7-Deja Vu

Fallon:

The instant it lunged at me, I stumbled back and slammed my foot against the door.

The heavy door crashed into its face and knocked it backward.

I did not waste the opportunity.

I rushed inside with the piece of broken glass in my hand.

The room was too cramped for a proper fight.

Every movement felt trapped between the walls.

Worse, if the zombie escaped, its growling could attract others.

I still knew almost nothing about them.

Nobody did.

Maybe they communicated with each other.

Maybe they hunted in groups.

The only confirmed thing was this:

Do not get bitten.

The zombie came at me again.

A sharp gulp caught in my throat as I staggered back.

My foot snagged on something, and I landed hard on my ass. I scrambled back to my feet, raising my guard.

The insults from everyone throughout the years started to echo in my ears.

"Alpha Nathan, why would you choose such a weak mate?"

"Pathetic. A rogue with no wolf. She will never give you a strong heir.”

“Throw her away. Or keep her and use her. That’s all she’s worth.” The Royal Beta’s words had been embedded in my memory.

I heard every word and finally understood.

I reached back and tied my hair into a tight ponytail that I hadn’t done in years.

Nathan told me the women that tied their hair were manly.

In contrast, my father’s lessons began to surface, one after another.

The moment the zombie lunged, I dodged.

My knees kept buckling beneath me, but I managed to stay on my feet.

My father had taught me how to survive in the woods, and I held onto that now.

When my father died, he left me at the mercy of a cruel world.

By then, I had already found my fated mate.

When I married Nathan, my mother forced her way back into my life like a parasite.

I was a naive rogue she-wolf, unaware of pack rules and expectations, and apparently in need of lessons.

She taught me to be timid.

She insisted that packs did not want a strong she-wolf, and that a rogue with real fighting ability was seen as a threat.

So I buried that part of myself and let my timid side take over.

It had been so long since I had used those lessons, and now they felt both familiar and terrifying.I lifted the glass shard, aiming for its neck, but before I could strike, its hands slammed into me.

Its body felt heavier than it should have been, dead weight pressing down on my shoulders as it tried to pin me in place.

I gritted my teeth and shoved its arms away before driving my foot into its stomach.

The zombie crashed into a pile of broken screens.

I rushed forward and tightened my grip around the shard.

For a brief moment, rage drowned everything else.

Every memory of what people had done to me burned through my head.

Then I stabbed it.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The zombie collapsed, and I pinned it beneath me, stabbing again and again.

But it refused to stay down.

Its body kept twitching.

Its arms kept moving and trying to reach me.

It was still trying to get up.

Then it hit me.

The head.

I needed to hit him in the head.

I tried to strike higher, but suddenly its teeth snapped inches from my arm.

Fear surged through me.

I recoiled instantly, scrambling backward across the floor while my pulse hammered in my ears.

The zombie stood upright and attacked again.

I rolled aside at the last second.

The room was so small that I nearly slammed into the wall.

My hand struck a stool beside me, and without thinking, I grabbed it and swung it at the zombie.

The impact sent it crashing sideways.

I smashed the stool against the floor until it splintered apart, leaving only a broken wooden leg in my grip.

Then I charged with full determination.

“AHHHHHHH!” A scream tore from my throat as I drove the wood into its skull.

The sound that followed made my stomach twist.

Its head cracked apart like a walnut under pressure.

The wooden piece punched through the front of its skull and burst out the back.

The zombie finally went still.

I remained frozen above it, clutching the bloodstained wood with shaking hands while forcing myself to breathe.

The wooden stake had not even been sharp.

But it had gone through easily because the body beneath me was already rotting.

I slowly stepped back, and my eyes dropped to the keys hanging from his pocket.

I reached over and grabbed them.

There were too many on the ring, all clinking against each other as I shoved them into my pocket.

I glanced around the room and noticed a photograph lying near him. It must have fallen from his pocket during the struggle.

I leaned over and picked it up.

The second I saw it, my breath caught. Tears burned behind my eyes.

He had a family.

Three children stared back at me from the picture.

A young boy, probably 19, and a girl close to his age, and a little girl tucked into their father’s side.

They were sitting together in a garden.

His arms were wrapped around the children while his wife sat beside them, smiling softly with a basket of fruit in her lap.

The sight shattered me.

What happened to them?

My gaze snapped back to him. He was still lying there, discarded like his life had meant nothing.

I closed my eyes as a tear slipped down my cheek.

Somewhere along the way, we had forgotten how horrifying all of this really was.

People were dying every day.

Some had even been forced to kill the people they loved after they turned into monsters.

I drew in a breath, wiped my eyes, and slipped the photograph into my pocket.

Taking a deep breath, I kicked the door open again.

If another zombie had been standing outside, at least the door would hit it first.

But there was no one there.

I stepped out and looked toward the bus.

Every alpha inside was staring straight at me.

I could not tell if they were glad I had found the keys or disappointed that I was still alive.

Ignoring them, I walked toward the gate and pulled it open.

The loud sound echoed through the area, and almost immediately, I heard movement from the direction we had come from.

My stomach tightened.

Several zombies were stumbling out from behind the woods, and more were gathering on the roads of the pack we were about to enter.

I turned and hurried toward the bus, but the second I grabbed the handle, my chest sank.

The door would not open.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at it.

It felt painfully familiar.

Then Ace walked over to the window and knocked on the glass to get my attention.

When I looked up, he raised his middle finger at me.

“Fuck you,” he mouthed.

A second later, the engine started.

The bus pulled away while I stood there watching it leave me behind with the approaching zombies.