CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A zombie who used to be an elderly elf lady rushes my way.
A surge of anger crowds out my fear. Elves live unfathomably long lives, so for Wrakar to disrespect this ancient woman’s body feels like a crime against something holy.
No wonder necromancers aren’t allowed on Gomorrah. They’re the worst.
Though I don’t expect it to work, I aim for the elf lady’s sagging bosom and pull the trigger.
Nothing happens. My gun can’t kill what is already dead.
Having no idea how strong zombies are, I turn to run.
In the corner of my vision, I see everyone dealing with the new threat.
Onassis dispatches an Enforcer with his sword, then slices off an arm from a dryad zombie. The dryad keeps coming. He slices off her head. The headless body keeps moving.
Great. Things are offici
