Aftershock:

A Collection of Survivors Tales

By

Kristopher and Valerie Lioudis

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Kristopher & Valerie Lioudis

All Rights Reserved.

This work is not transferable. No part of this work can be sold, shared, copied, scanned, or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the creation of the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

To the herd, the goal is not to just survive, but to thrive. You are my reason for everything.

Table of Contents

Daniel

Jessica

Amy

Mick

Test Subject 63-04

Wayne

Reverend Mathis

Max and Rocky

William

Amy

Mick

Jessica

Amy

Max and Rocky

Mick

Daniel

Amy

Test Subject 63-04

Rev Mathis and the “Townies”

Daniel

Jessica

Wayne

Tim

Max and Rocky

William

Reverend Mathis

Vincent

Jessica

Test Subject 63-04

Mick

Daniel

Jessica

Wayne

Daniel

Tim

Test Subject 63-04

Reverend Mathis

Daniel

Jessica

Test Subject 63-04

Max

Mick

Ian & William

William

Ian

Daniel

The Rev

Daniel

Ian and William

Daniel

I shit my pants. My last clean pair of pants and I shit right in them. Of course there was fucking crawler latched onto my leg when it happened so put yourself in my shoes and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing. Me and the guys were out on a routine sweep of the south wall. There’s half a barn out there and every now and again one of those fucks comes draggin’ ass out the door. No big deal. We pop the fucker and move on with the day. Well today Captain Jackass says, “Go inside and check the loft.” Nobody understands why, but hey, orders is orders.

We row-sham-bo to see which one of us goes in. It’s dark as shit in there and nobody’s exactly jumping at the opportunity. Of course, I lose. Paper, fucking paper, when I know everybody else is going to throw scissors. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. I peek my head in real slow and toss a couple of light sticks in to cut the gloom. Looks clear so I step inside and make my way up this creaky-ass ladder. No shit, half the rungs are missing and every time I stretch up to step on the next one I can see some half-rotted bag of meat sinking its busted teeth into my balls. Overactive fucking imagination… So I make it up to the top and the fucking ladder gives way.

I call out to the guys that I’m okay and “Don’t anybody come in here and give me a fucking hand or anything!!” I clear the loft, nothing but some moldy hay and a pile of boards from when the roof came down in the corner. Just to be safe, I give the pile a good kick and watch the boards go over the edge between the wall. Now I got to figure out how to get the fuck down from here. The hay on the floor doesn’t look thick enough anywhere to break my fall. It’s a good twelve feet to the floor. I figure if I dangle over the edge and drop I can cut it down to four or five. That shouldn’t be too bad. I’ve hit the ground harder doing combat drops in the desert. Just keep your feet together and roll out of it.

I give another call to the guys. No answer. What the fuck? Did they fucking leave me here? That is some straight-up bullshit! You can bet your sack that Captain Jackass is getting his fucking lip split over this shit when I catch up. Not only does he give some bullshit order to go inside, but he doesn’t even have the fucking common sense to leave one fucking guy outside with me. What if this place had been full of those fucking meat bags?! Fuck him! Bars or no bars, I’m gonna kick his fucking a… It’s at this point that I hear the moan. Too late though, about as soon as my ears pick it up I can feel something tugging at my leg as I hang over the edge of the loft, then I can feel teeth sink in to the back of my ankle.

Right through my shitty, broke down boot. The next thing I feel is last night’s beans and rice doing the electric slide down my left leg. I drop down, too hard. I can feel my other ankle twist hard the wrong way as I hit the ground. That gray head is still locked onto my foot so I just start kicking and stomping. By the time I’m done there’s nothing left but a red, brown smear on the floor. I’m so amped I don’t notice the pain in my ankle, the non-bit one. I’ve seen guys get bit. It’s game fucking over. You can amputate if you want, but without fail within twenty four hours you’re burning like a fucking torch and one day, two tops, after that you’re dragging yourself through the street looking for a neck to chew on.

I have personally seen six guys get bit, and countless more on the briefing videos we watch, and every fucking one ends up the same. A drooler. A gray-skinned, shambling fucking zombie. Not one of them lasted longer than three days. Except me. See, I got bit four days ago now and I’m not even close to sick. I couldn’t go back to the group; they would have just put a bullet in my head and thrown me on the fire. I’ve been living in the woods waiting to turn, but nothing so far. I’m not getting my hopes up just yet, but I’ll tell you one fucking thing and you can take it all the fucking way to the bank… I ever see Captain Jackass again; I’m taking his fucking head off. With a dull, rusty, shit-covered axe.

Jessica

It was finally warm enough to enjoy living on the beach. It was early enough that the Bennies hadn’t shown up yet, and I could enjoy a lazy morning with my feet in the sand. My family has owned a piece of heaven on Long Beach Island for over 50 years now. I moved in last winter to have a safe haven to work on my book. My apartment in the city was too noisy and I just needed a change of scenery to get those creative juices going.

