"You killed two of ours. And she took everything. Food. Ammo. Medicine. You think we're just gonna let that go?"
"Self-defense," I say, straightening. My axe is still in my hand, though they're all pretending it's not. "Your men were scum. They tried to…"
"We found what was left of them," the man cuts in. "You didn't just kill them. You shredded them. We've seen zombie attacks before, girl, and that wasn't it."
Shit.
I can feel my face twisting. How do I explain that I ate the motheruckers without blowing my cover? Oh, I know. By denying what I AM.
I keep my voice calm. "I stabbed one. The other probably screamed loud enough to bring in the rotters. You think they stopped to ask questions before taking a bite?"
They're not buying it. Not even a little.
The man leans in. I can see a scar across his lip, see the black speck of rot on his tooth.
"You're not normal. You're something else. What are you?" He strokes his chin.
