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The woman stumbled out of the haze, her grip tenuous on the struggling child wrapped in the blanket. The thick coils of her hair blew around her head in a dark halo. Twisting around in the woman’s arms, the small child gazed up at Emma.

“Oh, shit.”

The little boy was definitely dead. A catcher’s mask secured on his head with duct tape was the only thing keeping him from sinking his teeth into the flesh of the woman clutching him close.

“Help us!” the woman cried out again.

A slower zombie emerged from the smoke, its form so emaciated it resembled a walking skeleton. Aiming with her rifle, Emma concentrated on eliminating one threat at a time. Her mind was racing despite her determination to focus. How the hell were they going to deal with a mother desperate to keep her dead son with her?

Juan emerged from the smoke, swinging a machete to neatly decapitate a slower zombie. “I got them! I got them!” Gripping the woman’s arm, he jerked her past a trap and toward the corner where the makeshift elevator waited. Nerit and Kevin were already on the move with three remaining survivors.

“Give them cover,” Katarina ordered from nearby.

Reloading, Emma tried to blot out the dead boy’s eyes peering up at her. He was a little older than Billy, a child who should have a long life in front of him. Instead, he was a zombie, snarling behind a mask.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered.

Dizzy, her stomach a tight knot, Emma fought the urge to vomit.

Instead, she concentrated on killing the risen dead.

5

All Clear on the Zombie Front

A few minutes later, the last bleats of the all-clear horn echoed into the hills then fell silent. The zombies were dead and the crane was lifting the survivors into the Fort.

“You did good,” Katarina said.

Listening to the whine of the crane, Emma glanced up at the redhead. “I did what I had to.”

“You pulled through for those survivors.”

“It’s the first time I’ve saved people. Usually I was putting down zombies. I can’t believe we saved anyone in all that chaos. It went to shit so fast.”

Katarina hoisted her rifle over one shoulder with a weary sigh. “That’s the reality of the world now.”

Sitting down on the catwalk, her rifle resting on her knees, Emma stared at the towering hotel. The air smelled like burned flesh and smoke obscured the glaring sunlight overhead. She concentrated on steadying her breathing, her trembling fingers brushing over the warm metal of her weapon. The little boy’s dead gaze haunted her.

“Did you see the kid’s face?”

Katarina shook her head. “No. Why?”

“He’s not alive. They had a mask on him to keep him from biting.”

The color washing out of her ruddy face, Katarina muttered, “Shit.”

“He can’t be let inside.”

“I’m sure he won’t be. Nerit would never let that happen.” After a tense moment, Katarina added, “I’ll check in and see what’s up.”

The catwalk trembled as Katarina strode away. When she started talking over the walkie-talkie, asking for the status of the mother and child, Emma wasn’t surprised. Paranoia was the standard of the world.

Emma closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. Though the little boy had dark skin and eyes, he’d reminded her so much of Billy. He was at that sweet age where children had chubby arms and a round tummy that felt so soft and warm when you held them close.

“That was intense.”

Rashmi dropped into a squat next to her and Emma opened her eyes. Ennis and Stacy were down on the other end of the catwalk.