Chapters (51)
- Book 2 of The Newsflesh Trilogy
- MIRA GRANT
- BOOK I
- Point of Infection
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- BOOK II
- Vectors and Victims
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- BOOK III
- The Mourning Edition
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- BOOK IV
- Immunological Memory
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- BOOK V
- The Rising
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Coda: Living for You
- Twenty-seven
- Acknowledgments
- extras
- meet the author
- introducing
- BOOK I
- From the Dead
- One
- Contents
- BY MIRA GRANT
- Praise for Feed
- Copyright
“Does he now?” I returned my attention to the screen, more interested now. “Think she likes him back? It’d explain why she keeps wearing skirts to the office…”
“Maybe,” said Dave, judiciously.
On the screen, Becks was trying to get Alaric to take the crowbar and have his own shot at holding off the zombie. No big deal, especially for someone as seasoned as Becks. At least, it wouldn’t have been a big deal if there hadn’t been six more infected lurching into view on the left-hand monitor. I flipped a switch to turn on the sound. Not a thing. They weren’t moaning.
“… the fuck?” I murmured. Flipping another switch to turn on the two-way intercom, I said, “Becks, check your perimeter.”
“What are you talking about?” She turned to scan her surroundings, raising one hand to shield her eyes. “Our perimeter is—” Catching sight of the infected lurching closer by the second, she froze, eyes going wide. “Oh, fuck me.”
“Maybe later,” I said, standing. “Keep Alaric alive. I’m heading out to assist with evac.”
“Empty promises,” she muttered, barely audible. “Alaric! Behind me, now!”
I heard him swearing in surprise. The sharp report of Becks shooting their captive zombie followed immediately after. The more zombies you have in an area, the more intelligent they seem to get. If Becks and Alaric wanted to get out of there alive, they needed to reduce the number of infected as much as possible. I didn’t see her make the shot; I was already heading for the door, grabbing my rifle from the rack as I passed it.
Dave half-stood, asking, “Should I…?”
“Negative. Stay here, get the equipment secured, and get ready to drive like hell.”
“Check,” he said, scrambling from his seat toward the front of the van. I didn’t really pay attention to that, either; I was busy kicking open the doors and stepping out into the blazing light of the afternoon.
When you’re going to play with dead things, do it during the daylight. They don’t see as well in bright light as humans do, and they don’t hide as well when they don’t have the shadows helping them. More important, the footage will be better. If you’re gonna die, make sure you do it on camera.