A Single Girl's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse by JT Clay Page B

off.
    Rabbit had better news. No one was hurt. “But Melissa didn’t come back from the walk,” he said under his breath.
    â€œWho?” Q said.
    â€œYou know – long brown hair, tie-dye shirt, about this tall?”
    â€œOh, you mean Princess Starla, champion of the people and warrior of the way?” Q walked back to the group.
    Despite the sobbing, Tinkabella looked the most cogent of the returned walkers. “What happened?” Q asked her.
    The woman was snuffling too hard to answer. “Pull yourself together!” Q said. “What would your avatar say?”
    For all the wrong reasons, this was the right thing to say. Everyone gawped, forgetting their trauma in their confusion. “Melissa was attacked,” Tinkabella said.
    â€œBy what?”
    Tinkabella shook her head. “It was big, like a person.”
    â€œIt made noises like a sick animal,” Sheath of Power said.
    â€œIt smelled like rot,” Tinkabella said.
    â€œNo it didn’t, it smelled like candy canes!”
    â€œIt had blood on its claws and teeth!”
    â€œIt couldn’t walk straight. It limped like a hunchback penguin.”
    Sheath of Power brought the description to a close. “I think it was a roo with rabies.”
    â€œThat makes no sense,” Q said, writing in her little black book. “Firstly, we don’t have rabies here, and b, a roo doesn’t look anything like a person, and three, why would an animal attack Princess Starla? She didn’t go Irwin on it, did she?”
    Rabbit interceded for the group. “Q, what did you say?”
    â€œIt wasn’t a roo with rabies,” Q said.
    â€œYou weren’t even there!” said Sheath of Power.
    â€œI heard gun shots,” said Angela. “What was that?” No one knew.
    â€œWe better go see if Melissa’s okay,” Rabbit said.
    â€œShe’s not okay,” said Tinkabella, who had recovered enough to avoid volunteering. “We should get in the van and get out of here.”
    â€œNot until we’ve checked on Melissa,” Rabbit said.
    â€œI’ll come,” said Q.
    â€œMe, too,” said Angela.
    â€œGood on you!” Q said and jabbed her lightly on the arm.
    Angela rubbed the spot. “If there’s a rabid roo, I want to be near the chick who can punch through brick walls.” They headed off, Q pausing to grab a long-handled cooking pot on the way.
    *
    They did not hurry and barely spoke. Angela asked once if they should walk quietly, so as not to attract attention, or loudly, to scare off whatever was out there. Q didn’t think it would make a difference. There had been gunfire. That meant either the attacker had been dealt with or was more than they could handle. But they still had the gunman to worry about.
    The path went northwest and uphill. It was easy to follow. The walkers had used an animal track, which was now well- trampled and lined with scraps of cloth. They had not been careful on their flight back to camp. All they had wanted was to get away.
    The group found the spot a mile away from camp. Princess Starla was still there, or at least most of her was. Tinkabella was right. The woman did not need their help. Not any more.
    â€œShiva,” said Rabbit, and vomited.
    â€œI always said walking was bad for your health,” Angela said.
    â€œYou’re calm,” Q said.
    â€œTwins,” Angela said. “Plus, it’s either that or join Rabbit in the vomiting, and in my house, only one adult is allowed to hurl at a time.”
    Q regarded the body. It was the first corpse she’d seen since Linda’s. She hadn’t been at the hospital when the woman died so she hadn’t seen the body until the funeral. It had looked healthier than the live version in those last few weeks. Q kept expecting Linda to leap up during the service and yell at Q’s father for neglecting their training schedule. The burial