Soon enough, we encounter the undead. Two of them cross our path near a stream--a male and female dressed in the usual bloody tatters. When they look our way, I see decayed flesh falling from their faces. I instantly key the scythe to maximum power.
I'm already moving as they raise the alarm with blood-curdling shrieks. Flashing past Brigid and Imago, I raise the scythe and spin between the zombies like a whirlwind.
Their heads fly off in opposite directions, one bouncing off a tree, the other splashing down in the stream. Their bodies drop to the ground a second later. Two down.
And three to go. I hear the sound of snapping twigs and whip around to see three more zombies backing away through the underbrush. The most tragic undead of all, child-size, they were transformed at a y
