tried to shut it out. All I needed to do was lock the door, just like Hayden had said, and I’d be safe. I would have passed the first task.
Judging by how horrible the first task had been, I didn’t even want to think about what the others would be like, or just how many I had in store for me.
“You can’t just push his arm out for me? Is that really interfering that much?” I asked Hayden, still pushing against the wood of the door with all my might.
This zombie wasn’t budging.
“Can’t help you,” he said again, lifting his hands up in surrender.
“I really don’t like you,” I panted, pushing hard enough that the creature finally withdrew its arm.
The door shut, I locked it, and then I turned around and slid down the door into a pile of sweaty shock. There wasn’t much more I could do. I was completely exhausted and really wanted to punch Hayden in the face as he smiled innocently at me, wrinkled his nose, and said, “Rough day, huh?”
Chapter 6
“What was that?” I asked, angrily getting to my feet and ignoring the pins-and-needles sensation that was now travelling through my entire body.
“I thought we decided to call it a zombie,” Hayden retorted, throwing a few sticks of wood into the dusty fireplace and pulling a lighter out of his pants pocket.
“Not that ,” I spat, probably not making any sense at all. “Why did you leave me out there to die you--,” I stopped myself, trying to keep from using a few choice swear words that had gotten my mouth washed out with soap as a kid.
Just because I was dead didn’t mean I’d ignore all the good life lessons my mama had taught me.
“You almost did a good job out there,” he answered, finally managing to get a fire going. “Almost.”
“Oh, well I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your high standards of zombie dodging.”
“Maybe the next task will go a bit smoother,” he said with a shrug.
I really didn’t like this guy.
“What kind of place is this? What kind of afterlife makes you run away from zombies under the guise of completing an agility test?” I asked, sitting on an old wooden rocking chair and disturbing a few spiders that had been resting in the woodwork.
“Guise? Fancy word for someone so…,” he let his words trail off.
“What?” I asked threateningly, daring him to finish his sentence.
“Southern.”
“I graduated from a well-respected university yesterday, thank you very much,” I informed him.
“With a degree in vocal performance,” he pointed out. “Then you got yourself killed.”
“Oh yeah? Well what did you major in? How to piss people off?”
“Yeah, that was my major,” he deadpanned. “You know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You worry about the wrong things. All of your anxiety is completely misplaced,” he said, his British accent getting thicker now that he was upset.
I wished I didn’t find the accent so alluring. Though I’d never admit that to Hayden. He didn’t need a reason for his ego to be inflated any more than it already was.
“How is it misplaced?” I asked, trying to keep my cool as he took a seat on the moldy bed across from me.
“You’re dead , Isla,” he said simply, as if that should explain his cryptic opinions. “You died last night and you haven’t said one word about being sad or upset. All you’ve done is worried about your family’s finances, or questioned my chivalry, or figured out some new and interesting way to make me want to throw you off a cliff.”
He shook his head in disbelief and threw me an eye roll.
“Aren’t you the least bit upset that your entire life was stolen away from you at such a young age?”
I didn’t say anything to him, not wanting to get into something so person al with someone so unfeeling. Of course I was upset, but as long as I didn’t explore those feelings, it would almost be like they weren’t real.
I may not have been scared of wolves or moody men,
Learning to Kill: Stories