Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) by Shana Festa Page B

beat me to it,
answering it before I had a chance to ask.
    "The streets were like a horror movie come to
life; people were eating each other as I drove by. I made it back
to the boat unscathed; I wasn't the only one who'd had the
foresight to take to the water. While I was gone, the marina had
emptied of all but a few boats, and the few that remained had
grisly scenes playing out on them. I fought a man trying to take
our boat." He left it at that. We all caught the meaning, and the
outcome was obvious considering we stood before Peter, not someone
else.
    "We've been at sea ever since. Lydia ran out
of meds over a month ago. I guess that's when I stopped counting
the days. That is, until two days ago, when the last of our food
and water ran out."
    I looked at Peter, I mean really looked at
him. Judging by his withered body, it was evident that he'd been
malnourished for quite some time. So much so, that from a distance
he may have been mistaken for one of the walking dead. Dark circles
surrounded his eyes, and his shirtless torso was caved in from
starvation, each rib outlined on his thin frame. Jake and I took a
cruise a few years ago and toured Belize City on a port day. Dogs
ran free, starving and surviving on scraps. Peter looked like one
of those neglected animals.
    "Peter?" Lydia called from below deck,
dissolving into a fit of coughs. I started toward the opening,
concerned, but Peter stopped me.
    "I've got it."
    He disappeared into the cabin, leaving the
four of us alone on deck. Before anyone could say otherwise, Meg
took a firm stance.
    "I'm not leaving them." There was, no
discussion needed; we would not abandon these people. My respect
and admiration for Meg grew exponentially with those four words.
She'd been through so much that it was difficult to remember she
was only twenty-one years old.
    "I agree," I added. "Leaving them now would
be the same as killing them. Peter is about to be alone. I'd be
surprised if Lydia makes it through the night."
    Meg and I looked to Jake and Vinny, who
seemed to be thinking things through. A knowing glance passed
between them, one of those powers that only brother's possessed;
they could have entire conversations without uttering a single
word. We spoke in hushed tones, not wanting the newcomers to
hear.
    "We can't move her," I whispered. "She's not
stable."
    Jake sighed, not happy about this new
complication. "Why is it the simplest things, like finding another
survivor, turns into such a hurdle, every time?"
    "Because zombies walk the earth, life as we
knew it is over, and everything is fucked," answered Vinny.
    Peter returned, looking sadder than one man
should. The weight of his best friend's impending doom was a heavy
burden to bear.
    "Peter," I said, "why don't you relax for a
bit with the boys? Meg and I will go spend some time with Lydia,
and if her condition worsens, we'll call you." He looked grateful,
and then guilty, for being relieved of his arduous duty of sitting
vigil at her bedside.
    Out of fear that his guilt would force him to
decline the offer of respite, I added, "It will give us a chance to
help her bathe, and Meg is a whiz at braiding hair."
    "Okay," he replied, the rationalization
working to ease his mind.
    Meg and I put on our happy faces and joined
Lydia in the cabin. We carried the conversation, determined to keep
the mood light and as pleasant as possible, and provide Lydia with
some final moments of joy. The two of us worked as a team to clean
the weeks of grime and infection from the surface of her body,
knowing no amount of scrubbing would help the disease ravaging her
insides.
    Jake anticipated our needs, and brought us
some clean towels, slipping a delicate sundress between the folds.
Lydia fingered the soft gauze as I dried her now clean skin, and
Meg worked her hair into an intricate pattern atop her head.
    "It's beautiful," she choked out, a single
tear falling down her cheek as I slid the dress over her head and
adjusted the spaghetti straps