There is no place in the world like Long Beach Island. In the winter all the traffic lights flash yellow due to the small population of year round residents. The beaches are perfect, from one end to the other. In the summer the island is overrun with tourists. Then there are those magical few weeks, when the weather turns warm but the kids are all in school still so the tourists stay away. Those are the days I thank God for, and spend meditating on the beach.

My normally quiet beach morning was interrupted by two women noisily chatting about the strange illness that people were getting. They went on and on about the death rate and the short time span. I believed they were exaggerating as most New Jersey women do, but I was wrong. When I got back to the house I turned the TV on for the first time in weeks. The news was grim on every station.

I wondered why no one had called me. My parents are both deceased, but I have 2 siblings. I worried for their safety, then I worried that I didn’t matter enough to merit a phone call. My sister lives in California with her husband. She is an ER doctor. I tried calling her first figuring she might have an answer about what is going on. I couldn’t get ahold of her, so I tried my brother. He lives out in Montana and works from home as a consultant. He answered on the first ring.

“Jessie?”

“Yea Jack, it’s me. How are you doing? The news said there is a weird illness going around, anything near you?”

“Boy Jessie, when you are writing you are out of the loop. It’s been bad for a few weeks now. They are calling it the flu, but everyone knows it’s not. People get bitten by other people, then they die. Weirder still, they wake back up and bite more people.”

“What? That’s impossible Jack. There is no way. All the news here said was that the flu is going around, and to take precautions. That’s it. Nothing about cannibal dead people rising from the grave.”

“Jessie, I am telling you what I have seen myself. We are locked down in the house here, and I have boarded up everything I can. We aren’t leaving to go outside with those things wandering the streets. I love you Jessie, but I have to go. Stay safe.”

And then there was silence. Jack hung up and I haven’t heard from him since. I never got my sister on the phone. Now nothing works. No phones, no TV, no internet, nothing. Power has been out for a while too. Things were quiet here for a while. We got peace longer than most, but one day we had our first illness. Then it was ten people. Soon it was 50, and the island’s leaders took notice. An island with one bridge is easy to cut off from the rest of the world.

They blew the bridge. I couldn’t believe it when I heard the explosion. We were trapped, or saved. Anyone who was suspected of being sick was shot. Then we waited. 2 days later we figured we were safe. It only took 24 hours to go from bitten to dead, so the danger was over for us, or so we thought. No one took into account all the refugees that would come. We knew that some would try to get to the island by boat, but we underestimated the amount. We thought we could control the flow of people by setting up patrols.

This was like trying to stop a flood with a Dixie cup. They came in all kinds of boats. There were giant fishing vessels down to row boats. Some carried one or two people, others had so many aboard you couldn’t get a good count. So many people had a plan to escape by water. Our supplies were already limited on the island. Winter had just ended, and the stores were not yet stocked up for the summer rush. There was no way to check if all of the people arriving were well.

They showed up so quickly, and in such great numbers that we were unable to take the steps needed to ensure the island didn’t end up with the illness. Many were shot. Many of our patrol guards were shot too. There were desperate people on both sides. We wanted to keep our island safe, and they wanted to survive. The problem was they brought the outbreak with them. People were dying again. Now there were so many people on the island, and nowhere else to go.

The ill roamed the streets attacking anyone that crossed their paths. The beach house I am in is on stilts. I took an axe and chopped up the steps leading up to the house. Now I am floating one story off the ground. As long as the sick ones don’t figure out how to climb walls I should be able to stay up here for a while. I have solar panels on the roof, and I have been using them to power the fridge.

Lucky for me, it has been a wet spring. I collected a large amount of rainwater to keep myself hydrated. I haven’t put a dent in the groceries that I stocked up on the last time I ventured out to the store. It was a while ago, before all of this started. I tend to stock up when I am writing. I don’t like to stop to go to the store in the middle of a creative spurt. It’s a really good thing that I have that habit.

What’s killing me through all of this is that now I can write. For the first time in my life I have no trouble getting the words on the page. I don’t struggle with storylines, characters are flowing freely. I can write and it is the apocalypse. There will be no one to read what I put down. No machines left to mass produce the stories that I have to tell. Maybe that is why the writing is coming so easily now. The pressure for perfection is gone. Is it worth it to construct the stories if there will never be an audience to enjoy them?

Life on the island became less of a slice of heaven and more like a chunk of hell every day. The sick took over so much of the island, then the hunting parties began. Men and women driving the sick out in the open using dogs as bait. They would let the animal loose on a street and it would sense the danger. As soon as the dog heard the moans it would begin to bark, and the hunters would drive it back if it tried to flee. The sick would stumble out and be shot or skewered on sight.

