* * *
The fighting wasn’t going well: the zombies were just too good at slaughtering the humans.
Please, turn back! Norm shouted to another dozen-strong group of zombies limping past. Norm was around the corner from the front lines, which was as close as he could come to the humans without risking the brainlust.
The zombies disappeared around the corner and Norm listened for the pops of gunfire. There had been less recently; the humans must have run out of bullets. What were they fighting with now? Pitchforks and fists? No wonder the horde was advancing north by the minute.
Any luck? Gladys asked, lumbering up. She’d been guarding the next street over.
Not really. Most of them are young and impressionable. They’re convinced they need brains to be proper zombies.
It’s the same all over. Gladys’s head drooped and she released a heavy sigh. Norm wished they could find a nice barn and live out their deaths away from the violence, but she’d never go while there were still humans to save.
Stay strong, Norm said. Every zombie stopped is a zombie who can save others.
I suppose s—oh!
Gladys disappeared. Norm looked down and found her on the ground, which happened a lot. Before he could ask if she was all right this time, a number of fast-moving, black-wearing shapes pinned his arms and clamped something around his neck. Norm wasn’t really interested in what it was.
He was far more interested in the shapes’ brains. Fresh, strong brains. He lunged toward one, but it hit him in the face with a piece of cardboard and the others fussed quickly to fix it in place.
Even with his mouth bound, Norm tried to bite. He couldn’t help it; the brains were right there! How could he not try to get at them? Part of him knew he’d never bite through the cardboard, but he also knew he’d never bite through a skull. It didn’t stop him trying.
Norm! Norm, no! Gladys’s voice got fainter and fainter, but Norm was so busy nipping at the humans he barely even realised that he was being dragged away from her.