Yuche drew the last strip of metal away from the front door as Chenghai pulled the lock free.
The door opened inward, and the smell rolled into the sitting room first: rot, damp cloth, old blood, and the sour stink of a dead body that had spent too long walking.
The first zombie lurched forward with both arms out, its ruined mouth opening as if it expected the house to panic and offer itself up.
Rouxi lifted one hand, and the vines answered before the zombie crossed the threshold.
They rose from the porch steps in thick, green coils, sliding over stone and wood with the eager rustle of leaves. One wrapped around the zombie's throat. Two more caught its wrists. Another pair snapped around its ankles, and the creature jerked to a stop so abruptly that its jaw clacked shut. For a single breath, it hung there, spread open in the doorway like a warning.
Rouxi smiled.
Then she closed her hand.
The vines pulled in five directions at once.
