"Rawhead and Bloody Bones loves children best of all," he said.
"You son of a bitch." It was Larry. He took a step forward, and Ms. Harrison's gun swung to him. I grabbed his arm with my free hand. I still had the machete in my hand. Larry stopped, and the gun stayed on him. I wasn't sure that was an improvement.
Tension sang down Larry's arm. I'd seen him angry, but never like this. The power responded to that anger. The zombies all turned to us in a rustle of cloth. Their glittering eyes, so alive, were waiting for us.
"Move in front of us," I whispered. The zombies began walking towards us. The closest ones moved in front of us immediately. I lost sight of the gun-toting trio. Here was hoping they'd lost sight of us.
"Kill them," Stirling said, loud, almost a yell.
I started to drop to the ground, still holding Larry's arm. He resisted. Gunfire exploded around us and he kissed dirt, flat.
With the side of his face pressed to the ground, he said, "What now?"
Bullets were hitting the zombies. The bodies jerked and twitched. Some of the very alive faces stared down, alarmed as holes appeared in their bodies. But there was no pain. The panic was reflex.
Someone was yelling; it wasn't us. "Stop it, stop it. We can't do this. We can't just kill them."
It was Bayard.
"It is late for an attack of conscience," Ms. Harrison said. It may have been the first time I'd heard her voice. She sounded efficient.
"Lionel, you are either with me, or against me."
"Shit," I muttered. I wormed forward, trying to see what was happening. I pushed aside a billowing skirt just in time to see Stirling shoot Lionel in the stomach. The .45 gave out a booming sound and nearly jerked itself out of Stirling's hand, but he held on. From less than ten inches away, you could shoot nearly anything with a .45.
Bayard collapsed to his knees, looking up at Stirling. He was trying to say something, but no sound came out.
Stirling took the gun from Bayard's hand and put it in his own jacket pocket. He turned his back on Bayard and walked out onto the hard, dry soil.
Ms. Harrison hesitated, but she followed her boss.
Bayard fell onto his side with a dark flood draining out of him. His glasses reflected the moonlight, making him look blind.
Stirling and Ms. Harrison were coming in after us. Stirling pushed among the dead as if they were trees and he was wading through. The dead didn't move for him. They stood there like stubborn, fleshy barriers. I hadn't told them to move, so they wouldn't.
Ms. Harrison had stopped trying to force her way through. Moonlight glinted on her shiny gun as she used a zombie's shoulder to sight on us.
"Kill her," I whispered.
The zombie she was using as a sighting post turned towards her. She made an exasperated sound, and the dead closed on her.
Larry looked at me. "What did you tell them?"
Ms. Harrison was screaming now. High, frightened shrieks. She fired her gun again and again. It clicked empty. Slow, eager hands and mouths latched onto her body.
"Stop them," Larry said. He grabbed my arm. "Stop them."
I could feel the hands tearing bits of flesh from Ms. Harrison. Teeth sank into her shoulder, tore that tender neck, and I knew when blood flowed into that mouth.
Larry was along for the ride. "Oh, God, stop it!" He was on his knees pulling at me, begging.
Stirling hadn't fired a shot. Where was he?
"Stop," I whispered.
The dead froze like automatons, stopped in mid-action. Ms. Harrison slid to the ground in a moaning heap.
Stirling came in from one side, the big gun pointed very steadily at us, out in a two-handed grip like it was supposed to be held. He'd made his way behind us while the zombies worked over Ms. Harrison. He was standing nearly on top of us. It took a lot of nerve to come that close to the zombies.