I turn to leave, heart lighter, pass the large container truck parked near the entrance, my mind on travel and reaching New York with new companions.
The moment I clear the obstruction, out into the open parking lot again, I feel something grab my arm. On instinct, the calm long gone, I shriek at the smell, the pull, as something jerks against the thick fabric of my jacket. My eyes are drawn downward, to the Shamble who used to be a girl, her teeth embedded in my sleeve, dead eyes staring straight at me.
My scream is primal, uncontrollable as I try to pull away, reaching out to shove her aside, to free myself of her touch, her scent, the putrid mess of her skin. Flesh touches flesh, my warmth flinching from the cold, spongy feel of her.