The hunters gained ground every day. Some days it was a block, others it was more. My home is on the north end so it was one of the first areas that was reclaimed by them. Their group headquarters was at a dock on the north end. Before the illness came the dock was a commercial seafood producer. There were scallop boats and daytrip boats. Much of what I love about the island was there. These people weren’t the tourists, they were the true islanders. From that dock rose a man to power. The cause was pure in the beginning. They were going to make the island safe again. It’s turned into something so different now.

They say a man named Vincent is running the group now. As a first mate from one of the bigger boats, he made a good living off the sea. When the illness struck he was out on his boat with the crew and captain. One of them brought the sickness to sea. Fishing is a dangerous job, but this was a whole new hell. Eight men went out on that trip, and only two came back. Vincent and a deck hand named Earl were the only two to survive. No one knows how they lived and made their way back, but there has been a lot of speculation.

Some say there never was the sickness on the boat and Vincent just used it as an excuse to get rid of people he had never really liked. Others say that Vincent single handedly saved Earl’s life by fighting the zombies right off the boat. The most common myth is that Vincent was bitten and he didn’t get sick. That can’t be true, everyone who gets bitten dies. We have all seen it. I can’t believe there are people out there that would believe something like that after all we have seen.

The hunters started by flushing out the dead. Fighting for every inch of ground against a foe that knew no pain or fatigue. When they cleared my block and set up patrols to hold the line, I was relieved yet wary. The line was easy to hold with only a thousand feet from bay to surf. I’ve never been a people person and the prospect of forging an alliance with these rouge hunters petrified me. It was the past the point where I had a choice, they had my home in their territory now. All I could do was pray that they weren’t as bad as the dead that shuffled down below.

Patrol members not on the line went from home to home clearing out any dead that may be trapped inside. No one wanted to gain all that ground just to have it taken back by one missed zombie. All you need is one in the back of the line to infect everyone. When they came to my house I let them in. They went from room to room searching for the dead, but I could tell it was much more than that. They were assessing what supplies I had left. No one asked for anything that night, but I knew they would be back. I was left to wonder when they came, would they leave enough for me?

Vincent came the next day. He personally greeted each new living person to the group. This was done to get you to see him, and know he was in charge. We were gathered together for an orientation of sorts. Vincent’s presence overwhelmed the crowd. Awe and wonder filled their eyes.

“We are fighting to get our land back, our safety back, and with your help we can accomplish just that. I don’t care what is going on in the rest of the world, but this is my island and I sure as hell am not going to sit back and watch it be taken over by those deceased nut jobs that are stumbling about our streets. My island, my rules and I say they need to go!”

Vincent said his peace and excused himself to more important matters. He left us with the one person he trusted to get the job done. The laundry list of needs was read off to us by Earl. Where Vincent exuded confidence and power, Earl gave off a victim vibe. You wanted to help him, to save him. My ears perked up when solar panels was read off the list.

“Are these mandatory requests?” I dared to ask.

“No, no of course not. What is your name again?”

“Jessica.” I stated.

“No, Jessica,” he sputtered. “These are all things that we need to accomplish our goals, but we will not take things from you. Don’t you want to help us with our goal though? Don’t you want to make the island safe for everyone? Remember, just yesterday we couldn’t have this meeting because you weren’t safe down here on the street. Yet today, with our help, you can be down here in the sunshine talking together about a solution.”

“I want to help just as much as everyone else, I just want…” I paused realizing I was giving them anything they wanted no matter what I wanted. We could do this easy, or hard. I made the choice, they could have it. They could have everything I had and I wouldn’t fight. But I knew there was something wrong about all of this, I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet. “I don’t know what I want. I’m sorry, I really am grateful, I’m just still in shock.”

“As we all are Jessica, as we all are.”

Then the laundry list began again. They wanted most of my supplies. Almost everything useful that was out in the open was on their list. Later as others were bringing their things to the communal pile I saw I wasn’t alone. The others at the meeting were going to have to sacrifice as well if they wanted to stay on this side of the line.

Amy

I was bitten three days ago. I made a run to the store for supplies, though it was picked bare, and was ambushed on my way back into my shelter. I was sure I was dead, or at least doomed to part of the undead, but I never got sick. Three days and I haven’t even spiked a fever. According to the news reports that were on before the power and communications went out, the sickness is quick. It attacks your system right away, and you “die” in 24 hours or less. So the mystery is why am I still alive?

From what I have seen over the last three months, there is no immunity. People get bitten, people get sick, people die, and then those same people come back as flesh eating shells of their former selves. The first person I watched die, and be reborn as a monster was my brother. It was early in the outbreak; he had gone to work and had been bitten on his way out of the garage where he was a mechanic. His wife called that evening to ask for help. She knew something was really wrong with him, but we had no idea what at the time.

I arrived at his house, and found him chewing on my sister-in-law’s arm. She was screaming for me to take the kids and get out of there. My nephew put up the biggest fight; he didn’t want to leave his mother behind. Sixteen-year-old boys can be stubborn and incredibly protective. I believe that he knew before the rest of us that he would never see his parents again. His sisters jumped into my arms while sobbing, they were eager to get away from their father turned monster.

