Chapter 16
The woods were a suffocating maze, a snarl of crooked trees and thorny vines that seemed to pulse with menace under a sky choked by thick canopy. Arthur hacked at a tangle of brambles with his machete, the blade’s edge dull from carving through zombie flesh, its handle slick with sweat and black zombie blood. His skinny bodyframe trembled, each step a battle against the fire in his side where the rebar wound festered, Lena’s bandage a sodden, crusted mess that tugged at his raw skin. His arm, slashed in Cass’s arena, ached under a fraying wrap, and his leg burned from a fresh zombie claw mark, blood soaking his pant leg and pooling in his boot. His head spun, the world tilting like a bad dream, but he clung to his parents’ memory Kanes, whistleblowers, silenced for exposing Gen
