Free Green Fields (Book 3): Escalation by Adrienne Lecter Page B

probably meant that they’d found their end in the last two weeks.
    There was absolutely nothing of interest in the room beside that, so after making sure that nothing was hiding anywhere, I stepped into the hallway and on into what used to be the den. The room was in an even worse condition, the sofa reduced to what looked oddly like a nest. And the stench was beyond comparison.
    Coughing, I quickly wrenched up my scarf over my mouth and nose, but I felt my eyes water nonetheless. Never in my entire life had I been subjected to anything like that. And it wasn’t just the reek, but also what it was coming from, that made me want to hurl.
    “What the hell is this?” Bates murmured between noises that sounded awfully like gagging.
    Looking at what he was nudging with the very tip of his boot, I couldn’t help but shiver.
    “I think that’s zombie shit. And vomit.”
    His eyes widened comically. “Shit? The fuckers actually shit out what they eat?” He paused, mulling that over in his head. “And you can tell the difference between what comes out top and bottom?”
    Shrugging, I looked from one heap to the next. “That one still has parts in it that look like it came from something that once was alive. I’d say that’s barf. The rest, shit.”
    “But we haven’t really seen any of them…” He trailed off there, clearly too baffled to finish.
    “Take a dump?” I suggested. “I doubt that they’ll go round looking for the next potty. And besides, did you ever try to find out if their pants are stained from food, decomposing zombie bits, or what their bowels might evacuate?”
    His lips quirked up for a moment, but he still looked decidedly shocked. “Not really, but now I’m kinda curious.” Taking a step further into the room, he inspected the “nest” more closely. “Do you think they’ve been squatting here? Not sure I’d call it living with the fuckers. But, you know. Staying here for an extended amount of time?”
    I didn’t like considering that—and the ramifications that followed. “Judging from the bodies in the kitchen and the fact that everything in here is still liquid enough that the wind and cold got it to dry out, I’d say they’re still using this as a shelter.”
    That left the uncomfortable question of where they were right now, but I could see from the look on Bates’s face that I didn’t need to articulate this.  
    “Shit.”
    “Well, yeah, we already established that,” I teased, jerking my chin toward the back porch. “Let’s get out of here. As much as I don’t mind stinking up the car, I don’t want this stuff anywhere near my body, lingering scents or not.”
    That we could easily agree on, and a minute later we joined the other two back outside. Spring air had seldom tasted better.
    We shared our observations in hushed tones, making the other two eye us with revulsion that was funny on its own. I hesitated, but asked the question no one wanted to tackle. “Do we continue, fully knowing that somewhere in this town there are likely a few hundred zombies who’ve made their home here?”
    “Few hundred?” Burns asked, his usual humor completely gone now.
    I nodded. “So far, we’ve always estimated that one in ten or so has turned. I don’t remember where we got that number—“
    “I think Martinez dragged that in from somewhere,” Andrej offered.
    “Maybe. Probably. But remember that town where we picked up the cars?” Burns nodded. “There were easily enough zombies there to account for a ninety percent conversion rate, even if that still left them easy pickings for us, killing them one house at a time. Now, if Douglas had what, over six thousand inhabitants and only a tenth of them is shambling around now, that’s six hundred. If we go up to ninety? Do the math.”
    The following silence was more than just unsettling.
    “I doubt they’d have managed to stay active and fed for that long if they had so few dead to munch on,” Andrej noted