Dead Men Don't Skip (Grave New World Book 3)

“No,” I said. “That’s never happened. They’ve followed us and they sometimes sneak up, but it’s just…not often.” I took a breath, trying to block the sea of undead faces from my mind. “But a big group of them like that…we would have heard them coming down the hallway, wouldn’t we?”

Tony scowled at me. “Not you, too.”

“What if they are getting smarter?”

“They’re not getting smarter,” he insisted. “If anything, we’re getting dumber.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe the evil stardust had sunk into our brains and we would make increasingly bad decisions until we straight up invited the dead over for dinner.

He started the long walk back in the direction we’d come from. I started following him, and felt the other two men and the dog slowly migrating after me. “Is Hammond coming?” I asked. “Do you think he’ll come?”

“I don’t know.” He kept walking.

Awesome.

Well, at least Hammond knew we were alive and having issues.

“What the hell did he mean about Keller killing Durkee?” Logan asked. He quickened his step until he was walking next to Tony. “Was that serious? I mean, look, none of us particularly like Keller, but I can’t see him killing the CO. Not that Durkee would let him do it, anyway.”

“Hammond mentioned a junior officer in the Hastings camp that he didn’t like. Wonder if that was Keller.” Tony favored his injured leg even more heavily than he had before. I found myself wondering if I ought to examine it—was it healing correctly? Was it infected? “I don’t know if they’ll come. They only have one working tank left…they’d have to come on foot and that could take…days…”

He left out the part where Hammond had sent us to Hastings to check on them and hopefully get help—not the other way around. If he was answering the radio it probably meant he’d gotten things straightened out in Elderwood, but who knew if they were in any shape to launch a rescue mission?

Not to mention a rescue mission for three people and one dog—no matter how adorable she might be—seemed like a potential waste of men and resources that had been running thin even before we left.

At least now Hammond knew we had made it. We hadn’t wandered off, or been eaten alive, or said the hell with the mission. We’d gotten to Hastings and reported back.

We did our duty.

Great job, Vibeke. Now what the hell are you supposed to do? Babysit the dying in triage?

My stomach growled, then gurgled softly, as if caught between hunger and terror.

Yeah, babysit in triage and eat pastrami the rest of my life. Sounds about right to me.

We walked along in silence for some time, all of us lost in our own thoughts. I kept returning to the idea of Keller killing Durkee. Hammond must have had some pretty intense intel on our esteemed captain if he’d jumped to that conclusion so quickly.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered.

We had reached our initial entry point—but so had several armed soldiers.

“Hide,” Logan said.

Too late: they spotted us before we could try to dip into an alleyway. “You!” one of them barked. “Get over here!”

Evie wagged her tail and tugged at her leash. Dax held onto her, then thought better of the entire operation and picked her up. She squirmed in his arms, her front paws looping over his right elbow. I guess she looked pretty cute. Maybe that cuteness would stop them from shooting us.

We approached the soldiers warily.

“What the fuck are you doing there?” the leader said. “Andrews? What the fuck?”

Tony’s right hand had clenched into a fist, and I had no doubt he was on the verge of taking a swing at one of them. I stepped in front of him. “I’m sorry,” I said, working up the simpering tone I’d used to middling effect while trying to get into clubs without paying a cover charge. “I’m so, so sorry. I was walking the dog and she got away from me and ran back there. I went after her.”

The leader stared at me.

Lord, please let me sound as stupid as I think I do. They hadn’t remarked on our appearances, which I took to mean we had escaped our little library encounter mostly unscathed.

“You see this fence here?” one of his friends said. He rested his hand on top of it. “This means you’re not supposed to go through it.”

Then maybe you should make it twenty feet tall instead of four, I thought.

“She’s my dog,” I exclaimed, managing to inject some righteous indignation into my voice. “Why would I just leave her to get eaten by some zombie? What’s wrong with you?”

Evie smiled broadly from her spot in Dax’s arms.

“Yeah.” Tony sounded bored. “You heartless bastard. You have any idea what happens when someone threatens that dog?” He pointed at me, rather than Evie. “You want to take her into custody? Do it, please. I’m tired of chasing after her every time the dog runs off. Save my puppy, she says. Protect the puppy. Jesus fucking Christ, women don’t belong in the endtimes.”

Thanks, Tony. He sounded pretty convincing. Had he been saving that up for a while?

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