Plague Nation by Dana Fredsti Page A

to hide my revulsion.
    “Yeah. We met at Big Foot’s Revenge a few days or so ago.” I didn’t mention that he’d been sobbing over the remains of his wife and kid at the time, even as he’d been nibbling on them. It looked like he still had on the same pair of gore-encrusted jeans and blue flannel shirt he’d been wearing when we’d found him.
    Recognition lit his face, a face that had no doubt been pleasantly handsome before he’d been bitten by a zombie and turned into a half-deader, thanks to another mutation of the zombie virus. He had to eat human flesh, preferably still living, in order to stop his own body from rotting. The plus side? His brain still functioned, memories intact.
    Which wasn’t such a plus if you couldn’t stop yourself from eating your family and friends. Unlike Gabriel, Jake didn’t have a handy dandy antiserum keeping the contagion at bay, so he’d turned on his wife and son after they’d taken refuge in a cabin. I’d have felt sorry for the guy if he hadn’t been at least partially responsible for Kaitlyn’s death.
    This is getting to be a nasty habit.
    I shoved the morbid thought away.
    “That’s right,” he said. “You were going to take my wife and son to a doctor, right?”
    “Yeah, that’s right,” I said.
    “But you left me there.” He looked confused. “Why did you leave me?”
    “You hurt our friend, Jake.” I hunkered down in front of him. “Remember? You bit her.”
    “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “I was hungry. Can’t blame a man for being hungry, can you?”
    I saw the soldier behind him tighten his grip on his firearm, index finger itching to pull that trigger. I shook my head “no” and he glared at me.
    “Begging your pardon, Ma’am,” he said, “but you haven’t seen what this crazy bastard did here. We have every cause to put him down like a mad dog.”
    “He’s right, you know.” Nathan came back out of the kitchen. He looked ill, an expression totally out of place considering his normal unflappable—if cranky— personality.
    “He kept them alive while he was eating them, one piece at a time,” the soldier continued. “Stopped them from bleeding out with tourniquets, but didn’t do anything about infection. Nothing to stop the pain. Just... sliced pieces off like they were shawarma on a spit.”
    “Shawarma.” Jake nodded in agreement. “I’ve always wanted to try shawarma.” He giggled. “Guess I have to wait till the end of the movie.”
    Two people in Hazmat suits came out, carrying a body bag that looked only partially filled. I swallowed, willing myself not to throw up.
    “You say one of them is still alive?”
    “Yeah. If you can call it that.” Nathan swallowed, hard. “The medics had to sedate her before she’d stop screaming.”
    “He needs to die!” The soldier with the itchy trigger finger stepped forward, only to be straight-armed by Gabriel.
    “We have to take him back to Big Red,” he said sternly. These were the first words Gabriel had spoken since he’d asked me to identify Jake. I almost didn’t recognize his voice, it sounded so. dead.
    Nathan nodded, but he didn’t look happy.
    “Agreed. They’ll want to run tests. Simone always wants to run tests.”
    I looked down at Jake, who sat there giggling, rocking back and forth.
    “If we’re lucky,” Nathan added, “they won’t use any anesthetic.”
    The medics brought out the other victim on a stretcher, a woman in her early forties with short brown hair plastered to her skull by sweat and blood. The medics had draped a sheet over her body; it settled in unnatural divots and indentations already soaking through with blood and other fluids. Even in repose, her expression showed the nightmare she’d just survived. I wondered if there were enough sedatives in the world to give her a dream-free sleep.
    “Did he do anything else to them?”
    “No,” Nathan replied. “Our friend here isn’t interested in sex. Just food.”
    “I’m hungry,”