It had to be. She’d witnessed horrible things.
Breath regained, she turned and ran down the other side of the hill. She didn’t know where she was. The ground was springy and damp. Verdant growth clutched all the way up her legs to her knees.
She ran until she couldn’t run anymore, and she thought she’d gone for miles. The countryside never changed. The fogbound landscape was impenetrable. Finally, exhausted, she lay down. Just to rest. Somewhere out there birds chirped. Although she didn’t want to, she slept.
When Leah woke, she was dreaming that she was back in the attack on the munitions plant. She was hunkered down behind an overturned freight van. The SRAC machine pistol and Thermal Bolter felt heavy in her hands.
“Leah!”
She stared at the dead man at her feet. His name was Jamey Capps, but she’d never met him in her life.
“Leah!”
When she glanced up, Leah saw Robert Wickersham standing in front of her. He looked just as young and vulnerable as that night she’d lost her eye.
This is impossible, Leah thought. I can’t be here.
“Leah, are you with me?” Wickersham reloaded his assault rifle.
“Yes.”
Concern fired his eyes as he looked at her. “You looked like you were somewhere else.”
“Where are we?”
Wickersham studied her. “You sure you’re all right, love?”
No. “Where are we?”
“Trying to shut down the weapons plant. Where did you think you were?”
Leah shook her head. Not true! Not true! Something’s wrong! Her senses spun. “Never mind.”
“Not like we have any bloody choice. The satchel charge is at your feet. You want to ferry that thing? Or me?”
When she looked down, the satchel charge lay there on the street. Blood dotted the scuffed surface.
“We’re Satchel Team Three now,” Wickersham said. “Are you ready for this?”
Leah nodded, but she felt anything but ready. She holstered the Thermal Bolter and scooped up the satchel charge.
“Let’s go.” Wickersham led the way out. He spun round the corner and froze.
“What’s wrong?” Leah asked. Then she noted the bloody claw sticking out of Wickersham’s back.
He stumbled backward and leaned heavily against her. When she shifted, he flipped round to face her. Blood dripped from his parted mouth. He tried to speak but didn’t have any luck. His eyes glazed as she watched, and he slid toward the ground.
No! Leah thought in horror. That’s not what happened! Jamey Capps didn’t die, either! These deaths aren’t real!
Even as she denied it, though, a Blade Minion stepped up in front of her and grinned. Leah tried to bring the SRAC up, but the demon batted it away easily. In the next moment, it thrust its blade hand through her armor and her stomach. With a sideways jerk, it spilled her intestines to the ground.
Unable to remain standing, Leah dropped into the steaming pile of her own body. The pain hammered her mercilessly for a moment, then went away. When it did, she went away with it.
“Can you get the door open?”
Panic welled inside Leah when she realized she wasn’t dead. She ran her free hand down her body and found that her stomach was whole and intact. There was no blood. Her other hand held a Scorcher, a pistol designed to spew Greek Fire. It was a Templar design, scavenged from a fallen warrior.
“They’re coming. Can you get the door open?”
Dazed, not comprehending, Leah looked over at the speaker. Her night vision barely pulled in enough light to see the four other people in the room. All of them wore black armor.
The big man beside her let out a vicious oath and shoved her out of the way. “What’s wrong with you? If we stay here, we’re going to die. Those zombies have us outnumbered.”
Leah stepped to one side and tried to fathom where she was. It was a tunnel, maybe an auxiliary passage off the tube.
At the back of the passage, the big man worked frantically at a door that was rusted shut. He yanked on the release lever, but it only snapped off in his hands with a banshee screech.
“Here they come!” someone shouted.
“Get set! Hold them back till Pete gets the door open!”
Leah knew the door wasn’t going to open. They were at a dead end. Literally.
Zombies lurched into the passageway ahead of them. Blood glistened on their mottled skin, offering silent proof that they’d already succeeded in their hunt for victims.
“Pete! Are you gonna get that door open, mate?”
Looking back at the big man, Leah saw that fear had claimed him. He stood frozen and mute. Then weapons fire filled the tunnel. She fired the Scorcher, feeling it buck and twist in her hand as flames sprayed out over the zombies. Although the first line of them caught fire and jerked in response, the dozens behind them kept pushing them forward. The zombies that succumbed to the flames got trampled on by the undead behind them.
“Pete! Pete!”
Explosive weapons blew pieces of zombies in all directions. Limbs, heads, and chunks of dead meat stuck to the ceiling and dropped over the battlers.
The line broke as the first of the zombies reached them. Leah couldn’t blame them. The dead eyes, sunken and flat black, were horrible to contemplate.
This is wrong, Leah told herself, trying to calm the mindless terror that reached for her. I’ve never been in this situation. I’ve always escaped.
Unable to hold against the onslaught of the undead, the line buckled. The frightened cries of men and women choked the small space.
Leah tried to fight clear of the confusion of limbs. Many of them were no longer attached to the original bodies. Blood filmed her lenses and the world took on a red tint. Panic filled her, and she fought against everything and everyone that touched her.
She fired the Scorcher directly into the ravaged face of the zombie in front of her. Head on fire, the undead thing wrapped its one good arm around her and bore her to the ground.
The living and the dead stepped
