Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 56: _ You’re a Cannibal!

Five More Bodies Later

I am elbow-deep in zombie intestines when I hear it.

Click.

The undeniable, soul-chilling click of a gun being cocked behind me.

I freeze and ever so slowly and I raise my blood-slick hands in surrender. I don’t turn. I don’t breathe. I sure as shit don’t say anything smart. Not yet.

"Okay," I say carefully. "If this is about the vending machine, I swear I wasn’t actually gonna eat the Snickers."

A voice growls behind me. "Try anything funny, and I’ll blow your brains out."

Argh, Jesus. It just had to be from one trouble to another, didn’t it?

I turn my head slightly, just enough to catch the speaker in my peripheral.

He’s big and bearded. Dressed in a patchy parka and muddy boots. Looks like he’s been squatting in a sporting goods store since Year One of the Apocalypse. And he’s holding a rusty shotgun, barrel aimed directly at my skull.

There’s another bloke behind him, shorter but wiry, with a chipped baseball bat and a smile that says he enjoys rearranging people’s kneecaps.

Great. Just my luck.

The tall one circles me, his boots crunching glass as he studies me like I’m a suspicious hunk of raw meat. His grey and squinty eyes narrow on the corpse at my knees.

"You ate ’im," he says.

I blink. "What?"

"Don’t play dumb, love," the other one pipes up. He’s got a thick Cockney accent, nasal and fast. "Saw you from across the street, we did. Window view. Lovely show. You were on that fella like a Sunday roast."

Oh. Oh no.

"You think I... ate someone?"

The tall one squats beside me, nostrils flaring as he sniffs the air.

"Didn’t just eat ’im. You tore into ’im raw. Like a feckin’ wolf."

I resist the urge to laugh, because a) they’re serious, and b) the gun.

"Mate, I was checking for a key." I start, keeping my voice low and shaky.

"No need to explain, sweetheart. We saw everythin’."

The second guy’s got that twitchy look of a guy who’s always five seconds away from violence and thinks it’s a good idea.

"We saw you," he continues, stepping closer, "across the way. From our window."

My jaw drops. Shit. They saw THAT. They aren’t talking about this zombie but the guy I ate earlier.

"Guy was screamin’ when you started," the taller one says. "Didn’t look like no corpse to us."

Oh God. They saw that.

The man from earlier with the limping, bloody, begging for help. And me?

I ate him.

Ate all of him and more than enough to stop the craving. Just enough to silence the hunger clawing at my insides like a wild dog. But yeah. I’d ripped into him, teeth-first. Not proud of it. But I was starving. And he was dying. I just made it faster.

And these two jackasses watched the whole thing like it was a nature documentary. I’m so fucked.

"I..." I stammer. "He was already... he was dying."

"Didn’t look like it from where we were standin’," says Bat Boy. "Looked like he was screamin’ for his mum while you gnawed on his shoulder."

"He had a punctured lung! He shot himself!" I bark. "There was blood bubbling out of his mouth. He was... he wasn’t gonna make it."

"But you made sure of it, didn’t ya?" Shotgun says, eyes gleaming. "Real sweet of you."

"Put ’im out of his misery," Bat Boy snickers. "With your teeth."

I don’t respond. My silence is confirmation enough. I actually didn’t know what to say when they witnessed it all. All I can do now is eat them too.

But first, they need to grow more useful than that.

The man with the shotgun steps closer, pressing the barrel against my forehead.

"Name’s Hugh. This here’s Robbie."

Of course, it is.

"And you?" Hugh sneers. "You’re a fuckin’ animal."

"She’s worse," Robbie chimes in. "She’s a cannibal."

They both stare at me like they’re waiting for me to sprout horns and admit it.

And fine. Yes. I ate a man. I’m a zombie, so what?

But if they knew what I really was? If they knew what was humming beneath my skin? They’d run screaming into the apocalypse before they let me anywhere near their cozy squat.

Hugh raises his gun higher. "We were gonna let you be. But after seein’ that display, we decided you need... puttin’ down."

Robbie grins. "After we take whatever you got, ’course."

Charming.

I glance at the gutted zombie, the glistening pile of innards still warm against my boots. All I wanted was a key. Now I’ve got two apocalypse hillbillies about to drag me into a murder basement.

But I don’t panic. Nope. I only think.

You need that key. And you need to see where they live. Maybe it’s safer. Maybe you and the others can squat there. But first... you play along. Smile, nod, pretend you’re scared. You’re Human. You’re Harmless.

So I swallow my pride, my teeth, and my general urge to rip their faces off. I tremble a little. That’s not hard to fake... this day’s already been hell.

"O-okay," I say, letting my voice hitch. "I... I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I thought he had supplies."

Robbie leers. "Yeah? Looked more like you were suckin’ marrow."

"Let’s go," Hugh growls. "Tie her up back home. We’ll decide what to do with her after a proper search."

I rise slowly, hands still up, with my heart thumping in pretend panic and real rage. "You don’t need to tie me. I’ll come quietly."

"That’s what they all say," Robbie mutters, producing a length of rope that looks like it used to be a garden hose.

As he steps forward, there’s a sound.

GrroOOaaaRR.

Behind us, we hear a shuffling of feet, wet slaps, and snarls.

We all turn to see three zombies. Fresh-ish. Wet clothes. Cloudy eyes. Sniffing us like sharks.

Robbie freezes. "Bloody ’ell..."

"I got the one on the left!" Hugh barks, swinging the shotgun up.

They forget about me immediately. If I didn’t have an ulterior motive, I would have made for the run or tear into them already.

Well, I would. In time...