Cherish Applebottoms's Arc

Chapter 6 of 11

Cherish ran out after them. The shack stood low in the weeds, its walls thick with old spider silk. Inside, torn bodies lay everywhere. Some were zombies, chewed to the bone. Some had been people. Lisa stood frozen over the mess, machete up. Marcus crowded in behind her. The smell shoved Cherish back a step. "We shouldn't be in here," she said. Nobody moved. A woman burst from the dark corner, screaming, knife swinging. The blade missed Lisa's throat by an inch. Lisa jerked back and raised the machete. "Stop!" Marcus shouted. He grabbed the woman's wrist and twisted the knife loose. She kept screaming, blonde hair wild, a gray cardigan hanging off one shoulder over a white nightgown. Her blue eyes were huge with fear. Four zombies dragged themselves out of the shadows. Their legs were shattered, so they crawled fast on their hands. Lisa swung and split the first skull. Cherish came in from the side, surprise on her face gone hard. Her crowbar cracked the second one's head flat. Marcus shoved the woman behind him and stomped the third into the floorboards. The fourth grabbed Lisa's boot. Cherish drove the crowbar down twice until it stopped. Silence. The woman sagged against the wall, shaking. "Claire," she said. "My name is Claire." She had woken to something wrong in her house, grabbed the kitchen knife, and run. She had been surviving alone since. Cherish stepped between Claire and the door. Her crowbar stayed level. "You're bleeding," Cherish said. A dark stain soaked Claire's sleeve. "Scratch? Or a bite?" If it was a bite, letting Claire near the house meant the whole group turned. "Glass," Claire said. Short. Clipped. She did not explain more. "Show me," Cherish said. "Now. Or you don't come near our shelter." Marcus kept his knife ready. Lisa watched, machete low but not down. Claire's jaw tightened. She pushed the cardigan off and shoved up the sleeve. A long cut ran down her forearm. Clean edges. No teeth marks. No ring of punctures. Cherish leaned close and checked both sides. "Glass," she agreed. She let out the breath she'd been holding. "Okay. You're with us." "We can't stay in here," Lisa said. She was right. The shack was a grave. They backed out into the weeds. As they cleared the door, a severed hand dragged itself over the threshold behind them. Ragged flesh, white bone showing, fingers clawing the dirt. It had come loose from one of the crawlers. It kept moving toward them. Cherish turned and smashed it still with her heel. "We seal the house tonight," she said. "Both doors. Every window on the ground floor." They walked back across the field, four now instead of three. Claire kept pace, silent, the knife back in her fist. Cherish looked at her and thought of what she always thought. One of them would not make it. Now there was one more to lose.