DeadBorn by C.M. Stunich

comes away stained with crimson and she gets caught staring at it. I go immediately for the towels and soak one of them in warm water. I snatch a bottle of soap from the sink and carry the items to Holly.
    “ The water hags aren't under Patricia's control,” she says and I wrinkle my brow.
    “ Who's Patricia?” I ask. It's the first time I've ever heard that name, but I have a bad feeling that it won't be the last.
    “ The necromancer,” Holly tells me in a whisper and I can see that she's ashamed at holding back the information. I try to match up the name with the woman in the black cloak and can't make it work in my brain. I just can't imagine that somebody named Patricia could stand beside an army of the dead. It's too normal, too everyday. All of this is just too weird. It doesn't fit.
    “ Why wouldn't they be under her control?” I ask, trying to recall any latent information I might have about necromancers. I've played them – and fought them – on a handful of games, but I have no way of knowing if anything I've learned is accurate. Until this morning, I didn't even know they really existed. I try to console myself by promising that if rotten angels and water hags exist, then guardian angels and fairies probably do, too. For all the bad we're seeing, there has to be a match on the good side, right?
    “ She didn't mean for any of this to happen,” Holly tells me as she cleans her face, takes off her sweatshirt and trades it out for one of Doug's that's lying across the back of the couch. “It's all just one, big cosmic joke, punishment for a crime that was never even committed, Galen.” I kneel down next to Holly and put my hand on her knee.
    “ I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, trying to keep us both calm. “Start from the beginning, tell me everything.” She shakes her head and stands up abruptly.
    “ When we're safe,” she says and then pauses. “Or safer. We'll never really be safe again.”

    ***
    Eleven Hours and Six Minutes After …

    Martin and Dawson are still sitting by the entrance and I'm glad to see that they're both unscathed. Well, except for Martin who's now sporting a row of nasty cat scratches on the back of his hand. Holly looks furious when she sees that her new friend is missing, and Martin rushes to explain.
    “ When you started shooting … ” he begins. Dawson cuts him off and stands up excitedly.
    “ Did you kill one?” he asks, sounding eager. Holly shakes her head and Dawson sits down heavily. He stares at the blood on Holly's shorts and raises an eyebrow. Neither of us rushes to explain. It's all just too much to talk about. Living it once was more than enough. I don't want to be forced to recap it. “Well?”
    “ We're going to have to break a window.” Holly looks at the entranceway. There's a single glass door surrounded by windows that I know she won't choose. It leads into a square waiting area with yet another locked door. “Let's find an office that looks like it might have keys. We'll shoot the window out and go in that way.” Dawson scowls and runs a hand through his dark hair.
    “ And then what? Hide from the horde of zombies in a building that we have no problem breaking into. I don't know about you, but this seems like a stupid, fucking idea to me.”
    “ You have the keys,” Holly says and nods her chin at the car. “Nobody's making you stay.” She then spins on her heel and starts off towards the back of the building. I follow and so does Martin. Dawson stays behind.
    “ I don't think he'll go anywhere,” he tells us both uselessly. “While you were gone, I told him the basics about zombie survival. He knows this is the right decision.” Holly ignores him and moves past a couple of picnic tables and under a green and yellow awning.
    “ Which are?” I challenge. I don't know why, but something about Martin's annoying chatter makes the day seem less hopeless. In a roundabout way, I think I kind of like it.
    “ Speak softly