The knife plunged straight into the infected man's eye.
Naomi didn't hesitate. She didn't flinch or even make a face. The blade sank deep enough that the infected's body immediately went limp before collapsing against a shelf stocked with motor oil and dusty automotive supplies.
Blood splattered across the floor, streaked across her sleeve, and dotted the side of her jacket.
Naomi simply ripped the knife free.
The corpse hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Then she wiped the blade clean against her coat as if she were cleaning dirt off a kitchen utensil rather than a weapon.
"Naomi! On me!"
Cherie's voice echoed throughout the gas station.
The older woman was already in motion, swinging a crowbar hard enough to crack an infected across the face. The impact sent the creature staggering into a display rack before Naomi stepped forward and finished the job without missing a beat.
All of this was for gas.
Just gas.
