A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena (читать лучшие читаемые книги TXT) 📗

“No. Let the hordes come,” I growl. “Let them ignore us while trying to get to you, unable to reach you. Because yes, you’ll ride the pine.”

She stiffens, but nods.

“And if they can’t scent you,” Cole says, “they might attack any humans nearby. That, we can’t allow.”

“Okay. No suit,” Milla says.

A thought—what if something goes wrong?

Worry twists my insides. Did Kat feel this helpless every time I went off to battle? Countless times she tried to stop me. Don’t go. Stay with me. I always resisted, helping and guarding my friends far more important than saving myself from a few injuries.

“Be on the lookout,” Cole says. “Smith might try to use our distraction against us and snatch Tiffany.”

Bronx smiles an evil smile. “I wish her good luck with that. I set some wicked-ass traps around Tiff’s cage.”

No wonder I admire the guy so much.

“I’m thinking we need to stay together, just in case zombies turn on us,” Ali says. “If someone gets bit, we do whatever it takes to inject him—or her—with antidote. Speaking of, Reeve and Weber played with the formula so that it works on anyone who’s built up an immunity.” She opens a case filled with instruments that look like EpiPens. “Take as many as you can carry.”

I stuff a handful in my pocket, and everyone else does the same.

“I’m sorry,” Kat says, at my side now.

Milla’s head is high as she walks away, offering privacy.

“I know,” I say. Kat did what she thought was necessary to protect me. Just like I’ll do what I think is necessary to protect Milla. She learned from it, and now we move on. “You’re forgiven.”

Her shoulders slump with relief. “Frosty the softy,” she says with a half smile. “Thank you.”

“Let’s talk later, okay?”

Kat nods and disappears.

Ali leads us to the roof. I close in on Milla and walk at her side. If anything happens to her...

Nothing better happen to her.

Halogen lights are anchored to the iron fence surrounding the property, and for the first time since I moved in, those lights are glowing. I take stock, watching as the hordes breach the property line and step into the high beams. Zombies in front hiss as they fall back, and the next in line step over them...only to hiss and fall back. But the creatures are determined to reach Milla and won’t be deterred. Soon, even as their spirits sizzle, they are push, push, pushing at the gate.

“Milla,” Cole says, “you stay up here to act as our bait.”

Her nod is clipped.

Bait usually gets eaten. Not this time. I’ll die first.

His violet gaze scans the rest of us. “Fight to kill.” He steps out of his body, the new version of him grabbing the handrail that hangs on a nearly transparent wire, already covered in Blood Lines. He slides down, down, flying over the gate, landing just behind the crowd of zombies.

Ali is next, then Chance, Love and Jaclyn.

River pounds Milla’s fist. “If I kill more zombies than Frosty, you have to do my laundry for a month.”

“No way. I would rather eat a zombie,” she says.

“I’ll take that as a hell, yes.” River steps out of his body and flies into the action.

My gaze follows him, and I see—

No way. Just no way. His spirit ghosts through two of the zombies. Zombies are spirits, not bodies. The two should have collided. There’s only one explanation. Those weren’t zombies but humans dressed as zombies.

Rebecca’s agents are hidden in the masses.

Shit, shit, shit. I search the sea of rot, but it’s too hard to tell real from fake. Except—

There! A collar is hooked to the zombie’s belt loop. Not zombie. Human. Has to be. The agents hope to collar us.

I tell Milla, and she pales.

“We’re in trouble,” she says as she, too, scans the sea.

If the volts in the collars are strong enough, slayers will die in minutes. Or, maybe the goal is to make us solid to the touch, allowing agents to carry us away without civilians able to watch or cameras able to record.

“I have to disable the agents,” I say, remaining in my body as I grip the rail.

“Go. Warn the others.” Milla gives me a push, and I drop, wind slapping against my face.

I let go just before I reach the end of a wire: a giant oak. Landing is jarring, considering I’m moving at what has to be a thousand miles per hour, but I recover swiftly and roll with my momentum. As I straighten, I palm two semiautomatics and spray bullets in every direction. I’m in the physical realm, so I don’t have to worry about hurting my friends, who are in the spirit realm. Grunts ring out, groans of pain soon following.

When I run out of bullets, I drop the empty clips and jam the end of the guns onto new ones, which are currently strapped to my thighs. Then it’s once again party time.

I stop only when Milla’s flying form comes into view. She kicks the agent sneaking up on me and sends him to his back, allowing me to shoot him. She lands and rolls, and every zombie in the immediate area stops to face her.

“Go back,” I snarl. “Now!”

“Clearly you need someone on your six.” She withdraws her own semiautomatics and shoots up the area behind me.

More grunts. More groans.

I whip around to watch three agents topple. Damn it! Like the other one, they’d almost had me.

Zombies head straight for Milla. I drop my guns and reach for my swords, then step out of my body to remove any arms and legs that reach her way. Different parts soon form a wall between us and the rest of the horde.

When I return to my body, I look for Milla. There! An agent stands behind her, one arm snaked around her neck, the other around her waist. She bucks against him, slamming the back of her head into his nose. Howling in pain, he loosens his hold and she’s able to break free by jamming her elbows into his stomach, then latching onto his arm, at the same time ducking and yanking him over her head.

I palm a gun and, while the guy is down, shoot him in the chest.

As zombies scale the wall of parts, I move in and out of my body. Milla cries out. I whip around. Two agents punch at her, keeping her distracted while a third sneaks up behind her, a collar ready to be snapped around her neck.

No way in hell! I aim, squeeze the trigger. He flies backward.

A frantic thud of footsteps behind me. I spin, ready to shoot, and come face-to-face with the barrel of a .38.

“Drop your weapon,” a hard male voice demands.

Like hell. I go low and kick out my leg. Contact! He drops.

I’m there when he lands, slamming my fist into his nose; cartilage snaps. His eyes close, his body going lax. I straighten—only to fly backward as pain explodes in my shoulder.

I’ve been hit.

Milla unleashes a blood-curdling scream, and I fight my way to my feet. Blood gushes down my shirt. Stars wink over my vision as I try to breathe. I step...step, moving forward. My knees give out, but it doesn’t stop me. I crawl. Have to get to Milla... Can’t let her get hurt...or worse.

“No, no. Don’t hurt him.” Suddenly she’s at my side, her soft hands pressing my wound to stop the flow of blood. “Stay still, Frosty. Okay? All right? Just stay still. I’ll take care of you.”

Fog rolls in, but I manage to stay awake. “You...okay?”

“I’m fine. But you... I didn’t shield you.” Tears spill down her cheeks. “Couldn’t get to you in time. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I try to reach up and wipe those tears away, but movement is impossible. My muscles have seized. “No...tears. Not for...me.” I have trouble catching my breath. “You...all that...matters.”

The tears only fall faster.

“You have a choice,” an unfamiliar voice says.

“I know. I know. We die or we go with you calmly,” she snaps. “You don’t need the collars, and you don’t need to hurt him. We’ll cooperate.”

The tallest one smiles without humor. “I know you’ll go with us calmly because, if one of you acts up, the other dies.”