Page 3 of Zomromcom

At long last, Edie dropped onto blessedly solid ground beside Chad.

“Fourteen minutes. A travesty.” The glow of his phone revealed a long-suffering expression. “The descent usually takes me thirty seconds.”

Her hands had become claws sometime during those fourteen torturous minutes. Unzipping her bag was a challenge, as was unearthing her own cell in total darkness. No, that was the burrito…her keys…a tampon…a tin of mints…

There. The phone. And it somehow had coverage down here, which was nothing short of a miracle. The Zone’s limited and crumbling infrastructure meant she frequently couldn’t muster sufficient bars to place calls within the area’s tall, protective walls, even aboveground.

“I suppose you can’t help being a mere human, however.” He seemed to consider this a generous allowance on his part. “I won’t complain.”

Too late.

“I salute your heroism.” She tapped the Containment Zone Emergency Line icon, something she should have done at the top of the ladder.

She hadn’t been thinking clearly, but that was no excuse.

After putting the phone to her ear, she waited.

And waited some more. “Why isn’t anyone answering the fucking emergency line? ”

Chad gave the world’s tiniest, most uninterested shrug.

“Please state the nature of your emergency,” the attendant said after an interminable delay, her voice low and smooth.

“My name is Eden Brandstrup, and I live on Cloverleaf Drive in Zone A. My neighbor and I have just been attacked by two zombies. We heard more outside our shelter, so we assume the entire pack has escaped through a breach in Wall One.”

“How distressing.” The attendant paused briefly, and clicking sounds filled the silence. “I’ll alert the necessary parties.”

“How quickly can you sound the alarm? Because everyone in Zone A is at risk until they know what’s happening.” No response. “Hello?”

Edie lowered her phone and looked down at it. The call had been disconnected.

Well, that was…startlingly abrupt. But the attendant’s haste in ending the conversation made sense, upon second thought, because the sooner the woman stopped talking, the sooner she could activate the alarm.

It should be starting any second now. Or maybe she needed approval from supervisors, in which case the warning sirens might not begin for another minute or two.

Either way, Edie had offered what help she could for her neighbors near and far. The rest was up to the government.

“Done.” She slid the phone back into her bag. “I feel terrible for waiting so long, but hopefully our Zone A neighbors are either safely indoors for the night or visiting their families outside the Containment Zone for the holidays.”

Still illuminated by his phone’s blue-white glare, Definitely Not Human Chad simply looked at her.

Bro Chad had been a much better conversationalist, which was saying something.

“So…here we are. Your underground lair. Chad’s Cave of Dreams.” She turned her head, but couldn’t see much. “Does your pit have electricity? Because my flashlight app will work for a while, but eventually—”

With a swipe of his forefinger against his screen, he turned on the overhead lights.

Her jaw dropped.

The place was freaking gigantic , with polished concrete floors stretching into the far distance and minimalist fixtures shining on them from above.

An enormous kitchen gleamed to the right, all black-veined white marble and bronze, with an endless island and zero visible appliances other than a refrigerator.

To the left, at least twenty feet distant from the kitchen or any other furniture, he had a seating area with chunky metal-and-wood tables positioned alongside long, low, sinuously curved cream-colored couches that belonged on a luxurious spaceship built a thousand years from now.

He watched her reaction with a faint, smug smile.

She closed her mouth. Then opened her mouth. Then closed it again.

“Wow,” she finally said. “This place is huge . Huge and uncluttered and…”

“And…?”

“And…uh…aggressively modern?” When he frowned down at her, she raised her hands, palms out.

“Don’t get me wrong. This is amazing, and my attic is basically a tiny, crowded, insufficiently insulated wooden tent, so your shelter is way, way better than mine.

Just…damn. It’s like the Guggenheim Museum and a diamond mine had a baby down here. How did I not know this place existed?”

A single golden-brown brow arched, silently chiding her obtuseness. “Because I didn’t wish you to know.”

Well, duh. “But I work from home. How did I not see or hear anything?”

“Most construction occurred at night, after you secured your shutters. Any necessary explosions took place in your absence.”

A mysterious incident from three years ago, shortly after his arrival next door, suddenly made a lot more sense.

She’d left for the post office, realized somewhere in Zone C that she’d forgotten her wallet, and driven back home.

Only to experience what felt like a small earthquake in her own driveway.

