The Scavengers by Gen Griffin Page B

Kennedy ran one long fingered hand through his shaggy, strawberry blonde hair. I noticed his fingernails were dirty and chewed to the quick. “We were supposed to be figuring out a way to get my sisters out. We talked about it a lot and Conner even though he knew how to do it, but we never followed through. We always thought we'd have more time. God, I never thought Conner would go out that way. Eaten by a fucking loner zombie”
    “Zombie attacks happen.” I shrugged my shoulders in a helpless gesture. My parents were gone and while I didn't think their disappearance was my fault, I understood his grief. I also knew there was absolutely nothing I could tell him that would alleviate the obvious misery he felt over the loss of his friend.
    Kennedy frowned at me and shook his head. “If we'd have joined the Church when Conner wanted to, we would have been safe. I still remember the first night we ran into one of their patrols. It was so damned cold I could see my breath. My fingers were like chunks of ice and Hampton Block kept insisting that we tough it out until we'd collected 100 cans a piece,” Kennedy let out a disgusted huff. “Shit I wish I had known half the things I know now back then. I woulda walked. I woulda told Conner that being a Scavenger was bullshit, regardless of what we'd thought when we was kids talking about what we was going to do as grownups. Stupid fucking cans.” He shook his head. “A kid died that night. Her name was Lisa. We used to be friends. Her feet were too numb to run when the zombies came out and when she went to grab her sword her fingers were frozen and she dropped the blade right there at the zombie's feet. It ripped her face off. One minute she was Lisa. The next minute she was a bloody hump of meat surrounded by a giant red stain on the snow.”
    I swallowed a lump in my throat but made no attempt to interrupt. In the back of my mind I heard my Dad talking about how being a good listener was worth three times as much as being a smooth talker.
    “I was sure I was dead. I had on my jacket and Conner's, because he'd lied and told me he wasn't cold and that I should take it. I couldn't even get to the knife on my belt because there were too damn many layers of clothing blocking the holster. The stupid bag of cans was heavier than hell and when I tried to run away it put me off balance.” Kennedy shivered from the memory. I doubted he even realized I was still standing beside him.
    “All of a sudden the zombie falls over in front of me and I'm looking up at a girl. A really pretty girl with curly blonde hair and she's got a fucking chain saw in her hands and she's grinning down at me. I thought I was hallucinating until she offered me her hand to help me up. That was when I saw her skin. It was all shredded looking like raw meat, but she was still using it like nothing was the matter. I started screaming and she smacked me in the face. Told me I'd better get my knife out if I was going to be howling like that and attracting more zombies.”
    “She was like Seth,” I guessed. “Part zombie.”
    “They all are. They do it to themselves on purpose.”
    I gaped at him in surprise. “On purpose?” I asked disbelievingly. “I thought...Drake said they were turning into zombies because they eat food that’s been contaminated with the zombie virus.”
    “Yeah, but your skin doesn't just start rotting or decaying without an injury,” Kennedy shrugged at me as if what he was telling me was common knowledge. “You have to have eaten enough of the virus that your immune system is infected, too.”
    “Oh.” I supposed the explanation was scientifically possible from a medical standpoint. I wondered what Dr. Zeb would make of it.
    “Yeah.” He shook his head again. “It’s creepy as fuck. Especially Seth's face. That eye of his gets to me.”
    “It’s creepy,” I agreed, vaguely relieved I wasn't the only person who found the zombification repulsive. Of course, I was pretty