Boom. A gunshot. Could only be a gunshot. The noise echoed down the valley. Boom.

“Roslyn!” Nick yelled. “Where are you?”

Boom.

“In here!” she yelled back.

Boom.

The infected tugged on the leg of her jeans, trying to drag her back. It was surprisingly strong and very determined. One bite to one of her bare feet and she was dead. She kicked back and it pulled again at the same time. Her balance went to shit and she landed on her belly, winded, coughing and choking. Fingers dug into her legs through the denim and a long hungry growl crept over her. She’d have screamed, but her lungs had shrunk, making it hard to breathe.

“Ros.”

Oh, his voice. He’d come for her.

Suddenly the bitch grabbing at her vanished. Boom.

Nick carefully pulled Roslyn back, extricating her from the tangle of bushes. His face was set and his rifle hung from one shoulder. Hurriedly, he looked her over, checking her for injuries.

“I’m okay,” she said.

With a nod he took her hand, holding on tight. Her grip was tighter. The scrapes from crawling through the garden stung in protest, but no way would she ease up. She clung onto him, wiping away tears with the back of her free hand.

“Come on, there’s more coming,” he said.

Together they jogged back up the drive toward the cabin. She limped, mostly, due to her foot. Moaning came from behind them and the buildings to their left. A couple of sheds and what must have once been the office and caretaker’s house. Where the hell had they all come from? She hadn’t seen a single one when they’d gone jogging. All the noise from the gun and her yelling must have drawn them out of hiding.

Ahead, the cabin came into view, light flickering within. Much more light then there should have been.

“No. No!” Nick dropped her hand and shot forward.

From within the cabin an infected shambled out, backlit by the fire raging within. The zombie must have gotten in across the boards and knocked over the candles. Its clothes were alight.

Nick stood ahead of her, fists clenching and unclenching in the dwindling light. The set of his shoulders made it clear he was furious. Absolutely livid. He tore the rifle off his shoulder and aimed. Boom. The infected toppled onto the walkway, gone for good.

The wooden cabin was ablaze with light, well beyond hope of saving. She had to shield her eyes from the heat and the light. Nick gave her one quick, filthy look, nostrils flaring angrily.

No. Not her fault. There had been extenuating circumstances.

“Get in the truck,” he said. He didn’t look back at her.

Nick strode to the driver’s side door, wrenched it open and threw himself in. She hobbled to the passenger side and climbed in as he gunned the engine, revving the life out of it. Tension lined his face, clearly visible thanks to the fire blazing in front of them.

She felt that she should say something, but she couldn’t think of a single word.

“Put your seatbelt on,” he said.

She did so.

He threw the car into reverse and she jolted forward against the restraint. They tore out of there.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nick had been hoping Roslyn would keep quiet. All night would be nice.

She’d been silent on the half-hour drive, had made only the barest of comments as he broke into a large shed suitable for holing up in. An uncomfortable night lay ahead, but they were shit out of luck when it came to options. He needed to get her somewhere safe and dark had settled in. Staying on the road would only get more dangerous. More infected would be coming out and the noise of the engine and the lights attracted them. The roads were covered with all sorts of debris. One blown tire and it would be all over. They'd be sitting ducks.

He drove the pickup into the shed and left the parking lights on. Got out and locked up the big double bay doors. The inside of the place was cluttered with crap but secure. He’d given it a going through while she waited in the vehicle holding her tongue. But there were lots of sidelong glances. She was working her way up to saying something. He could feel it. Goddamn, he wished she wouldn’t.

Everything in him felt wound tight, making him keep his mouth shut solely because his fear of losing his temper was huge. Their home was gone. Just … fucking gone. Their security and almost all of their supplies were up in smoke. The big metal box on the back of the truck had some weapons and a basic first-aid kit, but nothing fancy. He thought he’d thought of everything. What a joke. One f**king candle knocked over and the place was tinder. Hadn't thought of that, had he?

“We could go back to the school,” she said, disturbing his peace.

“No.” Not even remotely an option, but she didn’t know that. Hell, it had probably been where she’d been headed.

An old single mattress sat in the corner. He dragged it out and dusted it off a bit. It would do. He carried it over to the back of the pickup and slid it onto the bed. Better than her being on the floor. There were probably mice and cockroaches scuttling about. Now for a blanket or something to keep her warm.

Shit. They literally had nothing but a selection of guns, a few knives and some ammunition. Plus the good old basic first-aid box. She wasn’t wearing shoes or a jacket and he wasn’t much better.

“Nick, we need to talk about this.”

“Not now.”

“Yes, now.” She positioned herself in his path, hands on h*ps and her mouth a determined line. “I need to explain.”

Every last bit of him rejected the idea. He had so much anger churning him up inside that he didn’t know what to do with it. He needed to hit something. A wall or the side of the truck would do. Just drive his fist into something solid that wouldn’t give a f**k for the abuse. He sure as hell did not want to open his mouth and say shit he couldn’t take back. And that was what would happen if she kept pushing it.