CHAPTER 75
~Garth's Point Of View~
It's funny how Lucas is rambling on about his talking zombie when we've got some mutant zombie lurking somewhere in the woods with a horde.
"Yeah," I tell him, keeping my voice soft and careful not to rouse the others. "I believe you."
Lucas blinks at me like he didn't expect that.
I nod toward the rest of the group. "Now go on, kid. Get some sleep. Join the others."
He stares at me a second longer, like he doesn't quite trust the sudden softness in my tone. Then he nods. "Okay."
He curls up near the others, tucking himself tight like a kitten trying not to take up too much space. He doesn't look back.
I remain seated by the cave entrance, knife still clutched in my hand, the air around me damp and musty with rock sweat and old ash. Something drips in the distance. Might be water. Might not. The cave has that sour, damp smell of mustiness and a bit of feet.
