“Vivisection isn’t exactly the kind of thing you can just apologize for.”

“You make me sound like I’m Dr. Mengele or something,” Daniels said.

“And you’re not?” I shot him an icy look.

“He mutilated people for the sport of it,” Daniels said emphatically. “You know why I did what I did. You volunteered for it, Remy. And I know it didn’t end up amounting to anything, but isn’t the entire human race worth the risk?”

“Yes, it is,” I admitted, but the anger hadn’t left my voice. “That’s why I agreed to it. And I don’t blame you for doing what you thought was best, and what probably was best, given the situation. But you can’t blame me for not wanting to hang out with the guy that sliced me open a dozen times.”

He softened after that, his shoulders slacked, and he lowered his eyes. “No. I don’t suppose I can.”

I didn’t have anything more to say to him. In fact, I hadn’t even really wanted to say that, so I got up and walked away, heading down to see how Max was doing.

The rain let up as the day went on, but it didn’t completely subside. Nolita took over keeping watch, and Boden lay out on a blanket, sleeping now so he could stand guard later in the night.

Teddy had taken to telling Max and Stella a story, some mutated version of Rumpelstiltskin that involved a talking unicorn and a mermaid. He was acting out parts and doing voices, getting rather grandiose with the whole thing, but the kids were delighted.

I even found myself engaged in the story after a while, laughing in a few places. In retrospect, Teddy was maybe too good of a storyteller, since he’d distracted us all. None of us was keeping watch like we should’ve been.

That’s how someone came rushing to our campsite, and we didn’t even noticed until he was inside.

14.

He froze when he saw us, his brown eyes wide and startled, reminding me of a spooked deer.

Nolita had already drawn her gun, pointing it directly at him, and he held up his hands, palms out in a gesture of peace. Bishop moved, putting herself between him and the kids, in case he wanted to try something.

“I’m not a zombie!” he said breathlessly, and probably just in the nick of time.

I stood up and kicked Boden with my foot, waking him up. Just because this guy wasn’t a zombie didn’t mean he was safe to be around. Boden was instantly alert and on his feet. As soon as he saw the intruder, he narrowed his eyes at him.

The man’s black hair was short, but his bangs were stuck to his damp forehead, dripping water down his face. Dark stubble covered his face, making it hard for me to be sure of his age, but I guessed he was several years older than me.

All his clothes were soaking wet, and his jeans weren’t much more than rags. The gray army jacket he wore was stained heavily with zombie blood. The shoulder straps to his pack were held together with worn duct tape.

“I’m not a zombie,” he repeated when we didn’t say anything, but his voice had gotten quieter. “I’ve been wandering out in that rain, and I just wanted to get somewhere to dry off and warm up for a little bit. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“Are you alone?” Nolita asked, her gun still pointed at his head.

“Yes, I’m alone.” He nodded.

“Are you army?” Boden motioned to his jacket.

“What?” His face scrunched in confusion, and then he looked down at his clothes. “No. I found this.”

“You took it from a soldier then?” Boden crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing him up.

“I took it from a zombie,” the guy clarified. “I was cold, and I needed a jacket.”

Bishop stepped forward to get a better look at him. She’d been standing in front of Max, but when she moved, he came over to me. He was half hiding behind me, and he put his hand on my back.

I almost jumped when he touched me. I wasn’t used to having someone just come up and put an arm around me. Physical contact was something I’d learned to live without.

Since Max seemed nervous, I wanted to calm him. I reached back and touched his head, leaving it there to reassure him.

“What’s your name?” Bishop asked the stranger.

“Serg.” He extended his hand and stepped forward, like he meant to shake hands with her, but nobody moved toward him, so he dropped his hand and stopped. “I just want someplace dry to stay for the night. I won’t bother any of you.” He paused. “Please.”

Bishop seemed to consider him for a moment, then nodded. “You can stay the night.”

“Thank you,” Serg smiled, relieved.

“Whoa. What?” Boden held up his hands and walked over to Serg. “You don’t get to decide that without talking to anyone.”

“Sure I do.” Bishop smiled thinly at Boden, and turned to walk back to the fire.

“No, you don’t.” Boden stalked after Bishop, his feet slipping a bit in the gravel of the embankment.

Nolita had lowered her gun, and she chewed her lip, watching Serg uncertainly. For his part, he stayed by the entrance of the underpass. His hands were on the straps of his bag, like he wanted to take it off but wasn’t sure if he should.

Bishop led Boden past the fire, to the opposite side of the underpass from where Serg was waiting. When she finally stopped, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re not in charge here,” Boden said, purposely keeping his voice low and trying to keep the edge out of it.

“Who says?” Bishop asked, staring up at him with her intense hawk-eyes. “You?”

“Yeah, me. I appreciate your age and experience – ”  Boden said, and she scoffed and laughed.

“I ran the civilians at the quarantine,” Bishop reminded him, her tone icy. “I know how to take care of people.”

“Yeah, maybe in there you do.” Boden pointed in the direction the quarantine was. “But this is out here. We’re at war with the undead, and I’m the soldier. I pull rank over you.”

Bishop was probably twice his age, but she was much smaller. He was nearly a foot taller, and his shoulders were broad and strong.

While they continued arguing about who was in charge, Daniels decided to do something. He walked awkwardly over to Serg and extended a hand to him.

“I’m Craig Daniels.” He smiled at him, glancing back over at Bishop and Boden when Bishop raised her voice, and Boden hissed at her to quiet down.