By the next morning, their neighborhood was quarantined. The National Guard had set up a perimeter and anyone trying to leave was to be shot on sight. The government knew what was happening and didn’t warn us. They didn’t want to incite a panic. Someone should have said something sooner. We could have planned better. I know all of that is not true, but I need to blame someone. I’ve lost everyone important to me, with the exception of my brother’s children.

Three months is longer than I expected to live. Everywhere is overrun. There is nowhere to hide. The small house I rented, when money mattered and people owned things, is our safe zone. It’s not really safe, but that’s what I call it for the kids’ sakes. The girls are eleven and eight. They need to feel like I can protect them, even though I fear I can’t. Getting bitten was my worst case scenario. Who would care for them? But I didn’t get sick. Though grateful, I don’t know why I am different.

My nephew Garett and I did our best to fortify our safe zone. We blocked all the doors and windows. We were ahead of everyone else in the neighborhood when it came to blocking ourselves in. What we saw happen in Garett’s parents’ home made us realize we were really in trouble. Neither one of us believed that the news reports were truthful. We had seen different. They kept saying it was the flu, and people were getting sick, but not to worry. “Wash your hands,” they said. Like that mattered.

Work didn’t seem important anymore. The first thing we did was drain my bank account buying supplies at the hardware store, grocery store, and camping supply store. That was Day 1 for us. We didn’t leave our neighborhood after that. Garett and I boarded up the windows, then boarded them over again. We cut fencing down around the neighborhood in the middle of the night and dragged it back to the house. We used it on the inside of the windows, as a third layer of defense.

Then we started building brick walls in the house. Where there was a window, there were three layers already, but the brick made us feel more secure. Our sleeping areas are very dark, and feel like a cave even during the day. I can almost sleep. Garett takes watch for a few hours and lets me doze off. I know, like me, when he closes his eyes he sees his father’s soulless face as he is literally eating his wife. Neither of us sleeps well.

It took us a week to scavenge the items we needed from the surrounding homes. Before the sickness hit, I had never stolen anything in my whole life. This isn’t really stealing, is it? It’s survival. Many of the people had abandoned the area anyway. I hope they found somewhere safe, but I doubt anywhere safe exists anymore. Don’t tell the kids that, though, I want them to have hope. A person without hope is dead anyway.

Garett and I found guns on our fourth trip out. I felt like I was flying the minute I saw them. Finally, something really useful. I knew that there were more than just the dead to deal with. There were going to be scavengers, just like us. They may be dangerous. I had the kids to protect. I’d watched enough movies to know that disasters bring out the worst in people, and the worst people thrive in them. With the guns we had a chance, a way to stop others from taking our dwindling supply stash.

The other trips netted us some canned goods to add to what we had bought on Day 1. We syphoned gas from cars, and took any batteries we could find. I even found a couple bottles of vodka. Breaking and entering felt wrong at first, but it quickly became second nature. Garett, God bless him, found some dolls and board games for his sisters. Hannah, my youngest niece, cried softly when she saw the Barbie he had lifted for her. It was one that she had owned before, and even though she never said, I believe it made her miss her parents. She never puts it down now. I guess we all need to hold on to the past. Even if the past was so recent.

By the seventh day, we could no longer risk going out at night, or during the day for that matter. The streets were filled with the dead or others looking for safe shelter and food. It was amazing how quickly things downgraded in this area. It took another 4 weeks before the power and communications went out. Our neighborhood was in a quarantine zone by day 4, so I guess we were one of the first areas hit by the sickness. You could hear the shots being fired as people tried to escape the area. They tried to contain the sickness, but it was far too late for that. From the cryptic news reports, we could see that there were pockets of sickness spreading everywhere around the world.

We have been lucky so far, our defenses are holding. I don’t know how long that will be true. I have no way to know how many others are surviving and hiding in our area. The last few news broadcasts were grim. By then, even the government was admitting that we were facing an apocalyptic situation. They had no answers, and half of our population was gone. That was two months ago. We may be the only living beings left. My trip to the store wasn’t just to get supplies; we hadn’t run that low yet to become desperate, but to get information.

The children and I are lost as to what we should do next. We have enough food and water to last us another few months, but then what? Is help coming? Is there anyone left to help? Then I was bitten. It was stupid to risk it going outside, but we needed to know what was going on. I could have lost it all for us, but I didn’t. I just don’t feel sick. Why don’t I feel sick?

Mick

I got the call on Thursday morning that work was cancelled indefinitely. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. I’ve been working the same shitty job day in and day out for the last 18 years. I hate being there, but what the hell am I supposed to do other than go to work. So, anyway, work’s cancelled. Plant’s closed, and we are all just supposed to figure out how to make life work without an income.

