Page 10 of Zomromcom

“Stay here,” Max told Edie the next morning as she popped several mints in lieu of an actual breakfast. “Only an idiot would wander outside after a breach. Besides, the zombies won’t make it past the moat.

They don’t have a pass to let down the drawbridge and open the passage to Zone B.

Even if they did have a pass, they wouldn’t understand how to use it.

They can’t have gone far, which means you won’t make it far before they find you. ”

His voice had started dispassionate and low, but it steadily rose as some indefinable emotion seeped around the edges of his words and prodded him to speak faster and faster.

Her brows lifted. “Yet they managed to break through Wall One and get across that moat.”

His mouth tightened. He hadn’t expected her to remember that little detail, apparently. “Even if they did make it across the moat to Zone B, very few people live in the Containment Zone, and everyone will have gone somewhere more congenial to visit friends and family for the holidays.”

“Everyone except you and me. I wonder what that says about us.”

For her, staying in the Zone had been a choice.

Two friends had issued invitations, as had several distant relations, but she didn’t like spending the holidays away from her parents.

The house itself was what she had left of them, apart from her memories and the few possessions that hadn’t been either broken or soaked in blood during the First Breach.

Max, though…did he have anywhere else to go, at the holidays or any other time?

He ignored her interjection. “You wouldn’t be saving anyone, only endangering yourself. And surely the sirens will begin any minute now.”

Neither one of them believed that. “I don’t know what went wrong, but if the alarm hasn’t sounded by now, I don’t think it’s happening. Not unless we get word to the authorities. And honestly, Max, I can’t stay here much longer anyway. I need to eat, and you don’t have human food.”

“I can get food from your house,” he said swiftly. “The pack appears to have moved on overnight, and I’m more than able to handle a stray creature or two on my own.”

“I see.” She smiled at Mr. Your Survival Is Immaterial to Me, imbuing her expression with all the gentle mockery his offer deserved. “Thank you, but that doesn’t address the main reason I’m going.”

“To help other humans.”

“To help anyone who needs assistance, human or not.”

“Edie.” He ducked his head to make direct eye contact, unfamiliar lines bracketing his mouth. “They wouldn’t help you .”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to call in the breach?” Her head tipped to the side as she studied him. “Because you don’t think anyone would care about your survival, so you’re returning the favor?”

“I knew someone would notify the hotline. Notably, you.” His hand flicked in her direction.

“But if you hadn’t called, that would have been fine too.

I don’t care what happens to anyone else.

The government and SERC will eventually notice the breach and rectify the situation.

I’m more than happy to wait it out until then. ”

Her gaze dropped to her sneakers—which the neat freak had apparently scrubbed overnight, since they were now whiter than they’d been in years—and she frowned.

Her instincts said he didn’t mean that. But he was telling her who he was, and she should believe him, even if some of his actions contradicted his words.

Maybe she truly was the lone exception to his misanthropy, temporarily tolerated only because she’d attempted to save his life and some vestigial sense of honor obliged him to help her in return.

Maybe he truly was a conscienceless cipher, and she was only seeing what she wanted to see.

In which case, she should leave his home no matter what, for her own safety.

A sense of obligation would only carry him so far, unaided by genuine concern for her or anyone else.

Soon enough, her life would mean nothing to him once more, and she’d be a fool to put herself in close proximity to such a lethal, ruthless predator.

“What?” When she didn’t respond, he repeated, “What, Edie? What are you thinking?”

She swallowed. “People do sacrifice themselves for the good of others. I know that for a fact.” Her eyes rose to meet the bleakness of his.

“But it doesn’t matter, really. I can’t control what others do.

I can only control what I do, and I have to look at myself in the mirror every morning and be able to live with what I see.

I can’t sit and wait and save myself at the expense of my neighbors’ lives. I have to go.”

He simply watched her, expressionless.

“Thank you for your help last night. If the phone lines start working again, please call the hotline. For me, if no one else.” Disappointment stung her eyes, but she blinked the prickle away. She gave him a little nod of gratitude, of farewell, and slung her bag over her head. “Take care, Max.”

