defenses sprang into action and accelerated healing began.
“You kill her?” Canden asked.
Something clanged down at the end of the long corridor. Pepper took a long, gasping breath. He was too weak. The bullets had taken their toll, and even with downtime he had risked a lot to assume Grenada wouldn’t take a kill shot in that split-second attack. She’d tried to disable him first.
“The problem is that she idolizes you, you know?” Canden said via the bracelet. “And in the end, she didn’t aim true, right? A lesson to we all.”
“You manipulate people when all you had to do was ask nicely.” Pepper squinted. Something definitely lurked in the shadows out there. A shabbily dressed crewman lurched his way toward them. Step by step.
“I doing what I got to to bring those people back. If you get infected, you very dangerous, and uncontained. I have me a duty here.”
“I’ll blow my own brains out before I fall to the infection,” Pepper promised as he looked Grenada’s gun over. “And I doubt it will come to that.”
“I can’t be taking that risk.”
“I know. I wouldn’t take it if I were you, either.”
Another shambling figure. The two infected crewmen picked up speed. They looked like marionette dolls, their disjointed puppetlike motion the result of some lost brain function.
Lurch, shuffle, lurch, shuffle.
The shadows slipped over them, and then the deck lighting revealed ashen faces and vacant eyes. They walked in sync as they inched closer. The strange growths on their shoulders twitched and caressed each other. Did they pass on information?
Pepper crushed the bracelet in his left fist and cut off the start of Canden’s next sentence. The two zombies moved closer, and Pepper raised the gun.
They both stopped.
“Ah. So you know what this is?”
They stared at him, swaying in sync. Waiting. Pepper pulled the trigger twice.
As he’d discovered inside, they still used the brain. Destroy it and the zombie stopped. Even these refashioned things that were once human needed a CPU. Take that away and they dropped.
A third infected stood in the shadows. But it didn’t approach.
Pepper pushed Grenada off and stood up. She rubbed her forehead and groaned, wiping the blood off with the back of her hand. Pepper spotted a deep bite mark on her wrist. He stared at it as more shuffling echoed down toward them from the end of the corridor.
He yanked her up to her feet. “Come on, we have to move.”
“We didn’t commit suicide,” Grenada murmured.
Pepper looked down at the knife she had near his ribs. “You trying to get yourself killed?”
“I already dead. You see the bite mark. A few hours, I shuffling afteryou just like them. And no one go know everyone in this ship didn’t commit suicide.”
“I will.” Pepper kept them moving slowly forward at the third zombie, the two of them in a staring contest.
“The captain given up on living, true. The passengers getting infected, the crew done lost. But someone got to survive and tell everyone what had happen here.”
This was why she didn’t kill him. “So what are you going to do?”
“Keep you alive. So you can tell everyone what happen.”
Pepper shot the third zombie, and the fourth and fifth he found lurking in the shadows around the bulkhead. Between the two of them they’d emptied the clip. He handed Grenada the gun. “Not doing much for me right now.”
“But I can get you more. From the galley.”
Grenada and Pepper followed the tunnels alongside the ship’s core. Every door had a manual lock that could open it. They’d all been dogged automatically from the cockpit, an attempt to slow down the infected crew, but Pepper could still make his way around the ship. Safety features were on their side.
Within thirty minutes Grenada guided him to the galley. She tapped a quick combination into a wall safe behind a hand-painted picture of the pencil-like
Sheikh
hanging off a station dock over a red-clouded
“You kill her?” Canden asked.
Something clanged down at the end of the long corridor. Pepper took a long, gasping breath. He was too weak. The bullets had taken their toll, and even with downtime he had risked a lot to assume Grenada wouldn’t take a kill shot in that split-second attack. She’d tried to disable him first.
“The problem is that she idolizes you, you know?” Canden said via the bracelet. “And in the end, she didn’t aim true, right? A lesson to we all.”
“You manipulate people when all you had to do was ask nicely.” Pepper squinted. Something definitely lurked in the shadows out there. A shabbily dressed crewman lurched his way toward them. Step by step.
“I doing what I got to to bring those people back. If you get infected, you very dangerous, and uncontained. I have me a duty here.”
“I’ll blow my own brains out before I fall to the infection,” Pepper promised as he looked Grenada’s gun over. “And I doubt it will come to that.”
“I can’t be taking that risk.”
“I know. I wouldn’t take it if I were you, either.”
Another shambling figure. The two infected crewmen picked up speed. They looked like marionette dolls, their disjointed puppetlike motion the result of some lost brain function.
Lurch, shuffle, lurch, shuffle.
The shadows slipped over them, and then the deck lighting revealed ashen faces and vacant eyes. They walked in sync as they inched closer. The strange growths on their shoulders twitched and caressed each other. Did they pass on information?
Pepper crushed the bracelet in his left fist and cut off the start of Canden’s next sentence. The two zombies moved closer, and Pepper raised the gun.
They both stopped.
“Ah. So you know what this is?”
They stared at him, swaying in sync. Waiting. Pepper pulled the trigger twice.
As he’d discovered inside, they still used the brain. Destroy it and the zombie stopped. Even these refashioned things that were once human needed a CPU. Take that away and they dropped.
A third infected stood in the shadows. But it didn’t approach.
Pepper pushed Grenada off and stood up. She rubbed her forehead and groaned, wiping the blood off with the back of her hand. Pepper spotted a deep bite mark on her wrist. He stared at it as more shuffling echoed down toward them from the end of the corridor.
He yanked her up to her feet. “Come on, we have to move.”
“We didn’t commit suicide,” Grenada murmured.
Pepper looked down at the knife she had near his ribs. “You trying to get yourself killed?”
“I already dead. You see the bite mark. A few hours, I shuffling afteryou just like them. And no one go know everyone in this ship didn’t commit suicide.”
“I will.” Pepper kept them moving slowly forward at the third zombie, the two of them in a staring contest.
“The captain given up on living, true. The passengers getting infected, the crew done lost. But someone got to survive and tell everyone what had happen here.”
This was why she didn’t kill him. “So what are you going to do?”
“Keep you alive. So you can tell everyone what happen.”
Pepper shot the third zombie, and the fourth and fifth he found lurking in the shadows around the bulkhead. Between the two of them they’d emptied the clip. He handed Grenada the gun. “Not doing much for me right now.”
“But I can get you more. From the galley.”
Grenada and Pepper followed the tunnels alongside the ship’s core. Every door had a manual lock that could open it. They’d all been dogged automatically from the cockpit, an attempt to slow down the infected crew, but Pepper could still make his way around the ship. Safety features were on their side.
Within thirty minutes Grenada guided him to the galley. She tapped a quick combination into a wall safe behind a hand-painted picture of the pencil-like
Sheikh
hanging off a station dock over a red-clouded
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