Town goes to hell pretty quick. Most of us were employed by the plant. Everyone is out of work and no one knows what to do. The grocery store is empty in 3 days. The liquor store was dry in less than that. A bunch of people just packed up and took off to parts unknown. TV talked about what was happening, but kept saying it was under control. Under control my ass, they don’t have a handle on shit. The plant shutting down was the end of the world.

I was wrong about losing my job being the end of the world. Those freaking flesh eating jerk offs out there are the end of the world. All my neighbors are either gone, or gone, if you know what I mean. A bunch of the guys from the plant decided to ride it out on their favorite barstool. Seemed like a great idea to me. I didn’t have shit to come home to anymore. Wife left years ago and took the kids with her. They are somewhere living high on the hog, and I’m down here busting my ass everyday just to miss making ends meet.

So we’re sitting in the bar bullshitting about all the shit we never got to do, or all the shit we are gonna miss when it’s all gone, when a bunch of dead assholes come busting through the door and window. Like a pack, but slow moving, so maybe I’d call it a herd. Bill gets attacked first, but not just attacked, eaten. It was insane, one minute we are laughing our asses off about never getting to bang a stripper, and the next he’s lunch. Johnny jumps up and starts running towards the back, but trips over his own feet and they swarm him. Blood is everywhere.

Bob, Red, Big Dan, and even Lucky all getting chewed on. It was like a scene from a shitty zombie movie from the 80’s. I worked my way around the outside of the action and had one foot out the front door when I felt it. Flesh eating freak had my shoulder, sinks his teeth into it, too. Asshole. Hurt like hell. I managed to pull away when I knocked his head into the door jam. Ran like hell the whole way home. I watch the news, I’m not a stupid man. I know that getting bitten means you’re a flesh eater now.

I figured I had 24 hours at tops. I drank all the booze in the house, and smoked every last one of my cigarettes. I passed out sometime that night. I woke up hungover, but fine. Still feel fine. That was 3 weeks ago. I figure I am the only man on the planet who is going to survive this mess. That’s if I can manage not to become lunch. There isn’t anyone else left alive around here.

The dead just roam, all day, all night. The moaning is unbearable. I locked myself in the corner store a few days ago. At first the fuckers scratched and clawed at the barricades. I sat still as could be. No noise to give away where I was and eventually they got bored or some shit. I’m almost out of smokes again, and that pisses me off more than anything else. End of the world is some sick shit, but quitting smoking under this kind of stress is some kind of torture.

I keep thinking about taking off. Maybe I’ll go look and see if anyone else is still out there. Anyone who doesn’t want to eat my ass. It’s a lot to figure out though. I need a car, because I sure as fuck am not walking cross country with those things chasing me the whole time. I need weapons and there are none in the store. I bet I could make something if I really put my head to it. Then there’s the car. If it doesn’t have keys in it I am screwed. I don’t know how to hot wire a car. Add to my lack of know-how that every second I sit there making noise some thing is going to be trying to get a bite of me.

That’s if the doors aren’t locked. If they are, I’m dead. Moving on is going to take a good amount of time to plan. I got some shit to figure out, and to tell you the truth I’m happy here. At least until I’m out of smokes again.

Test Subject 63-04

Test subject 63-04 continues to defy understanding. A corporal with the US Army 1st Infantry Division, the subject was exposed via a bite on the left distal forearm approximately 6 weeks, 4 days, and 12 hours ago. All others infected via bite, scratch, or exposure to any bodily fluid have succumbed in no more than seventy-two hours.

The as yet unidentified pathogen has a relatively predictable life cycle, dependent on the health of the individual and the location of the wound. There is no prodromal period, the incubation lasts mere hours, and within the first day the victim exhibits a fever of approximately 104 degrees. Profuse sweating, bone pain, nausea, abdominal rigidity, and generalized dystonia are fairly common. These symptoms are followed by convulsions, sepsis, and finally, clinical death. Reanimation occurs anywhere from 1 to 6 hours later.

The pathogen appears to somehow metabolize necrotic tissue. This, at least, explains the reanimated beings’ apparent hunger, though the bodies seem to gain no real nourishment from the flesh they consume. One pervading theory states that the pathogen is somehow able to digest the rotting flesh consumed by the creature while differentiating from the flesh of the host, probably due to its own infected nature. This would stand to reason as to why the infected and the reanimated do not attack each other.

The pathogen seems to replicate in the prefrontal cortex of the brain until a critical viral load is attained. It has been theorized that this immature stage of the pathogen’s life cycle utilizes something in the glial cells to sustain an alarming replication rate. Once this threshold is passed the pathogen metastasizes throughout the infected individual. While the majority of the individual’s brain tissue is destroyed, the primary motor and sensory cortices remain roughly intact. At least in so much as the creatures remain ambulatory and with rudimentary visual, auditory, and in some cases even olfactory sense. Many of the symptoms suffered by victims can be explained by this sudden rapid tissue death in the brain.

