I was having another nightmare.

They burst into the hospital room, faces ravaged, inhuman. There was still an emotion present in their death glazed eyes as they looked at us. No, not an emotion, an instinct, a primitive drive. Hunger. I could sense her behind me, the mysterious woman with the sad eyes. I dreamed of her every night, and every night I couldn't save her.

The attack came, the bite, the pain, her screams to run. I thrashed, on the verge of waking.

"Ah, shite, that was my nip. Son of a-"

My eyes snapped open. It took a moment to orient myself. I was on my cot, swathed in a plain sheet. It was early, probably before dawn judging from the muted light of the tent. I wasn't alone. I sighed, rolling onto my back to glare at my intruder.

"They at it again?"

Princess huffed a couple of pink frosted stray hairs out of her eyes. "I swear they are worse than rabbits in heat."

"You know you could ask for your own tent," I grumbled, scrubbing my eyes with the heel of my palms. Not like I had eye crusties to wipe away, it was all muscle memory as Dr. Greaves, aka Princess, put it. The body remembered old habits.

"And miss our cuddle time? You wound me," she said, in mock offense. She snuggled closer, her pale arm snaking purposely across my breasts. "Besides I did ask for new accommodations when they started making a habit of it. Not my fault your psuedo-boyfriend shoved me in the next tent over. Do you have any idea how loud they are? Like alley cats. I'm almost curious enough to ask what's his secret."

"I so don't want to hear any of this," I groaned, thumping my fist to my forehead.

"Then go back to sleep," murmured Olivia, dozing off, "and maybe take a shower later. You smell like a slim jim."

If only that deterred her. I tried to ignore the curves pressed against me. The first week was awkward, but after a while I got used to my uninvited snuggle buddy. To be honest, I was a tiny bit grateful for her presence. I would shove bamboo shoots under my fingernails before I told her, but the feeling was there. I frowned, realizing what she said to me.

"What do you mean I smell?" I sat up. I never smelled, not personally. My clothes might reek with whatever nasty task Kit talked me into that day, but I personally didn't reek. I lifted my arm to smell my pits and emitted a small shriek of disgust. A dark oily stain saturated the underarms of my t-shirt.

Princess sat up, her brow quirked as she poked the spot with an experimental finger. A mad grin lit her face. "I do believe we have achieved sweat, my dear girl. To the lab!"

The t-shirt whapped her in the face while she remained in science pose, pointing to the sky like Doc Brown in an 'eureka' moment. She clawed it off her face with savage glee, cackling as I grabbed my rationed bar of soap and towel. Slimy black sweat? This is the future I had to look forward to? The Fort rationed deodorant with a frugality bordering on fanaticism. I had witnessed full blown scuffles over toiletries. Did I have to start doling out black eyes so I didn't reek like frat boy's dorm room? On second thought, punching a run of the mill human was a bad idea. It took one sparring session with Kit to prove that.

The return of sweat reminded me how much summer absolutely sucked.

Like most of the sensations of my new existence, it made a sudden, unexpected appearance to ruin my day. Typical, though honestly, I feel this was the sole purpose of most bodily functions, especially when filtered through the system of a Revived. This was the general moniker the humans of Fort Braydon settled on. Fred continued to fight for Zomroids.

What did being a member of the newly Revived entail? The revival of necrotic tissue infected with an unknown pathogen infused with the organic matter of unknown extraterrestrial species. A direct quote from Dr. Greaves, which is a fancy way of saying we ate alien brains and gained a conscience. It meant waking up with your body reversing the process of decay, an alien at your feet in a smoking puddle. That kind of wake up call left a bit of an impression, though most of us didn't talk about it, not until the memories and nightmares hit.

Which brought me to sweat.

I sighed, eyeing the communal showers with disdain. Thinking of Kit put me in a bad mood. I had been in a perpetually bad mood for the past two weeks. Seeing Fred and Ginger in a near constant post-coital glow didn't help either. Mostly I just wanted to punch something, but the humans were like meat filled balloons and the Revived gave as good as they got. I kicked a few stones, sending projectiles into the surrounding trees, and stopped short in front of the 'showers'.

There was already a line winding around the building.

Ah screw this. I wasn't going to fiddle around in line with a terry cloth covering my boobs, stinking of processed jerky, while a bunch of soldiers ogled the half naked zombie chick. Inter-species relations were dicey enough without a six a.m. testicle removal.

'Showers' was a big misnomer for dumping rationed buckets of water over your head while you scrubbed as best and fast as you could. I wanted to unwind.

There was a decent sized pond in the nearby woods. Most of the humans avoided it since it required a few well placed sentries to avoid surprises. Nothing ruined a quiet dip like shambling zombies chasing you into the water. One of the few perks of my condition was the regular walking dead left me well enough alone, aside from the occasional friendly stray. I debated the pros and cons of the pond when Kit strolled around the corner, nothing but a towel wrapped around his lean torso.

