If someone had added a groaning soundtrack, I would have nailed the part.

Annie laughed. Bright, clear, bell-like.

"Maya was a clown when she was alive," she said. "I guess death didn't fix that."

Anger scraped out of my throat as a rough, ugly sound.

"Hhrrr."

I hated that noise. Even I wanted to tell myself to shut up.

Then Ethan spoke.

"Drew. Lower the gun."

For half a second, I thought his conscience had made a comeback.

Then he added, "I'll handle her myself."

I went still.