Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga by Michael Cairns Page B

She half turned back when a figure lunged from the car, hands clutching at her. She tripped over herself, into him, and they tumbled to the concrete. The zombie lurched straight past and took a moment to turn and face them.  
    Krystal awkwardly drew her sword, elbow digging into his stomach, and held it before her. The zombie came at them and she shifted, grinding his ankle into the floor where she sat on it. He suppressed the groan of pain, focusing on the creature.  
    It fell on them, but Krystal had the sword ready and it entered its mouth. The zombie kept coming and the blade erupted from the back of its head. Blood streamed down the blade and over Krystal’s hands as the zombie’s head oozed down it and thumped into her lap.  
    They were still for a second before Krystal shouted and shoved the zombie off, flailing at it until she could stand. Luke watched her, half-amused and half sickened by the dead creature. Krystal got control of herself and grabbed her sword. She put her foot on the zombie’s face and yanked the blade free, then wiped it on the creature’s clothing.  
    She tossed the sword in the open car door and returned to him. She hauled him upright and shoved him in the car. She slammed the door, raced around to the other side, and climbed in.  
    They sat for a moment, side by side, staring at the chaos in front of them. Then in unison they jumped and twisted in their seats to explore the back. There was nothing there and they turned back, letting out long breaths.  
    He still struggled to breathe and another pain made itself known, like someone was jabbing him in the chest with pins. He felt it gingerly and found a rib that sent sharp shards of pain through his body. He’d broken a rib. Probably. His observations had never gone as far as exploring wounds. He’d never had wounds.  
    He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the wreckage before them. They faced the petrol station they had used before they went to the warehouse. Where the station had been was now a raging fire and the vague skeleton of the shop. The street around them was covered in pieces of blackened and twisted metal and in some places, the smoke was still too thick to see through.  
    The afternoon sunlight was strong and burned through the smoke, casting random, shifting shadows on the floor. He shifted in his seat and almost cried out as his shoulder turned. He slumped back and contented himself with turning his head to look at Krystal.  
    ‘It blew up.’ It was as inane a comment as he could have made and he blushed. She nodded, eyes wide as she stared into the smoke.  
    ‘Yeah. Wow.’
    They sat in silence as Luke tried to organise his thoughts. There were things they needed to do. He had to work out how they were getting home, but every time he tried, he took a breath and the pain swamped him. After a few minutes, Krystal turned in her seat to look at him. Her nose was bloody and her face was covered in dust and dirt. He probably looked the same.  
    ‘We need to get back to the hospital. Can you ride?’
    She sounded so calm and so assured he almost burst into tears. He ground his teeth together. He hadn’t cried in thousands of years. Had he ever cried? All it took now was a broken rib and a bit of pride. He sniffed. Thousands of years of punishment and now he had the capacity to feel something other than delight in pain. He wasn’t sure how disappointed he was in himself. The Father told him he deserved this and at the time he’d thought it was punishment. Now, though…
    He chuckled and shook his head at Krystal’s frown of confusion. ‘Sorry, there’s really nothing funny, just thinking about how nice it is to feel a broken rib.’
    She prodded him in the chest and he gasped, eyes watering. ‘Yeah, looks nice. Can you ride?’
    He groaned and shook his head. ‘Not yet. My shoulder’s gone.’
    ‘Gone?’
    ‘I don’t think it’s broken. I don’t know really. Maybe give it a day and it’ll be