A cold, wet, slimy hand locked around her wrist, as another undead creature rose up on the other side of the boat. Katherine couldn’t bite back her scream this time, and it shattered the still night. One of the men backhanded her across the face. The pain shook Katherine free of the terror of the dead, and gave her something else to fear. She managed to pull her wrist free of the dead creature’s surprisingly strong grip and scrambled backward to sit with the other girls. “You stupid girl! You’ll bring all of the shamblers in the Pontchartrain down upon us,” one of the men said. But it was
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