Teeth pulled from Sammy's shoulder. Blood drizzled down. The hands came off her too. One by one each zed was no longer clawing at her. A sickening crunch followed. Over and over. Snarls turned to whines. Whines turned to silence. A long silence. The back of her shoulder burned. It was like sandpaper going up and down it. She turned around to see bashed in zeds. And Jones. He was on his ass, back against the aisle, breathing hard. Blood trickled down the right side of his face from where an ear once was. An entire chunk of his neck was gone too. The gash pulsed with gore.
"Well," he said. "Tha—"
He coughed. Then chucked. Black bile went over corpses. Sammy crawled over to him, fighting the burning sensation that would throb with every slight movement. "Holy shit, holy...don't move." She stared at his neck.
"Not so bad," Jones said, grinning.
"No-no-no-no, fucking blood plague."
Jones tilted his head and groaned. The pain must be immeasurable. "Both of us, Sammy."
"Stop talking. Save your strength."
"Blood plague. Both of us."
Sammy widened her eyes. She looked to her shoulder. A rash had spread, dotted all over with these small bumps. She was turning. "Meds. Or cure. We-We need a cure."
"No such thing. It's our season finale."
"No-no-no-no. We can find someone."
"What a way to go. Over pancake mix."
Sammy took Jones's hands in hers. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Don't apologise. I was too old for this shit. Bound to...Bound to happen. Mission's still a go, okay? Mission's still a go. Don't get greedy. Locky's gotta gets some."
"I'll make sure he gets the first bunch of pancakes, don't you worry. I'll..." The corpses. She'd seen their old leader do something with these. Miles would hunt them and scrape off their pustules. Was fucking disgusting. A crazy ritual for a crazy leader. But Miles wasn't crazy. "Fuck it," Sammy said. "You can cook up the first batch for him yourself."
Jones replied with a puzzled look.
Sammy scoured the gruesome scene, using her nails to dig into zed flesh and remove rotted bits and puss-filled pieces.
"The shit are you doing?"
"Arts and crafts. You 'member that dude we rolled with for a bit?"
"Miles Davis?"
"He'd do this on runs sometimes. Never explained why. Others I was with never questioned it. Like it was normal. I'm betting it was, well, not normal per se. Served a purpose though."
"We left them for a reason, Sammy."
"Not for twisted shit like that. I'm betting—maybe a stretch, but maybe not—that they were taken for a reason. Why would you need bits and pieces of blood plague zombies? Fucking cure, Jones. Samples for a cure."
"Quite a leap."
Sammy pulled her bag off and shoved in all the samples she'd collected. She slipped the pancake mix into another compartment of her bag. Somewhere less disgusting. Once done, she put her bag back on and heaved Jones up, pulling his arm over her shoulders to support him.
Jones coughed. "This is a bad idea."
"Walk."
Jones started moving with Sammy's assisstance. "Where we even going?"
"You'll see."
"This is a bad idea."
Submitted June 16, 2019 at 03:03PM by PorkAndMashedPotato http://bit.ly/2WN1qnH
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