471

We gotta decide now," Church yells as he opens the door of his Cadillac. "I say we all drive off. If the minibus don't work, we can leave it."

"If we go, we're leaving a lot of our supplies." Jaime marches up, drinks the entire contents of a bottle of water, and wipes his sweaty brow with his arm.

"Whatever you choose to do, I want to help," Gina says to the group. She slides shells into her shotgun as she speaks.

"We can find new supplies if we're alive," Church says, his eyes bulging.

Bailey runs up from the camper, cleaning blood off her baseball bat with a scrap of cloth patterned with balloons and kittens—a baby's bib. "What if we go up that hill over there? It's steep, so the infected won't be able to follow—"

A long wail cuts her off. You glance back to the field, which the dead have nearly crossed, their numbers never seeming to end.

"My ma will never climb that hill!" Reilly shouts. "We're leaving."

"That hill is a great idea, actually," Rachel says, approaching from her group's vehicle. She has a different weapon in hand now, a Remington Model 700. "Too many remain to fight in the open. We need high ground."