I kept running.
My breaths came in ragged gasps as my knees gave out, sending me crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud.
I stayed on the ground, barely conscious, my head lolling to the side as the pain in my leg throbbed with every heartbeat. I was starting to give up trying to stay awake, the world spinning too much to focus on anything other than the smoke-filled sky above me.
Then I heard it.
A shout. Not a groan, not the low growl of the undead, but a human voice cutting through the chaos.
"Get up!"
My head jerked toward the sound, and my breath hitched.
Alex.
He was running straight toward me, machete in hand, swinging it at anything that got too close. His face was set in a scowl, the kind that screamed frustration rather than concern. Typical Alex.
