“What are you trying to say?” said Maggie, stoking the campfire.
They bedded down in their sleeping bags by the old railroad tracks, in the moon shadow of an abandoned boxcar.
Lewis was acting strange lately. They’d been caught up in the melee when the horde overran Boston. The two of them had barely escaped, and Maggie often wondered if Lewis was concealing something underneath his long sleeves and high collar.
“I mean,” said Lewis, “all this time, we’ve been so worried about being infected by these things, whatever they are. We haven’t considered, what happens if we bite back?”