Chapter 47

“So what do we do next?” he asked

“Be there when they make contact, I suppose,” I replied.

“But what if contact is made mechanically, by radio or the like?” he thought to ask.

“That would make the most sense,” agreed Dara. “Doubtful that the queens make contact in person, not with all these zombies around. Too dangerous.”

“But we didn’t see any communication device in the disco,” I countered.

“There are certainly more rooms inside,” counter-countered Ricky. “And we know they have electricity, as do the islanders, I’m assuming.” Dara and I nodded. “So that means—”

My last and final grimace would’ve made a hound dog seem like it was smiling in comparison. “Back inside the belly of the beast we go.”

“Fuck,” said Dara.

“Yep,” said I.

“And not the good kind of fuck either,” she reiterated.

“Got it,” I added, pointing back to the marina, to the shops we’d come from. “But storm cloud meet silver lining.”

“Shopping,” she fairly cooed.