“Delicious,” Dylan said, wiping stray crumbs from her shirt. With nonchalance, she placed both slippered feet on the table and slumped down in her chair. “Much better.”
“I guess I should be the one to address the elephant in the room,” Saul said as he eyed her feet. “Where did you get the slippers?”
Dylan shrugged. “I found them in a box full of old clothes. Aren’t they cute?”
“Cute isn’t the word that comes to mind,” Saul muttered beneath his breath.
“Um, guys. Did you know we missed Thanksgiving?” Tara said. “It was this past Thursday, wasn’t it?”
“We did? That’s too bad. I could’ve gone for some wild turkey,” Dylan said, licking her lips. “Stuffing, pumpkin pie, roast potatoes. Mm.”
“I must say, I didn’t even think about it,” Nick mused. “I suppose we could celebrate it tonight?”
“With what? Army rations aren’t exactly holiday-friendly,” Dylan said.
“How about now?” Tara asked. “It doesn’t get much better than freshly baked chocolate chip muffins and coffee.”
“I suppose,” Dylan conceded with a shrug.
“We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in my country,” Saul said. “What do we do?”
“Normally, we’d all sit around a table eating turkey and pumpkin pie with friends and family we hardly ever see,” Tara explained. “Then, we’d take turns saying what we’re thankful for this year before breaking into a huge fight.”
“Sounds about right,” Nick said.
“Okay, I’ll go first,” Saul said, flashing her a big smile. “I’m thankful I got to meet you, Dr. Lee.”
Tara blushed bright red. “And I’m thankful I met you, Lieutenant.”
Saul drew her into a tight hug, every nerve in his body singing at her nearness. He buried his face in her neck, drinking in her musky scent.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Dylan said, fluttering her eyelashes. “A bit schmaltzy, but still sweet. Glad to see you two finally got it on.”
Saul smothered a sigh. “Keen observation, Dylan.”
“I’m just thankful I’m not a zombie right now, thanks to Dr. Lee’s cure,” Nick said.
That earned him a look of wrath from Dylan. “That was my line. Take it back!”
“Nope, no backsies,” Nick said with a smug smile.
“Fine. I’m thankful I’ve got friends, for once in my life. Even if they can be real shits, at times,” Dylan muttered.
“Hear, hear. A good meal and a fight,” Nick applauded. “Now that we’ve observed the holiday traditions, what are you guys up to today?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll —” Saul was interrupted mid-sentence by a knock on the door. “Who could that be?” He walked to the front door and opened it, revealing a soldier standing at attention. “Can I help you?”
“This is from Major Reed, Sir,” the soldier said, handing over a note.
Saul took it with muttered thanks. On his way back to the kitchen, he opened it and scanned the writing. “Interesting. ”
“What does it say?” Tara asked. When Saul didn’t answer straight away, she tapped her foot on the floor. “Well?”
Saul looked up at her with a massive grin on his face. “It says that we’re all summoned to a meeting at ten-fifteen this morning.”
“What for?”
“The major has given permission for the lab to be cleared,” Saul said.
“I can’t believe it. It’s happening!” Tara cried, her voice shrill with excitement. She threw herself into Saul’s arms, and he twirled her around in a circle. “All our hard work, all the crap we’ve had to put up with…it’s finally paying off.”
“That’s good news,” Nick added, saluting them with his coffee cup. “Another thing to be thankful for.”
The only one who didn’t seem thrilled about it all was Dylan. She threw her head back and groaned. “Why did this have to happen on the one day that I’ve got a major hangover?”
Saul had little sympathy for her. “Too bad. Take a cold shower and shake it off. I’ll paint the house while you’re busy.”
“I’ll help,” Nick offered.
“Thanks, you guys,” Dylan called as she ran up the steps.
“You can thanks us later, just get your ass into gear,” Saul said with a grim smile. “We’re going to war.”
Chapter 9 - Alex
Very little light penetrated the gloom caused by the mob of undead streaming past the truck, and the stench of decay filled the tiny area until Alex wanted to choke. With his free hand, he pulled up his shirt until it covered his nose. The flimsy material didn’t block the smell completely, but it was better than nothing. He looked over at Tony and noticed he’d done the same. Their eyes met, and they exchanged grim looks.
“What now?” Tony mouthed silently.
“We wait,” Alex mouthed back.
And wait, they did.
Thirty minutes passed, and the undead ranks showed no signs of thinning. Alex shifted around to make himself comfortable. He ended up with his head resting on his free arm while the other cradled his rifle.
He stared at the legs moving past and tried to amuse himself by guessing what type of person they belonged to. Laddered stockings and court shoes indicated a middle-aged secretary, perhaps. Or a librarian. Ballet pumps with glitter detail pointed to a teen girl, fancy sneakers to a skateboarder, maybe. A pair of steel-toed work boots meant a construction worker, of course, and the sensible shoes belonged to a nurse.
After a while, he closed his eyes and tried to forget where he was, but the noise made it impossible. It was a mixture of sounds that blended into one continuous symphony: Feet shuffled across the tar, shoes crunched on gravel, material rubbed against the side of the truck, and throats moaned with hunger.
Now and then, the truck rocked from side to side above their heads, the suspension creaking with the movement. At other times, snarls broke out, and a scuffle ensued as two or more of the infected bumped heads. While they might be the same kind of creature, that didn’t mean they were friends.
Two hours passed with excruciating slowness, and Alex began to feel thirsty. His lips dried, and his mouth grew sticky as the saliva thickened. With a muffled groan, he closed his
