- Your ass

  - Your rump

  - Your hind

  - Your booty

  - Keep an eye on it.

  ---

  I used to think the front was where all the danger was. That as long as you were watching the alley ahead, the doorway in front of you, the zombie drooling in plain sight, you were good.

  That changed when I almost got bit in the ass.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Literally.

  It was a routine run. Or so I thought. Quiet streets. A few smashed windows. Some busted vending machines that laughed at me when I tried to shake out a bag of jerky.

  I didn’t notice the sneaky bastard crawling out from under the flipped-over truck behind me. I didn’t hear it, didn’t feel it, didn’t sense it.

  But Alex did.

  One second I was digging through a crate, the next I heard a high-pitched yell and the crack of a crowbar hitting skull. I turned, already expecting the worst. Instead, I found Alex, shaking, standing over a twitching corpse, still holding the crowbar like it might explode in her hands.

  “I told you to stay at the bookstore,” I said, more out of reflex than anything else.

  She looked at me. “And let you get eaten because you forgot you have a backside?”

  Touché.

  Turns out, no matter how good you are, how experienced, how many cool lines you write in your survival journal—if you forget your 6 o’clock, you’re one clumsy stumble away from being zombie chow.

  It was the first time I saw Alex kill one. And she did it for me.

  I’ve never felt more exposed or more protected at the same time.

  So yeah. Watch your back. Or make sure someone you trust is watching it for you.

  (Thanks, Alex.)