Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 29: _ Yara

"Guys?" I try again, stepping cautiously over the half-digested remains of a zombie’s face. "If you’re alive, now would be a great time to say something."

It doesn’t work and it makes my stomach tighten.

I take another step, the wood creaking beneath my weight, and suddenly...

Creeeeak.

I whip toward the sound.

It is the bathroom door and slowly and painstakingly, it swings open, the hinges whining like they haven’t been oiled since the dinosaurs went extinct.

And inside is Bea. Thank God!

She’s curled up against the far wall, knees to her chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her face is a blotchy mess of dried tears and blood, and when she finally looks up, her eyes are dark pools of exhaustion.

And Yara – Holy hell.

She’s sitting on the closed toilet lid, body slumped forward, arms hanging limply over her thighs. Her dark hair is a sweat-drenched mess, and her skin has that grayish-pale hue that makes my gut twist.

She looks like shit. Total shit.

My pulse stutters. "What the hell happened?"

Bea chokes back a sob. "Sh-she got bit."

My jaw clenched.

The words hit me like a punch. My mind blanks. Bit. Yara got bitten. This is all my fault for bringing trouble to their door.

Dammit. Someone is going to die because of me.

My mind jumps to conclusions before my body can stop it. Yara’s pale. She’s weak. She’s not standing right. She’s...

Shit.

Shit.

Is she turning?

I whip around to Yara so fast my neck cracks. "Let me see."

Yara lets out a slow, pained breath and very slowly lifts her leg.

I nearly gag in disgust which is rich coming from a six months old rotten corpse like myself.

Her foot is a bloody disaster.

Or rather, what’s left of it.

Two of her toes are completely gone. The flesh where they used to be is jagged and raw are hastily wrapped in strips of torn fabric that are already soaked through with blood.

It might catch an infection like that. That is if the black worms haven’t gotten their slimy selves into her despite the infection spot being severed.

Jesus.

I force myself to breathe. "Okay. Okay, that’s... not as bad as I thought."

Yara gives me a look. The kind of look that says, Bitch, are you serious?

"Oh, come on," I joke weakly. "It’s a good sign you’re still a smartass. Means you’re not totally dead yet."

Yara glares. "I lost two toes."

I nod. "Yeah, and you’re still a badass."

Bea sniffles. "She lost so much blood. Do you—do you think she’ll survive?"

I open my mouth to reassure her, to say something that sounds like hope, but then, the scent of blood slams into me like a hammer to the gut.

Oh, fuck.

I stiffen.

I go completely still. I become paralyzed as the scent envelops me, insidiously spreading through my veins like a slow poison.

It’s so strong. So thick. And suddenly, the hunger I’ve been shoving down... been burying—is there again.

No, not there.

Everywhere.

My throat goes dry. My stomach curls around itself in an uncomfortable twist of want. I grit my teeth.

If only I could just take a bite...

No. Not now. Not now.

I rip my gaze away, forcing myself to think. To move. To be human but it’s difficult. I am NOT human. I’m a fucking zombie.

Bea watches me carefully. "Are you okay?"

I snap my head up way too fast. My vision blurs for half a second.

I force a smile. "Yeah. Totally fine. I just—uh, we need to properly dress that wound before it gets worse."

Bea squints her eyes before she finally nods. "We don’t have much left. We used most of it on your boyfriend."

I blink.

"My what?"

Bea shrugs, still sniffling. "Your boyfriend. Pretty Boy."

I gag. My boyfriend?! That’s so much guts from Bea calling that jerk my boyfriend.

"He’s not my boyfriend."

Bea frowns. "Oh. Then your brother?"

My eye twitches. "Also no."

She tilts her head. "Then what is he?"

"I don’t know, Bea, a guy who’s bleeding out in the living room?"

"Does it matter?" Yara suddenly groans, throwing her hands in the air. "I’m literally bleeding out here. Can we focus?"

Point taken.

I throw my hands up. "Okay, okay, let’s focus on not letting Yara pass out, yeah?"

I’m just about to move when...

"Do we," a new voice groans from the hallway, "possibly have anything to eat?"

We all turn at the same time.

And there he is.

Pretty Boy.

He looks half-dead. More than usual.

His head is tilted against the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him standing. His skin is ghostly pale, dark smudges under his eyes deep enough to store a lifetime of regret, and his lips that are normally so good at spitting out sarcasm—are chapped and bloodless.

That jerk. That sinfully good-looking guy. I swallow, my throat bobbing.

Well, he’s hungry.

Which is bad. Because so am I. And I can smell the blood in the air. And I am still fighting the need to devour something.

And if this doesn’t end quickly, I might just eat someone. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

My teeth ache, and I am so, so tempted.

To what? Take a bite?

I shove the thought away, swallowing down the hunger. I am not about to gnaw on Pretty Boy’s face in front of two very judgmental witnesses.

"Oh my God," Bea suddenly breathes beside me.

I arched an eyebrow.

She is staring at Pretty Boy like he just descended from heaven on a golden chariot. Her hands are clasped together. Her lips are parted. Her eyes are literally heart-shaped.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

"You’re beautiful," she sighs.

Yara groans. I groan. Pretty Boy squints like he’s not sure if he should be flattered or concerned.

Bea doesn’t even notice. She takes a step forward, sweeping her frizzy hair behind one ear like she’s Princess Bea of the Apocalypse, batting her lashes like she hasn’t just spent the last hour crying into a bloodstained shirt.

"If he’s not your boyfriend," she says, turning to me, "does that mean I can have him?"

What?!