Love & the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1, Zombie Apocalypse Trilogy) by Chelsea Bellingeri

of the fence.  The smell of her blood propelled them into a bloodthirsty frenzy. 
    S he was going to be taken out by a dog during the zombie apocalypse.  How lame. She threw wild punches, but the dog didn’t flinch.  The canine moved with her, its jaws clamped to her forearm ripping the skin from her body.  She wedged her foot onto the dog’s chest and pushed.
    Something moved in the shadows . 
    Rachel vaguely wondered if a zombie had come to finish her off, but the dog yelped and released its grip.
    “Rachel!”  Cage’s voice floated over the darkness.  “Are you okay?”
    She cradled her injured arm against her chest.  Slick goo replaced the skin on her forearm.
    “How bad is your arm ?”
    Rachel tried to get to her feet.  “It’ll be okay.” 
    The dog growled.  Cage raised the aluminum bat.  “We need to get out of this yard – sooner rather than later.  Do you want me to carry you?”
    Was he kidding?  “I can walk.”
    Rachel let Cage pull her to her feet.  The ground tilted as bright yellow spots flashed in front of her eyes.  The coppery stench of blood drifted to her nose.
    “Are you sure?” Cage sounded skeptical. 
    “ I can walk,” she said weakly.  Rachel took a step and toppled over face-first onto the grass. 
     
    ~     ~     ~
     
    Cage caught Rachel before she fell.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and she leaned heavily against him.  “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine,” she said.
    “Said the girl who almost face-planted two seconds ago.”
    They backpedalled toward the house with Cage supporting most of her weight. The jagged mop stick was tucked in his waistband, but he felt more confident with Rachel’s baseball bat.  He didn’t want to hit the pit bull - the dog was only protecting its territory.  But for an awful second, Cage thought he was going to bear witness to the dog mauling Rachel to death.
    He didn’t know how bad ly she was hurt.  It was too dark in the backyard, so he couldn’t see her arm.  Cage suspected she wouldn’t admit the extent of her injuries.  She was on her feet, which was a good sign, but she hadn’t said much.  He could smell the blood from her wound and, if he could smell the blood, the zombies could, too.  Cage had visions of fishermen tossing chum into shark-infested waters.  They had to get the wound cleaned and wrapped, or they’d have every zombie in Flint following them. 
    Rachel tugged his shirt.  “There’s a gate.  Hold off the dog, I’ll unlatch it.”
    “Be careful.  There might be more of those things on the other side,” Cage said.  The back fence was still standing despite the zombies pounding on the wood. 
    “It’s clear,” she whispered. The hinges groaned when Rachel opened the gate.
    Cage backed up.  The dog anticipated their escape and sprang.  Cage sprinted and slammed the gate shut behind him.  The pit bull threw its body against the wood, sending shock waves through Cage’s shoulder.  He held the gate shut until the lock slipped into place. 
    Rachel leaned against the fence.   She looked pale under the orange streetlamps.  How much blood had she lost?   
    “Let me see your arm.”
    She raised her arm as if it weighed a thousand pounds.  A three-inch gash split lengthwise down her forearm.  The bleeding was steady enough to worry about, especially because she probably wouldn’t be getting any immediate medical attention.  Cage ripped the hem off his t-shirt. 
    She protested, but he ignored her.  He wrapped the stretchy material around the wound and she grimaced.  “Sorry,” Cage said.  “It has to be tight enough to stop the bleeding.”
    Rachel gently bit her lip.  “No, it’s fine.  Thanks.  And thanks for saving me from Cujo.   I was almost Puppy Chow.”
    Cage held her bandaged arm in his hands.  She was so small.  When the pit bull took her down, he’d thought he was too late.  He didn’t think twice about hopping off the fence to rescue