into its stock and locked it in place. She laid the rifle across her lap and glared at Leila. “We all have a story to tell, you just don’t hear the rest of us dwelling on them.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Yes, it is. I watched my husband turn into a rotter and attack my son, and had to kill both of them. Sandy lost her entire family on the Brooklyn Bridge when the Army blew it up. Tiara made it all the way from Boston on a broken leg. We’re all carrying emotional baggage.”
Leila refused to let go. “You don’t have any idea what I went through.”
“We do.” Josephine, a petite young woman of Asian descent, pushed the last round into a magazine. She motioned to Amy who sat beside her. “Both of us also traded sex for security. We decided, for whatever reason, that it was better to be a whore than a rotter. We made our own hells, but we made those decisions on our own. Some of us made terrible decisions, and others didn’t have a choice.”
Most of the Angels cast a sympathetic glance at Sarah who had spent nearly five weeks with a rape gang before the living dead attacked the group, giving her a chance to escape. She still bore a deep, three-inch scar across her left cheek where one of her attackers slit her with a knife for not cooperating. Sarah pretended to concentrate on filling her magazine, though she did lower her head slightly so the sandy hair fell across the scar.
“And it doesn’t bother you?” asked Leila.
“Every fucking day.” There was no anger in Josephine’s voice, only sorrow. “I think of my husband and whether he survived the outbreak, and what he would say if he ever found out what I did to survive. And then I hope he doesn’t find me, even if he is alive, so he’ll never know what I’ve become.”
Stephanie stifled back a tear. “I never knew that.”
“Because I don’t talk about it. None of us talk about our experiences. They’re too painful.” Josephine sounded almost pleading when she turned to Leila. “You shouldn’t dwell on it either.”
Leila opened her mouth to speak, but she bent her head and sobbed instead. Emily, who sat to her left, wrapped an arm around Leila and pulled her close. Her southern accent added a soothing quality to her voice. “It’s okay, honey. We all have demons haunting us. It’s the bond that keeps us so close to each other. Right?”
Emily glanced over at Stephanie, hoping for support.
“Right,” said Stephanie, relieved at finally bringing the awkward moment to a close. She patted the Mauser in her lap. “That, and our kick ass fighting skills.”
“Yeah, but we still have a long ways to go before we’re as good as One Shot over here.” Josephine leaned over and nudged Amy.
“That’s true,” said Ari, pushing her eyeglasses back up her nose. “Ever since we stood up the Angels, you’ve been able to take down a rotter with a single shot. How did you get so good? Were you a hunter before this?”
“Never fired a gun before in my life,” Amy responded as she pinned her long blonde hair into a ponytail with a rubber band. Raising her Mauser, she aimed it at a point on the opposite wall and sighted down the barrel. “Whenever I line up a rotter, I just pretend it’s one of the guys I used to fuck in the biker gang. Works every time.”
“Hell,” said Bethany, who at nineteen was the youngest member of the Angels. “If it’s that easy, I’ll just picture my first boyfriend who dumped me when I wouldn’t put out.”
“My ex-husband,” chimed in Virginia.
“Both my ex-husbands,” added Katie with a chuckle.
Leila still sobbed against Emily. Emily squeezed her arm gently. “Who are you going to picture?”
“Probably me,” said Stephanie with a good-natured grin.
“No.” Leila snorted back her tears and ran a hand across her eyes. The hard expression had softened, making her look vulnerable. “It’ll be my mother-in-law.”
Doreen chuckled. “She can’t be that bad.”
“You never met my
“That’s not fair.”
“Yes, it is. I watched my husband turn into a rotter and attack my son, and had to kill both of them. Sandy lost her entire family on the Brooklyn Bridge when the Army blew it up. Tiara made it all the way from Boston on a broken leg. We’re all carrying emotional baggage.”
Leila refused to let go. “You don’t have any idea what I went through.”
“We do.” Josephine, a petite young woman of Asian descent, pushed the last round into a magazine. She motioned to Amy who sat beside her. “Both of us also traded sex for security. We decided, for whatever reason, that it was better to be a whore than a rotter. We made our own hells, but we made those decisions on our own. Some of us made terrible decisions, and others didn’t have a choice.”
Most of the Angels cast a sympathetic glance at Sarah who had spent nearly five weeks with a rape gang before the living dead attacked the group, giving her a chance to escape. She still bore a deep, three-inch scar across her left cheek where one of her attackers slit her with a knife for not cooperating. Sarah pretended to concentrate on filling her magazine, though she did lower her head slightly so the sandy hair fell across the scar.
“And it doesn’t bother you?” asked Leila.
“Every fucking day.” There was no anger in Josephine’s voice, only sorrow. “I think of my husband and whether he survived the outbreak, and what he would say if he ever found out what I did to survive. And then I hope he doesn’t find me, even if he is alive, so he’ll never know what I’ve become.”
Stephanie stifled back a tear. “I never knew that.”
“Because I don’t talk about it. None of us talk about our experiences. They’re too painful.” Josephine sounded almost pleading when she turned to Leila. “You shouldn’t dwell on it either.”
Leila opened her mouth to speak, but she bent her head and sobbed instead. Emily, who sat to her left, wrapped an arm around Leila and pulled her close. Her southern accent added a soothing quality to her voice. “It’s okay, honey. We all have demons haunting us. It’s the bond that keeps us so close to each other. Right?”
Emily glanced over at Stephanie, hoping for support.
“Right,” said Stephanie, relieved at finally bringing the awkward moment to a close. She patted the Mauser in her lap. “That, and our kick ass fighting skills.”
“Yeah, but we still have a long ways to go before we’re as good as One Shot over here.” Josephine leaned over and nudged Amy.
“That’s true,” said Ari, pushing her eyeglasses back up her nose. “Ever since we stood up the Angels, you’ve been able to take down a rotter with a single shot. How did you get so good? Were you a hunter before this?”
“Never fired a gun before in my life,” Amy responded as she pinned her long blonde hair into a ponytail with a rubber band. Raising her Mauser, she aimed it at a point on the opposite wall and sighted down the barrel. “Whenever I line up a rotter, I just pretend it’s one of the guys I used to fuck in the biker gang. Works every time.”
“Hell,” said Bethany, who at nineteen was the youngest member of the Angels. “If it’s that easy, I’ll just picture my first boyfriend who dumped me when I wouldn’t put out.”
“My ex-husband,” chimed in Virginia.
“Both my ex-husbands,” added Katie with a chuckle.
Leila still sobbed against Emily. Emily squeezed her arm gently. “Who are you going to picture?”
“Probably me,” said Stephanie with a good-natured grin.
“No.” Leila snorted back her tears and ran a hand across her eyes. The hard expression had softened, making her look vulnerable. “It’ll be my mother-in-law.”
Doreen chuckled. “She can’t be that bad.”
“You never met my
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