Li exit stage left.

I dove into the woods, grimacing at the first tickle of morning heat as the sun made its appearance. In the past month, the gentle warmth of spring was viciously backhanded by the humid breath of summer. It hadn't really hit me yet, the change in seasons. I was grateful for finally feeling the difference between hot and cold. Now I had sweat, gross sweat. I grumbled as I crashed through the underbrush, reaching the pond. It was a bit on the murky side, and the far end was clogged with lily pads and pond weed but I was verging on desperate now. I threw my towel to the ground, along with a spare tee, shucked out of my shorts, and waded in. The mushy silt clouded around my feet, but the water was cool. I kept walking forward until it reached the underside of my breasts and bent my knees. Pond water lapped my neck, fanning my hair out behind me. I leaned into the water, looking up at the sky, listening to the muffled sounds of the forest.

Somewhere up there were a bunch of aliens hell bent on my destruction.

To be fair, I am pretty sure they were hell bent on destroying everyone still populating the planet. Their timing was on the shitty side since the Earth was swarming with hungry zombies. Depending on perspective. I might have had to die and eat alien brains to achieve my current state of being, but hey, I could still be a rotting corpse. Can't beat that silver lining.

The problem, I thought to myself as I lathered myself up, was after our initial run ins, our close encounters with the third kind dropped off to zilch. Aside from the occasional low flying pie slice of a scout ship, we hadn't seen or heard a peep from the vicious little tripods. It made me...nervous.

The humans were still a bit skeeved out by us. Whatever sparked the transformation in us from consuming alien brain matter also seemed to flip some eternal switch that made humans as appealing to the palate as sardines wrapped in gym socks, but the stigma was still there. Once a zombie, always a zombie. We no longer oozed, but were still, technically, undead. Sort of. According to Princess, that definition was a bit in flux at the moment.

Sweating black fluid couldn't be healthy. Though, what was our definition of healthy? This train of thought would do nothing for me. I started rinsing the suds off. Something splashed into the water.

The soap whipped through the air. It was the only weapon I had. Kit jerked his head to the side as it whistled past, taking a chunk out of the closest pine tree. I cringed, sinking into the water to cover myself as he stared at me.

"Need to remember not to sneak up on you," he said, continuing forward. The water swirled around his waist. What the hell? One, what did he think he was doing? Two, how had he snuck up on me? Three, what did he think he was doing? Was he wearing pants? My gaze flit to the shore, seeing only a towel beside my pile of clothes. I sank deeper, until the water brushed my chin.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, wrapping my arms around my chest. It wasn't an impressive chest by any means but it was mine and Kit blundered forward with all the grace of a wading wildebeest.

He shrugged, perfectly nonchalant. "The line to the showers was huge. Saw you heading in here, thought why not?"

"What about zombies?" I growled. Kit was a delicious enough morsel to tempt any of them in a five mile radius.

"Relax, I snagged Curley for watch detail." He winked at me. "He promised not to peek."

That right there was how great romances were made. Ugh, what am I thinking? No romance! No! This wasn't flirting. This was Kit being his normal obliviously cheeky self. I'd slap myself if it wasn't for the fact Kit would look at me like I lost my damn mind. Better to just scramble out and scurry back to camp, even if it meant rewarding the dumbass with a view of my blindingly white backside. I contemplated dunking him and making a break for it when he said the one thing that could keep me rooted in place.

"Got a message from Substation Apollo," he said, watching for my reaction.

This was a big deal. Substation Apollo was basically the front door guard to Oz. This wasn't the actual name of the hidden human city, but everyone was rather tight lipped about it. Never know who could be listening. It had been over a month since Kit's first message. Even with severely restricted modes for travel, this was a rather long delay between question and answer. Did they not believe there were good zombies? Or that aliens were invading? Did I have to drag an unconscious tripod to their front door? That idea was shudder-worthy. The whole lot of them were slippery buggers and fought dirty.

"And?"

"They are sending a representative to evaluate the situation," he said.

"You say that like someone spit in your breakfast. Is this bad news?"

Kit hesitated. For a moment I forgot about our mutual nudity, dread slithering around in my gut.

"Spit it out. Do I need to punch someone? I have a mean scissor kick." I slashed the water, sending a brackish water over his head.

He sputtered with laughter. "Hell no, keep those fists of fury to yourself. You nearly broke my arm last go round."

Sheesh, a girl can't catch a break. "So, what gives?"

Kit ran a hand over his mouth. "It's who they're sending." A worried frown crumpled his face. As if he wasn't adorable enough. I splashed him again, the tension was killing me.

"They're sending my sister."

"Oh."

Crap.