Naked and still erect, Horde steps over his daughter and comes close to me, the gun declined at my head.

He glances about the room, at his lost and struggling wife, the fear-crazed goon, the nearly decapitated enforcer, and his sleeping child. Then to me.

– I will not lie to you, Pitt; that was unexpected.

He tilts his head at the enforcer.

– And rather spectacular. Honestly, I've never seen the infected in action. I had no idea of the ferocity. Or the reserves you can call upon. Was your recovery typical? Or are you unique in your constitution?

I bleed.

– Regardless, I think it's safe to assume that you are beyond help at this point.

He thinks for a moment.

– But just to be safe.

He shoots my right arm. I sit there, helplessly listing on my one good limb.

– All this carnage may be oversetting the scene a bit, but I trust that Predo will be able to tidy things up. And I'm sure that the authorities will understand the excesses I took in avenging myself on you. You would understand as well if you were to stay present long enough to witness what you did to my daughter. But it is not to be.

He shakes his head.

– A shame. Nothing would please me more than to have you in my lab. But. He heaves a sigh.

– Predo forbids it. I can experiment all I like with the… well, one feels comic to call it this, but with the zombie bacteria. But he will not allow me a subject of research for the Vyrus. No bother, I'll get one on my own soon enough.

– Husband.

He looks at his wife. Standing in clothes askew, leaning crookedly against the wall behind her.

- I think I want to eat you.

She tries to take a step and stumbles, her body, already decomposing, is arguing with the bacteria over who controls what.

Horde smiles.

– Don't worry, love. You won't have to live with that feeling for long. And who knows, perhaps I'll cut something from Amanda for you to nibble. I assure you she'd feel only the mildest pain in the state she's in. The dear won't even remember. What do you say? Something she won't miss, of course. A little finger?

He turns his eyes back to me and shrugs.

– As you can see, I have a great deal to take care of here. My family is waiting.

He presses the barrel of the gun against the top of my forehead. I watch his finger as it tightens on the trigger.

Something changes in the room.

A darkness flickers across the corner of my vision. A darkness perilously cold chills the air. A darkness passes between Horde and myself, erasing its own scent as it travels. The darkness cuts through Horde and he drops rigid to the floor. The darkness bleeds across the room, momentarily blackens the shadows in a high corner, and is gone.

And I forget about the darkness and go after what I need.

I crawl up Horde's naked body, every part as rigid as his penis now, his skin icy to the touch, and a rim of frost on his gun. I dig my fingers under his jaw and pull. His flesh tears far easier than it should. Flesh tears with a crunch like stepping on snow. I bend my head to lap his blood. And find it frozen. His torn neck filled with dead crimson slush.

I rage.

And remember the sleeping girl.

I drag my gunshot leg toward her.

– Joseph.

The woman has the whimpering snot-faced goon. She holds his hair in her hand, his head pulled far back. In her other hand, she holds the enforcer's stiletto.

– You did a good job, Joseph.

The hard wiry muscles of her arms and shoulders flex as she pushes the knife into the artery.

Blood splashes.

From across the room I crawl until my mouth is over the hole in his neck. It has been years since I have had blood from the vein. It is just as I remember. The blood floods my throat and warmth swells in my stomach and a harsh burning tingle attacks my hurts.

A few blissful red minutes pass. They might be seconds or hours; over far too soon, a pleasure greater than their brevity would suggest. And when the man is empty and I am full and my face is rinsed in his gore, I feel as I always do when I feed, like I want more. I go for the girl.

And I am pummeled to the floor by her mother.

– Joseph.

I am fed, but weak. The Vyrus is replenishing itself, repairing its host. It wants more. I stand. She brings her doubled fists down on me again.

– Joseph!

Behind her I can see the girl's eyelids flutter. I must have her. I stand. And am hammered down again.

– Joseph.

I try to crawl past her. She is on my back and we are a pile of struggling limbs on the floor. I try to free my arms, to pull myself across the few yards between us and the child. The mother twists her legs around mine and binds my arms in the circle of her own.

– Joseph. Please, Joseph.

Her lips are on the back of my neck, and then her teeth, gnawing gently, experimenting with biting, but not breaking the skin. The girl's eyes open blindly, close, open again and close again. Her teeth are on my neck.

– Joseph. Help me. Teeth carrying poison.

I forget the girl, flex the muscles in my shoulders and back, and feel Marilee's grip fail. I writhe loose of her arms and legs and scuttle away from her. She sits in the middle of the floor, arms slack, looking at me. Then she looks at her daughter. And crawls to her.

– Ms. Horde.

She kneels next to the child.

– Ms. Horde.

She touches the skinny bare legs.

– Marilee.

She picks up the folded jeans and starts fussing them back onto the girl. She gets them as far as her knees and stops. She looks up at me.

– I'm hungry, Joseph.

Her hand rests on Amanda's naked thigh, gripping it too hard, dimpling the skin.

– I'm so hungry.

She looks at her daughter.

– Help me, Joseph.

The holes in my body are all closed, blood trapped inside, but I can feel that only one lung is inflating, and poisons released from my pierced intestines and liver are pooled in my gut. The Vyrus will deal with it, given time it will make me whole. But if the woman attacks me now, with the bacteria fresh and strong in her, she will finish me.

I stand and walk to her. She reaches a hand up to me. I take it and help her to her feet. She puts a hand alongside my face, and presses her mouth against mine. When she pulls away her lips and chin are smeared with the dead man's blood.

– I had a feeling about you, Joseph.

I bring my right hand up to the back of her head.

– From the first moment I saw you, I had a feeling you were special.

I bring up my left hand, the cuffs, one bracelet sawed through, still trailing from my wrist, and cup her chin.

– Special. Like you were someone I could trust.

Her eyes drift to her daughter and back to me.

– Can I trust you, Joseph?

I run a tongue over my lips, taste the blood.

– Yeah, sure.

– Good.

And I break her neck.

It's not easy. It's very hard. I am drained and weak and she flinches at the last moment. I heave once and her spine crackles and she starts to tremor. Then I heave again and feel the clean snap and she goes still.

I lower her to the floor, and as I do I meet Amanda's open staring eyes, see her mouth gaping in a silent nightmare scream, and then her eyes close again. This moment, I hope, to be lost with the rest of her terrors.

Lydia brings three of her hammers. Two of them are diesels, beefier than her but not nearly as cut. The other is a pre-op tranny a huge chick with a dick, shoulders and tits the size of bowling balls.

– Is she OK?

– They shot her up with something. I don't know what.

– They who?

I look at Amanda, limp in my arms.

– People who aren't around anymore.

Lydia nods.

– What now?

– She needs a safe place.

– How long?

– Don't know. Couple days maybe.