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full horror. Nova gasped and pulled the truck to a stop before looking out of her window. I leaned over, looking out of my own window.
    “Are they all…?” I didn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t need to. Nova knew what I was getting at.
    “Dead-dead? Yep, looks that way,” she said.
    “And the people?” I asked, staring in stomach-turning dread at the human bodies scattered everywhere, limbs removed, insides devoured, and heads caved in.
    “They either didn’t turn or were put out of their misery by someone,” she said, beginning to drive again. “At least that’s what I’m guessing.”
    We passed a non-zombie body and I looked down out of the window, seeing the person’s tortured expression. Most of their stomach was missing, a red and black gaping hole where their insides should have been. A single bullet-hole scarred the center of their forehead.
    “But who did this?” I asked.
    “Put them out of their misery? Or tore this city apart?” Nova asked, her voice devoid of emotion.
    “Both,” I replied.
     

 
SEVEN.
     
    I opened the door of the truck and jumped down, the thick mud splashing up my boots. The rain had started to come down harder, making it difficult to navigate through the mud and bodies. Not that it made any difference: there was no one there for us to help—at least, not anymore. All that was left was body after rotting body.
    We were careful as we moved around the city, checking each tent and home for any signs of life; but barring the odd stray animal, which growled yet warily gave us a wide berth, everything was dead. Nova didn’t say much. Her expression was hard as we moved around her old city. The only positive I found was that everything was still there—all the food and clothes, all the equipment, medicine, and weapons. It was a small miracle, really, that no one had stripped the place bare yet. Perhaps they knew it wasn’t safe there, or perhaps there was no one left alive that knew about the place. I looked at one of the small wooden huts. The flames had been doused by the rainstorm, gray smoke had all but finished billowing, and I frowned. This happened recently. Like, really recently.
    I was about to voice my concerns to Nova when we came to a stop outside of a small wooden… house? Hut? It was clearly a home at one time, but it was tiny. Not that I was used to living in any sort of luxury or anything, but this was basically just a wooden shed made into a home. There were quite a few of those types of homes in that part of the city, and I was presuming they were better living arrangements than most.
    I glanced at Nova. Her face was a blank canvas, but it was pretty obvious to me what this place was to her.
    “This was where you lived,” I stated cautiously.
    “Yeah” was all she replied tightly, before pulling at the door and going inside.
    The air was stale and cold, but it was made up nicely, with a bed made from wooden crates and straw, and a blanket thrown over the top. Another crate was turned upside down with a few meager belongings upon it, and pictures hung on the walls. Some of them looked like the stuff you used to find in art galleries, and they seemed so random and out of place here.
    Nova made a weird noise in the back of her throat as she moved toward the far side of the hut, where bits of paper and photos were tacked to the wall haphazardly. She pried a photograph from the wall and looked down at it sadly before turning back to me, her eyes glistening.
    “This is the only photo I had of us all,” she said, her mouth turning up into a small smile. “I thought they would have given this place to someone else when I left.” She looked around her and continued. “Or trashed it. I would have been seen as a traitor in their eyes for leaving.”
    I frowned at her, my shoulders feeling burdened with her guilt. “You did the right thing, though.”
    “Did I?” Nova shook her head. “I should have helped these people. That was my fuckin’ job, Nina.