An answering whoop sounded. Reacting on pure instinct, I grabbed Rex by the collar with one hand and pulled my machete free from my belt with the other. I didn't even realize I'd dove back behind the food stand until I felt the sun-warmed metal pressed against my back.

"Quiet," I whispered to the growling dog. Relief flooded me when he actually fell silent, quickly replaced by panic as I realized I couldn't see anyone else.

My eyes darted around, desperate for a safer place to hide—somewhere a zombie couldn't just round a corner and be on me in a heartbeat. Most of the stands had been closed up before the carnival was abandoned, offering no refuge.

My backpack, slung over only one shoulder, slid down even further, hampering my movement. I realized I'd have to let go of Rex. I needed both hands free—one to fix the pack, the other to swing the machete if I had to. Stomach tight with nerves, I reluctantly released him.

Rex stayed alert, staring in the direction the sounds had come from, but he didn't move. I was going to have to trust him.

The carnival grounds had fallen frighteningly silent. The only sounds were the breeze in the grass and trees, and my own harsh panting. The lack of noise was ominous. A cold sweat made my skin clammy. The zombies could have been anywhere.

I'd let Shawn get out of my sight as I wandered between the stands. I thought he was to my left and not far, but I couldn't be sure. With zombies roaming the carnival, twenty feet felt like twenty miles. Fear threatened to freeze me in place, whispering that whichever way I chose, I'd find bloody death.

But I couldn't just stand there. My friend might need me. I had to move.

Bracing myself, I inched toward the back of the stand. At the corner, I hesitated—sure I was about to come face-to-face with a living nightmare. I took a breath to steady my shaking hands and stepped around.

A tiny yelp escaped me as I ran straight into a solid body. Jerking back, I untangled myself from reaching arms.

Troubled gray eyes—not wild and blood-red—stopped my arm before I could follow through with the machete swing.

Looking equally startled and absolutely terrified, Shawn grabbed for my arm and dragged me behind the stand with him. He leaned in to breathe in my ear, "They're fast."

I'd already guessed that by the screams. Decaying zombies didn't scream—they growled and moaned. I blinked up at Shawn, wanting to talk but too afraid to make a sound. My mind felt sluggish, unable to work out how we'd get back to the car with two zombies likely between us and safety.

He inclined his head, indicating the direction he wanted to go. I nodded. Keeping close behind him, we slid along the back of the stand. The walkway between rows of food stands was at least ten feet wide. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest as I darted through the open space.

Around the back of the next booth, we found Marcus, who appeared to have been waiting for us. He looked momentarily relieved when Shawn rounded the corner with me in tow. The guys must have already worked out a plan, because they didn't hesitate. Marcus led the way as we tried to silently circle the grounds and get back to the car. I kept expecting to run into Brad, but there was no sign of him.

The silence held. I flinched every time someone stepped on a piece of trash or Rex's tags jingled. Every sound seemed amplified as I strained for any indication of where the zombies were. My hand cramped painfully from the death grip I had on my machete. Our progress was slow and seconds crawled by.

We made it back to the fun house—halfway. The large structure stood in the middle of a relatively open patch of grass, and we'd be exposed longer than before to get around it. Dread settled in a hard lump in my gut as instinct screamed that things were about to go very wrong.

I nearly choked as we stepped into the open.

The next booth seemed impossibly far away. It had barely come any closer when I heard the sound I'd been dreading. An animalistic scream came from our right.

My breath stuttered in my throat when I saw how close the zombie was. Long hair whipping behind it, the creature crouched low and ran in that bizarre, stilted gait. It would reach us in seconds.

I was nearly jerked off my feet as Shawn changed direction. I saw where he was going, and my mind finally kicked free of the trancelike state that had paralyzed it. Everything sped up but oddly slowed down at the same time.

We bolted up the fun house steps. The entrance was a narrow, twisting maze of glass walls. Leading the way, Shawn bumped his shoulder against the transparent panels, disoriented by the reflections. I shoved the reluctant dog in ahead of me, and Marcus was right behind. I'd only made a few frantic turns when the zombie crashed into the outside glass wall.

We all froze, wide-eyed, to see if it would follow us into the maze.

"Sheila?"

