“Nope, that was fine shit giving,” I say. “I have taught you well.”

  “I learned it from Charlie and Greta,” Elsbeth says.

  “Greta!” I nearly yell. Quite a few moans respond, and Rafe swears under his breath. “We have to save Greta!”

  “You already said that back on the rock,” Elsbeth says, and I hear the worry in her voice. “Your brain is slipping, Long Pork.”

  “That’s what I have been saying,” Rafe states. “You didn’t want to listen.”

  There are plenty more Z moans, and I have to keep myself from freaking out. Not being able to see a thing is a little bit terrifying. Okay, who am I kidding? It’s more than terrifying. I’d probably be shitting my pants if my asshole wasn’t clenched so tight from fear.

  “Seriously, man, you have to be quiet,” Rafe growls.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Elsbeth says. “It’s easier when I know they are coming. Better than getting a surprise from behind.”

  I so want to make a joke about El’s last statement, but the sounds of her crushing Z skulls, and then the issue of having to step over the fallen Zs, distracts me from a golden, sarcastic opportunity. Sometimes you have to let the perfect setup go for the greater good. That greater good being me staying on my feet and not falling over a dead Z. I want to clear that up in case there is any confusion. Greater good equals me staying on my feet.

  “Can I gag him?” Rafe asks. “Please? You’re used to it, but I’m not. This guy would have been Sunday dinner back on Cannibal Road.”

  “Fuck you,” I snap. “You’re fucking forgetting I survived Cannibal Road, bitch. I not just survived, but I escaped. With my family! So eat my shit, fuckhead!”

  “You escaped because I helped you,” Elsbeth says. A few moans, some hard thunks, a few thuds, I step over more Zs, Elsbeth continues. “I set it up so you could get that Bronco. I set it up so I was with the cannies by the quarry. I set it up so Barfly came after me, and you Stanfords could get away.”

  “But John had to shoot the fucker to save you,” I say. “So don’t think you’re some superhero.”

  “I don’t think I’m a superhero, Long Pork,” Elsbeth responds. “I just think I’m the girl that has to save your ass all the time. Can’t argue with that, can ya?”

  “Nope, I can’t,” I say. “And I wasn’t. I was arguing with Rafe here. Every point you made is valid. I just don’t want Rafe to think he’s better at surviving than me. He’s the one that had to join up with our convoy to get away from that canny hell.”

  “Then why are we arguing?” Elsbeth asks.

  “We aren’t,” I say. “Are we?”

  “You people are so fucked in the head,” Rafe says. “And considering the shit I’m in, I think I was safer back on Cannibal Road.”

  “Feel free to head on back, tough guy,” I say. “Just go about fifty paces out, and hang a left. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.”

  “Fuck off, Short Pork,” Rafe says.

  “What’s all this Short Pork shit?” Elsbeth asks. “His name is Long Pork.”

  “I didn’t start it,” Rafe replies. “That Critter guy did. He was making fun of Jace’s little dick.”

  “Hey! Fuck you!” I shout.

  More than a couple Zs groan in response. In fact, I might say quite a few Zs groan in response. And they are close. Like really close. Really, really, really close. I could probably reach out and touch-.

  “WE KNOW THEY ARE CLOSE!” Rafe yells. “FUCK!”

  “Wow,” Elsbeth says as we suddenly stop. “I don’t think he likes you, Long Pork. Should I kill him and let the Zs eat him so we can get away?”

  “Wait? What?” Rafe screeches. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Yes,” Elsbeth giggles. “I am kid fucking you.”

  “El, we are going to have to work on your syntax later,” I say. “Sometimes it’s cute when you switch words around. But, and I’m not criticizing, just giving some friendly advice, sometimes it’s a little creepy. Kid fucking is creepy. Don’t say that.”

  “See? Long Pork’s brain is working just fine,” Elsbeth says. “It’s just his mouth that’s the problem.” She reaches out in the dark and pats my shoulder as if she can see me clear as day. “Thank you for the advice, Long Pork. Now I’m going to give you some, okey doke?”

  “Okay. What is it?” I ask.

  The patting on my shoulder turns to a tight grip, then she shoves me to the ground.

