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knuckles tightened on the back of the pilots’ seats.
    For some reason Kevin’s memory flashed, and he was brought back to earlier that day in England. He watched again in his mind’s eye as the dead British priest in the middle of the mob of zombies pointed a sword at Kevin, lifting it deliberately, as if he were knighting Kevin. When the undead preacher finished his bizarre act, he drove the sword down into the ground, spider webbing the concrete with a supernatural strength. Kevin remembered vividly the eyes of the dead man of the cloth, and how they stared into him.
    For some reason, Kevin wasn’t afraid.

    *****

    Michelle stood her ground in the center of the three small fires as bravely as she could. Her hands shook with fright in the cool Moroccan night. She heard the incredibly loud plane engines approach from behind, stirring up a whirlwind of dirt and debris that she had to shield her eyes from. She could feel the thrum of the motors in her chest as powerfully as if she were being shaken by the hand of God. Next to her was the little boy Oudry, dead and shriveled, watching out towards the massive throng of the dead heading their way.
    They would be on them soon. They had maybe ten minutes, fifteen if they were lucky. For some reason Michelle felt safer inside the three fires Oudry helped her make earlier, and despite the urge to run away as fast as she could, she knew in her heart of hearts she was safer right where she was.  
    As the massive plane roared overhead, kicking up a tornado of dust into her eyes, she felt a strong surge of confidence. On board that plane was The Warden. The single person who was tasked to save her and protect her, this night above all. The Divine had told her so moments earlier through her little undead friend, and she knew it was The Warden's task to save her. Running away now would only make his job that much harder. It took courage to stay where she was.
    It took faith.
    Michelle looked over to Oudry, her undead guide. Oudry had shown her the way here from the deep of the Congo, where the undead menace had started, right before her eyes. She’d witnessed the birth of the first undead, and watched the curse spread from one victim to the next like lightning. Oudry and she had begun their journey shortly after, and he’d led her here, sharing wisdom from beyond, and keeping her largely out of harm’s way. He was a symbol of the presence of something far greater to Michelle, and she was happy to have him.
    Oudry stood strong, and still. The Voice inside Oudry had told her the body and spirit of the boy would leave soon, and it would revert back to the control of evil. Michelle was still trying to piece together what that meant when Oudry suddenly turned and faced her. His movement was sharp, and angry.
    Oudry’s dead white eyes had disappeared earlier when the Voice spoke through him. Brilliant baby blue eyes had appeared instead of the cataract filled orbs that normally chilled her to the bone. She’d found solace looking into those blue eyes, and now they were gone. Oudry’s white featureless orbs had returned, and his little boyish face had twisted into a feral, breathless snarl. Michelle’s heart sank as she realized the presence of evil had usurped Oudry’s control over his own tiny body.
    From the ground Michelle scooped up a rock the size of a fist. She hefted it in her right hand and when Oudry twisted and lunged at her, she brought the stone down onto the top of his skull, and felt the rotting bone and flesh give way with disturbing ease. The weight of the stone and the power of her strike sent Oudry’s frail, dead body straight to the ground as if she’d driven him down with a sledgehammer and railroad spike. He collapsed to the Moroccan earth one final time, released from the control of evil.
    Michelle wept as the army of the dead marched closer in the darkness.

    *****

    “You’re fucking crazy,” Jaden said to Kevin as they walked down the ramp of the MC-130