17
I’m watching the street from the living-room window. There are still several Necs loitering like teenagers in doorways and on pavements.
It’s strange. From here they almost seem human. Normal. But they’re not. Far from it. They’re just walking disease. Death with legs.
Monsters.
Edith is still in the kitchen, trying to clean the bite. She won’t let me in. She’s afraid she might infect me. I told her that she doesn’t have to worry—that everything will be fine.
I lied.
I don’t know what to do. I have to search the street for Sammy, but I wouldn’t last five minutes. And what about Edith? I can’t just leave her here. She’s infected. It’s only a matter of time before she turns.
If only I had an antiviral shot. So what if they’re hit or miss? At least she’d have a b****y chance!
How c
