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foolproof, but some people like to think
they are.
    People
are fucking idiots. I shove the thought aside, and move to apartment 503.
    There
is a little movement inside—I smirk. They dismissed the threats. Because
ignorance and dismissal will always be the choice people make until they have
no alternative.
    He
won’t have one—but by the time he realizes that, it’ll be too late.
    I
knock lightly, and wait a moment. “Walker business, sir,” I shout, keeping my
head down. “Open the door.”
    It
opens. Because in this changed world, very few things will trump Walker
business. They’re our first and last defense against the infected, and most
citizens worship them. In 8, there were whole groups of girls who filtered
through the ranks. We didn’t need the Order-run vice clubs—a Walker merely
needed a little interest and he would have a willing bed partner.
    The
green priest is little more than a child—one of those wretches born after the
change. He isn’t wearing his robes now—he’s in a pair of shorts and a loose
t-shirt that points at how malnourished he is.
    The
Order isn’t protecting their own, if their priests look this shitty.
    “You,”
he breathes, and I nod, pushing into the little apartment. I lock it behind me
and point at the couch. He’s still staring, shock in his eyes. “You killed
Cass.”
    “I
did warn you,” I say, softly. I’m not apologizing. Not for doing what I warned
I would do. Not when Nurrin is god knows where, and I’m being refused answers.
    “You
can’t just kill people, man,” he
protests on a loud burst. “That’s not the way the world works.”
    I
push him toward the couch. He’s still standing, when I’ve been clear what I
expect. “Sit down, Travis.”
    His
eyes go even wider, and I pull Nurrin’s gun. She must be furious that she’s
unarmed. The first thing I’m doing when I find her is spanking her ass for
going anywhere without her gun. Or a fucking knife. I shove that thought aside.
Focus on the problem at hand. “Sit,” I say again. Motion to the couch.
    Guns
motivate people. He drops like a fucking stone. “You can’t kill me. I’m not a
zombie.”
    “And
you will be happy to know that when I do kill you, it’ll be traumatic brain
injury. You won’t change.”
    Relief
flickers for a moment, before it’s buried by denial. “You don’t have the balls
to murder in cold blood.”
    I
smile at that. “Cass thought the same thing, until I slit her throat. She was
still alive when I blew a hole in her temple. She was bleeding out, but she was
alive. She knew it was happening.”
    “Why
are you doing this?” he whimpers, and I straighten, annoyed with the tears and
snot dripping down his face.
    “Because
your Order has something I want. And I’ll kill until she’s returned. I warned
you and the Haven’s priest. This should come as very little fucking surprise.”
    “No
one believed you!”
    “Then
they’re stupider than they fucking look, and that’s pretty fucking stupid,” I
snap.
    “Killing
me won’t get her. They don’t care about me.”
    I
give him a small smile. “You don’t matter. Neither did Cass. Neither will the
three I kill after you. But by the fifth or sixth dead body, Kenny will be
forced to act. 1 won’t tolerate bodies piling up in their haven.   And I’ll have the attention of the High
Priest in the Stronghold. And they can give me what I want.”
    “So
you’ll kill us until the big boys pay attention?” he demands, his voice sharp
and outraged.
    I
smile and nod. “You catch on quickly.”
    I
lift the gun, and pull the trigger, the sound echoing around the entire room. I
can hear screams from the other apartments.
    Travis’
body hits the ground as the apartment door closes behind me and I duck into the
stairwell. No one has emerged from their apartments. No one will. Gunshots mean
death, and death means infection and no one in their right mind will stick their
head out for a zombie to notice.
    No
one sees me