The closest of the infected were a dozen feet away. In four steps they would have her.
Four.
What about the kids, Dez? Asked JT. What about the little ones?
The school was a million miles away.
“I let them die.”
Damn it, girl, don’t give me that crap. It’s not your fault some damn fool opened that window.
Three steps. She could smell their burned flesh.
“I let them die, JT. I should have been there. I should have been smarter.”
You can’t unring that bell, girl, he said sternly, his voice as clear as if he stood right beside her. You can’t undo that. But you can damn well save the rest of them.
“No … I can’t…”
You can. That’s your job. Saving them is why you became a cop. Saving them is what’s kept you alive all these years, and you know it.
Two steps.
“JT … how can I do this?”
You know how.
“I don’t,” she said, but even as she said it her hands touched her belt, feeling the things clipped to it. The pouches with the handcuffs. The empty slots for magazines. The pepper spray.
Nothing there.
No help.
The stun gun.
No use against the dead. They didn’t react to pain.
Damn it, Dez. Be smarter than that, growled JT.
Stun gun.
The dead were driven by parasites. That’s what Billy had told her.
The parasites shut off most of the body’s functions except a little respiration, a little blood flow, and the nerves needed for standing, moving, grabbing, biting, swallowing.
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerve conduction.
The hands touched her sleeves, her shoulders, her breasts, her face.
And then her hand drew the Taser.
Nerve conduction.
She heard JT laugh quietly. There you go. You’re not the fastest, girl, we both know that, but damn if you don’t always get there in the end.