Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Ten

Standing just outside the door, I double-checked that the safety was off, and took a deep breath. I'd told Shane I could do this, so I would. I refused to be that girl who always needed someone else to protect her, or who couldn't do anything for herself.

I used my foot to push the door completely open and walked in slowly, holding the gun in both hands, the way I'd been taught.

I edged into the room, but couldn't immediately find the body. My heart was thudding heavily in my chest and my mouth was dry. I couldn't decide if I was scared of finding a dead body, or scared that it might get up and come after me.

When I finally glimpsed it behind the kitchen counter, I decided it had to be the second one.

I'd seen dead bodies before. I'd had to do autopsies for anatomy class when I was in school. The death of other people wasn't what scared me.

What scared me was how immediate and intimate death had suddenly become.

The only difference to other bodies I'd seen was that this body was slightly bloated, and I could see where it must have been standing when Kyle shot it. Blood and what might have been brain and bits of skull were sprayed across some of the cabinets, and I could see a bullet hole in one of the nearby walls.

I knelt down, then gagged slightly when I realized I'd have to touch the body, rolling it over so I could see its face. I didn't want to touch the body more than I had to, so I quickly examined its arms and legs, looking for bites there. Then I checked its stomach and shoulders.

Looking at it, I couldn't even find any scratches. My stomach sank at what that probably meant. I mean, aside from the bullet hole in its head, the body was in pretty good condition.

Later we learned that not everyone is infected. Everyone turns with a bite, but it's hit or miss about whether or not you turn if you die of anything else.

The draw back to that, even though you'd think it'd be great to not be infected, is that it makes you more susceptible to getting sick from scratches or zombie blood. That's why I think Shane, Kyle and myself are all probably infected. If not, we should have died a long time ago from exposure to the blood.

In that moment, I was suddenly hit with a jolt of guilt that I was already thinking 'it' instead of 'she'.

Going back to my examination of the body, my heart sank even further when I saw the vomit stains on her shirt.

I tried to estimate how long she'd been dead. Or, well, dead the first time. It was difficult because the body didn't look or smell all that old and it wasn't stiff, but there was already bloating.

I stood up and looked around before going into the bathroom. What I found there confirmed my suspicions and I left the apartment as quickly as I could, certain I would be sick if I stayed any longer.

I paused outside of Shane's apartment, and took several deep breaths. I needed to be in control when I walked through that door. Both Shane and Kyle would be expecting answers, and I needed to be able to give them.

When I was pretty sure I wouldn't immediately lose it, I opened the door, and Kyle stood from where he'd been sitting in the recliner. He opened his mouth, but stopped when Shane raised his hand. I came into the room and sat on the coffee table, checking the ice on Shane's ankle before I looked at him.

His eyes were cool and distant, face calm as he waited for me to speak. There was no concern as he looked at me.

I know that seems cold, but it was what I needed.

If he'd looked at me with any kind of concern, I would have thought that there was something to be concerned about, and completely lost it. Shane keeping it together helped me keep it together.