animal,” Sheath of Power said.
“It smelled like rot,” Tinkabella said.
“No it didn’t, it smelled like candy canes!”
“It had blood on its claws and teeth!”
“It 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.”
“That 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?”
“It wasn’t a roo with rabies,” Q said.
“You weren’t even there!” said Sheath of Power.
“I heard gun shots,” said Angela. “What was that?” No one knew.
“We better go see if Melissa’s okay,” Rabbit said.
“She’s not okay,” said Tinkabella, who had recovered enough to avoid volunteering. “We should get in the van and get out of here.”
“Not until we’ve checked on Melissa,” Rabbit said.
“I’ll come,” said Q.
“Me, too,” said Angela.
“Good 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.
“Shiva,” said Rabbit, and vomited.
“I always said walking was bad for your health,” Angela said.
“You’re calm,” Q said.
“Twins,” 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 itself felt like murder, the body was so lifelike. Q had decided death would never again take her by surprise.
This body did not look healthy. It looked like it had been eaten by something that wasn’t a member of the clean plate club. Q felt something hot and sour in the back of her throat and turned away. Ridiculous. It couldn’t hurt her. It was dead. What was wrong with her?
She turned back to the body and pixelated the scene in her head, like level six on Crypt Robbers . That was better. She trod a careful circle around Princess Star – around the body. She didn’t want to touch anything. Touching might make it real. The smell was a problem, too. She wasn’t used to smells like this. Meaty, raw and rotten, a mix of blood and shit and something she couldn’t identify.
Focus .
There were two clean bullet holes in the forehead. They may not have been what killed Princess Starla. Some ghoul had torn off most of the face and there were large chunks missing from the mid-section. There was less blood than Q had expected. There was also a long, flattened trail leading away from the body, as if
“It smelled like rot,” Tinkabella said.
“No it didn’t, it smelled like candy canes!”
“It had blood on its claws and teeth!”
“It 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.”
“That 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?”
“It wasn’t a roo with rabies,” Q said.
“You weren’t even there!” said Sheath of Power.
“I heard gun shots,” said Angela. “What was that?” No one knew.
“We better go see if Melissa’s okay,” Rabbit said.
“She’s not okay,” said Tinkabella, who had recovered enough to avoid volunteering. “We should get in the van and get out of here.”
“Not until we’ve checked on Melissa,” Rabbit said.
“I’ll come,” said Q.
“Me, too,” said Angela.
“Good 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.
“Shiva,” said Rabbit, and vomited.
“I always said walking was bad for your health,” Angela said.
“You’re calm,” Q said.
“Twins,” 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 itself felt like murder, the body was so lifelike. Q had decided death would never again take her by surprise.
This body did not look healthy. It looked like it had been eaten by something that wasn’t a member of the clean plate club. Q felt something hot and sour in the back of her throat and turned away. Ridiculous. It couldn’t hurt her. It was dead. What was wrong with her?
She turned back to the body and pixelated the scene in her head, like level six on Crypt Robbers . That was better. She trod a careful circle around Princess Star – around the body. She didn’t want to touch anything. Touching might make it real. The smell was a problem, too. She wasn’t used to smells like this. Meaty, raw and rotten, a mix of blood and shit and something she couldn’t identify.
Focus .
There were two clean bullet holes in the forehead. They may not have been what killed Princess Starla. Some ghoul had torn off most of the face and there were large chunks missing from the mid-section. There was less blood than Q had expected. There was also a long, flattened trail leading away from the body, as if
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