The pathogen is neither a virus nor a bacteria. All attempts at treatment using traditional antibiotics, antivirals, and gene therapy have been met with zero success. Several variations of vaccine have been developed in an attempt to inoculate non-infected subjects. Each successive attempt has met with failure. These experiments have led to each subject succumbing to the disease in 100% of cases recorded.

Dead within 3 days. In all recorded instances. Except test subject 63-04. His medical history reveals nothing exceptional. Tibial fracture at age 7, several bouts of pneumonia during adolescence, elevated blood pressure typical for a person in his line of work. Nothing that would explain his apparent immunity to the disease. A complete battery of tests has been run repeatedly. Blood, stool, tissue samples from all body systems, even sperm samples have produced no leads. Attempts to transfer the subject’s apparent immunity to other individuals via blood transfusion have met with failure, both in cases where the second subject was infected prior to the test and those where exposure occurred after transfusion. Multiple attempts have also been made to infect Test Subject 63-04 via oral, intravenous, and parenteral routes. All have met with failure. At this point little is known, though much is conjectured, about the exact physiology of the pathogen. All attempts to isolate and classify it have proven unsuccessful. Bacterial cultures have come up negative, antibody tests have yielded no results, and if it is, in fact, a parasite as has been theorized, it is of a type not yet discovered. Were not half the staff already infected we may have had time to fully examine the few raw samples we had. Those samples have all been tainted by human contact.

Extensive scouting has yet to locate a sample of the pathogen in the environment. Heavily infested areas have been scrubbed but have yet to yield a grain of contaminated soil, a drop of contaminated water, or a molecule of the substance outside a human host. All we know is that the disease is 100% communicable in the case of contact with the congealed mess that passes for the bodily fluid of an infected individual, and once exposed there is a 100% fatality rate. Except for Test Subject 63-04.

On a personal note, as there is not enough staff left at this facility to even consider continuing research, I believe I will dispatch 63-04 myself. This evening. I have been infected and I do not see any reason to let him go on living while the rest of us are doomed. My fever has spiked again and I have lost sensation in my left arm. By this time tomorrow I will be wandering the corridors with the others.

Wayne

I told you so. I told everyone something like this was going to happen. Did they believe me? Fuck no! They called me a crackpot, or a nutcase. They made fun of me behind my back, and to my face. Who’s laughing now shitheads? I’m sitting here in my bunker with my feet up watching DVDs with the wife and kids as the rest of you scramble to stay alive. I wonder how that bitch down the street is doing. The one who made it a point to tell my beautiful wife every time she saw her that she should get herself and the kids away from someone as unstable as me.

How about the assholes from work who snickered when I walked in or out of a room. All those losers who I tried to warn because I am a nice, Christian man. Wonder what they are up to. I bet they are either dead or close to it. I heard knocks at the bunker door a few weeks back. It sounded like Charlie from accounting. I told people when the world goes to shit you better not try my house. I am prepared, but you have to prepare yourself too. They laughed at me for being a prepper, then show up thinking I am going to feed and protect them. Fuck that. I’ve got my wife and kids to think of.

Our bunker is an underground fortress. It’s comfortable too. Nancy was pissed when I spent a huge chunk of our savings on it, but she knew I only wanted to take care of her and the kids, so she let it go after a while. It’s like a condo. I had it custom made by a company in the south, and brought to our property. They did an awesome job. We’ve got all the comforts of home. Most preppers have a bunker or safe room, but I have the Cadillac of all bunkers. God love my wife, she spent the first year after I got it installed decorating the place to feel like home.

We’ve got food for the four of us that will last us another year or so. Our water supply is getting used a bit faster than I thought it would. Power isn’t an issue. As long as the sun shines we have power. I have a backup generator also, but haven’t needed it yet. The ham radio has kept us in contact with other preppers. We’ve been listening to the reports from across the globe, and the news isn’t good. It’s freaking terrifying. People are dead, or walking dead. Most people were not prepared for the breakdown of society and panicked. Stores were out of food in days. There was no one there to stop people from raiding and looting.

It sounds like it happened the same everywhere. People ran out of supplies, even with the ones they stole. Then they began attacking neighbors. Once the area was picked clean many just left. Most of those people died trying to get wherever they thought safety would be. From there it was two possibilities, dead eaten or dead zombie. Not us preppers though. We saw this coming. We had our plan B ready to go. All those days that people felt we wasted put to use in an instant. My children knew instantly what to do through the trainings I gave them that others called abuse.

I’m not happy that I was right, and technically I wasn’t completely right. I thought the whole thing would end due to hyperinflation. Joe in Maine worried about the Super-flu. Betsy in Texas said it would be a dirty bomb. Drew in Washington was sure it would be a Super-volcano. Les in Key West put his money on Global War. We all had our theories. None were right, except Chris in Jersey, he swore it would be zombie apocalypse. I’m guilty of thinking he was a nutcase too, so maybe I should be a little less pissed at those who judged me.

