Leah made a face and rolled her eyes. “Not like girly chicks, you mean. I know plenty of women who don’t like the smell of that stuff.” Of course, most of them were dead now. She amended, “Knew, anyway.” She arched an eyebrow when he gathered up some hair dye. “Planning on rocking a different hair color now? Bleach blond maybe? Or purple?”
“Finding Nemo. Yeah, she likes that, too.” For whatever reason. Maybe it was a kid thing. Leah never liked that movie much. She tolerated it whenever Mari wanted to watch it, though. “It’s sad to say a petting zoo would probably be out of the question,” Leah said, tilting her head to one side and shrugging with her eyebrows. “Too many people hungering for meat lately. If you guys don’t get that farm set up soon, people might decide that roasted bear sounds delicious.”
Shaking her head, she waved off the offer and pursed her lips into a forced smile. “I’m fine. Just got up too fast.” Which was true; moving too quickly was what threw off her equilibrium. Unusual and bothersome to someone like Leah, a weakness she didn’t want to admit to, even to her brother.
Leah got her machete in hand as they moved toward the door. She came to a sudden stop when Brandon put his hand out. “Smashers. Right. Those things could be anywhere, but at least they’re not that hard to spot.” Anybody with a gun could take on a Smasher and live to tell the tale, if they were proficient enough. People who relied on knives, no matter how big the blades were, were at a bigger disadvantage. Going one-on-one with a large zombie wasn’t in the cards. Not for the first time did it make Leah wonder if an upgrade or change in weaponry was necessary. Archery maybe.
She nodded, much as she hated being left behind. Not because she was scared, but because she wanted to help.