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Perry wondered if Clarence Otto really had any idea just how cool this chick was. He hated everyone in this f.u.c.ked-up project, but he had to admit he hated Margaret a little less than the others. He tilted a fresh beer toward her.

“You want a beer, chica? I tried to offer your boy Toby one, but he told me the only good whitey was a dead whitey.”

Margaret sat down at the table, opposite the little body on the floor. She did it so casually it could have been a normal scene in any kitchen, save for her black biohazard suit and the corpses.

“No, Perry, Clarence didn’t say that. And no, I don’t want a beer, but thank you. You’ve got to stop this.”

“Stop drinking? Why, what a great idea. Sobriety has done so much for me.” He finished the beer and grabbed another. The buzz was really kicking into gear now. He wanted it, needed it to take over so he could forget. If he got drunk enough, maybe he could sleep.

“Perry,” Margaret said, “look around you. Look what you’ve done. You killed these people.”

“Why do you all keep saying they’re people? They were the walking dead.”

“No they weren’t, d.a.m.n it. I saved you, didn’t I?”

“And what a delightful experience that was.”

“I know it was painful,” she said.

Perry laughed. “Yeah. Painful. By the way, you sure your last name isn’t Mengele, not Montoya?”

“Oh, you can just kiss my a.s.s, Perry,” Margaret said. “I saved your life. Amos and I figured out how all by ourselves, because trust me, your disease wasn’t exactly listed in Wikipedia. I know it hurt, but I saved your life—and you compare me to Josef Mengele? How about instead you just say thank you for saving my life, Margaret.”

“And you said I wasn’t good at pus.h.i.+ng b.u.t.tons.”

It was funny how clearly you could see emotions through one of those visors. Margaret’s eyes narrowed, and her upper lip wrinkled up just a bit. Frickin’ adorable.

“Don’t forget, Doc, I gave you quite a head start,” Perry said. “I didn’t have any triangles when you got to me, remember? And you can look around all you want, but you won’t see any Chicken Scissors laying around. These people didn’t even try.”

She looked away. Everyone did when he mentioned the scissors. She took a slow breath, then looked at him dead-on again.

“Perry, I learned so much from helping you recover. I can save these people. Why do you think Dew is trying so hard to bring them in alive?”

Perry looked at Margaret, looked into her brown eyes. She had saved his life, that was true. Most of the time he wished she hadn’t.

It was so hard to believe there was a person as good as Margaret left in the world. It was also hard to believe there was a person this naive.

“You’re kidding yourself, lady,” Perry said. “You can’t save them.”

“I can, Perry, and I will. We need your help, more than just finding the hosts. You still won’t tell us anything about your experience. Do you know how frustrating it is when the one person who survived won’t tell you the most basic information?”

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