Reverend Mathis

It is written “And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.” I used to preach that this was a beautiful and miraculous event, the light of the Lord shining in judgment of His children. I told them that the every man according to his works part meant that if they spent their lives serving the Lord that He would smile on them and deliver them into Heaven. I have gained new perspective on this verse in these last months. The Heavenly Father has indeed poured out his judgment on His children. Needless to say, we have been found sorely wanting. It has been postulated that this plague is caused by a virus or parasite or microwaves or cosmic radiation depending on which scientist happens to be holding the microphone when what’s left of the press is around. Not one of them has stated what is patently obvious to anyone without the burden of a PhD. God is angry. For too long we have turned our backs on Him, and now He turns His back on us. Every man according to his works. There are those in these times of tribulation, not the capital “T” tribulation mind you, I do not believe we have even made it that far yet, there are those that prey upon their brethren in an even more merciless manner than do the dead. I have seen with my own eyes the true nature of the evil we fight, and it does not moan and slouch. It smiles and begs a drink of water or a bit of food before it buries a knife in your chest then rapes your wife while you bleed to death on the floor of the sanctuary. Then he leaves the door open behind him so the dead can follow behind and finish the job.

As I lay there bleeding, making my final peace and praying for my wife I heard them attack him outside. I regret to say that my reaction to this was most unchristian. In my heart I rejoiced as his screams were lost under the gurgling sound of his own blood pouring from his throat and the tearing sound of his own flesh. I have begged forgiveness for this weakness and I believe the Father has granted it to me. I however, lacked the strength to bar the door before those things gained entry into the sanctuary. I could barely make it to my knees by this point. I prayed with all my power that the Lord would spare us. Half of my prayer was granted. I have since understood that it was His will that my wife should not live with the burden of what was done to her. Four of them came dragging in from the narthex. I made it to my feet not under my own power and grabbed a brass candlelighter. I attempted to close the distance and put myself between them and her. I was not able. They set upon her and had torn her apart before I could even manage more than a few steps. I swung the lighter will all the force I could muster, and, I believe a little more from another source, and stove in the skull of the first one I could reach. The others turned to me and advanced. I closed my eyes and swung wildly to no avail. I felt hands close around my wrists breaking one of them and I dropped the lighter. Refusing to open my eyes, I felt broken teeth sink into my arm. I prayed one last prayer the Lord would welcome His child home not far behind his wife. It was then that I heard the running footsteps. These things don’t run. I opened my eyes in time to see a swinging hammer come down on the head of the one that had bitten me. Two more individuals had appeared and were summarily dispatching the other two ghouls.

“Sorry Padre. We came running when we heard the screaming. I guess we didn’t make it in time.”

The screaming they were referring to was that of my attacker. I could manage no more than a sick sucking sound and my wife made no noise during the entire ordeal. I slumped into one of the pews and then the black curtain closed around me. I believe I was dead. I saw the fabled white light and heard the voices of my family. I had the sensation of floating out of myself and of being bathed in a warm glow. It was then that my wife appeared to me with another man standing behind her. She looked at peace as the man placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked at me with those beautiful hazel eyes I had fallen in love with every day for the last thirty years and shook her head.

“No Samuel. You are not done yet.”

All at once I was yanked back into my body and I became aware of three men kneeling over my supine body. One was applying pressure to the wound on my chest while the other clumsily attempted CPR. I coughed once and sprayed them with blood. Only the one that had his hands on my chest did not turn away repulsed.

As I gasped for air I heard one of them say, “Hit ‘em! He’s turnin’! I told you he was gonna turn!”

“Not yet,” the other replied, “Way too soon. We keep him alive as long as we can. When he turns, we’ll deal with it then.”

But I did not “turn”. They brought me to the last physician in the area. His home was littered with the sick and dying. He examined my stab wound and pronounced me the luckiest man on the face of the earth. Apparently, the knife was not very big and missed every major artery. It did not do much tissue damage either according to the good doctor. He casted my wrist with some drywall plaster and gave me three ibuprofen. He said he would be back to check on me shortly. I watched from a gurney in the hallway as he and two nurses moved from patient to patient with a lightning efficiency that was awe inspiring. Every so often they would stop at a “bed” and motion to three large men sitting on a couch. I noticed two of the men that had brought me here, but did not recognize the third. They would move toward the patient and gently carry him or her outside. There would be a short crack and a soft whistle of air and the three would come back inside and sit on the couch. In the evening, we could smell the pleasant aroma of a campfire, though with a not so pleasant odor underneath that I either did not know or just refused to admit was what human flesh smells like when it burns.

