Zom-B Underground by Darren Shan Page A

looking like a mug. Maybe I should have stayed in zom HQ with Mark.
    “We normally insist on pairs,” Reilly explains. “Now that Cathy’s chosen a chainsaw, somebody else has to choose one too. Usually, if you picked a flamethrower and Rage stepped up next and chose a knife, the final three would have to make their choice from those weapons, one each.”
    “But now there’s seven of you,” Josh says. “So there will have to be an odd one out. Tell you what, since this is your first time, you can have dibs on the exclusive weapon. So unless you fancy a chainsaw, pick from any of the others and we’ll remove that choice for the rest.”
    I walk around the table, studying the weapons. I run a hand over a flamethrower and remember my introduction to life in this brave new world. I see Rage’s eyes narrow–he wants a flamethrower–and I nearly pick it just to spite him. But I don’t like fire.
    “I’ll take a spear,” I decide, keeping it simple. The others make their choices. When we’re ready, we carry our weapons through to another room, where leather suits and helmets are hanging up for us.
    The trousers feel strange as I tug them on. I was never much into leather. I owned a couple of jackets in my time but no pants or shirts. The clothes feel tight on me, uncomfortable even with my less sensitive skin.
    “Are these really necessary?” I grumble.
    “They’ll help protect you,” Josh says. “You saw the way Rage was bitten. Leather
can
be penetrated, but not as easily as regular clothing. You’ll be glad of it if a revived sinks their teeth into one of your legs or arms.”
    “But they can’t infect us now, can they?” I frown. “We’re zombies already.”
    “They can still hurt us, you idiot,” Cathy snaps.
    “A bite or a scratch stings like a bitch,” Tiberius tells me. “And though moss will grow around it, you’ll carry the wound for the rest of your life.”
    “Fair enough.” I start to pull my T-shirt off, then pause. I don’t have anything on underneath. I was never shy about my body, but I didn’t go about flashing my tits to one and all. I glance around the room. The others are taking off their clothes and pulling on the leathers without any worries. The boys don’t cover themselves, and Cathy doesn’t either. They don’t gape at one another or make suggestive comments, just get on with things, as if they’re too grown-up to worry about a little nudity.
    I shrug and pull off my T-shirt.
    “Bloody hell!” Tiberius gasps and everybody looks up. At first I think he’s staring at my boob and I prepare a hot retort. Then I realize it’s the hole in my chest that caught his attention. “That’s incredible.”
    “Not as incredible as your ginger hair,” I mutter, but I feel oddly proud. The others can boast a cool variety of scars and bite marks, but nothing as outlandish as this.
    Cathy comes closer and stares deep into the gaping hole. “That must have hurt like hell,” she whispers.
    “I can’t remember,” I lie, suppressing a shiver as I recall what itfelt like when Tyler ripped my beating heart from between the shattered bones of my chest.
    Cathy reaches out to put her hand in the hole, then pauses. “Do you mind?”
    “Of course I bloody mind,” I snort. “That’d be like me asking if I could stick my hand up your arse.”
    Everyone laughs and I tug on a leather shirt.
    “It’s an impressive wound,” Cathy says grudgingly, then winks at me. “But the breast wasn’t so hot.”
    “Get stuffed,” I grunt, but we share a grin and I think she’s finally forgiven me for cutting off her hair.
    “Right,” Josh says when we’re ready, weapons in one hand, helmets in the other. “Most of you know the drill but I’ll go through it again for Becky’s sake. We’re going to put you in with a group of reviveds. There’s a speaker system inside each helmet. We’ll be issuing orders as you go.”
    “Let’s hope nobody breaks rank this time,” Reilly huffs,