Fucking zombies. The one thing I swore I would never live to see. But here I am. I slice my sword left, right into the damn thing’s shoulder. The person, if I can even call it that, doesn’t slow, reaching for me with shriveled fingers. His gaze is unfocused and a cloudy white, like the foam oozing from his mouth.

I force the steel out with a gasp. It would have been a good hit, except I was aiming for his neck. The first thing we learn in training: the only way to kill a Rabid is by slicing off its head. I lift my hands up, my shoulders burning from the motion.

“I’ve got it, Izzy.” Asher separates the zombie’s skull from its body with a single flick of the wrist. He grimaces in my direction. “Honestly, how are you so bad at this?”

I glare at him. Since finding out that I’m only on his squad because of my best friend, Val, he’s taken every chance to rub it in my face. She’s a beast but wouldn’t join without me, so Asher took on my training. That was exactly a year ago today. “Maybe I just have a crappy teacher?”

“I highly doubt that.” Asher’s icy glare cuts through me as sharp as a knife. He wipes the blood from his blade with the corpse’s tattered clothes and yells at the rest of our crew. “Alright, return to the ship!”

I sheath my weapon and jog toward the harbor, an evening breeze cooling my cheeks.

“Iz!” Val links her arm in mine, her fiery red hair half out of the pony she’d put it in this morning. “You kill anything, yet?”

“Not even close.” Asher saunters in front of us. He scans the marina, twelve years of neglect creeping along the cracked asphalt. An old cruise ship lists heavily to port in the harbor.

I scowl at his back, the muscles rippling underneath his tight black t-shirt. “I hit his shoulder. That’s got to count for something.”

Asher barks a laugh.

Val smiles and squeezes my hand. “I think it does.”

“Thank you, Val.” I wrap my arm around her.

Yellow turns a bright orange on the horizon when we clamber aboard the SS Survivor. The old naval ship rocks softly with the waves below, her metal hull blanketing my frayed nerves in silent relief.

I pat her side, sighing. “It’s good to be home.”

The eldest of our squad, Rod, a close friend of Captain Anderson, gives Asher a punch on the shoulder. “Another successful mission.”

“Did you guys see that Rabid chewing on its own foot?” Jamie, our budding scientist, cuts in. Her eyes sparkle in the flickering candlelight as she moves through the narrow hallway. “Fascinating.”

“That’s not the word I’d use.” Jesse purses his lips, his dark eyebrows pulling together. He’s known Asher since birth. The story is that their moms were best friends. However, Jesse’s parents didn’t survive the collapse, and so Asher’s mom and dad took him in.

Noticing Jamie’s face fall, Val shoots Jesse a reproachful glance. “I think your science stuff is quite fascinating, Jamie.”

“Thank you, Val.” Jamie offers her a small smile.

We enter one of the ship’s many common rooms. Several old couches sit in a corner with a makeshift bookshelf in the middle as a reading nook. The rest of the room is dotted with tables and chairs.

Captain Warren Anderson lounges at a table, his salt and pepper hair in the same classic skin fade of his navy days. His wife, small and lean, is folded in her own seat beside him, tucked into her husband’s side. She beams when they enter. “Asher, Jesse! I’m glad you made it back safe.”

“Hi, Mom.” Asher leans down to kiss her forehead, her brown curls bounce with the pressure.

Jesse plops into a chair across from her and gives her his signature sheepish grin. “Hey, Helen.”

“Rod tells me you found some,” Warren addresses his son.

Asher nods. “Six months’ worth, at least.”

Warren smirks. “And we were thinking of skipping this place.”

“It is a bigger city.” Helen reminds him. “There’s always a higher risk for Rabids in these cities. We don’t need to take unnecessary risks.”

“Fuel is essential to our survival.” Warren’s eyebrows reach to his hairline.

Helen gives him a look. “How much do we have in our reserves already?”

“That’s not,” Warren begins, but stops to draw in a slow breath. In a low tone, he continues. “It wasn’t the only thing we needed, and you know that. With our numbers growing, we must find more supplies. I’m sure our hospital wing is grateful for the extra resources the team retrieved from their raid, especially when they found that pharmacy.”

“If it matters at all, most of the Rabid in this area are in the latest stage of the virus. They were practically comatose.” Jamie offers, chewing her thumbnail.

“And they don’t call us the Zombie Killer Squad for nothing,” Jesse’s lips pulling up into a smug smile.

Rod glowers. “Whoever came up with that name must be five.”

“I was twelve, actually.” Asher’s shoulders sag. “But I still think it’s cool.”

Jesse raps on the table. “You’re damn right it is.”

Rod coughs to suppress a laugh.

Warren clicks his tongue. “Anyway, your mother has made a discovery this afternoon.” He glances at Helen, giving her the floor.

She nods. “So, we’ve all assumed that the rabies virus mutated naturally, like most viruses do. However, my team and I have been studying the strains. I won’t bore you with all the science of it. You probably wouldn’t understand, anyway.”

“I might,” Jamie chimes in, bouncing in her seat.

Helen chuckles. “Yes, Jamie, you would. But I’m going to spare the others. What we’ve realized is that some components making up the strain infecting our zombies, as you like to call them, are genetically engineered.”

“Meaning?” Asher frowns.

Helen inhales. “The rabies virus didn’t mutate within nature, it was created.” Another breath. “By us.”

Editor: Lucy Cafiero