Gena Showalter - The Queen Of Zombie Hearts

Trembling, I took my place behind the wheel. My palms sweat. My blood ran hot, but my skin iced over. Acid poured through me, stinging. As the garage door lifted, Cole reached over and squeezed my hand, offering what comfort he could. His skin was colder than mine and clammy.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I vowed, put the pedal to the metal and jetted onto the road. I braced myself, expecting a hail of bullets to pepper the vehicle. As seconds ticked into minutes, I began to relax.

If only the reprieve could have lasted. I turned a corner and spotted Gavin’s car wrapped around a pole. Steam curled from the crumpled hood. The driver-side door was open, but no one was behind the wheel.

“No,” I gasped out.

“He’s tough,” Cole said. “He’s smart, and he’s been through hell and back and survived.”

Tears welled as I parked in front of the wreckage. If Gavin survived, he was definitely injured. He would be nearby, hiding in the surrounding trees, waiting...unless he’d been carted somewhere else.

Searching for him could waste precious time. Time Cole didn’t have.

I had a choice to make.

Knowing how my mind worked, Cole said, “I’m wounded. Not dead. Stop worrying about me...and do what you have to do...for Gavin.” The more he spoke, the more labored his breathing became.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I admitted. “You need medical attention ASAP and—”

“Reason eleven,” he said, and it took me a moment to catch up. All the reasons he loved me. “You’re willing to risk...everything for your...friends. Besides, you won’t...be alone. Where you go...I go.”

What! “No. You’re staying in the car.”

“Ali.”

“Cole. You’re already panting. You’re still bleeding. Movement has increased the flow of blood. And you’re wearing shorts.”

His gaze raked over me. “Ali-gator. You’re wearing a tank.”

Again with the iron-hard resolve. “You’ll slow me down. And no, no more arguing. We’re sitting ducks here.”

He scowled. “Fine. Be careful...or I’ll be mad.”

I kissed him, hard and fast. Cold air cut at my exposed skin as I emerged. My feet had somehow morphed into heavy boulders, but I managed to maintain a swift pace, tracking a blood trail from the car to a tree that had scratches in the bark. From there I discovered a set of footprints that were the right size, with a depth consistent with Gavin’s muscled weight.

The prints stopped abruptly.

“Gavin,” I called, willing to chance Anima’s notice. Anything to help my friend. “It’s Ali.”

No response. Not even the call of insects.

The silence...killing me.

“Gavin. Please.”

Again, silence.

A well of tears. There wasn’t anything more I could do. I raced to the car. Cole was paler, and what little strength he’d gained had clearly abandoned him.

“Any...sign?” he asked.

“He was definitely here, but whether he’s unconscious or elsewhere, I don’t know. I’ll get you to Mr. Ankh and come back.” Before he could comment about the danger I’d be facing, I said, “How are you holding up?”

“Baby, we just got back together.” His teeth chattered. “There’s no way I’m dying right now.”

I wanted to turn on the heat, but didn’t. The low temperature was his best friend right now, helping to slow the bleeding. Thank you, old episodes of Scrubs.

“Do you promise?” I asked.

“Promise.”

* * *

I eased past the church. A beautiful three-story brownstone, shaped like an M. In the center, steep concrete steps led to the main door. Both sides were raised at the roof, coming to a point in the form of an intricate iron cross. I counted ten stained-glass windows, and all were intact. The parking lot was empty, illuminated by a single street lamp.

I searched the surrounding area for any sign that Mr. Ankh—or Anima—was nearby. As late as it was, the shops and cafés were closed. No one seemed to be huddling in the shadows. Only two cars were in the lot across the street, and both were empty. Neither belonged to anyone I knew.

I parked in a neighborhood two blocks away. Anima clearly knew where we lived. They also had to know what we drove. If they sent someone after us, I didn’t want the vehicle near the church.

“We’ll stick to the shadows and hoof it,” I said.

Cole grimaced as he swiped up the backpack. “You were...right. I’m slower. If trouble comes...don’t hang around...to help me. Get yourself...inside that building.”

No way. “We stay together, remember?”

“Only when...convenient for you.”

“Exactly.” I got out before he could respond, the cold sucking the air right out of my lungs.

When he stood beside me, mist dancing in front of his face, I tried to take the pack, but he scowled at me. “Reason twelve. Stubborn. But as long as...I’m breathing...I will protect you...carry what burden I can.”

That. That was one of the many reasons I’d fallen in love with him. “Cole—”

“Me man. You woman.” Everything about him was as hard as granite. He motioned forward with a tilt of his chin. “Walk.”

“Getting shot makes us cranky, I see.” On the lookout, I launched into action. The night had secrets hidden in its shadows, and if I wasn’t careful I could be bitten by one.

Cole stumbled several times but managed to keep up.

Coming to a small brick fence built for decoration rather than security, I crouched. No one loomed ahead; we scaled the obstruction with only minor difficulty and worked our way to the back of the church. While I used the skill I’d picked up from Frosty and jimmied the lock on the door, Cole leaned against the wall. His breathing was even more labored now. Should I use the fire again?

No time. Hinges squeaked as I shouldered my way inside the building. All the lights were out, pitch black greeting us with open arms. I used the flashlight app on my phone—there was an app for everything—chasing away the shadows. We were in a kitchen. It was small, but clean. We were alone. Ahead, a hallway branched in three different directions.

“This way.” Cole took the lead, his steps shuffling, his gait slower by the minute.

I made sure the light illuminated the way as we bypassed each of the doorways and entered the sanctuary. I muttered a prayer for strength and peace. Was Nana here? Were my friends? Or—

Borrowing trouble.

Right. We sailed through the sound room, a storage overflowing with choir robes, and finally entered the pastor’s office. Cole, who was wobbling on his feet, flipped on the overhead lamp, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. I blinked in an effort to adjust to the added brightness and saw a bookcase, desk, computer, file cabinet and a few chairs.

“I’m missing something,” I said. “Where’s the shelter?”

“Here.” He squatted and scooped out the things inside the bottom cubby of the bookcase. Reaching back, he lifted a hidden hatch, revealing a tunnel just big enough for an adult male to crawl through.

“Down,” he said. “Hurry.” His lids closed...then snapped back open.

How close was he to passing out?

I practically flew through the hole—found a ladder. Darkness enveloped me as I descended. Like a real-life Alice in Wonderland, I thought with a nervous laugh. My palms began to sweat all over again, and I had to squash images of Cole losing his grip and tumbling to his death.

Trickles of light filtered in. At the bottom, I hopped to the cement floor. With my help, Cole was able to do the same with minimal pain.

“Anima will pay for this,” I vowed.

“Yes, and they’ll...pay...in blood.”

A lot of blood.

We were in a small, dim box of a room, but voices rose beyond the far right wall. Voices I recognized.