"Aaaaaaaaaand, relax."
The scythes drop and the group of us let out audible gasps of relief. I shake my arms out, one after another, willing the burn to go away. Next to me, Big Sue catches my eye.
"She ain`t human," she mutters, talking about Miss Duncan. I nod. No, Miss Duncan ain`t human. Because there ain`t no way a normal woman, and a white woman at that, could survive ten years in the Army hunting down shamblers. I can just imagine how that went, the other soldiers fallign all over themselves to lay down their jackets every time Miss Duncan needed to cross a puddle. No, I cannot believe a woman could maintain her virtue and serve honorably with the troops out west. So while I do believe Miss Duncan is a fine instructor, I do not believe that she is human. Perhaps she`s a revenant, like the creature in Mr. Alexander Westing`s latest weekly serial "The Ghost Knocks Thrice." Miss Duncan is pretty enough; I tend to think she would make a fine revenant, possessing the bodies of young women and using them to avenge crimes of passion. Of course, that raises the question as to why Miss Duncan is here at Miss Preston`s instead of out seeking her vengeance. Perhaps even revenants need steady employment.
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