Clarke considered this situation for a moment; here was meat, meat that had helped him in his mission but meat nonetheless. Yet, that meat had a gun. And something else was curious about that meat, something special about him that Clarke’s bruised mind couldn’t pin down.
He turned from the soldier and walked away.
Cervantes looked at the bite mark on his wrist. He could sense that something was wrong, very wrong, that this wasn’t a typical bite. Just as Ryland, whose disembodied head continued to gnash its teeth, was not a typical zombie. Something coursed through his veins and took hold of the cells in his blood.
God... I’m infected.
He turned away as well, away from the fight, from Ryland’s remains, and walked. He would need to tell others, on the outside. He’d need to tell the world that its end had finally come.
Empire's End Page 27
