“Traumatic,” Clay muttered. “Still recovering.”

“Clay had an early morning department meeting, and I needed to buy him a new shirt,” I told Jeremy. “He’d ripped another one.”

“I ripped-?”

“So I told him to meet me at the Second Cup near the store. Only, he didn’t come in that entrance.”

“Probably because it was cold enough out there to freeze-”

“It was cold,” I continued as we stepped onto the escalator. “So he takes the nearest entrance, not knowing the tunnels stretch for over six miles. The first Second Cup he sees, he thinks, ‘This must be it’ and sits down. When I don’t show, he realizes there might be another one down here.”

“Or twenty,” Clay muttered.

“Be glad I didn’t say Starbucks. Upshot is, if you don’t know your way, it all starts to look the same. Of course, the logical solution is to stop and ask for directions.”

Clay snorted.

“So what happened next was entirely his own fault.”

“Dare I ask?” Jeremy said as we stepped off the escalator.

“Lunch hour. For thousands of office workers. With sub-subzero temperatures outside.”

“One minute I was just wandering around, the place practically empty, and then-” Clay shuddered.

“Traumatic, I know,” I said, patting him on the back. “But-” I swept a hand around “-much different now.”

We stood at the end of a hall stretching a few hundred feet, flanked with coffee shops, bookstores, drugstores and everything else an office worker might need between nine and five. But it was summertime, when no one cared to work later than necessary. The stores had been closed for hours. The walkways were left open only as a convenience for pedestrians.

“Not bad,” Clay said as he looked around.

“If our zombie pal wants to make his move, he’ll have plenty of opportunities. We just need to watch out for security guards and cameras. There’s an even quieter place a block over. We’ll head that way.”

Before we’d passed three storefronts, hesitant footsteps sounded behind us. Bait taken.

We made sure to turn lots of corners and avoid long straightaways, letting our pursuer stay close but hidden, watching us from behind the last corner until we turned the next. As we walked, I counted the number of attack opportunities we’d given him. When I reached five, I paused at a storefront and pointed to a display of baby sundresses.

“What’s he waiting for?” I whispered.

“Same thing his bowler-hatted friend waited for,” Jeremy said. “The doe to separate from the herd.”

He was right. Unlike Hollywood ’s brain-dead, brain-munching zombies, these guys weren’t stupid.

Before I could even open my mouth, Clay said,“No.”

“I-”

“Remember your promise? At my side. At all times.”

“I’m not suggesting I lure him away and finish him off myself. Just the luring away part.”

“Elena’s right,” Jeremy said. “We’ll be close behind. It’s safe enough.”

“Good,” I said. “Then it’s time for me to use the bathroom.” I raised my voice. “There’s a food court just around the corner. You two can sit and eat while I find a washroom.”

When we reached the food court, I put my sandwich bag on a table, then looked around.

“Oh, the bathroom’s over there,” I said loudly. “We walked right past it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I took one last hit of chocolate milk, giving the zombie time to get out of sight.

The bathrooms were down a service hall. As I walked, I tracked the distant pad of footsteps behind me, ready to turn if they got too close before Clay arrived.

I reached the end, only to realize the hall dog-legged. At least this would give Clay a chance to attack the zombie out of sight of anyone passing in the main thoroughfare.

As I rounded the corner, I looked around for security cameras. None. Good. The footsteps behind me sped up…and Clay’s joined them. I smiled. Easy as-

A shadow leapt from a recessed doorway. I wheeled, but too slow, and a body hit my shoulder, knocking me into the far wall. I kicked. As my foot went up, I mentally slapped myself. Again, the sudden move threw me off balance. As I stumbled, the figure rushed me, hands out, going for my throat. I swung and caught my attacker in the jaw. He flew back with a shriek…a very unmasculine shriek.

I leapt onto the falling figure. A face turned to mine-a woman’s face, pocked and red. Rose.

“Thought you were done with Rose, didn’t you?” she cackled.

My surprise threw me off. She lunged at me, fingers hooked into claws, aiming for my eyes. An uppercut stopped her hands before they got within a foot of my face. As she fell back, I grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. Her face twisted, then went slack, and when I let her go, her body slid to the floor and started to crumble.

“Easy to kill,” I muttered. “Problem is keeping them that way.”

At a noise from the corner, I whirled, hands going up. Clay raced around.

“I heard-”

“Got her,” I said. “Again. It was Rose. I could have sworn it was a man-”

“It was.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward the main hall. “The same guy I killed at the truck stop.”

“Did you-?”

“Started to,” he said, now moving at a jog and pulling me along. “Then I heard you and mine got away. Jeremy went after him.”