34. Evalee

EVALEE

“ S hit, Evalee, stay behind me.” Hunter jumps to his feet from my bed, throwing his arms out as a shield.

“Hunter, stop,” I demand as I eyeball the zombie Ryleigh lingering in the doorway. Her skin is pale with a bluish, purple tint; her eyes are red and full of brain thirst; and drool drips from her blood red lips. Just because she looks hungry doesn’t mean she’s actually going to try to eat my brains, right? “It’s Ryleigh. She won’t hurt me.”

He gapes at me from over his shoulder. “Look, I know you want to believe that’s Ryleigh, but that thing over there”—he points a finger at Ryleigh—“is just a zombie who looks like Ryleigh.”

“You’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it.” Standing tall on the bed, I hop off the other side and land on the floor.

Hunter grumbles out a string of curses as he hurriedly winds around the bed toward me. Before he can reach me, though, I make my way toward zombie Ryleigh.

“Ryleigh, it’s me. Evalee. Your sister … Or, well, your fake sister, anyway.” The floor is cold against my bare feet as I cautiously inch toward her. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hunter mutters, moving up behind me. “Because, when she tries to attack us to eat our brains—which she will—I’m not going to let her.”

Zombie Ryleigh’s blood red eyes wander toward Hunter, and her lips part to release a groan. I try to tell myself that the noise is just a groan, nothing more, though it sounds an awful lot like a hungry bear about to get some yummy grub.

Nervousness creeps up inside me, and I take a small step back. Hunter is standing closer than I anticipated, and I end up whacking my back into his chest and stomping on his toe. The impact throws me off balance.

“Sorry,” I sputter, tripping forward.

The hurried movement causes zombie Ryleigh’s eyes to flare. Blood drips from her pupils and trickles down her cheeks.

“What’s happening to her?” I whisper in horror. “Is she dying?”

“No, she can’t die, because she’s already dead.” Hunter envelopes his arms around me. “Her eyes are bleeding because she’s hungry. And guess what her number one food choice is?”

I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question, but I still say, “Brains?”

He sighs heavily. “Yes, brains.”

My hand instinctively shoots toward my head.

Zombie Ryleigh eyeballs the movement, more blood trickling from her eyes. Her lips part, and she cries like a wild Banshee fighting with a werewolf. Then, she lunges for us.