Marcus watched with growing awe tinged with fear. His daughter Emily couldn't look away, fascinated and horrified in equal measure.
After they'd traveled for about an hour, they came across a larger group of zombies blocking their path. At least twenty of the infected, drawn by the noise of their passage.
Marcus immediately drew his knife, falling into a combat stance. His movements were practiced, economical—this was someone who'd had legitimate training. He engaged the nearest zombie, his blade flashing in a series of cuts that dismantled the creature's ability to attack before finally driving the knife through its eye socket and into its brain.
Draziel's eyes gleamed with interest as he watched. Marcus was using a blade technique, crude but effective. Not the sophisticated military techniques Draziel himself had mastered, but something functional and practical.
