I shake, try not to vomit, but I don’t scream. I’m past that, now.

Steffani is being dragged, catatonic through the broken boards that were supposed to block them from getting in through the windows. She’s already been bitten, but I still try to drag her back in. She would want to die differently.

The one dragging her, the mindless, putrid thing, is more hateful because it was once a friend, a real person. Enrique. He got bit running scavenging for untouched, pristine food. We had enough, but he had a thing about sharing.

The tearing of her pants leg causes me to slip, and what was Enrique drags her out before I can get hold of her again. He tears into her chest, but she doesn’t scream. Neither do I.

The other undead swarm her still-living body, tearing out chunks with their hands and teeth, saliva and other fluids dripping from their hands, her body.

Enrique gets up, disgust briefly registering on his face. He looks back up to me, untouched, pristine food.

He was always finicky.