Page 52 of Zomromcom

As soon as night fell, Sabrina set off a few flares, and Edie lit the house two doors down from hers on fire.

Biting her lip, she watched flames lick up the sides of Mr. and Mrs. Buchwald’s crumbling wood-sided rancher and tried not to question the group’s plan.

After decades of closeting herself indoors after sunset, this kind of exposure jangled her nerves.

But as the more strategically minded among them had argued the previous evening, they needed to attract every single zombie to their various boobytraps, and during daylight hours there was simply no way to do so without also drawing the attention of outsiders.

The flicker of flames in darkness, though—from a distance, it would be silent yet unmissable to the creatures. An inescapable lure.

The sirens hadn’t yet sounded, so the group assumed that the zombie pack still lingered within the Containment Zone and fae trickery had left government officials still unaware of the perilous situation.

So far, so good. But this was a calculated risk, nevertheless, without much room for error.

The inferno had to be large enough, the flares high enough, to capture the creatures’ attention and lure them back toward the compound—but not large or high enough to be seen above Wall Four, thus bringing the authorities or other unwanted visitors to the Zone.

The outermost Containment Zone wall was the tallest by far, and hopefully darkness would obscure the smoke already billowing thickly into the sky, but…

yeah. A lot could go wrong. Even if everything ostensibly went right and the entire pack of zombies headed their way en masse without inviting external scrutiny to what was happening on Cloverleaf Drive.

Because then their not-so-merry band would have to incapacitate those zombies. Either via the boobytraps the group had spent all day creating, or via hand-to-hand combat. The latter was an unsettling prospect, given their number of actual fighters.

Five. Five fighters. Max, Edie, Sabrina, Kip, and Lorraine. Against an unknown number of zombies, all of whom were strong, fast, ruthless, single-mindedly committed to brain slurpage, and very, very difficult to kill.

Panic wouldn’t help anyone. Breathing deeply, Edie tried to slow her racing heart and still her shaking hands.

“Those oils really helped with flammability.” Lorraine stood beside her, fists braced on her solid hips. “Thanks, Edes-a-lot.”

As Edie had pointed out the previous night, oils bought in bulk for soapmaking purposes could be used for alternative projects.

Such as arson. But now that it was actually happening, seeing such expensive supplies—gods, she’d just invested in new containers of tamanu oil and evening primrose seed oil, hadn’t she?

—going up in flames sort of nauseated her.

Max had promised to reimburse her for her losses. She hadn’t even argued. She’d simply quacked at him, savored the moment he’d recognized the Scrooge McDuck reference, and let it go.

Somewhere just inside the tree line, he and Kip were sharpening everyone’s knives and checking the final preparations while Sabrina spent a few private moments alone with her wife. Gwen, who was still struggling with nausea, had curled up on a cot nearby for a final bit of rest.

With her booted toe, Edie scuffed the brittle brown grass beneath their feet. “How confident are you in the firebreak?”

“As confident as I can be under the circumstances,” Lorraine said, which wasn’t really an answer, but it was exactly what Edie would have said in response too.

The Girl Explorers had put both their fae heritage and their nature know-how to hard work that day, and prepping the area around the Buchwalds’ home had been their first task.

To stop the fire from spreading, they’d cleared fallen leaves and all other vegetation in a wide ring around the abandoned residence, down to the bare soil.

Some of them had used shovels or rakes, but most had simply used their fae powers.

In the end, the firebreak looked convincingly pristine and professional.

“We didn’t earn that Wildfire Prevention badge for nothing,” Riley had told Edie before she and the other girls moved on to their next task.

“How long do you think it’ll take for the creatures to come?” Lorraine’s broad brow creased. “ If they come, obviously.”

Their best plan depended on the zombies being drawn to the fire and flares. If Edie and the others had to track down and confront the pack in Zone C instead…well, everyone would still fight. But their likelihood of preventing disaster or surviving the encounter would be minimal at best.

They’d decided to wait three hours for the creatures’ arrival before moving on to their backup contingencies. But truly, it shouldn’t take very long, although Sabrina and Max had vigorously disagreed on the exact timing.

Edie had kept her mouth shut for that discussion, because both had made good points, but only one of them had made her come four times that morning.

