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Nova shook her head, like she wasn’t certain one way or another. “That was what Sage believed. I don’t know. I don’t even know if it matters. I only kill them if I need to, to protect myself and my animals and my home. And that won’t change either way.”
21
Lazlo
Nova poured us each another glass of blackberry moonshine, with the setting sun leaving the dark clouds a deep purple color out the kitchen window. She’d pulled apple preserves out of the cabinet and the rest of the bread I’d made two days ago from the breadbox, along with some goat cheese. It was probably the most decadent meal I’d had in ages, and despite Nova’s rather alarming confessions about her sister, I felt more at ease than I had … maybe since the outbreak began.
“So… you can be honest with me,” Nova said through a mouthful of food, her words hazy from the drinks. “How crazy do you think I am now that you know about my sister?”
“I don’t know if crazy is the right word, but yeah… I definitely think you have made an unusual and dangerous choice.” I leaned forward and rested my arms on the table. “You’ve really never been bitten?”
She shook her head. “No, I used my gear at first. I have a catch pole and Kevlar gloves I’d use to muzzle her. I have tried to be careful, or at least as careful as I can be while also being incredibly reckless.”
“Well, I never would’ve thought it was possible to have a domesticated zombie,” I admitted. “I had heard rumors, but I really never believed them.”
Nova sat up a bit straighter, her interest clearly piqued. “What rumors have you heard?”
“This soldier at the military quarantine claimed he knew of people who kept zombies as pets and even romantic partners. Like they had a farm and humans and zombies live together or something.” I waved off the ridiculousness of the urban legends that Pvt. Kerrigan used to tell me back at the BCQZ. “I don’t remember exactly. It all sounded far-fetched. Their name was like Sloth or something.”
“The Loths?” Nova asked. “Yeah, that’s all true.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Loth family live about two day’s ride south of here.” She pointed vaguely in the direction. “They’ve had this ranch in their family for generations. Before the zabies took over, it was one of the biggest cattle ranches in Canada, and they have thousands of acres of land.
“But when the virus hit, the demand for cattle immediately dropped,” Nova continued. “They were already kind of doomsday prepper types, so the family sat out the worst of it, and then, I guess, they turned to new livestock since cattle were no longer so profitable.”
“Are you implying that zombies are more profitable than cattle?” I asked dubiously.
“They made them profitable by making them useful,” she amended. “The Loths have this trading post on their ranch, and they sell trained zombies. They are used for protection and hunting.
“In addition to selling zombies, the Loths still have some regular livestock and a general store where they sell more mundane goods, like milk, eggs, and moonshine. I visited it once since the outbreak.” She frowned at the memory. “It was a disturbing place, with zombies groaning and humans crying, and it smelled far worse than any other farm I’ve been.”
Nova shuddered in revulsion, and then went on, “The Loths were walking around the general store with rifles, and they have zombies tied out front on chains.”
“How do zombies help with hunting?” I asked. “They’re not like wolfdogs. I’ve never seen them interacting with any animal that wasn’t attacking them. They don’t give a shit about deer.”
“No, but they do care about humans. The Loths use the zombies to catch uninfected people.”
“They hunt us? How do they do that?” I asked, and even in my moonshine foggy brain, a kernel of fear was growing.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them hunting. I’ve only heard stories from other travelers I’ve bumped into here and there. They are training zombies to use their natural instincts, so they can likely chase down humans about the same way that Frost and Sable chase down rabbits. Plus, the Loths use tricks and traps. I’ve heard they have spike strips to stop vehicles, because they are most likely to have uninfected travelers.”
The world suddenly stopped moving, and my blood pounded in my ears. “Wait. What did you say? They have spike strips?”
“Yeah.” She looked at me curiously. “Why?”
“That’s what got us,” I said, and it felt like the ground was opening beneath me, like I was freefalling into some terrible nightmare. “There was a dozen of us in a truck after we’d left the quarantine, but a spike strip flipped us. Zombies chased us down, and I lost Harlow in the chaos. But I never found her.”
My mouth felt dry, and a sick oily fear coiled itself around my insides.
“If that was the Loths chasing her down, would they have taken her back to their ranch?” I asked. “What do they do with the healthy humans they catch?”
“Maybe,” Nova replied cautiously. “I don’t fully know what they do with the people they’ve trapped. Slave labor, human trafficking, feeding their zombies, presumably other terrible stuff like that.”
“That was… that was over a month ago.” My breath came out ragged, and I wanted to throw up. “She could still be alive, right? They might still have her on the ranch.”
“They might, but that’s really hard to say,” Nova said, trying futilely to temper my growing dread and hope. “It’s not an easy life on the ranch, and they trade and sell humans, too. Even if she’s alive, she might not be there anymore.”