She’d knocked on his door shortly thereafter to ask whether he’d noticed it too, because she couldn’t find any mention of a local tremor on the internet.

“I dunno, dude.” He’d offered her a bright, vapid smile and spread his hands wide in helpless confusion. “My edibles just kicked in a few minutes ago, so…”

“Okay.” With a tiny, silent sigh and a little nod, she’d turned for home. “Sorry to bother you, Chad.”

“No problemo, dude!” he’d shouted loudly enough to make her twitch. “Laters!”

“The earthquake?” she asked now.

“The explosives crew didn’t notice your return in time.”

“Ah.” That explained it.

“Your expression of pained tolerance during our every encounter…” That small, smug smile reappeared on his stupidly handsome face. “It sparked such joy in me, I should have filmed a Marie Kondo special.”

“You were fucking with me this entire time.” Three years. Three damn years .

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because I enjoyed it.”

“I imagine you did.” She raised her own brows. “But you also wanted your privacy, and playing the role of Bro Chad ensured I’d keep my distance.”

He flicked a hand, indicating his vast, secret underground bunker in silent confirmation. His was not the home of someone who enjoyed neighborly socializing. Or Miller Lite, for that matter.

After a glance at the nearest masterwork of minimalist design, a bronze-edged glass console table, she returned her attention to him.

“Everything here is gorgeous, obviously. But…don’t you need a comfy couch and TV somewhere so you can binge-watch the newest Netflix show before it gets prematurely canceled? ”

He drew himself up to his full height. “My home contains all the modern amenities.”

Modern amenities , she repeated silently. A surprisingly old-fashioned phrase for someone who seemed very contemporary in his tastes. Of course, if what she suspected proved true—

“In my media room, I have a state-of-the-art television and various streaming options.” He sniffed. “And my sofas feel like clouds filled with the luxurious down of a thousand denuded geese.”

Apparently defensiveness brought out his eloquent side.

“I see.” She disguised her snicker as a cough, smothering it against her fist. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult your very nice basement or hurt your feelings. I’m extremely grateful you’re sharing your shelter with me.”

Which was the honest truth, for all her semi-hysterical hilarity. Only a fool would anger someone who could murder her with such terrifying ease and who was currently hiding her from ravenous zombies. She liked her brain. She’d prefer that it remain encased safely in her skull.

His lip curled. “You think you hurt my feelings ?”

The very idea seemed to offend him further.

“Uh…” She scratched the tip of her nose with a ragged nail. “No. Of course not.”

“I told more convincing lies in my cradle,” he informed her.

“I apologize once more, then, for…” The gods and goddesses alone knew what had his thong in a twist now. “For implying you have feelings?”

It was her best guess.

And evidently it was wrong, because now he was outright glowering at her. “Of course I have feelings, human. I experience many emotions. Anger. Impatience. Disgust. Boredom. Schadenfreude.”

Wow, his daily existence sounded fun .

“Not a single living creature on this planet can hurt those feelings, however. The opinion of a woman delusional enough to consider foil-wrapped foodstuffs a suitable weapon against zombies certainly means nothing to me.”

Of course her opinion meant nothing to him. Why would she believe otherwise?

She lifted a shoulder. “In my defense, I got extra guac on my burrito, so it’s really heavy. Top of the line as far as burrito cudgels go.”

“You wish to justify your actions?” A hint of menace had entered his tone. “Because I would welcome a discussion of your stupefying idiocy earlier this evening.”

She shouldn’t have to justify her actions, since they’d been undertaken with his continued survival in mind, but if it made him happy…

“Sure. Get it out of your system, Euro Chad.”

Shit. Evidently he’d been right. She was a fool. Either that or her survival instincts were broken. It was the only logical explanation for why she kept poking at him this way despite all good sense and her best intentions.

He scrutinized her with narrowed eyes, disapproval radiating from every stern line on his face. “You’re always home before dark. Why not tonight?”

“Oh!” She brightened in realization. “That’s why you were outside without your usual disguise, huh? You assumed I was already tucked up safe at home for the evening.”

He simply stared stonily at her, waiting for her answer.

For the love of your aorta, do not roll your eyes , she instructed herself. “I had orders to drop off and boxes of supplies to sign for, and I didn’t expect the post office to be so crowded right after Christmas.”