“She hadn’t turned,” Henry spoke, peering closely. The telling red lines that marked the undead were missing from the woman’s outstretched arms. Slender and graceful, they reached above her head, fists half curled with emerald painted nails.
“Someone did this while she was still alive?” Redmond asked, disgust clear in his voice. His face washed pale then greenish and he turned away, breathing shallowly.
“It’s hard to say,” Henry responded, moving the woman’s leg with his boot. It flopped back flaccidly, rigor mortis come and gone.
“This is too much,” Raven spoke, eyes a little wide. She took a green bandana from her back pocket and covered the woman’s privates. Noticing a clear set of teeth marks on the woman’s inner thigh, Raven met Henry’s eye and knew he saw it too. The bite imprint and mutilation made her think of serial killers and that was a thought she did not want.
Henry turned to her and mouthed, Jeffrey Dahmer.
Raven sighed and nodded. A growl of the undead sounded in the distance. It was followed by a scream that caused sparrows in a nearby tree to protest and take flight.
“We should go,” Raven spoke, glancing again at the mutilated woman and thinking that this added yet another problem. Add a psycho killer into a world full of flesh eating zombies with a splash of a mad man who called himself the President and Raven felt like the character in a horror novel. “If Bee wakes to find us gone she’ll worry.”
