The Living Dead 2 (The Living Dead, #2)(197)

He turned back to Sensei, as if I wasn’t there. “Weapons? Just the pig stickers, right?”

We held open our packs so he could see. Guns and ammo were reserved for the defense of the community. You could travel outside but ammo and guns stayed in unless it was the guards going out to watch the fields during planting, weeding, or harvest. There are other reasons, too.

“Just the swords,” said Sensei.

Danny undid the massive padlock holding down the hinged bar, then said, “Don’t open it until I’ve checked from above, right?”

Sensei nodded, his face impassive. “Understood.”

Of course Sensei understood. He’d been outside more than anyone else in town.

Danny went back up the ladder and unslung the rifle. “There’s some in the cornfield over there.” He pointed to the left of the gate. “Maybe six or so standing up, but there could be more lying down. The corn is getting pretty high.” He pointed to the right. “The soybeans are only knee-high and there’s one wandering around in there. The road—” He lifted his rifle and fired one shot. “There, the road is clear until it dips down toward the river.”

Sensei glared at Danny.

Lou frowned. “What’d he do that for? He’s going to draw them to the gate.”

Sensei sighed. “It’s not as if we’re trying to avoid them, Lou.” He gestured, and I went to the bar and lifted it. Richard drew his sword and held it hasso, pointed straight up near his right shoulder. I heard Sensei sigh slightly but he didn’t say anything. Sensei gestured again and I pushed. The left-hand door opened outward on well-oiled hinges until it was ninety degrees open. Richard sprang out, looking around wildly. Lou rolled her eyes, and I nodded.

The asphalt was cracked and weed-lined, but the field crews had cleared any sizable brush away twenty feet on either side. A hundred feet in front of the gate, a body sprawled across the faded median stripes—Danny’s target. Richard took several steps forward and stopped in the middle of the road, sword still raised on high.

I looked behind the door, before moving forward, but it was clear.

Sensei said, “Richard, put away your sword.”

Richard looked back at Sensei, his eyes wide.

Sensei said, “What do we study?”

“Batto-ho, Sensei. The art of drawing and cutting.”

“Yes. So, save your strength. Trust your training. We are out in the open. You will have lots of time to draw.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Richard did noto, the sheathing of the sword, in the Shindo Munen Ryu style, first lowering the tip forward, reversing the grip, and swinging the blade up so the mune, the back of the blade, rested on his shoulder, then bringing the saya, the wooden scabbard, forward until it touched the mune. He brought the tskua, the handle, forward until the sword’s tip crossed the opening of the saya, and then reversed, sliding it home. Done smoothly and quickly it is beautiful to see.

I winced. This was not beautiful. Richard nearly stabbed himself in the hand.

Sensei stepped forward, close to Richard, and said something quietly. Richard blushed, but he stepped back and said, “Yes, Sensei.”

From the wall, Danny said loudly, “Be back before dark, right?”

Lou held her finger to her lips and Danny laughed, making no effort to keep his voice down. Once an *, always an *.

We turned away and a minute later I heard the gate shut and the bar drop. Sensei led us on, sticking to the road first, going toward the zombie that Danny had shot from the wall. Ten feet short, Sensei stamped his foot hard on the ground.

The body twitched.

Sensei shook his head and stepped back.

Danny had made all that noise for nothing. The shot had grazed the side of the zombie’s head, tearing away an ear, but the central nervous system disconnect hadn’t happened. It pushed itself up on all fours and looked at us. It was bald and scabby but it had been a woman once. A pearl earring, still shiny in the sun, hung from the remaining ear. Once I saw that I couldn’t help looking for the other earring. Yep, there it was on the asphalt, six feet up the road, still attached to the other earlobe.

“Lou,” said Sensei.

“Hai.” Lou slid forward, feet brushing across the asphalt.

Richard gave her an angry glance but Lou’s attention was focused on the zombie. As she moved closer it shoved up with its arms, coming upright on its knees. Lou drew and cut with one motion, horizontal, her left arm pulling sharply back on the scabbard as the tip cleared.

The sword cut cleanly through the neck. The body dropped down and the head bounced off the payment and rolled to the side.

Sensei nodded.

Lou cleaned her blade with alcohol, put the sword back in its saya, and threw up in the ditch.

Richard opened his mouth to say something but I turned sharply so my saya struck his hip. When he turned, frowning, to look at me I said, “Oh. Sorry.”

Sensei glanced back at us, then pointed out across the soybeans to a figure shambling in our direction. “Yours, Rosa. Richard, you go along and observe.” He lifted two fingers up and pushed them toward his eyes.

“Yes, Sensei,” I said. “Eyes open.”

Richard walked directly toward the zombie but I said, “Walk in the rows. Come winter, we’ll be eating these beans if you leave any alive.” I didn’t look to see how he took that but set off briskly between two rows of plants at right angles to the road. My zombie swung its head toward me and changed course. It was one of the stupider ones, unable to predict an intercept point, so it walked in a constantly changing curve, always turning toward me.