Safety is an elusive and fluid concept. Garrett hadn't jogged a dozen steps behind his last man when gunshots sounded from the front. Three baritone burps, not a weapon Garrett recognized, then a return of two three-round bursts from an M4. The racket, lasting just a few seconds, chilled Garrett to the core. He couldn't see the source or reason for the exchange as the team had bugged out between two mounds of black, glassy earth and the leads had disappeared beyond a curve in the rut they traveled through. He did note the reactions of his people, who dived left or right of the path and lay prone, weapons trained toward the gunfire.

Garrett glanced back to the horde of zombies. Their heads had come up. They seemed to sniff at the air. Melancholy moans drifted from their desiccated throats. Beneath...

Please subscribe to keep reading.