“WHAT’S YOUR BRA SIZE?”
ALICE looked at the kid dressed in green fatigues, barely old enough to drive.
“Excuse me?”
“Apologies, ma’am. I thought you’d been briefed by the colonel. All visitors to the park’s contained section are required to wear a long-sleeved viscose shirt and gloves, but we all wear specialty fit body armor, front and back, as well. They’re specialty fit, ma’am. Because you’ll be wearing it for so long.”
Alice shook her head.
“Specialty fit. You know.” He gestured across his chest.
“Someone finally started putting boob indents in body armor.”
“Um. Yes, ma’am. Our female colleagues say they’re much more comfortable for long-term wear.”
“Fine. I’m usually a 42C. Unless you use Victoria’s Secret sizing.”
“Ma’am?”
“Never mind.”
Alice looked around the supply room. It was nothing but gear. She’d watched Bobby Baltimore’s several shows many times and met him on a handful of occasions. He’d dominated YouTube since before landing his first network deals, and she’d seen a lot of those, too. She’d never once seen Bobby wear a helmet. There were helmets in the room now — some with visors and some without — but nobody on TV ever wore them. Maybe they never came for the head. Or maybe they made it harder to aim and fire.
“And for your viscose shirt, ma’am?”
“How old are you, Private?”
“Eighteen, ma’am.”
“Let me tell you something about women. The first is that you should never ask a girl her size. The second is that you should never, under any circumstances, call a woman ma’am.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Call me Alice.”
“If you wish, ma’ … of course, Alice.”
“I guess I’ll take a medium, if they’re small, medium, and large.”
“Of course.” Now the kid seemed flustered. He began to search, and Alice decided conversation was warranted, to de-embarrass him over the ma’am, size, and tits remarks.
“Why are they called viscose shirts?” she asked as he rummaged through shirts. “Are the shirts particularly slow-running, like molasses?”
“Not viscous, ma’am. ‘Viscose.’ It’s a semi-synthetic blend sometimes known as rayon.”
“Fashionable.”
“It’s what attack dog training shirts are made of.”
Humor drained from Alice like a plug had been pulled. “Oh.”
He handed her a long-sleeved gray shirt and a pair of thick gloves. “You want a helmet?”
“Do I need one?”
“It’s optional. You’re not likely to encounter a horde our spotters don’t see coming, but it’s possible you’ll get blowback.”
“‘Blowback’?”
“Blood or tissue. From a close-quarters kill.”
“Oh. No.” Alice forced a laugh, even though the idea was equal parts revolting and terrifying. She’d covered Sherman Pope and Hemisphere almost exclusively for years now and knew the realities, but being this close to the disease’s rotting face made her heart beat harder than she cared to admit. “I guess I’ll turn my head if guts start flying. And hey, if I get infected, I can always go on Necrophage, right?”
She said it as a joke, but the kid was nodding, probably ready to tell her about their on-site clinic. Ma’am.
“This will do,” she said, stopping him before he could speak.
“Did you bring boots, ma’am?”
“They’re in my bag. Do I need leg viscose?”
“Denim should be sufficient,” he said, gesturing toward Alice’s jeans. “Once the inhabitants reach the rage phase and start to rot, it doesn’t take long before their teeth become unstable in their gums. The state of living death allows them to experience tooth decay in a way a normal corpse can’t, until it’s fully arrested. But even subjects who’ve managed to lose all their teeth — and those are few and far between — often bite rocks and other objects to force bone back through the gums. Still, you’d be hard pressed to find one that could bite through jeans quickly enough that your escorts wouldn’t be able to intervene.”
Alice supposed that was supposed to be comforting. It was the opposite.
“What about weapons?”
“Only licensed hunters are allowed weapons inside the park. Would you like to apply?”
Alice shook her head.
“Just as well. We don’t supply anything, so you’d need to have brought your own guns and blades.” He nodded. “Right this way. You can change in that room there, ma’am.”