  “Stay down and stay out of my way,” Elsbeth says, and her voice is nothing but business. “You too, little canny.”

  “Little canny,” I laugh. “Awesome.”

  “Fuck you too,” Rafe says as he’s shoved down next to me.

  Now the fun starts.

  And when I say “fun” I mean a paralytic fear bordering on a catatonic breakdown. Because, you know, complete and total darkness with zombies.

  There are a lot of sounds happening around us. Many of them are easy to identify, such as the shuffling of Z feet, and the moans and groans associated with the Zs doing all the shuffling. And moaning and groaning. The Zs are moaning and groaning as well as shuffling. Which sort of brings that statement back full circle.

  “Oh, shut up!” Rafe yells.

  I don’t respond to his rudeness because I am too busy listening to the action. I’m guessing this is what it’s like to be a blind person at a Jackie Chan movie.

  In between the sounds of feet shuffling are the sounds of precise steps. Now, these aren’t as easy to hear, but since I have nothing better to do, I concentrate really hard. A step here, a step there, all the while there are plenty of thunks and thuds. Not to mention a few splatters and the occasional expulsion of trapped corpse gas. Z farts.

  You know how the other senses get stronger when one sense is suppressed? Yeah, that’s totally true. Z farts are the worst, man. You think you’ve smelled everything in the apocalypse until you can’t see and your sniffer takes over, and all that gas that builds up inside a dead body is released into the air around you, and all you want to do is turn and puke, but you’re afraid if you turn and puke you’ll end up putting your hand in the puddle of puke because you can’t see a fucking thing, which is what is leading to the heightened sense of smell in the first place and-.

  “Shut up, Long Pork!” Elsbeth yells from my right.

  “Can I shut him up?” Rafe asks.

  “You shut up too, Little Canny,” Elsbeth replies.

  “Ha. Little Canny,” I chuckle. “That is never going to get old.”

  A woosh goes by my head.

  “Did you just try to punch me?” I ask. “You better watch it, Little Canny, or I’ll beat your ass.”

  “Try it, fucknut,” Rafe snarls.

  “I just might!” I snarl back.

  “Then do it!”

  “Okay then!”

  I don’t get a chance to beat his ass since I am too busy screaming and thrashing about as a very rotten corpse lands in my lap. Guts and goo splash up on my face, and I’m instantly gagging and trying to wipe my lips off with my arm. Which doesn’t do any good since my arm is just as goo covered as my lips. I just smear the gunk around, getting it up my nose and all down my neck. I can feel it dripping into my chest hair. And I have a lot of chest hair since I am so manly. Not much hair on my head, but plenty on my chest.

  More guts and goo splatter across me, and I start to yell, then get hit with a third round, and the yell turns into the full on puke I was trying to avoid. Luckily, I’m not the only one. I can totally hear Rafe upchucking next to me.

  “Dude, I think there’s guts in my ears,” Rafe says once he’s done throwing up.

  I still heave a couple more times before I’m through. “Better than up your nose, man,” I whimper. “I’ll never get the smell out. This is a nightmare.”

  “The nightmare is you two puking while I’m fighting,” Elsbeth says. “Pussies.”

  Thunk and thud, thunk and thud. Over and over. I can’t see Elsbeth fight, but I’ve seen her work enough to picture it in my mind.

  She ducks a reaching claw and jams her blade into a Z’s belly and out through its back. As she pulls the blade free, it severs the thing’s spine, and it collapses onto the ground, joining dozens more she’s already taken down.

  A Z tries to grab her from behind, and she whirls and beheads it, then kicks the headless corpse into a group of five more, knocking them off balance, so all she has to do is come in fast with some quick stabs, and their days of shambling are done.

  Elsbeth spins, like the homicidal dervish she is, and drops heads like a lawnmower taking down dandelion blooms in a long neglected lawn.

  “Man, you really think you’re some post-apocalyptic poet, don’t you?” Rafe sighs. “I don’t care how hot your daughter is, I’m gonna stay as far away from you as possible once we get out of here.”

  “That’s the second best thing I’ve heard all day,” I say. “Or night. Or whatever time it is. The first was Elsbeth’s voice.”

  “Because she always has to bail you out of trouble?” Rafe sneers. I can’t see the sneer, but I sure as fuck can hear it.

