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to within a few feet. Blue ran at it, barking. Dylan moved, catching Callan and Greg from the corner of his eye with the same intention. They were too far away though. Kristy leapt out of the van and landed near it, a kitchen knife in her hand.
    There was no hesitation. She swiped the blade at the zombie’s neck, opening a wound that sprayed blood over the gravel. It made a desperate lunge at her, not quite finished, and hooked its fingers onto her black leathers, drawing her close. Kristy hesitated—or waited, Dylan thought, then swung the knife in a roundhouse arc and jammed it into the side of its head. Blood jetted out. Its hand fell away, and it slumped to the dusty earth with a thud. Kristy helped Jake up, then walked over to a clump of grass and wiped the blade clean. The others stood back, watching. Kristy disappeared inside the van with Jake.
    “Let’s sweep the area to make sure there are no more,” Callan said. Gallagher dragged the zombie off into the bushes.
    Dylan wanted to finish the conversation with Klaus, but the scientist followed Kristy inside, and Callan seconded Dylan for the scout. The discussion would have to wait, although he was worried now because Klaus knew his secret.
    Callan led Greg, Dylan, and Gallagher through a wall of brush at the edge of the parking area with hand weapons and one of the gunman’s discarded pistols from the defense facility. The land dipped and rose; shallow gullies filled with bushy saplings and monstrous logs covered in moss, leading into rough, rocky ridges. They spread out and weaved between gum trees and eucalyptus, through tangled brush, until they hit the highway again. Gallagher suggested the zombie had probably wandered from town, so they doubled back beyond the camp, checking to make sure no others had stopped for a visit, and cleared an area of equal size on the west side, too. They scared a wombat and two kangaroos, but saw no zombies. Blue disappeared for a time in chase, but reappeared shortly after, panting. Satisfied, Callan led them back, Dylan eager to find Klaus, hopeful the scientist had thought of a way to help.
    Dylan found him sorting through supplies in a storage compartment at the back of the camper. “What can I do?” he asked, startling Klaus.
    For a moment, he thought Klaus was going to say nothing. “Are you sure about the bite?”
    Dylan leaned his head forward. Klaus pulled the collar of his jacket down. “Is it bad?”
    He let the jacket go and stepped around to face Dylan. “It’s a bite. Similar to mine. Telling me earlier would have been more helpful. What were you thinking back at the defense facility? If you’d spoken up when Callan was arguing for the dog, you might have been better off. We can’t reverse the degeneration, only halt it.”
    It did seem irrational now, and Dylan struggled to explain it. His emotions were turbo-charged, rolling on a wave of sentiment. In the moment, it had made sense, but now he saw Klaus’ logic. Dylan shook his head. “It just felt like the right thing to do at the time.”
    “How do you feel? I’ve noticed contrasting moods.”
    “Yeah. I feel okay at the moment. Was feeling crazy before though. I couldn’t concentrate when Callan was arguing about the dog.”
    “There are varying symptoms—the admiral said he initially felt like he was going mad, and that his skin itched as though his blood was burning.”
    Going mad. Maybe that’s what was happening to him. “I haven’t had that yet. Just a bit… strange.”
    Klaus nodded. “What’s done is done. I need to get you some of that serum.”
    “Is there enough? I mean…”
    “There’s some. We’re not out yet, but one more person will reduce the quantity for the others.”
    “I don’t want—”
    “You have no choice , if you want to live. I can’t believe Kristy is let—”
    “She doesn’t know.” Klaus raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t found the right time, and I’m worried she’ll …”
    “You’re risking