Bayou Whispers
Skin missing in patches, eyes milky white, mouths open in silent agony.
One guy didn’t have an arm.
“What in all that is Holy . . . ” began Curtis.
A woman’s scream sent the shocked men into action.
Roo, Fernández, and Gallow aimed their shotguns at the zombie horde. The gun blasts reverberated around them. The humidity and dense overgrowth surrounding them amplified the sound. Bits of flesh flew off the attackers as shotgun pellets ripped at decaying bodies, but the creatures ignored the damage and steadfastly continued to rip apart the Escalade. The zombies—which was the only word Curtis’s mind could find for them—pulled a dark-haired woman from the wreckage. All he caught was a glimpse of
Bab Populer