dried goods out of a chest.
‘That stuff’s no good to me,’ I snort.
‘I know,’ he says, ‘but I have brains too. I keep them in a freezer out back. I had a look when I was checking the boat. The power to the freezer went a while ago, but I think the meat’s still fresh enough to be of use.’
‘What are you doing with brains?’ I frown.
‘Coley and I kept a supply. We used them to bait zombies and lure them into traps.’
‘Very humane,’ I mutter, my expression hardening.
Barnes shrugs. ‘I make no apologies for being a hunter. I don’t regret killing brain-dead zombies. They’re savage abominations and this world is well rid of them. I’m
sorry for what I did to you, but that’s as far as my regrets extend. The dead should stay dead and, if they don’t, the living have every right to put them down.’
I shift uncomfortably. I want to argue the point with him, but how can I when just a few hours ago I was plotting to unleash a virus that would wipe out every zombie on the planet? Barnes cut
down dozens or hundreds of reviveds in his time. If I’d been successful, I’d have eliminated billions.
‘Get the damn brains,’ I huff.
Barnes grins and fetches me a slice of chilled headcheese. It’s not the most appealing chunk of brain I’ve ever been faced with – a light mould has spread across it since it defrosted – but it hasn’t totally dried out, so it should still provide me with the nutrients I
need. As I take it from him, he settles back and his grin spreads. ‘I can’t wait to see this.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I snap.
‘I want to see how a stomachless zombie eats.’
I stare at Barnes, then at the hole in my middle. ‘Hell, I hadn’t thought about that.’
‘You haven’t eaten in a while?’ he asks.
‘Not since most of my stomach was ripped away.’ I think about it, then take an explorative bite. I work it down my throat, but once it clears my chest, the chunk simply drops into
the pit where my bowels used to be.
‘Plop!’ Barnes deadpans.
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much,’ I scowl. ‘If I can’t eat, I can’t extract the nutrients that I need to keep my brain ticking over. I’ll
relapse and become a revived again.’
‘There’s no fear of that,’ Barnes says. ‘I’ve seen zombies in worse shape than you chowing down and getting whatever it is that they need from the brains. Go with your instincts and see where they lead you.’
I stare at the chunk of brain in my hand and try to tune out my thoughts, to focus on the food and let my natural reactions take over. It’s easier than I thought it would be, and a minute
later I find myself mashing the brain up in my mouth, working it into a paste. Then I spit the paste into my hands and scrape it around the walls of my stomach, covering as much of the cavity as I
can with the grisly goo.
‘Fascinating,’ Barnes purrs.
‘You don’t have to gawp,’ I growl. ‘I know how disgusting this is.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘This is better than prime-time TV. Is it doing the job? Do you think you’ll be able to sustain yourself?’
‘Yeah. I can already feel myself absorbing the richness of the meat. I’ll scrape off the gunk soon, so as not to attract insects, but it’s pretty much the same as when I
ate before. Except now I don’t have to puke the brains back up, so in a way it’s even better.’
‘You’ll set a trend,’ Barnes laughs and tucks into his own food, which looks a hell of a lot more appetising than mine.
Barnes carefully washes his plate when he’s finished and throws the remains of my mashed-up meal into the Thames, so that the scent doesn’t attract any passing zombies. I join
him on the balcony and stare out across the river. Night has settled over the city and I can hear the moans and cries of its undead population as the reviveds take to the streets in search of
the ever-diminishing supplies of grey matter.
Brains must be hard to come by now.
‘That stuff’s no good to me,’ I snort.
‘I know,’ he says, ‘but I have brains too. I keep them in a freezer out back. I had a look when I was checking the boat. The power to the freezer went a while ago, but I think the meat’s still fresh enough to be of use.’
‘What are you doing with brains?’ I frown.
‘Coley and I kept a supply. We used them to bait zombies and lure them into traps.’
‘Very humane,’ I mutter, my expression hardening.
Barnes shrugs. ‘I make no apologies for being a hunter. I don’t regret killing brain-dead zombies. They’re savage abominations and this world is well rid of them. I’m
sorry for what I did to you, but that’s as far as my regrets extend. The dead should stay dead and, if they don’t, the living have every right to put them down.’
I shift uncomfortably. I want to argue the point with him, but how can I when just a few hours ago I was plotting to unleash a virus that would wipe out every zombie on the planet? Barnes cut
down dozens or hundreds of reviveds in his time. If I’d been successful, I’d have eliminated billions.
‘Get the damn brains,’ I huff.
Barnes grins and fetches me a slice of chilled headcheese. It’s not the most appealing chunk of brain I’ve ever been faced with – a light mould has spread across it since it defrosted – but it hasn’t totally dried out, so it should still provide me with the nutrients I
need. As I take it from him, he settles back and his grin spreads. ‘I can’t wait to see this.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I snap.
‘I want to see how a stomachless zombie eats.’
I stare at Barnes, then at the hole in my middle. ‘Hell, I hadn’t thought about that.’
‘You haven’t eaten in a while?’ he asks.
‘Not since most of my stomach was ripped away.’ I think about it, then take an explorative bite. I work it down my throat, but once it clears my chest, the chunk simply drops into
the pit where my bowels used to be.
‘Plop!’ Barnes deadpans.
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much,’ I scowl. ‘If I can’t eat, I can’t extract the nutrients that I need to keep my brain ticking over. I’ll
relapse and become a revived again.’
‘There’s no fear of that,’ Barnes says. ‘I’ve seen zombies in worse shape than you chowing down and getting whatever it is that they need from the brains. Go with your instincts and see where they lead you.’
I stare at the chunk of brain in my hand and try to tune out my thoughts, to focus on the food and let my natural reactions take over. It’s easier than I thought it would be, and a minute
later I find myself mashing the brain up in my mouth, working it into a paste. Then I spit the paste into my hands and scrape it around the walls of my stomach, covering as much of the cavity as I
can with the grisly goo.
‘Fascinating,’ Barnes purrs.
‘You don’t have to gawp,’ I growl. ‘I know how disgusting this is.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘This is better than prime-time TV. Is it doing the job? Do you think you’ll be able to sustain yourself?’
‘Yeah. I can already feel myself absorbing the richness of the meat. I’ll scrape off the gunk soon, so as not to attract insects, but it’s pretty much the same as when I
ate before. Except now I don’t have to puke the brains back up, so in a way it’s even better.’
‘You’ll set a trend,’ Barnes laughs and tucks into his own food, which looks a hell of a lot more appetising than mine.
Barnes carefully washes his plate when he’s finished and throws the remains of my mashed-up meal into the Thames, so that the scent doesn’t attract any passing zombies. I join
him on the balcony and stare out across the river. Night has settled over the city and I can hear the moans and cries of its undead population as the reviveds take to the streets in search of
the ever-diminishing supplies of grey matter.
Brains must be hard to come by now.
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