If that talking zombie indeed exists and it killed Lucas's friends, what if Vic is trying to kill us too?
His voice echoes in my head.
"I remember everything. Our childhood, the time we got lost in the woods, your terrible cooking…"
And Dom? Dom's just beaming. He looks one tear away from throwing his arms around Vic's decaying neck and singing campfire songs.
That's why idiots die first in an apocalypse. What the heck is he thinking?!
I, on the other hand, am gripping my pistol like a life preserver in the middle of shark-infested waters.
Something is wrong.
I feel it in the way Vic tilts his head just a bit too slow. In the way his mouth moves a moment behind the words. In the way he's smiling even though his face is a buffet of rot.
Zombies don't smile.
They also don't talk, reminisce, or wave like they're hosting a goddamn barbecue.
"Dom, step back!" I bark, raising my pistol with both hands.
He jerks toward me like I slapped him. "What the hell are you doing?"
