Zombie Retreats ((hot)) Access

The group was small, the way all groups were now. Small meant quiet. Small meant fast. Besides Elena and Marcus, there was only Anya, a retired nurse with steely gray eyes and a bag of expired antibiotics, and Leo, a sixteen-year-old boy who hadn’t spoken in six months but could pick a lock with a paperclip.

“We go around,” Marcus said.

The first day was the worst for the small things. The way Leo stopped to tie his shoe, and Elena saw a bloated hand reach out from a drainage culvert. Marcus’s axe came down with a wet thwack , and they were running, the smell of turned earth and copper chasing them down the highway. zombie retreats

The rain had been falling for three weeks straight. Not the gentle, cleansing rain of before, but a greasy, persistent drizzle that clung to everything like a fever sweat. It was the third autumn since the world had eaten itself. The group was small, the way all groups were now