Undead 02 The Undead Haze by Eloise J. Knapp Page A

astronomical—they had to be—but somehow the kid who knew where Blaze was walked straight into my part of town. If that wasn’t fate talking to me, I didn’t know what it was. Not only did he know where she was, but we had a car to get there and he could fly a plane for fuck’s sake!
    As soon as Beau came back, I planned on telling him I would absolutely love to travel with him. I would be de-fucking-lighted to.
    As I studied their similar features, I wondered why I hadn’t assumed a possible relationship to begin with. Well, aside from the ridiculous odds against it. Their noses were identical—sharp and slightly crooked. Their pale skin and dark brown eyes were the same.
    A question popped into my mind and my eyes unfocused. Should I tell Beau I knew his sister? He was taking me to her whether he knew it or not, so technically telling him wouldn’t change anything. If he knew everything, stuff could get messy.
    Hey, Blaze’s brother, I was snooping around and found this photo. I know your sister. Yeah, we got in a wreck a while back and she disappeared. Couldn’t find her so I gave up. Crazy, huh?
    I laughed aloud. Telling him was a bad idea for now. If it came up, I’d deal with it then. In the meantime, I was sure he’d talk about Blaze, giving me an opportunity to learn about her pre-apocalypse personality. It’s something I found myself interested in—it was time to stop denying my feelings.
    Suddenly, Pickle shot across the room and hallway, scurrying into my office. I grinned. Things were looking up.
    Before leaving, I replaced the photo and scanned the room to ensure I didn’t leave anything behind. It felt good to have the upper hand again. Manipulating people for my own benefit was something I knew and was comfortable with. It made me feel like my old self.
    My name is Cyrus V. Sinclair.
    The V stands for villain.
    I was standing in the hallway, feeling pleased with myself, when I heard the downstairs door rattling. It was probably Beau. I walked down the hall to the stairs. I made it a few steps down before I heard something else. The all too recognizable snarling and gasping of a runner. Then it scrambled up the stairs, coming for me.
    Just as I turned to run, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. His mouth was brimming with saliva, blood, and dark ooze all undead seemed to produce. He had no shirt, revealing a clean torso with minimal splatters of blood on it, most of which came from a large head wound. At the sight of me he howled and climbed the remaining stairs on all fours. Flecks of liquid splattered the cement walls and steps as he moved.
    A burst of adrenaline shot through me. I rushed through the stair entry and towards the hallway. My pulse was through the roof, and I knew it would only be seconds before the runner got me. Even as I ran, I knew escape was impossible. I was still weak and he was too fast.
    I barely made it to the double doors when the bastard grabbed me by the waist and dragged me to the hard floor. His mouth clamped down on my shoulder.
    If I wasn’t wearing two sweaters, his teeth would’ve gone straight through. It still hurt like a bitch though. His mouth worked furiously, trying to take a chunk out, grinding the cotton fabric and bruising the skin below. Searing hot pain shot through me. I screamed, using my pain and fear as momentum to turn us both over. He was wedged between the floor and my back.
    Sick or not, I had to fight. I lifted us both up, put my shoulders to the huge window, and hurled myself backwards.
    A startling crack sounded. His arms and mouth released me. I sprung forward and spun to face my opponent.
    At least the fight looked to be a short one. I was unarmed, and I wasn’t sure who was going to be on the winning side.
    The glass behind my new friend fractured into a spider web that radiated out from a bloody dent where he’d hit his head. He rushed me again. My shoulder throbbed, but I charged, too, grabbing him.
    He didn’t weigh much. The