Behind him, Amy turned away and retched, the sight of the slaughter too much for her tender stomach. He didn’t blame her. His stomach was at the point of total revolt, as well.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he said, clapping one hand over his mouth as he turned away.
Dylan stirred. “I had to kill them. I had no choice.”
“Were they…infected?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
She nodded, and relief coursed through the horror inside his chest. They were zombies, not innocent people murdered by a madwoman.
“They were going to kill me. Eat me.”
“I believe you,” he said, reaching out one hand again. “Come on. We have to go. The Fort is under attack.”
With carefully placed steps, she picked her way through the gore until she reached his side. Up close, she looked even worse, her hair matted with blood and chunks of unidentifiable matter.
“I…uhhh, you are…” Alex mumbled, searching for words. He didn’t know what to do with her in the state that she was in. He was rescued by Amy, who stepped forward after she’d brought up the last remaining bit of her supper.
“Let me help,” she said, though her skin bore a greenish pallor.
“Are you sure?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “She might be dangerous.”
“She’s my friend,” Amy said with admirable determination. “She’d never hurt me.”
“Alright. Then take this,” he said, unslinging the duffel bag from his back. He rummaged inside and produced a shirt. “She can’t walk around like that.”
Alex turned his back while Amy helped Dylan out of the messy hospital gown and into the clean shirt. She used the bloody gown to wipe the worst of the mess from Dylan’s face and body, though there wasn’t much she could do. Not without a hose and a ton of soap.
He picked among the corpses and found a belt which he wiped down on the carpet coupled with a pair of flat shoes that used to belong to a nurse. Or so he thought judging by the uniform that remained on her torso. It was a disgusting job, but with the shirt belted in place and something on her feet, Dylan was semi-dressed, at least.
“Ready to go?” he asked, itching to move. They were sitting ducks in the infirmary, and he wanted to get out of there.
“Yes, we are,” Amy said, taking Dylan’s free hand.
Together, they exited the waiting room and ran down the deserted corridors toward the exit. Alex paused just outside the doors to take a look at their surroundings. Things inside the base were going from bad to worse.
Several buildings were on fire, explosions rocked the night, groups of people ran around like headless chickens, and gunfire drowned out the wail of the sirens. A couple of armored trucks raced past, manned by a group of surviving soldiers. They were followed by a tank, its ponderous bulk crushing everything in its path.
“What now?” Amy asked, shouting to be heard over the chaos.
“We follow the tank,” Alex cried, believing it might afford them some protection. “It’s headed the right way.”
“Okay,” Amy said, and Dylan nodded her assent.
Alex prepared to run after the tank but stopped when a group of infected swarmed the machine. They climbed over it like ants, beating against its armored side with raging fists while it continued along its path unhindered.
One of them spotted Alex and his group.
With an eager howl, it charged. The rest of the zombies noticed and abandoned their iron bound prey for an easier meal. In a solid mass, they sprinted across the distance.
Alex paled as he faced the incoming zombies. There were too many to fight, but he had to try. Reacting on instinct, he raised his carbine and fired. He fanned out his shots, cutting down as many as he could before the gun clicked on empty. “Shit!”
He dropped the rifle and pulled out his sidearm. With measured shots, he killed two more. Then another and another. Still, they kept coming, more than he could count. A tight knot of insane humanity intent on rending the flesh from their bones. “Amy! Dylan! Get inside.”
The distance closed, and he kept shooting until he ran out of bullets. With a muttered curse, he dropped the gun back into its holster and unsheathed his knife. Flexing his fingers, he backed away. The infirmary was their only hope of survival.
Suddenly, a Humvee appeared out of nowhere. The formidable truck hit the mob of zombies with explosive force. Several went flying while others were crushed beneath its wheels. It performed a tight turn, taking down two more stragglers before sliding to a halt in front of them.
Alex stared at the driver with shocked recognition. It was that scientist woman’s sidekick: the South African soldier, Saul Dhlamini.
The back door to the Humvee opened, and Tara leaned out, waving at them. “Come on.”
Alex jerked his head at Amy and Dylan. “Go, go, go!”
They rushed past him, but at that moment, an infected came raging around the corner of the vehicle. Amy blasted it with her shotgun, and it fell in a shower of blood and dirt. Alex smiled with pride. “Way to go, Sis!”
Amy scrambled into the back of the Humvee with Dylan right behind her. Alex followed, reaching up with one hand to grip the frame and lever himself up. As he leaned forward, Dylan appeared in front of him. With a savage cry, she raised her ax, and he froze with shock. “What are you doing?”
The ax whistled past his shoulder, and he turned to see a zombie crash to the ground mere inches away. Without pausing, Dylan grabbed him by the collar and hauled him inside the vehicle. The door slammed shut as the Humvee roared away.
Alex lay across Dylan’s lap and blinked up at her, his heart still racing after his narrow escape. She raised a single eyebrow. “Well?”
“Uh, I’m sorry. I guess I owe you one,” he said with a rueful smile.
“That’s twice I’ve saved your