“The pack is pretty far out, but the access road gives them a straight shot. The bridges are down, the doors are open, and they’re fast and fed, so…

two hours, possibly? Maybe less if they were close to the access road to begin with.

And there could be strays nearer to us, of course.

” The glow of a cell screen high up in the trees caught her attention.

“As soon as they spot anything, Riley and the other girls will give us the signal.”

Apparently the Girl Explorers found lounging among the treetops quite comfortable, so as soon as the fire had been set and they’d finished their other assigned duties, they’d climbed up into the branches and settled down for an indefinite wait.

Lorraine hummed in acknowledgment and fell silent.

“If there are strays, they could be here any minute. You should eat while you can.” Edie mustered a smile for her new friend. “Can’t fight on an empty stomach, Lorrie.”

“You’re as smart as you are short.” Lorraine’s hair glowed in the firelight. “I’ll save you a turkey sandwich, Edes. Maybe some cookies too if I can spare any.”

“Thanks,” said Edie, and the troll flicked her a salute before walking toward their supply hub in the woods.

Mesmerized by the flickering flames, Edie watched the fire spread.

Steadily at first, then in sudden leaps of incandescent flame.

The crackling had turned into a growing roar, with occasional crashes as the structure collapsed further, and it didn’t smell like a campfire or a cozy fireplace blaze.

When the breeze changed direction, acrid smoke filled her lungs and tasted like melted plastic on the back of her tongue.

She coughed, shifting until she found a viewing spot with cleaner air.

An untold amount of time later, Max’s cool arms slid around her from behind, and she relaxed into his increasingly familiar embrace.

“You need to eat something, my Edie,” he murmured into her ear, then set his chin on top of her head. “Before the godsdamn trolls vacuum up the final crumbs.”

She nodded but didn’t move, and he didn’t push. He simply held her.

“I hope to heaven I don’t see any of my neighbors in the pack.

” It was a whispered confession, too soft for anyone but him to hear.

“If they lived through an attack, only to be transformed…I’d kill them, because I’d have to.

” She swallowed, her throat thick. “But it would break a few more pieces of my heart.”

Easing forward, he surrounded her even more securely.

“If it helps, I doubt that will happen.” His chin rubbed her crown, his stubble catching on her hair. “If they were caught unawares by a zombie pack intent on feeding, the likelihood that anyone survived longer than a few seconds is minimal.”

Her attempt at a smile failed. “It’s a terrible sort of silver lining, I suppose.”

“Who lived in this house?” His voice was gentle. “You must have known them.”

“The Buchwalds. An older couple, originally from Canada. No kids.” Mrs. Buchwald’s hair had gone completely white soon before the Breach, and she’d been using a blue rinse to deal with yellowing from sun exposure.

A bit too much blue rinse, as it turned out, because her hair had acquired a distinct but pretty cerulean undertone the last few months of her life.

“They used to babysit me sometimes when both my parents had to work in the store. I was sort of their…”

She took a moment. Cleared her throat.

“They called me their surrogate daughter.” And she’d just set fire to their fucking home. “They died in the First Breach. No one could locate any living relatives, and no one wanted to buy their home from the bank.”

The house-proud Buchwalds’ retirement paradise had turned overgrown and mildewy.

The roof sagged, and the glass windowpanes were cracked.

When Edie had gone on her scouting walks, she’d occasionally looked through their windows and seen dust. Insects.

The encroachment of nature, as all the couple had built slowly rotted and turned to dust.

“No one will miss this house”—except her—“so it seemed a safe bet for burning.”

The conflagration had cast an orange glow over the other homes on the street.

Max’s, which had once contained Bruce, Christian, and their adopted infant son.

The two-story colonial positioned between the Brandstrup residence and the Buchwalds’ house, which had been bought by a defense contractor couple during Edie’s first year of high school.

Her own home, which had encompassed her entire world.

Every house had held life and now only held memories. Sad ones she carried like lit candles at a shrine, as if the remembrance were her privilege but also her duty.

It wasn’t her duty, though, and the privilege felt an awful lot like a burden most days.

Besides, remembrance didn’t require a shrine.