They all laughed at this. In the darkness, Quinn's ears got as red as his hair.
'What about you, Forrest?' Don asked. 'What do you miss most?'
'Honestly? This will sound weird. I was a news junkie. Growing up in Harlem, my momma made me watch the news every day. Stuck with me when I became an adult. Always started the morning with a cup of coffee and The Daily News. Then I'd watch Fox or CNN in the evening. I miss the news-I miss feeling connected to the world. I don't feel like I'm a part of it anymore.'
'You might not want to be a part of it,' Frankie said. 'It belongs to those things now.'
'I miss my home,' Smokey mumbled. 'And my dog. He was a good dog-kind and gentle, scared of his own shadow. Followed me around the house all day. I boarded him in a kennel when I came here to visit my daughter. I wish I knew what happened to him.'
'Maybe it's better that you don't,' Leroy said.
Frankie didn't speak her desire aloud. She missed her baby-her stillborn child. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force the image from her mind. She could still hear the nurse's screams when the infant had come back to life.
Danny murmured, 'I miss Mommy.'
Jim put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.
They all fell silent again, each lost in their own thoughts.
Soon, the sounds of running water echoed from ahead. They emerged into a wide space filled with tools and construction equipment. A seamless curtain of water poured from a broken pipe fifteen feet over their heads. To their right, there was a hole in the cement wall. It looked like something or somebody had chiseled it out. Pigpen shined the flashlight beam into the hole.
Etta and Smokey both screamed.
Rats had eaten half of the zombie's face-whether before or after it had died they didn't know. The eyes were scratched out, and the tongue had been chewed away. An ear was missing; the other was a ragged lump of gnawed cartilage. When it sat up, the creature's empty eye sockets swarmed with wriggling maggots and a plump, white worm dropped from its nose.
The blind creature slumped out of the hole and crawled toward them, guided by their screaming. God reared up, hissing, and Pigpen dropped the flashlight. He bent, fumbling for it, as the monster crept closer.
Forrest raised his rifle to his shoulder, carefully lined up the crosshairs of his scope, and squeezed the trigger. The stock bucked against his shoulder and the zombie's rotting head exploded, splattering the wall with gore and maggots.
Pigpen snatched up the flashlight and gasped for breath.
Behind them, a thin figure separated itself from the darkness and glided toward the group. They didn't see it until it's yellow, broken teeth sank into Leroy's neck. Flesh and tendons tore, and blood gushed from the hole. Leroy's scream became a long, drawn out wail. He beat at the creature with his hands, but the jaws clamped down on the wound again. The zombie shook its head back and forth like a dog, burrowing deeper into his neck and shoulder. Its pus-covered fingers dug into the burn wound on his arm, popping the blisters and peeling his skin back.
'Get it off me! Oh God ...'
'I can't get a shot,' Quinn yelled. 'Steve! Nail it!'
Steve ran forward, clubbing the creature with the butt of his rifle. He smashed the stock against its face a second time, and the zombie reared backward, taking another mouthful of Leroy's neck with it.
The wounded man collapsed next to the zombie on the tunnel floor. He tried to scream, but blood shot from his throat rather than sound. He inhaled, the air whistling in his chest. The zombie reared up on its hands and knees and gnashed its teeth.
'Leroy!' Etta screamed.
She ran to his side and the zombie lunged for her. Steve swung the rifle over his head and slammed it down a third time. There was a sickening thud, and then blood and other fluids gushed from the cracked skull.
Steve clubbed it again. The corpse went limp, sprawling in a puddle of sewage.
The others checked the perimeter, but there were no more zombies. They gathered around Leroy and Etta.
Leroy held his hands up to his face and saw the blood on them. His eyes widened in panic and he grasped his throat. Etta sobbed, begging him not to die. He tried to speak one more time, and then his lips stopped moving.
'No,' Etta cried. 'This ain't happening. You come back, Leroy. You come back to me right now, god damn it!'
Forrest's voice was gentle, but firm. 'Etta, you know what we've got to do.'
'He ain't gonna rise. Not Leroy. He ain't gonna come back.'
Smokey knelt down beside her and clasped her hands. 'Etta, you know that's not true.'
Don sniffed the air. 'You guys smell something?'
'Just the sewer,' Frankie quipped.
Suddenly, God howled. The cat paced back and forth in front of the large tunnel, hissing and spitting with rage. He peered into the darkness and then backed away.
'Listen,' Quinn gasped. 'What the hell is that?'
'Whatever it is,' Frankie whispered, 'the cat doesn't like it.'
