Zombie Killers: Ice & Fire by John Holmes, Ryan Szimanski

you. You put the whole team at risk. What the hell were you thinking, sleeping with your weapon off safe?”
    She was quiet for a minute. I could tell she was crying, but at that point, I didn’t care. We might all be dead because of her in a few hours.
    “This isn’t some comic book, O’Neil, or a fucking video game.” My voice was harsh.
    “Don’t you think I don’t know that? Why was my weapon on fire, Nick? Because I spent the last eight months sleeping alone, every night, not knowing if some fucking monster was going to rip my throat out while I slept. I had to be ready to shoot in an instant! I was alone, Nick, so fraking alone, and then you and the guys show up like some kind of goddammned angels out of nowhere.” She was sobbing now, and I could tell the rest of the guys were awake, listening.
    “Every single night, alone. I’m sorry, but that’s how I had to live. Maybe you’re stronger than me, but I was scared every single minute. Don’t put me out there with them. Shoot me if you have to, just not that.” 
    “I’m not going to shoot you. No one died” I said. “ I lived just like you did, for a couple of months. But you have to understand, from here on out, we are your team. Your family. We trust each other with our lives, and I go to sleep peacefully because I know that I can depend on them to keep me safe. Can we trust you?”
    “Yes” she whispered.
    “If it happens again, I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.” A little strength had crept back into her voice into her voice.
    “Good. Make sure your weapon is on safe, reload, clean yourself up, and get some rest. Drink some water. Stay awake , though.”
    Outside, the undead had stopped howling, but they shuffled around the truck in a circle.
    Chapter 24
    It had clouded over during the night, and dawn wasn’t the rising sun. Instead, the landscape went from black, to grey, to white.
    Ahmed shook me awake, and we each quietly shifted around and tried to stretch as best we could in the cramped space. I opened up an MRE, and set up the heater for some breakfast. Doc and Jonesy took turns shaving each other’s heads, and Ahmed twisted around to pray to his destroyed Mecca. Morning rituals.
    “Tuna with noodles? Holy crap, what is the date on that MRE? I haven’t seen that in ten years.” Doc was peering at the brown wrapper.
    “I dunno, let me see. Um, 1996.”
    He laughed. “That’s almost twenty years old. Your funeral.”
    “Ain’t nothing tabasco can’t kill.” I emptied the small bottle into the packet and started chowing down. I licked the brown plastic the spoon clean and shoved it back in my sleeve pocket.
    “Nick.” Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around. Brit was leaning forward.
    “I gotta pee.”
    “ So? Get a coffee can, or use an MRE bag.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Well, you’re welcome to step outside and find a tree.”
    She shifted uncomfortably and crossed her legs. “I’m serious, I’m going to wet myself.”
    I was tempted to let her piss her pants as payback for last night. “Go ahead, piss in an MRE bag.”
    “I can’t pee in front of people. I never could.”
    I sighed. Someone was going to have to learn some hard lessons. “What if you had to take a dump? I shit myself, twice, in Afghanistan, while a Taliban patrol was ten meters from my hide site.”
    “So you’re a big hero. I GOTTA PEE.”
    Ahmed spoke up. “We have two problems that need to be solved. The truck, and Miss O’Neil needs some privacy to urinate. I shall run.” With that, he started stripping his body armor off and secured his rifle. He was older than me, but the wiry little Pashtun tribesman was faster than a jackrabbit. I didn’t like it. We COULD wait them out. I was tired, though, and wanted to go home.
    I nodded to him. “Meet you about a mile up the road.”
    “Wait, what is he going to do?” asked Brit.
    “He’s going to run through the zombies and draw them away from the