All valid points, she silently admitted. "It's a small room," she pointed out, "and there aren't any closets or huge objects for a zombie to hide behind." The conversation with O'Brien was becoming infinitely more interesting to Leah by the second, and it had a lot to do with the fact she was making him angry. Anger, she could deal with. Her expression didn't change as the man detailed exactly what had gone down the night he'd been bitten. "Lousy friend you had, there. At least there's one thing we can agree on: We don't trust each other. Next time, don't ask. Look for yourself."
Leah felt herself smirking inappropriately at O'Brien's declaration that he would rather die from zombie bites than a bullet wound. "You know what they say about payback being a bitch. I hope you find the coward and show him exactly what should be done with someone who makes the decision to sacrifice someone else to the zombies."
Huh. Well, she'd walked right into that one. Guy hoarding the meds. Greedy asshole. How the irony managed to go over her head was beyond her. Leah snorted. "Basic proof that I'd shoot me, if I caught me hoarding the meds." She reluctantly pulled her hand away from her machete. "Won't doesn't mean you can't — or shouldn't — shoot me."
Leah scowled at him as he reached past her for the cane. "I'm beginning to see why that rookie shot you. With your lack of brains, it's no wonder he wanted to give you up for zombie chow," she snapped back at him, not caring whether or not the exertion used to take down the zombie caused O'Brien any pain. Actually, no, she hoped it did hurt. It would serve him right for drawing the shuffler's attention to them.
Darting around to an aisle that was free of O'Brien and his swinging cane, Leah spotted the zombie that had stumbled through the broken display window. It was the second hooker zombie — the one with the broken high-heel. Though it couldn't regain its feet, it still attempted to claw its way toward Leah, hands reaching out for her feet. Leah kicked the zombie in the face, then moved into position to bring her machete swiping down like an axe.
Glancing up from the re-dead corpse, the woman felt a shiver go through her. The commotion of the two hooker zombies had successfully garnered the attention of the rest of the zombies on the street. Too many to take on by herself, even if they were the slowest, sickliest-looking zombies ever.
"Great," she muttered, straightening up and glancing over her shoulder. "Better have that gun ready, Quarantine Guy."