Beside me, Marcus stared at the zombie with clear regret. I looked back at it. Snarling with bared teeth, the zombie banged on the glass. Dried blood covered it from head to toe. One arm dangled and flopped uselessly at its side. This close, I could see the flesh had been shredded. I could also see a scar on what had probably been a pretty face when she was alive.

Sheila's zombie looked me dead in the eye and screeched. The face was familiar. If it had been lit by the red glow of taillights, I knew it would be a perfect match. This was the zombie that had looked in the back window of the SUV at us just the other day. There was no way we could have known it then, but we already knew the fate of the missing people before we ever left the safety of the fences.

I didn't have long to think about the cruel irony of that revelation because the zombie suddenly changed tactics. Stopping its frantic assault on the glass, it became very still, staring through the walls with red eyes. Then it began to pace. The front porch of the fun house wasn't large, and it only took seconds for the zombie to find the opening in the glass.

"Go!" Marcus shoved me from behind as the zombie bumped hard into a clear wall inside the maze.

We moved fast through the twists and turns, putting distance between us and the creature. At the end of the maze portion of the fun house, we looked back. The zombie was deep in the center of the maze. Through the clear walls, we could see it bumping around, taking the first opening it found at every turn. It had made some progress, but the maze was slowing it down.

After the maze was a rope net that led up. The coarse, thick rope had to be climbed to the next level, about seven feet high.

My heart sank. There was no way Rex was going to be able to climb the net.

Shoving past me, Marcus whispered, "Keep going." He grabbed onto the net and hauled himself up quickly. "She's going to figure out a way through before too long."

He swung up and over the top and disappeared from sight. A strange, clattering noise began to echo across the carnival.

"Go up," Shawn said, catching my attention. He bent down and scooped Rex up under one arm. "I'll hand him up to you."

The rope net was harder to climb than I'd imagined. I kept thinking that this was supposed to be a fun ride for kids as I struggled up the wobbly net. I pulled myself onto the landing and swung around to reach for the dog.

Shawn was tall, and Rex was still underweight—two facts I was very grateful for as I reached down and tried to pull the dog up with me. A shove from below, and the confused-looking shepherd landed next to me on the platform. In seconds, Shawn was up too.

The rush of adrenaline made me shake. I finally realized what that clattering sound had been as I stepped off the landing onto a swaying bridge. Every step threatened to throw me off balance and made a substantial amount of noise. I'd been so preoccupied with getting Rex up there that I didn't notice until that moment that Marcus was gone.

We were up fairly high and had a good view of the carnival. Maybe a hundred yards away, I could see the car. A tall figure stood next to the open driver's door—Brad.

Darting movement flashed between two stands, not far from Brad and the car. I lost sight of it and didn't have time to stand there and look again. Brad was in the safest position of any of us at the moment. A locked car door would keep the zombies out. He was going to have to take care of himself.

The bridge led clear to the end of the fun house. When we reached the landing on the other side, we found our way down—a tightly turning slide that spiraled all the way to the ground.

The zombie in the maze shrieked again. The sound echoed strangely off the glass walls.

"I'll go down first," Shawn said, not waiting for a reply before he sat at the top of the slide and pushed off.

Rex eyed the slide warily, ears back. I grabbed a handful of his fur and prepared to push him down by force if necessary. There was no time to convince him. His hesitation vanished when snarling erupted below. The dog launched himself down the slide.

I dove after him. The view spun wildly a few times, making it hard to make sense of what was happening on the ground. I staggered to my feet the instant they connected with the grass.

Ten feet away, Rex was on top of a flailing zombie. It hissed and snarled, clawing at him, but he only bit down harder on its neck. Blood covered his fur and pooled darkly in the grass.

Knife in hand, Shawn tried to get a clear angle to kill the zombie without cutting the dog.

"Rex, here!" I called, surprised when he actually listened. As soon as his furry head was clear, Shawn dove in and drove the blade through the zombie's eye.

It went still.

The one in the fun house shrieked and banged on the glass, able to see us just feet away but unable to reach us. Rex panted at my feet, red drool dripping from his tongue.

All of that registered somewhere in the back of my mind, but my focus wasn't on what I was hearing. It was on what I was seeing.

When Shawn had lunged to kill the zombie, his sleeve had ridden up, exposing most of his lower arm—and the distinct shape of a bite mark that oozed blood.