  “Damn right because she bails my ass out of trouble,” I agree. “I will admit that now. Listening to her shred these fucks without being able to see a thing is quite the life moment.”

  “Cram your life moment in your ass, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “You’re distracting me. Ow! My arm!”

  “El? El!” I shout. “Did one get you? Are you bit? Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’ll shut up, I promise!”

  “Just kidding,” Elsbeth laughs.

  There are few more thuds and thunks, not to mention a couple stray splatters across my face for good measure, and then there’s nothing but silence. Except for Elsbeth’s heavy breathing. Damn, she sounds like a horse.

  “You can be a dick, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “I just saved you again, and you call me a horse. You’re the horse, poop face.”

  “Good one, El,” I say. “You can never go wrong with the poop face insult. And for the record, I didn’t call you a horse, I said you sound like one. Also, for the record, that was supposed to be in my head, so it doesn’t really count. I’ll let you have the poop face this time, but next time it’ll be a yellow card. No more warnings.”

  “What the hell is a yellow card?” Rafe asks.

  “You know, from soccer,” I say. “It’s like a penalty.”

  “Soccer? I’m from Tennessee,” Rafe says. “Soccer doesn’t exist in Tennessee. Only Vols football.”

  “Yeah, I met some of those fans back in Knoxville,” I say. “I have to tell you they got a little carried away. Supporting your team is one thing, trying to hang a guy is a whole other.”

  “Then I set them on fire,” Elsbeth says, right next to my ear again.

  “Jesus, El!” I cry, and nearly piss my pants. “Stop with the creepy sneaking up on me!”

  “You didn’t hear me sit down?” Elsbeth asks. “Maybe it was because you were busy jabbering like a stupid squirrel.”

  “I thought you liked my jabbering,” I say.

  “I was being polite,” Elsbeth says. “Stella says I need to practice being polite more.”

  “And you decided to practice on me? While we’re in a black pit? And you’re fighting Zs blind?” I ask. “I think we need to practice timing next.”

  “Time to get up and move,” Elsbeth says, and yanks me to my feet.

  “Ow, fuck, El! Watch it!” I snap. “My leg still hurts!”

  I literally don’t see the hit coming. I do see bright flashes of light as my vision swims from the punch Elsbeth gives my thigh.

  “How’s it feel now?” Elsbeth laughs. “Still hurt?”

  “Why?” I whimper.

  “Pain helps you focus,” Elsbeth says. “We need you to focus. Your smarty brain is all over the place. Can’t have that anymore. The hard part is up ahead.”

  “Hard part?” I ask. “Little Canny? Did she say the hard part is up ahead?”

  “I’m not talking to you if you call me that,” Rafe replies.

  “Yeah, I said the hard part,” Elsbeth sighs. “Pull the Z guts out of your ears, Long Pork, and pay attention. There’s no more resting. Now we move, and keep moving. Once we get to the pit, we don’t stop. If you feel something grab you, kill it.”

  She shoves a rock in my hand.

  “Wait, what pit?” I ask. “I thought we are already in the pit?”

  “There’s another pit,” Elsbeth says. “It’s a smaller pit, only four feet deep, but filled with trapped Zs. We have to get across that to get to Critter, Stuart, and the others. Once we get to them, then it’s all easy peasy.”

  “There’s a pit inside the pit?” I ask. “What is this? Some Russian doll nightmare hole?”

  “Ain’t no dolls, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “Just Zs. Now, stay close.”

  “Hold the fuck on,” I say. “If I have a rock in my hand, how the fuck can I stay close? I’ll lose you guys in three seconds with my gimpy leg.”

  I scream as another hit to my thigh nearly sends me to the ground.

  “FUCK!”

  “Focus, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. I can tell her grin is ten miles wide. “You think you’re getting lost, give that leg a whack and focus.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works,” I growl.

  “It is now,” Elsbeth says, her voice a little farther away. “So suck it up.”

  “Yeah, Short Pork, suck it up,” Rafe mocks. “Ow!”

  “His name is Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “No more Short Pork. He doesn’t have a tiny penis. I’ve seen it. It’s normal size.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter. “When did you ever see my penis?”

