17
“IS SHE A zombie?” asked Paige, lifting her bat.
I snorted. “No.”
Paige sighed and laid her head back against the seat. “Do we really have to stop?”
“Paige...” said Kristie, looking back at her. “That’s not nice.”
Two zombies were edging closer to Eva, who looked annoyed more than anything. In one arm she held a pink dog carrier and in the other an oversized Louis Vuitton tote bag.
“Stay here,” Bryce said as we skidded to a halt. He jumped out of the SUV carrying his rifle, and in less than five seconds, both zombies lay motionless on the ground and Eva looked like she’d just found Jesus. She stared with adoration at Bryce as he lowered his gun and moved toward her.
“Would you look at Eva? She’s smiling at your man like he’s a bowl of cream and she’s a cat dying of thirst,” said
