Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak by Adrienne Lecter

weapons and provisions?” Cho spoke up. “We have enough weapons and ammo now, but they’ll run out eventually.”
    Nate nodded, acknowledging the issue. “We’ll pick up more along the way. Right now even small villages are hot zones, but I expect that in a week or two we’ll be able to either go scavenge in stores, or just find a few houses with well-stocked pantries. Every police station or cruiser should be stocked with enough weapons and ammo to get us by another couple days.” He closed his mouth, but after a few seconds went on. “Last night has proven that guns aren’t exactly a survival perk out there. They hunt by sound more than sight, I think, so everything that is loud enough to attract attention will bring more. I say we only shoot if there’s no way around it, and try to hide and sneak away if possible.”
    “And if not?” Santos, the guy from the bridge barricade, asked.
    “Then grab a stick and beat them to a bloody pulp,” Pia replied succinctly.
    Some uneasy laughter went around, followed by a few lewd jokes. It was something, I figured.
    “Speaking of which,” Nate went on once comments had died down again. “We have another problem.”
    “Besides being chased by a zombie horde?” Burns supplied, clearly amused by his own wit. Nate glared at him briefly, but then looked in the direction of Skip and his friends.
    “Just because there are already a shitload of them out there doesn’t mean that no one can get infected anymore,” he said. Just on cue, Brad—Skip’s buddy—succumbed to a coughing fit, and finally I realized what had made Nate and Pia so uncomfortable about that noise. And looking at him now, it was plain that Brad hadn’t just cleared his throat. His eyes were red and feverish, sweat standing on his brow, and he was shivering slightly although he was already bundled up in a jacket and hoodie underneath. My immediate reaction was to shy away and grab my bat, but I forced myself to remain immobile.
    “You’re sick,” Nate said, kind of superfluously. “And you, too, Thompson.” Only when he said that did I notice one of the others—guy number two from our mad dash last night, I realized—hunker down by the trees.
    “One of the fuckers got me last night,” Thompson rasped, his voice dry enough to make me wince. “Took a bite clean out of my calf.” I hadn’t noticed that he’d been limping, but after he’d vaulted over the fence and disappeared, I hadn’t really paid any attention to him anymore.
    Brad didn’t take the news that well. “I don’t have a scratch! Or a bite. I’m okay! Just tired.” He tried to stagger upright but fell right down when his feet gave out. Nate briefly glanced in my direction, but answered before I could—not that I wanted to.  
    “You probably caught it before that already. Did you eat anything sweet? Remember when I told you all not to touch anything with sugar in it after that guy almost killed three of our own in the coffee shop?”
    Brad opened his mouth, clearly to protest, but snapped it shut after a few seconds. “It was just a fucking ice tea, man!”
    I felt my gut seize up at that little tidbit of news. It made sense, kind of—but the idea that not even anything but fresh water might be safe to drink was sobering.  
    “Doesn’t matter now,” Nate replied. “I know it sucks, but you can’t come with us.”
    I waited for anyone to protest, but his friends had already started inching away from Brad as if he was a step away from going for their jugulars, and everyone else was busy looking at everything but the two men in question. Thompson just shrugged and came laboriously to his feet, dragging himself over to Andrej who he handed his assault rifle and several gun and rifle clips. Lastly he drew his gun, but looked at it rather than giving it up. “I’m keeping the bullets in my gun,” he said, then offered with a toothy grin, “Might as well take down a few more of the suckers before I go down.”
    I