  “You get yourself knocked out and hurt a lot, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says. “Everyone’s seen you naked. Even Boyd.”

  “Who the fuck is this Boyd?” I yell. Far off I hear a reply from a whole lotta Zs. I kid you not with the whole lotta approximation. “Oh, never the fuck mind. Let’s go.”

  I stand for a minute, waiting for word from the other two, then hear footsteps ahead of me.

  “Did you guys already take off? You fuckers,” I snap.

  “I’m right here, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says from my ear again.

  “Motherfucker!” I yell and jump, dropping my rock on my foot. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Wait, if you’re back there, then who’s this here?” Rafe shouts back at us. “Oh, shit.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Elsbeth says as we listen to Rafe’s struggle with what I am assuming is a Z. “Cannies are tough.”

  “No shit,” I say.

  There’s a sound like a walnut cracking, then a loud splash followed by Rafe gagging and then throwing up some more. Elsbeth pushes me forward, and the stink of rotten Z brains is like a warm, wet, smelly blanket filled with, well, warm, wet smelly Z brains. Shut up.

  “I can’t believe you left me alone,” Rafe says when we catch up to him.

  “You lived,” Elsbeth says, and taps me on the shoulder as she walks past. “Come on.”

  “I dropped my rock,” I say. I cry out as a new rock impacts against my leg. “Thanks.”

  I pick it up and listen closely, making sure I keep my ear on Elsbeth’s footsteps. They’re easy to hear since she’s making an effort to be heard. I think she’s skipping. I listen a couple more seconds. Yeah, she’s totally skipping.

  I follow along for what seems like a decade past forever, my heart racing in my throat as every scuff and scrape echoes for a split second, then is swallowed by the immenseness of the pit. Or should I call it the big pit since we’re heading for the small pit? Pit One and Pit Two? Kinda like Thing One and Thing Two. Would that make Elsbeth the Cat in the Hat? I could so see her as the Cat in the Hat.

  “Long Pork?” Elsbeth calls back to me.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  We keep going until I bump right into Rafe’s back.

  “A little warning,” I whisper, sensing the smaller pit before us. It’s easy to sense, it smells like Zs.

  “Sit down,” Elsbeth orders.

  I do. I assume Rafe does too.

  “Pay attention,” Elsbeth says, and her voice loses her semi-innocent hick accent. “I’ll go in first and clear space. When I say to follow, you follow. You do not hesitate, you do not pause, you just jump in and start smashing anything that tries to grab you. Keep a steady pace, and walk forward. Do not run, do not get off course. Steady and forward. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we both reply. There’s no other way to answer when Elsbeth sounds like that.

  “Good,” Elsbeth says. “See ya on the other side.”

  There’re several loud crunches and then a thud as Elsbeth jumps into the small pit. The moans of the Zs amp up considerably until they’re louder than my thoughts. That’s loud, folks. Trust me.

  It feels life fifteen or twenty minutes before I hear Elsbeth calling to us. She’s quite a ways ahead, but I guess she knows what she’s doing. She probably killed a bunch, but also wanted to draw the main horde with her to give us room.

  “Follow!” she yells.

  I jump into the pit and start swinging. I connect with one, two, three Zs, and send them falling away from me. I feel dead fingers claw at my clothes and have to wonder just how fucked we would have been if El didn’t give us some breathing room. This pit is wall to wall Zs.

  “My God,” I say. “It’s full of zombies.”

  I don’t get a laugh from Rafe, but I wasn’t expecting one. A good 2001 reference is for one’s own amusement anyway. That’s my philosophy.

  Teeth clamp shut right by the side of my face and I whirl and strike out, caving in the offending Z’s head with my rock. I have to say, having used spiked baseball bats, sharpened batons, and many other weapons, both one and two handed, since Z-Day, I have never given a good solid rock it’s due. I shall rectify that.

  Rocks rock.

  Sorry. I couldn’t help it.

  A Z bumps right into me and we nearly kiss. So I head butt it, and then whack the fuck out of the thing with my new rock friend. Consent is important, especially during the apocalypse. Ain’t no Z getting a kiss from me without at least a cup of coffee and a warm handshake. What does the thing think I am? Some end of the world slut? Puh-lease!