Page 15 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
“We can’t trust them. We might get down there and they kill us.”
I look back down at the three of them. The white woman on the right moves, showing the machete fastened to her hip. Sheappears to be in her late twenties, same as me, and she has a strange mark on her forehead, a swirling blue shape that I think is a tattoo.
“I’m going down there.” I pull out of Dane’s grip.
He scowls and lunges for me again, almost losing his balance on the roof. Blake clutches at his pack, holding him upright.
I slide back down to the window, muttering my thanks to Otto when he follows and takes my pack. I don’t want to drop it, and I don’t want to lose it if one of them decides to run off with it.
Dane’s right not to trust them, but we have to see what they want. If I’m the only one to take the risk, at least I’m the only one of us walking into a trap.
Not that it matters. I cling to the top of the window frame and drop down, catching my feet on the bottom. The flat is destroyed, what little furniture is inside all torn apart.
Those zombies were ravenous, but more than that—they were furious, too.
Otto passes me my bat. I climb fully into the room and take careful steps across the floor, gingerly stepping over the broken chest of drawers we put in front of the door. The butcher’s shop is destroyed too, glass crunching under my soles from the shattered display cabinets.
The women both look at me when I step out into daylight, but the man keeps his eyes trained on the rest of the team up on the roof. I don’t look back at them. I’m not about to let vipers strike.
For a moment, we take each other in. They’re wearing all black, clothes fitted for utility more than comfort. The white woman has a knife as well as a machete. The man holds a cricket bat, which makes me frown. Wood easily breaks, as proven by everything in the building behind me.
The Indian woman doesn’t appear to be carrying a weapon at all.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, jaw set.
“We’re here to clear the place.”
“Clear it?”
The white woman’s hand has moved to the hilt of her machete.
“Of zombies,” I say quickly. “We clear towns of zombies.”
The three of them exchange a glance. The Indian woman looks annoyed, but at what, I don’t know.
“We don’t have a zombie problem here.”
“You—Didn’t you see them?”
How could they havemissedthem? They surely could have seen a horde that size from the church. I gesture at the shop behind me.
“Look inside if you don’t believe me. The place is destroyed.”
The white woman swears and dodges around me to slip inside. She swears again as she takes it in, and I look at the Indian woman helplessly.
“Look,” I say. Honesty might help. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Wright. The Citadel sends teams to clear towns so that they’re safe for habitation again. We arrived yesterday, and at first we didn’t find anything, but last night…”
“What did you see?”
“Zombies. Easily hundreds of them.” I can’t say I saw skeletons, too. She’ll think I’ve lost it.
I’m only half-certain that I haven’t. That’s impossible.
The woman sighs. “I’m Nia,” she says. She gestures to the shop, where the white woman is still pacing about and swearing. “That’s Emma, and this is Callum. It’s not safe for you to be here.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“You need to leave.”
