There goes the neighborhood.
Others woke up. At first they looked in the direction of the scream, but soon they turned their heads, saw her coming at me, and oh, yes, there were the horrified screams of the living. How delightful.
“Dammit,” I growled. If anyone ever started an Apocalypse Survival Workshop, I hoped the first thing they taught was how not to fall apart the instant you saw a walking dead man. Or woman. Or whatever.
The zombie twisted around to hear the screams, which only prompted more screaming. I snapped my fingers in front of her eyes, drawing her attention back to me. “Get back here,” I said. “Come on, you crazy bitch, come get me!”
And then I did the thing you should never do when there is a dead person nearby.
I turned and bolted for the back of the tent, glancing over my shoulder as I went.
She took the bait and lurched after me, her fingers curved into claws and mouth hanging open. I dashed down the row of beds, waving people aside as they looked up. “Stay down, all of you stay down and stay still, she won’t see you if you don’t move!”
That was sort of a lie. The dead went after everything, but noise and motion in particular seemed to attract them. If my terrified patients stayed still while I caused a ruckus, then Little Miss Deadie would keep her eyes on me, The Most Mobile and Noisy Thing Around.
I had almost reached the back entrance of the tent when I turned around.
She was flying through the air, claws outstretched. She slammed into me and the two of us toppled to the tarp that covered the asphalt of the old parking lot the medical complex resided on. I landed hard on my back, all of my insides jolting with the impact.
Her mouth came right for me.
I thrust my hands up, catching her face before she could snap down on my face or my neck. Her tight, mottled skin nearly tore away when I pushed her aside, and I tried to get a leg up between us.
She shoved one of her hands up against my neck, and those dry, wizened fingers clamped around my throat.
Holy fucking shit. She had some strength in her grip, and she seemed to know exactly what she was doing.
So much for calmness—eople were screaming all around me. “Guards!” I shrieked. “Guards, someone get the fucking guards!”
“Sergeant Andrews!” a man called. “Sergeant Andrews, we need you!”
I kept waiting for the gunshots, for the sound of soldiers.
They did not come.
She snapped her gaping maw of a mouth at me. At least she hadn’t really started to stink yet; I guess I could have counted that as a point in my favor.
I pushed her face away, my left hand scrabbling around for something.
“Here,” someone whispered.
I didn’t question how Alyssa had gotten all the way over to this side of the tent. I just saw her push something large and white toward me.
A bedpan.
Well, it was heavy and I could swing it. Sometimes you can’t ask for more.
“Hide,” I said to Alyssa. She scrambled under the nearest bed.
I seized the bedpan and slammed it against the revenant’s head. Her fingers loosened slightly around my neck, but she did not entirely let go. I hefted the bedpan higher and brought it crashing against her temple, and her head snapped to the side with a sickening crunch.
It gave me the opening I needed. I shoved her off me and sprang to my knees, clutching the bedpan in both hands. The ghoul stretched for me again, and I brought the bedpan down atop her head with my full weight behind it.
Crunch. She spasmed.
Crunch. Her skull gave a little bit. Not enough.
“What the hell is going on?”
Logan had finally made an appearance, but he just stood there staring at me, the bedpan, and the dead woman I was trying to brain with it.
I stood up.
The bitch reached after me. The bitch fucking reached after me.
Why won’t you fucking stay dead?
I strode toward Logan, who still just gaped. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked.
I yanked his pistol out of its holster, switched off the safety, and swung it around. “Everyone, back off!” I barked.
Several patients in the immediate vicinity scrambled off their beds, sedatives and sickness be damned. I guess a woman waving a gun at a zombie is sufficient motivation to get the hell out of the way.
The ghoul came right for me with bared teeth, her eyes full of nearly incendiary rage.
I squeezed the trigger.
The bullet popped her in the head, sending her entire body flying backward. She landed on her back in the middle of the aisle, her fingers still twisted into gnarled claws.
For a few seconds, everyone just stared. I kept the gun aimed at her in case she got back up.
She didn’t.
Alyssa lifted her hands and offered me weak applause from her hiding spot. A moment later, several other patients joined her.
I swung around, staring at Logan, who had lost his cigarette somewhere between chilling out back and completely screwing up the zombie situation.
“That,” I said, “is why you let your people carry guns.”
Chapter Eleven