“I very
much doubt that,” Raven replies.
The girl
says nothing, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards her. She
pirouettes round him to slice another rotting head from the shoulders
of a man approaching from behind.
“We've got
to get out of here,” she says, “they use contained areas to
overwhelm you with their numbers.”
She grabs
his arm, tugging at him as she starts to run through the supermarket.
“I don't
have time for this,” Raven says, but she yanks at him with such
ferocity that he has little choice but to follow. They hurry down an
aisle lined with tins and jars, the girl slicing her way past any
customers in their path.
