Oh yeah, we’re most definitely fucked.
Chapter Nineteen
Griffin’s only thought was Jemma as he fought his way through a swarm of zombies intent on relieving him of a limb or two. He’d been terrified when he saw her lying there motionless. The realization that she wasn’t dead didn’t slow the frantic drumming of his pulse. No chance of that happening until he held her safe in his arms. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Logan battling a throng of corpses on the far side of the cemetery. He had no idea where Clarissa and Ms. Peach were, but the occasional boom from the shotgun verified they were busy firing their way toward the epicenter of the zombie outbreak.
Fingernails raked Griffin’s neck. He crunched his fist into the skull of the corpse busy trying to steal a chunk out of him, all the while trying to fend off a dead gal wearing what looked like a poufy metallic prom dress. She tore his shirt, shredding it at the collar, and sank her teeth into the meat of his shoulder. He shoved her off him and head-butted another zombie that’d jumped into the fracas. These dead bastards might think he was the featured course in an all-you-can-eat buffet, but that didn’t mean he was going down without a fight. Two more corpses came barreling at him and he ducked. The pair collided with each other, and he dove between the legs of the dead prom queen. She went tumbling with a shriek, and he wormed his way toward a break in the action.
The grave to his immediate right suddenly exploded like it’d been hit with a grenade. A second later, the neighboring grave did the same. Followed by another. And another.
Oh fuck. Nettie must have unlocked the final door. Which meant—
The bottom of his stomach dropped out. Jemma. An anguished roar ripping from his chest, he leapt over the nearby grave. Someone, or something, grabbed his leg. He thudded onto his face, splinters of pain radiating through his kneecaps. Growling, he kicked at the corpse attempting to drag him down into the grave, nailing the creature in the forehead. It released him but one of its comrades dove on top of Griffin. Just when he thought the zombie would successfully smother him into the ground, gunfire blasted overhead. The corpse rolled off him, and he glanced up at Clarissa. She extended an arm toward him, and he gripped her hand just as another zombie tackled her from the side. Logan’s outraged bellow whipped through the air, and he hurtled himself at the attacking zombie. Griffin scrambled to assist, and a mass of the creatures piled on top of them.
Suddenly he knew what if felt like to be the unlucky player running defense in a game of zombie football.
Even in her worst nightmares, Jemma would never have been able to conjure the hellish scene unfolding around her. Graves were blowing up left and right. It was as if she was in the middle of a freakin’ war zone instead of a cemetery. She couldn’t see Griff or the others anywhere. Sick dread burned in her stomach at the realization that they must be buried somewhere in the insane zombie mosh pit near the front gate. A quick look over her shoulder confirmed that Gloria was still passed out cold.
She was completely on her own here.
An evil chuckle came from Nettie. “Your services are no longer required, precious. Bubba, you may enjoy your dinner now.”
Jemma whirled around in time to catch the corpse popping in his dentures. Oh shit. He lunged at her and she stumbled backward, right into the zombie who’d pulled her to her feet earlier. Bubba’s drooling mouth lowered and she screamed, shoving at him. His entire body quaked and the blood she’d smeared on his neck bubbled before seeping into his rotting flesh. An instant later, he blackened like a crispy critter and burst into a shower of dust.
What the hell? She brushed the ash particles from her face, trying not to be squicked out at having zombie dust caked in her eyelashes. She stared at the gash in her palm, Clarissa’s words echoing in her head. The key has always been in your blood.
Holy crimoly. She spun and swiped her hand across the torso of the other zombie. After jerking around like a marionette on invisible strings, the corpse crumbled into ash. Turning, she met Nettie’s fulminous glare and smiled. “Well isn’t this an interesting discovery?”
Her mouth slashing into a furious line, Nettie shot an arc of snapping energy from her fingertips. The strike electrified Jemma. Crying out, she staggered to her knees. Another sizzling bolt of agony hit her, and she toppled face-first into the mound of raised earth at the foot of the opened grave. An arctic breeze ruffled through her hair and she flinched, steeling herself for Nettie’s next blow. Instead, she was treated to a scornful laugh.
“This is most entertaining. Perhaps I shall prolong your life just for the thrill of watching you suffer. And I will find countless ways to make you suffer, my precious.”
Groaning, Jemma pushed onto her elbows. Her vision blurred and she blinked, trying to focus. A withered husk of a hand popped from the ground in front of her, inches from her face. She yelped and scrambled backward. As she did, her attention fell on the ornate headstone teetering on the other side of the hole. The grave’s mass upheaval must have dislodged the stone, revealing the chiseled image of a horned goat on the lower portion of the marker.
Oh my God. She scooted forward for a closer look and almost conked heads with the shriveled corpse that suddenly rose from the grave. A moldy cloak shrouded the dead woman, allowing only a few straggly wisps of auburn hair to show. Despite the fact the woman’s features were all but concealed, she knew it was Nettie’s corpse. Duh, who else would be lying in her—?
A dizzying rush of déjà vu shivered through Jemma’s bones. The answer rests beneath the horned goat. “Holy shit. You’re the answer.”
Boney fingers sinking into the loose clods of dirt, the corpse continued climbing from the hole. Jemma gulped and cautiously wiggled backward. Okay, so the floating head that’d visited her in the kitchen hadn’t been blowing smoke up her ass. But what exactly was she supposed to do now?
Say it twice as she rises. “Ah hell. Here goes nothing.” Ignoring the pain shooting through her body, Jemma struggled to her knees. “Gorgonzola, gorgonzola.”
Nothing. “This is what I get for listening to a disembodied head.”
The corpse swung a leg over the edge of the grave and crawled forward just as Nettie cackled and threw another thunderbolt of searing agony at Jemma’s midsection. White-hot fire engulfed her insides, and she fell onto her hands, the coppery tang of blood pooling on her tongue. Just when she decided death would be a merciful welcome, the odd word she’d been searching for flashed through her mind. “Gorasola.”
Nettie’s maniacal laughter fizzled to a halt. Jemma raised her head and took in her grandmother’s frozen look of shock. A shadow of fear slipped over Nettie’s face, only to be replaced a second later by frantic desperation. She threw her arm toward Jemma, a red, glowing ball of energy shooting from her fingertips.
“Gorasola.”
The fireball dissolved in midair, and Nettie’s spirit form shuddered violently before catapulting into the body of her corpse. An awful scream tearing from her, she lunged on top of Jemma, pinning her down by the wrists. “You stupid little bitch. I’m going to enjoy killing you even more for this.”