"Guys?" I try again, stepping cautiously over the half-digested remains of a zombie's face. "If you're alive, now would be a great time to say something."
It doesn't work and it makes my stomach tighten.
I take another step, the wood creaking beneath my weight, and suddenly…
Creeeeak.
I whip toward the sound.
It is the bathroom door and slowly and painstakingly, it swings open, the hinges whining like they haven't been oiled since the dinosaurs went extinct.
And inside is Bea. Thank God!
She's curled up against the far wall, knees to her chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her face is a blotchy mess of dried tears and blood, and when she finally looks up, her eyes are dark pools of exhaustion.
And Yara – Holy hell.
She's sitting on the closed toilet lid, body slumped forward, arms hanging limply over her thighs. Her dark hair is a sweat-drenched mess, and her skin has that grayish-palehue that makes my gut twist.
She looks like shit. Total shit.
