“You’re not fine. Look at you,” Amanda said, wringing her hands.
“It’s nothing serious. Go away,” Dylan cried, her face drawn into a deep scowl. “I want to see Nick.”
“You can’t see him. Look at that. You can’t go down there,” Amanda said, waving her hand at the fort’s inner defenses.
It was a war zone.
A wave of zombies hundreds deep surrounded the base. They pressed forward with rasping growls, tearing at the obstacles in their way. Razor wire shredded their flesh, mines blew them to pieces, fire licked at their flesh, and holes filled with sharpened sticks impaled them. Reinforced Humvees raced along the fences, delivering a deadly barrage of bullets and grenades.
And still, they kept coming.
The soldiers put up a valiant effort, their ranks bolstered by the brave civilians who’d volunteered to fight. They kept up a wall of fire that prevented the undead from running right over the fences.
Dylan craned her neck to find Nick, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her hands itched to hold a gun, and she longed to throw herself headlong into the fray. Anything would be better than bearing witness to the carnage.
Even as she watched, a section of the fence gave away. Screams arose as the infected descended upon the brave souls that fought to keep them at bay. Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering if the zombies would break through. If they did, they’d wash across the base in a sea of corpses.
She needn’t have worried. Within seconds, reinforcements arrived, and the undead were pushed back behind the line. An excavator rumbled forward and dumped loads of rubble within the breach, sealing it shut.
Dylan slumped onto the nearest step as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Immediately, Amanda was there. “Come with me, please. You are not alright.”
“I can’t. What if Nick needs me?” Dylan said.
“Nick can look after himself. As you can see, he’s got it all under control,” Amanda said.
Finally, Dylan relented. “Fine, you win.”
Leaning on Amanda for support, she hobbled back inside on her injured ankle. They made their way to a nearby ward filled with wounded people like herself, and she found an empty bed in the corner.
Amanda disappeared for a short while before returning with Ethan in tow. He shot Dylan a disapproving frown, and asked, “What did you do to yourself this time?”
Dylan threw him a nasty glare, her patience at an end. “Listen here, you self-righteous asshole. I went out at the break of dawn this morning to blow up a bridge. The same bridge that now lies in ruins. Because of my efforts, a vast horde of zombies numbering in the thousands are looking elsewhere for their next meal. Unfortunately for me, I got blown up and bitten in the process. So, spare me the disdain or crawl back up your ass where you belong.”
For a long moment, Ethan stared at her with a blank expression. At last, he said, “Forgive me. That was uncalled for.”
Dylan grunted her assent and sat in stoic silence as he disinfected and bandaged the bite wound on her ankle. Next, he shot her up with a cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers. After treating a couple of burns, cuts, and contusions, he turned to Amanda. “I suspect she has a mild concussion as well. Keep her calm and awake, and call me if anything changes.”
“Yes, Doctor Hayes,” Amanda said.
Ethan left, and Dylan frowned at Amanda. “Your boss is an asshole.”
“Don’t look at me. He’s your ex.”
Dylan snorted. “We never dated.”
“Try to tell him that,” the girl on the bed next to them said before giggling. “That was the most fun I’ve had all day.”
“And you are?” Dylan asked.
“The name’s Tamara.”
“What happened to you?” Dylan asked, noting the fine line of black stitches on the girl’s forehead.
“Well, I crashed my bike, and as I lay there dying, some asshole mugged me,” Tamara said with a lop-sided grin. “Luckily, these fine folks found me and brought me in.”
She pointed to a trio of orphans on the bed next to her. “The oldest is Rikke. She cut her foot open, the klutz. And that’s Arely and Eli.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dylan said with a wide smile.
Eli made a couple of hand gestures, and Rikke said, “He wants to know how you got blown up, and how come you’re not a zombie after getting bitten.”
“Uh, it’s a long story,” Dylan hedged.
“And we’ve got nothing but time,” Tamara replied.
“Alright, fine. Here goes,” Dylan said.
She told them about Tara and the cure before moving on to the bridge adventure. Time ticked by as she related the tale, and she found she quite enjoyed having a captive audience. Eli’s reactions were especially gratifying, and she ended up telling them almost her entire life story. “So you see. This isn’t the first time a zombie has bitten me.”
“Wow, that’s quite something,” Tamara said. “It makes spending three days hiding in a dumpster and wallowing in your own filth seem like nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Dylan said with a shudder. “It sounds like a nightmare.”
“Anyway, I’d like to know more about—”
Suddenly, the rattle of automatic gunfire echoed throughout the ward, and Dylan jumped up. “What’s going on?”
“Wait here. I’ll find out,” Amanda cried. She ran out only to return seconds later with a pale face. “It’s the infected. A bunch of them broke through the defenses, and they’re trying to get in.”
“The guards?” Dylan asked.
“They’re losing.”
“Then we must help them,” Dylan cried, hobbling toward the entrance. “Stay here, kids, and shut the doors until we get back.”
As she ran, Dylan patted her hips. She had only one gun, fully loaded, and her knife. She pulled out the Glock 17. “Are you armed, Amanda?”
Amanda nodded, scooping up a decorative vase from a side table.
