“Good,” said Samantha under her breath. “Good . . .”
She took the field glasses from Heather and spent several long, agonizing moments studying the darkness under the tree line. Heather and Amanda must have seen some expression on her face, because they both asked, “What?” at the same time.
“Look!” snapped Samantha. “Behind the zombies.”
They all looked, first by squinting and then as the binoculars were handed from one to the other. Soon they each wore identical expressions of mingled surprise, confusion, and fear.
“I don’t understand,” murmured Michelle.
“I don’t either,” said Laura.
None of them did, because what they saw made no sense in the world as they understood it.
As the dead continued to stagger out of the forest, a line of people walked slightly behind them. There were at least twenty of them, and they wore identical clothes: black pants and black shirts with some white design on them. Red cloth streamers were tied to their ankles, knees, waists, and wrists. Each of them held a weapon in one hand, a sword or ax or knife; and each of them held something to their mouths that flashed with silver light as they emerged from shadows into the sunny field.
None of them made a sound, though it looked like they were all blowing whistles.
Silent whistles.
“Are they . . . dog whistles?” wondered Michelle.
“I . . . think so,” said Laura. “Dolan found one in that house we raided for food three years ago.”
The people in black and red continued to walk forwa
rd without hurry, the silver whistles constantly held to their puffing mouths. Some came from different arms of the forest and stood waiting for the tide of dead to reach them.
The dead moved around them and past them, but not one of the cold zombies reached out a hand to touch what was clearly warm, living flesh.
It was a totally bizarre moment.
“What are they doing?” breathed Amanda.
Samantha shook her head.
But in fact it was clear what these strangers were doing. It simply seemed impossible.
Using their silent whistles, the strangers were driving the zombies into the field, calling them together, turning them into a pack.
And sending them after Tiffany.
There were now at least a hundred and fifty of the dead converging on Tiffany, and it was in no way certain that she’d reach the stream in time. The dead were coming from everywhere, some walking out of shadows to the north and south of the field, closing the teeth of this terrible trap. And now there were at least two dozen of the strangers. All of them were adults, and each of them carried a gleaming weapon.
Heather gripped Samantha’s arm with desperate force. “We have to do something.”
Samantha opened her mouth but she said nothing, gave no orders.
Because to go down there was certain death.
Absolutely certain.
Tiffany screamed again as she ran.
The dead moaned as they followed.
5
South Fork Wildlife Area