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“The first one we’ve come across on foot,” Kirby said. “It’s like being thrown straight into a wildlife doco.”

I forced a smile. “I’d rather watch it on TV.”

The infected’s head lifted, then it swung around, arms hanging loose.

It took one step forward, then another, each movement stilted as if learning to walk for the first time.

My eyes never left the infected. “Get ready. Here it comes.”

Six

luke

The dead man staggered down the middle of the street, an older man in navy pyjamas with half his scalp missing. Streaks of darkened blood had drowned his features, and the fingers on one hand moved like they were playing an invisible piano.

When he opened his mouth and snapped his teeth, I tightened my grip on the knife.

“Backward or forward?” Kirby asked.

“Forward,” Ava and I said at the same time.

“And go for the head,” I added. “If they can still move with these injuries, that’s probably our best bet.”

The man limped toward us, metres away now, one foot bent at a strange angle. From everything I’d seen, the infected weren’t coordinated or fast, so it might not take much to throw him off balance. If we could ground him, we could contain him.

“Don’t take your eyes off him,” I said, immediately ignoring my own advice.

In the house beside us, the curtain shifted, and a young guy with lean cheeks and a scattering of pimples appeared, watching us without bothering to hide his interest.

I didn’t have time to wonder why. The infected made a thick, garbled sound in his throat and lunged.

My stomach tensed, and I swung the knife at his damaged scalp, wishing I had a fucking pipe wrench. The tip hit bone hard enough to jar my arm, but instead of embedding in brain matter, the blade skidded across his skull.

“Shit.” The man’s full weight crashed into me, and I grasped his pyjama top, turning my shoulder away from his mouth.

“Make room,” Ava said as the smell of sweat and decay surrounded me.

I leaned away from the infected without losing my grip, and she came in hard with the meat tenderiser. When the hit glanced off the side of his head, Ava let out a string of curse words.

“Look out.” Kirby swooped in from the side, using her rolling pin like a miniature baseball bat. It connected with a crack, but the man still wouldn’t go down. “What does it take to drop one of these things!”

Gripping the fabric, I swung his body around and slammed him onto the ground, dropping to my knees beside him. Both my fists were pressed against his chest, one hand still clutching the knife.

I dodged his reaching hands, breathing hard while Ava waited nearby for an opportunity.

“Now would be a good time to dive in again,” I ground out.

“Nothing works,” Kirby snapped.

My attention shifted to the house again, where the young guy pointed urgently at the garden.

I followed the direction of his finger.

Rocks.

“There,” I said to Ava, nodding at the garden edging.

She ran over and grabbed the biggest one.