Free Blog of the Dead (Book 2): Life by Lisa Richardson Page B

caravan. I watched him as he slept, checking that his chest still rose and fell, just as I imagine a new mother would with her newborn baby.
    I noted he hadn’t displayed any worrying symptoms since losing consciousness when he went through the car’s windscreen … no dizziness, double vision, concussion or difficulty with speaking. And b efore he laid down, I’d made him follow my finger as I moved it left and right, up and down in front of his face. I’m no doctor but I’d seen enough doctors on TV do that – back when there was such a thing – so I guessed it was the right thing to do. He followed my finger with his eyes, not moving his head; I guessed he’d watched enough doctors on TV to know that was the correct procedure.
    But concern for Misfit’s health wasn’t the only thing that kept me awake. I thought back to earlier, when Chris and Soph were here. Once Kay had rejoined us having helped Sean to bed, we had sat around the fire as they explained what had happened. ‘Kelly found her body,’ said Chris. ‘She had gone down to the end of the garden to fetch a ball for Ella, that’s when she saw Lucy’s hand through the gate. There was a huge chunk torn out of her neck and shoulder. We’re guessing the attack happened somewhere else and she managed to stagger back as far as the alley before she bled to death or we would probably of heard something.’
    ‘The wound, couldn’t it have been a zombie bite?’ asked Charlotte, tucking a strand of long curly hair behind her ear.
    ‘Can’t have been,’ said Soph, her eyes wide as she looked from Charlotte to the rest of us. ‘If it had been a zombie bite, Lucy would have turned. She was dead, but there was no head wound. Her blood was red, not black. She wasn’t infected.’
    ‘Someone killed her,’ added Chris.
    ‘But who … why?’ asked Charlotte.
    ‘Who’s that guy, the one in the caravan?’ asked Soph, nudging her long blonde fringe from her eyes with a finger. ‘I haven’t seen him around.’
    ‘Sean,’ I said. ‘We met him yesterday … on the beach. He was …’
    ‘He’s looking for his sister,’ finished Kay. ‘He’s just some harmless bloke.’
    ‘You understand why we have to be suspicious,’ said Soph. ‘One of ours has been murdered. There’s someone out there with blood on their hands.’
    Alarm bells rang in my head – blood on their hands. Sean turns up on the beach, not far from The Durlocks with blood on his hands and scratches on his arms. Prime suspect. But I held back, I said nothing about the blood on his hands or the scratches, even though I didn’t understand why.
    I lay on the sofa now, trying to figure out why I hadn’t said anything. Sean could have run today after the car crash. Instead, he risked his own life to carry Misfit away from the zombies that pursued us. It’s quite likely that neither me nor Misfit would have made it back alive if it wasn’t for him. Would a murderer do that? But the scratches and the blood on his hands … My stomach churned uneasily. I tried to relax and get some much needed sleep but my eyelids remained wide, as though propped up with matchsticks – though, in this case, it wasn’t matchsticks holding them up but fear. What if I was wrong about Sean and he did murder Lucy? If he killed again, it would be my fault. And right now, he was in my camp.
    The next morning, exhausted from lack of sleep, I was relieved to see all my team members alive and well and not the slightest bit murdered. Misfit was well enough to sit by the fire and eat some fish that Chris and Soph had brought us. Earlier I had changed the bandage on his head for a fresh one from a first aid kit. As I’d cleaned it, I noticed the wound, just below his right temple, was deep but not as large as I’d first thought. Ideally, he needed stitches but we didn’t live in anything close to an ideal world.
    The hot topic was, of course, the murder. ‘Open your eyes, Kay,’ said Stewart, who, judging by