He didn’t respond, even with a perfunctory goodbye. His pale eyes burned into her, as blue and hot as the center of a flame, and she turned away from the scorch.

His stare followed her across the shiny concrete. She could feel it, and she rolled her shoulders to shrug off the weight of it.

When she was three steps away from the ladder, he called out her name. “ Edie .”

Not quite a bark, not quite a plea. Not enough to stop her for long. Rather than swiveling to face him, she simply looked over her shoulder and waited.

His hands fisted at his sides. “Since moving next door, I’ve intercepted two would-be intruders casing your home. One last year. Another in October.”

The words sounded rusty. Rough around the edges. They also sounded like the truth.

He’d helped her—potentially saved her property or even her life—long, long before she’d attempted to save him. And he was telling her because…

Because he didn’t want her to leave without knowing he valued at least one other person in the entire world. Her.

“I can show you the footage.” He didn’t sound panicked, exactly. But he certainly didn’t sound dispassionate. “I saved it.”

“No need. I believe you.” Her lips curved, because now she’d have one last pleasant memory of him, of caring, before she met her fate. “Thank you.”

Impatiently, he waved that aside. “I don’t want your gratitude.”

“Then what do you want?” A farewell hug? Maybe even a tiny little k—

“I want to accompany you,” he announced.

Her brows slammed together in shock. What the —“Why?”

“Because…” He hesitated and shifted his weight, the muscles in his jaw working. “Because…”

After a few moments, she let him off the hook. He’d already revealed much more of himself over the past twenty-four hours than she would have predicted, and definitely more than was comfortable for him. His exact motivation in this instance could remain fuzzy.

He cared about her, however unwillingly. And with him at her side, she might actually survive the upcoming trek. No matter his reasoning, that was a clear win for her.

She offered him a teasing, triumphant grin. “Because you’re finally acknowledging the awesomeness of my kick last night? Because you’re eager to learn from me, your local warrior princess–slash–ninja?”

“Because if all humanity perishes, I’ll starve,” he said dryly.

“Good enough for me!” she chirped, then companionably punched his uninjured arm.

“Ow.” He scowled at her, rubbing his triceps ostentatiously. “Control your bloodlust, human, and give me a minute to put together a pack.”

She snickered. “Fine. I’ll meet you by the ladder.”

Gods, climbing up that thing was going to suck even worse than climbing down.

“I have an elevator,” he told her before striding toward his bedroom.

“What?” It was an outraged squawk. “Then why didn’t we use it last night?”

“We might not have made it there in time.” He smiled smugly at her. “Also, I was curious how long the descent would take you. The answer: forever. A bloody eternity . It was sad, really.”

Then he was gone, his steps swift and sure, before she could run over and punch his arm again, this time with more force.

“I’ve met centenarian tortoises who move faster than you did,” he called through the closing bedroom door, and she aimed her middle fingers in his direction even as she laughed.

***

In the end, leaving his house took them another full hour.

Once he emerged from his room with a large backpack, they looked at a map of the Containment Zone on his phone.

Without needing much discussion, they decided upon the most straightforward route: They would immediately drive to the lone access road that allowed passage over the moats and through the walls to the outside world, where they would contact the nearest authorities about the latest breach.

All while avoiding a roaming pack of zombies and any straggler zombies that might be lingering nearby.

“And helping anyone in trouble along the way,” she added as they studied their path.

He sighed. “If absolutely necessary.”

“Also, if the sirens sound before we make it out of the Zone, we’ll find safe shelter wherever we are.” When he simply looked at her, as if to say obviously , she spread her hands. “Just making sure our priorities are aligned so we both know what to do.”

The humming sound he made didn’t indicate agreement, necessarily, but he didn’t argue.

She looked down at herself. At some point during the night, Max had laundered her coveralls too, so they were clean and dry, and they were thick enough to prevent light scratches and abrasions. Not damage from claws and sharp teeth, however.

“Thanks for washing this, by the way.” She plucked at the fraying edge of her sleeve. “It was crusty and gross.”

“Yes, I know.” He gave a delicate shudder.

“It’s my most protective work clothing, but it doesn’t shield my neck at all. Do you have anything that might? Like, a metal piece from a suit of armor or something?”