“The need to procreate?” Dal frowned at this. They’d seen dozens of nezhit and none of them had been procreating. All they did was wander around in search of humans ... and it suddenly hit him. “That’s why they bite, isn’t it?”
He replayed the scene on the front lawn of the college. The girl nezhit had jumped on the chubby boy, taken a big bite out of his neck, then left him to die.
No. That wasn’t right. She’d left him to live. As a nezhit. As a zombie.
Lena watched his face as he processed this new piece of information. “That’s what will drive them for the next seven to ten days. They will hunt down humans and spread the virus with their bite and make more nezhit.”
“What happens after seven to ten days?”
“They die.”
“They die?”
“Yeah.”
It was mass murder. Genocide.
The weight of the transmitter on his back felt heavier than ever. But something wasn’t adding up.
“They could have just dropped nukes on us,” Dal said. “Saved themselves a trip. It’s not like they don’t have the weapons. Why go to all the trouble to come here and turn us all into zombies?”
“Think about it,” Lena said. “Dropping nukes would effectively wipe us out, but it would also make the land uninhabitable. This is one of the richest nations on the planet.” She held her arms out on either side of her for emphasis. “Get rid of the Americans, and America—”
“And America becomes the property of Russia. With no one to stand in their way, taking over will be a snap.”
“Bingo.”
“Holy shit,” Dal breathed. This was even worse than he’d realized.
“We have to make sure this information gets out,” Lena said. “No matter what. We are the only two people who know the truth about the infected. And the fact that the Russians are immune.”
Dal peered through the bleachers, his eyes traveling past the baseball field to the parking lot beyond. The Russians had drawn a lot of nezhit with all the racket they were making. The infected prowled around the perimeter of the lot, watching the Soviets but not attacking.
“We need to get our hands on their vaccine,” Dal whispered.
Lena gave him a tight look. “Yes. But not until we get this information out. We have to focus on one thing at a time.”
They resumed their run along the back of the bleachers. The gravel crunched under their sneakers. Dal kept up a constant scan on the area, hoping the Russians were doing a sufficient job of drawing the attention of all the nearby nezhit.
The transmitter was like a boulder on his back. So much depended on them getting it back to Pole Mountain.
Gunfire went up from the parking lot, followed by laughter. Dal and Lena never slowed. He glanced through the darkness and glimpsed Russians playing target practice on some of the nezhit.
They reached the far end of the bleachers, then followed the gravel road as it meandered between the ag buildings. Lights were interspersed at larger intervals among these classrooms, leaving pools of darkness in between.
Dal nearly missed the two zombies stalking in their direction. It was only when they passed beneath a light with their loping gait that he saw them.
They had the bloodshot eyes and the eerie, loping gait of the others they’d seen. But unlike the groups they’d seen roaming the campus, these two were soaked with blood. It made dark stains across the fronts of their plain tees and blue jeans.
Lena sucked in a breath, automatically firing her gun. The bullets ripped through the two zombies. The smaller of the zombies—a girl no older than Lena—fell as her legs were shredded. She continued to crawl forward, dragging herself like a seal.
The second one kept coming. If anything, the gunshot wounds across his torso only enraged him. With an inhuman howl that made Dal’s blood run cold, the zombie charged.
“Get out of the way!” Instinct took over. He shoved Lena. He had only a few seconds to adjust his stance and raise his gun.
Then the monster was on him. The young man leaped at him. Spittle dripped from his mouth. The tips of his fingers were coated in blood.
Dal fired right into his face. His head exploded. Blood was everywhere, pouring out of the severed neck like a waterfall. The zombie listed to one side and collapsed.
Dal’s breath rasped. His heart pounded against his sternum. He listened, hoping they hadn’t drawn the attention of the Soviets back in the parking lot. Gunfire and laughter still filled the night, carrying from the direction of the lot. How ironic that this was a good sign.
Pursing his lips, he adjusted the machine gun and grabbed Lena’s hand. They raced past the buildings and finally reached the edge of campus where the animals and crop fields were.
It was eerily quiet. The only sound was distant gunfire from the Russians. Dal didn’t like it.
“There’s the barn.” Lena pointed to the large wood building straddling the gravel road. It was no more than thirty yards away.
“It’s too quiet.” Dal might not be an ag major, but he’d been to this part of the campus often enough to see Jim and Tate. And there were always, always animal sounds. Chickens. Cows. Pigs. Horses.
And right now, there was nothing. Not a snort, a moo, or a whinny.
They crept toward the barn. They stuck to the darkest patches of the road, avoiding the light when they could. The building to their right ended, giving way to a large outdoor animal pen that was connected to the barn.
Dal stopped dead. Beside him, Lena sucked in a breath.
Animal carcasses were strewn across the pen. Chicken feathers were everywhere. Half-eaten pig and cow carcasses spilled blood and innards. Dal even spotted a dead horse.
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
These animals hadn’t been gunned down by the Russians. Machine guns didn’t leave gaping body cavities or strew entrails across the
