With the fire behind us, the light shines toward the woods beyond and we can both see a lone greyskin stumbling along the edge of the trees. I try to keep my hands firm against the ground so Ethan doesn’t notice them shaking. I’ve killed my share of greyskins, but never without shaking hands. Is it fear? Yes. When I see the dead walking, I always feel fear. I never developed the callous sense of security that comes from years of practicing various ways of attacking greyskins. This one is no different. We have no indication that it has seen us or sensed us in any way, but it would only take a small sound. If it really is just one greyskin, it would be nothing for Ethan to charge after it and bash its head in with his bat. But something I’ve learned over the past three years is that once you’ve seen a greyskin it usually means a lot more aren’t too far behind.

We wait a few moments as it continues to stagger forward. My heart beats so fast I almost fear the undead creature is able to hear it, and when it stops for a moment to look around, gnawing, chomping at something invisible, I think it has heard me, but then it continues to walk. I turn my head slightly to look at Gilbert in the SUV, but he doesn’t seem to have heard it. I am thankful for that. Sometimes fear and a sudden realization that a greyskin is near will cause a person to yell out or do something rash. Sometimes the best thing is to sit and be patient as the creature moves along in search of flesh.

I almost feel sick by the sight of it. It’s missing an arm, and part of its chest has a gaping hole in the side of it. I still can’t fathom what keeps these things moving.

I jump slightly when Ethan touches my shoulder. “I don’t see any others,” he says. “I’m going to take it out.”

My mind races back to the moment when Lucas had whispered something similar to me just hours ago. Would it work again? Just as Ethan starts to get up, I reach out and grab his hand.

Again, just as before, a bright light flashes before my eyes.