01

Everyone used to say Ethan Ward was crazy about me.

Then, three days after our worst fight, he got together with Avery Shaw—the freshman who had been chasing him for months.

That same day, the world ended.

I got bitten and turned into a zombie.

For days, I wandered without thought or purpose. Then I saw Ethan shielding Avery with his own body, and something inside my ruined head woke up.

His friend asked, “Aren't you worried about Nora?”

Ethan's brow tightened.

“Don't say her name. She was too stubborn for her own good. If she got turned, that's on her.”

He glanced over.

His eyes met mine.

——————————————————————

For one suspended second, Ethan froze.

So did I.

The fog inside my skull cleared as if someone had thrown open a window.

Avery stood tucked behind him in a white dress. Only the hem was dirty. In the middle of an apocalypse, she looked almost untouched.

He'd taken good care of her.

Me? I'd been bitten on day one. My clothes were torn and caked with grime, and the bite on my wrist had gone deep enough to show how hard I'd fought.

The sight of it made something ache inside me.

Good thing I was a zombie now. My face barely moved. No one could tell.

Logan Price stared at me, then shouted, “Holy hell. That's Nora. She really did turn.”

He raised a black handgun and aimed it at my forehead.

I tilted my head at the barrel.

Being a zombie was already bad enough. Regaining consciousness for less than a minute only to get shot in the head felt downright rude.

And this time, dead would probably mean dead.

I almost gave up.

Then my old stubborn streak kicked in.

I'd spent my entire life refusing to accept my fate. Why start now?

I spun around and ran.

Well—“ran” was generous. I lurched away like an extra from a bargain-bin zombie movie. All I needed was a fake groan and some dramatic background music.

It would've been funny if the gun behind me weren't real.

Avery laughed anyway, bright and sweet.

“Nora was funny when she was alive. I guess becoming a zombie didn't cure her.”

I whipped around and snarled at her.

“Hrrrk!”

The sound was awful. Even I hated it.

“Lower the gun, Logan,” Ethan said.

My dead little heart gave an embarrassing leap.

Maybe he'd grown a conscience. Maybe seeing me had dragged seven years of love back to the surface.

Then he added, “I'll take care of her myself.”

I stopped moving.