Chapter 16
“What the hell happened here?” Blake asks no one in particular while he surveys the carnage.
“I don’t know,” my dad answers, looking around as if the answer might come to him.
But there’s no reason for any of this. It doesn’t make any sense. Where did they come from, and why are there so many?
“Well . . . sucks that I missed out on all the action,” Blake jests, holding his arms out at his sides like a gladiator entering an arena.
When no one responds, his face slowly morphs to mirror ours, a mix of fear and pain.
“Did I miss something?” He tilts his head.
“Chris . . . he . . .” I stop, unsure of how to share what I witnessed. “He shot himself . . . after he got bit trying to buy time for his sons to run away.”
A few people who didn’t see this happen gasp at the realization that someone among us didn’t survive the attack. The illusion that we were safe so long as we all stayed within the fences and people patrolled on night watch is shattered.
“I . . . that’s . . .” Blake trails off, realizing the error he made and unsure of what to say.
“Casey, is this what the city was like?” Tessa asks, her voice cracking as she tries to figure out whether this is something we should expect more often.
“I’ve never seen this many in a group,” I say as I bend down and rip my throwing star from a biter’s eye socket.
The grass is soaked, wet with black sludge and viscera.
My shoes stick to the ground as layers of gore build up on my soles.
Reaching the second biter I hit, I pull the star from its forehead.
Blake watches me as I wipe them against my jeans, cleaning them off.
“I don’t understand why there were so many of them.” Blake sounds frustrated. He continues to scan the bodies at his feet.
JJ approaches from behind, stepping over limbs and carcasses. “This probably explains that downed coach bus we saw earlier,” he says.
My brows shove together. “What are you talking about?”
“There was a bus pulled off to the side of the road a couple miles up. It was a little dented but nothing that would have stopped it from driving. We decided to steer clear in case there were any biters lingering on board, but it looks like the whole bus turned and came this way after we passed by.”
“That’s a relief,” I say, more pleased with this explanation than the alternative.
“Why would that be a relief?” Blake asks.
“Because that means this was a fluke, a one-off from a stray bus. If this was a new phenomenon, biters moving in huge herds like cattle, we’d be in trouble.”
“She’s right,” my father chimes in.
“We should have stopped and checked it out, JJ.” Blake shakes his head, disappointed in himself.
“No, you did the right thing. There were too many for just the two of you to take on,” Dad says, patting Blake on the shoulder.
Elaine walks down the driveway with tears in her eyes and the folded white bedsheets my dad asked for. It’s a uniform fit for a ghost.
Dad takes them from her and hangs his head for a moment before lifting it. “Blake, JJ, come help me with Chris,” he says.