Free Hunger Chronicles (Book 1): Life Bites by Tes Hilaire

makeshift sling. “You’re a mess.”
    “Thanks.” Even I’m not sure if I’m being sarcastic or honestly thanking him for saving my butt. He seems to decide on the latter because he nods, grumbling a, “You’re welcome.”
    I look back down at the dead zombies, my fangs cutting into my gums. So close.
    “Next zombie we see, I’ll only shoot out the knees, promise.”
    I blink up at him. This from the guy who isn’t going to save my ass anymore? “You’re a weird one.”
    “I know.” He jerks his head up the street. “Come on. We need to move. I don’t trust Brice not to take off if we’re not back at the Humvee when he gets there.”
     

 
     
    7.
     
    John sets a grueling pace that has my entire body screaming. I know we have to though; John’s admission that our leader is no hero is like a fire licking at my heels. Yup, if it’s Convict’s ass or ours he’ll have no qualms leaving us. Which means we not only have to make up the dozen or more blocks we’ve traveled southward, but we need to overtake them in the last ten to the highway. Oh, and catch me a snack. Still need to do that.
    The opportunity never arises. The streets are as dead as they were at the beginning. If I weren’t so desperate for a lone zombie to snack on, I’d find this hopeful. The apocalypse of the zombie apocalypse. They will die. Starvation will get a species every time.
    Three blocks from the highway we catch up to Convict, Brian, and three other bedraggled looking men who can only be what’s left of Rodriquez’s team. They are covered in grime, bloodstains, and obviously fatigued. Of course, I don’t look much better. Which is why, as we draw near, Rodriguez and his men all jerk to full attention, lifting their guns. I stop where I am, hand on my hip. Yeah, yeah. Look like crap. And not knowing who and what I am, the newcomers think I’m about to go loco and start biting teammates.
    And they’re not right, Eva? My stomach grumbles at me.
    “Hold your fire,” Convict orders. “She’s immune.”
    “You shitting me?” the man I assume is Rodriguez—he’s the only Hispanic in the group—asks incredulously.
    Convict sighs. “Men, meet our resident vampire. She feeds off zombies though, not humans.”
    “Or so she claims.” This comes from Brian. Should have known the man wouldn’t be one to sing my praises. Frankly, I’m surprised Convict did. Then again, as John had said, I do make Convict’s team look good—when I’m not falling on my face and getting my butt kicked.
    John steps ahead of me, showing his trust by giving me perfect exposure to his unprotected back. I’m touched, even if my canines do throb.
    “I recommend we get moving, sir. We lost them, but with all the noise we’ve made, I won’t be surprised if more come out of the woodwork.”
    John’s logic amazes again. More amazing is his ability to keep things on track without actually challenging Convict’s authority.
    A nod from Convict has us moving again. Brian waits for me to come abreast of him before he starts walking.
    “Didn’t get your snack, little girl?” he asks, his eyes raking over my wounds.
    “No. And I’m not a little girl.”
    “How long ago were you turned?”
    “A year and a half.”
    Which makes me eighteen and a half. Kind of. I still haven’t figured that one out. Do birthdays count when you’re undead?
    “Just a baby then.” His eyes narrow, his lips thinning to the point of nonexistent. “Pretty good control for a baby. Must have been a damn powerful vampire who turned you.”
    His words bring a flash of memory. A dark sweep of hair, killer eyes to match a lethal smile… literally.
    I curl my lip as I brush by Brian to catch up to John and Convict. I don’t want to think about the vampire who turned me or analyze why just that brief flash of memory has my chest tightening in a painful clench and my limbs threatening to freeze up for an altogether different reason than starvation. I am in control. . Out