Jane appeared to be hyperventilating—though Emily didn't think that was a thing a zombie could do. But she was definitely panicking.

"What the fuck, Jane? I fucking had him! I had Roy!"

"I can't do this," Jane said, sounding terrified.

Emily looked down at Frank, still unconscious. "Don't worry, ya big baby. He's gonna be okay. As lacking as he is in survival skills, he's definitely good in the luck department. I mean, how many times have you tried to run over him now? Three? Besides, a little brain hemorrhage never hurt anyone." She plopped into a chair next to Jane and Frank, who were still on the floor. Jane was cradling Frank's head in her lap, her legs awash with fresh blood.

"It's not that. It's me." Jane's eyes met Emily's—they were full of horror and hunger. She looked crazed. "I can't..."

"Whoa, shit Jane, what's the problem?"

"The blood... I can practically taste it. I'm struggling with everything I have right now to not turn him over and start feasting on his brains. I want to eat him soooo badly it hurts."

"Okay, champ," Emily began, setting her gun aside and getting down to the floor. "Just calm down a second."

"I'm shaking," Jane said, holding up a trembling hand dripping Frank's blood.

"Okay, okay. Let me just slide on in there and take care of him for a minute." Emily carefully, slowly, showed Jane her palms, like she was approaching a feral dog.

"Okay. Yeah. Just... support his head. And we're gonna need another bandage," Jane squeaked, the intensity of raw fear fraying her words.

"Yep, I got it," Emily said.

Jane lifted Frank by the shoulders, letting his head wobble on his slackened neck. It looked unnatural the way it moved. Too floppy. But Emily took him as Jane slid out and got to her feet, still sliding around in the blood.

Emily put Frank's head in her lap and looked at Jane warily. "We need to find you some shoes," she said lightly. "And maybe something to cover up that vagina."

Jane looked down, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "Yeah. That'd be good." She looked around the barn, not seeing anything through her glazed eyes. "All my clothes are back at the asthma Center place."

"We'll find you something," Emily reassured her.

"Yeah. Okay." Jane put her hands on her hips and exhaled through pursed lips, clearly trying to steady herself. "Okay. I'm okay."

"Are you telling me? Or you?"

"Both of us."

Emily started to unwrap Frank's bandage. It made a sickening sound as the dried blood peeled off his scalp. The strip of thin cotton she'd cut from her I love Daddy's money tee-shirt was totally soaked through. She let it slap down on the floor as she pulled out her boot-knife and began cutting another provisional dressing from her shirt. The underside of her small breasts was now visible in the tattered crop top.

"At this rate, I'm going to be as naked as you."

"Yeah," Jane said, not listening. "Emily... I'm gonna..."

"Take your time," Emily said, not needing her to finish. "But not too much time. Roy's still out there and who knows if any of those army fucks are still around. It looked like they all took off, but we can't be sure."

"What was going on out there?" Jane asked as she carefully stepped away, toward the human pens.

"Looked like Roy and his fuckin' friends took out one of those transport trucks. I didn't see any other soldiers around, but heard other trucks driving away. But still... we're far from safe here. We need to get the fuck out as soon as possible." Emily wrapped Frank's skull with the new bandage, purposely positioning the word Daddy across his forehead. "He's gonna love that," she said to herself.

Frank was breathing evenly. His pulse was steady. Emily truly hoped he'd be okay but couldn't help but worry that she'd done permanent damage when she'd slammed him to the floor.

She just hoped she hadn't killed him by saving his life.

"Uh huh," Jane said still not registering anything but an all-encompassing hunger. "Emily... I'm going to... uh... I'm going to eat those people over there. They look fresh. I think they were alive."

"Knock yourself out," Emily said, keeping her eyes on Frank's face. She noticed his sharp jawline behind the unkempt beard as she smoothed it down with a blood-soaked hand. He had the beginnings of crow's feet and smile lines and all kinds of cuts and slashes, but his features were chiseled and refined. He was a pretty handsome guy when it came down to it.

Emily acknowledged the disgusting chewing sounds coming from the pen a short distance away but kept looking at Frank. She delicately touched his lips—they were chapped and split but looked... reliable.

"Maybe I should have fucked you," she whispered.

Frank opened his eyes.

"I fucking knew it," he wheezed.