Chapter 41

• The processing plant was worse than the lieutenant had described.
• It was a fortress, a jagged, rusted-out island of steel and concrete in the middle of a sea of urban decay. A ten-foot-high chain-link fence, topped with concertina wire, surrounded the entire facility. And between the fence and the main building was the moat.
• It wasn't water. It was a deep, concrete trench, and it was filled with a writhing, churning mass of infected. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, their hands clawing at the air, their groans a low, constant, hungry sound.