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but it’s warm to the touch, like it’s being heated somehow.” She passed the piece to Daniels.
    “Definitely not like any fabric I’ve ever heard of,” He said. The others agreed when they had a chance to feel it.
    A few more minutes of searching revealed only one other thing of note.
    Jesse found a dead Zom in the back, still clutching a shred of alien uniform and with a bit of flesh dangling from her mouth. That wasn’t the weird part.
    “I don’t see what killed it. Unlike the other Zoms, this one doesn’t look like it has any gaping holes.” He and Daniels rolled it over. There were no wounds on the back, either, just a rash on her face.
    Moose said, “I’ve never seen a dead Zom before with no wounds.”
    “It doesn’t look old enough to have died of old age,” Jefferson joked.
    Before the smiles even had a chance to fade, six Zoms launched themselves through the opening in the back that the aliens had blown in. Three headed for Peter, who was closest to the hole, two for Jesse, and one for Daniels.
    Chrissy and Moose charged at the Zoms, knives drawn, and attempted to get them off the others. Moose stabbed one in the chest and Chrissy got another in the back.
    “How do you like that , you piece of shit?” she yelled.
    Daniels gutted his Zom, and Jesse had to kick one in the knee so he had a moment in which to draw his pistol and fire.
    Peter was still wrestling with two, having dispatched the other. He stabbed one and Daniels shot the other.
    Still panting, Peter dropped his knife and held his right wrist with his left hand. “Goddamn Zom bit me.” His shirtsleeve dripped with blood, and more trickled down his elbow.
    Chrissy tried to cover the worry painted on her face. “Jeez, Peter, you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’d better let us take a look at that.”
    Peter let go of his wrist just long enough to slide back the sleeve. Even that was too long. Blood spurted from his wrist. He clamped down on it, Blood continued to ooze from beneath his hand.
    “Artery!” Daniels shouted. “Quick, someone find something we can use as a tourniquet!”
    Everyone dropped their backpacks and rummaged inside.
    “Here!” Moose said, holding a sock. “It’s not clean, but it should do until we can find something better.”
    “That’s fine.” Daniels wrapped the sock around Peter’s arm, just above the elbow and cinched it tight.
    “Over here. Sit.” Chrissy led Peter a few steps to an overturned can.
    Peter sat. “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy.”
    Chrissy and Daniels exchanged worried glances. They didn’t have a doctor, after all.
    “Jus’ gimme a min to catch my breath, and then we can go. We can’ afford to stay here. We’re sittin’ du—” Peter toppled over.
    Daniels knelt and checked his pulse. “It’s really weak. He’s lost too much blood.”
    “We gotta do somethin’!” Moose said.
    “Like what? A transfusion? Surgery?” Daniels sighed. “There’s nothing we can do for him.”
    He, Chrissy, Moose, and Jesse, stood or sat, waiting, until Peter DeBerge’s heart stopped beating.
    Chrissy dropped to the floor in a heap and sat there hugging her knees. “Shit.” She shook her head and cried softly as the others stood around moping.
    After a minute, Daniels sat beside her and put his arm around her.
    He sighed. “I know you’re hurting. We all liked Peter. We’ll take him out back and bury him.”
    She nodded and wiped her eyes as she stood. They had lost people before, but she’d been close to Peter. He’d been a teen runaway, just as she had. They bonded over that. Now, she had just lost yet another friend. Over the past year, she’d lost way too many friends. Even losing someone she wasn’t especially close to was hard. There weren’t all that many humans left alive. Each death brought humanity that much closer to extinction.
    She helped carry Peter’s body out the back door and to the dirt yard beyond. Daniels pulled the camp shovel he’d found weeks earlier