A mass of cases and boxes sat piled at the front. It looked like medical gear and rations packs, probably dislodged during the crash. Supplies would have been packed in the rear. He picked his way around the debris, heading for the cockpit. Time to make sure they were totally alone. Inside the wreckage felt even colder than the air outside. He kept his gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

It was dark in the cockpit. The pilot was missing, the empty seat patchy with dark stains. Opposite, the co-pilot’s remains were still strapped into the seat. Its mouth stretched wide and teeth embedded in its shriveled forearm. Nothing much remained of its other arm. The white of bone gleamed in the light, almost intact with the exception of several fingers. Unable to escape, the infected had eaten its own flesh rather than starve.

It was a f**ked-up thing, seriously disturbing. He turned away, his stomach pitching. His mouth tasted foul.

An infected lunged at him out of the shadows, catching him by surprise. He bounced off the metal hatch, jarring his shoulder and sending his gun flying.

“Fuck!”

The thing didn’t make a sound. Dirty fingers clawed at him, trying to reach him.

“Nick!”

“Stay back.” He stumbled back through the hatch, falling on his ass as he tried desperately to evade that hand. “Don’t you come up here.”

With a wheezing noise the zombie lunged for him, but got drawn up short. Something held it back. Its left arm stretched out behind it, tethered still to the belt. How the f**k had he not seen it? It had to have been crouched in the shadows. He’d been f**king careless. It growled at him silently, lips stretched wide showing shattered teeth and a gaping hole. The thing had eaten its own tongue.

“Nick, turn away,” shouted Ros.

“Shit. No! Don’t.”

She didn’t listen. Her first bullet punched through the metal a scant half a meter above him, sending sparks flying. His eardrums pounded. The woman was going to f**king kill him. Quickly, he hit the ground, covered his head with his hands. Because the second bullet … holy shit. The zombie dropped like a dead weight behind him. Everything fell quiet, all over. Nothing remained of where its heart had been. Nick’s pants and shoes were splattered with gore.

“It’s dead. You hit it,” he said, stunned.

“Are you hurt?” Roslyn rushed to him, almost tripping over in the process. She was shaking with adrenalin. How she’d managed to hit anything he did not know. He was just thankful she hadn’t hit him.

“No, I’m fine.” He climbed back to his feet. “You did good.”

“Thanks.”

“You really got him with that second shot.”

“The first was a warning shot,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You needed to cover your face.”

Huh. “That was on purpose?”

She nodded. “I was only five or six meters away. Unlikely I’d mess up and hit you at that range.”

“Oh,” he said. “Good job. But I could have handled it.”

She cocked her head. “It was about to fall on top of you, Nick. I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“No,” he said. “It couldn’t reach me. Its arm had caught on something. It was stuck. Come on, let’s gather this stuff and get out of here.”

He did a more thorough search of the wreck while Roslyn carried some of the boxes to the pickup. Hanging around after firing the shots wasn’t smart. But if they could just secure the food rations and medical supplies, round up the last of the weapons, they’d be doing well. She would be welcomed into Blackstone with open arms. No way could they say no with all this in the offering.

“Nick.” She stood staring at the cockpit hatch, eyes so wide he could only see white.

“What?”

“It moved.” She pointed at the dead infected, hand trembling.

“Ros, you killed it.”

“Yeah.” She stared at the thing, face deathly white in the low lighting. “I know, but it moved.”

She’d had a long day. Hell, he’d had a long day. They had enough supplies.

He cupped her face in his hands. Her wide eyes didn’t meet his, still trying to watch the infected.

“Let’s find some place safe for the night,” he suggested. “I’ll pick a fight with you and then we can have make-up sex. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She gave him a pissy look. “I’m serious. It moved.”

“Probably just air escaping.”

“No. I know what I saw.”

Everything was quiet outside. There was nothing to disguise the noise of a fast-approaching vehicle. His heart punched hard. Shit, no. Getting caught in the wreckage wasn’t good. Tires squealed as someone slammed on the brakes. Car doors were thrown open.

“Get down. Stay behind me,” he ordered. Ros pulled her gun from the back of her belt as he chambered a round in his own. They both knelt behind the rows of seats, cornered by the newcomers. Fuck no. This was bad. “I’m serious. Stay back.”

“Hellooo!” a male voice called from outside. “Anybody there?”

Someone else spoke. There were at least two of them. Two people he could handle. And he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both if they were a threat.

“Hey! Anyone in there?” The voice sounded oddly familiar. But it was the next one that turned him stone cold.

“Pete, you see anything?”

No reply. Of course there was no reply. Pete would be working off signals, keeping silent because silent was smarter. If nothing else, Pete could be a clever bastard. Clever and f**king nasty. Not the sort of person he wanted around Ros. Nick could only hope the pricks were still wary enough of him to make no sudden moves on her. Amongst their group he’d been one of the fastest on the draw and he had never backed down when it mattered. Even Emmet had never directly challenged him.