I stayed there for three weeks. All the while, I was watched. First with caution, then with curiosity, finally with blatant incredulity. Not one who had been brought in with a bite mark had lasted more than three days before my large friends would take him for a final walk. The doctor began to wean me off the pain medication he had “prescribed” though I suspect it more to do with dwindling supply than the possibility of my growing an addiction. As my head cleared from the opiates the new reality began to set in. As I lay, convalescing on the doctor’s couch, I had believed that I had made peace with God for what had happened. My mind no longer numbed, I realized this was not true. Each morning I would grow to hate the Lord more for what he had taken from me. I was spared news of what was going on outside the walls of the doctor’s home. At the time I had no idea that the entire world had gone to Hell and I wallowed, selfishly like a child, in my own pity. I ate little and spoke not at all, merely sat and scowled and cursed God under my breath. My three large friends began to question my sanity. I heard them arguing with the doctor one evening as to how to handle me. I understood the doctor’s medical curiosity in his voice, and the fear and anger of the others’ in theirs. That night as I lay dozing, I heard the three guards discussing amongst themselves what might need to be done and how to do it. It did not sound like the clean, humane ending I had seen them deal to all the others.

Later, as the others slept, I penned a brief letter of thanks to the doctor, helped myself to a few provisions from the cupboard, donned a pair of jeans and a sweater from the pile of clothes near the door, and slipped quietly into the back yard. The gentleman on guard duty sat dozing in a rocking chair on the front porch, some sort of Rambo-looking assault rifle in his lap. I had no idea where I was going. I did not care. I even argued with myself as to why I left. I wanted to die. My grief over losing my wife and my anger at God were only continuing to grow at this point. I set it in my mind to return to my church. And burn it to the ground. After that I would curl up in a ditch somewhere and wait… for what I did not know. I encountered very few of the dead on my journey back to the church, which was a blessing as I had not thought to grab any kind of weapon. I found those I did come across to be easily avoided. It took me about a day and a half to return to my town and when I saw the steeple of my church rise over the hill in front of me, my blood boiled. All the rage I had been struggling with came to the surface and I broke into a run. As I neared the door I realized it had been barricaded, as had most of the windows. I could see wooden pews stacked behind the glass.

I rounded the back looking for the gas can that we kept by the shed full of various lawn maintenance implements. I came around the back corner of the building and stopped in my tracks. I saw the remains of what looked like either a hastily constructed funeral pyre, or the most grotesque barbecue in Man’s history. Human bones from a dozen corpses lay mixed with charred wood and ash. As I stood stunned by the site I heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked behind me.

“Put you hens in the air!” yelled a disembodied voice, heavily laden with a Latino accent.

I did as I was told. My intentions of burning down the church evaporated and all of the sudden I found my will to live again. Funny how something as simple as having a large gun pressed against your spine can bring things into perspective. I heard frantic muttering in Spanish, some of the words I could make out like “padre” and “iglesia”. “Father” and “church”. I did not feel that it was the appropriate time to correct them. I was a United Methodist; we were not referred to as Father, but Reverend or Pastor. I also heard the word “mata” which I believe means “kill” and “muerta”, “dead”. I heard a pleading female voice and an angry male one. Then I heard a child. I slowly turned, hoping I would not be shot for the violation. I was confronted by a small family. Before any of us could continue the discussion we all heard the moans. Across the parking lot were four of them slouching slowly toward us.

“Adentro! Adentro,” screamed the man, then to me, “Inside. Quickly!”

We ran inside the back door and barred it from the inside with two-by-fours. In a moment we heard pounding and scraping from outside. The children, there were four altogether, ran for one of the Sunday school classrooms. I saw three women begin crying and praying, though quietly. Five more men came from the sanctuary each with a weapon of some kind. There was more rapid conversation in Spanish. After some reassuring from the man who had brought me inside, they finally seemed to notice my presence. More heated discussion in that smooth, oddly poetic tongue and again the man who had brought me inside seemed to assuage their fears.

“I tell them you no dead. They say ‘For now’.”

I did not know what to make of this cryptic statement, but it did not sound like a heartwarming welcome.

“My name Alejandro,” he said, “This is mi esposa Morena and mi hijo Berto.”

“I am, or was, Reverend Samuel Mathis. This was my church before…” I did not know how to continue. Before what? Before the dead began to rise and destroyed the world? Before that bastard raped and murdered my wife in the sanctuary not thirty feet from where I stood? Before I all but renounced my faith and turned my back on my God? I briefly wondered what their response would be if I told them I had returned here today with the intention of burning the building to the ground.

I was introduced to the rest of the group. Each gave a brief greeting and a firm handshake. A thud against the back door ended our little meet and greet rather abruptly. The children were swept into the sanctuary and Alejandro moved to one of the rear windows.

“Solomente hay uno, pero pienso viene tres mas,” he spoke rapidly to his compadres.

They moved to the back door and readied their bludgeons. Not wanting to be left out, I grabbed a table leg with a vicious looking nail jutting from it and stepped up beside the men.

“No, Padre, tienes descansar. You need to rest. You look like you have come through a war.” Alejandro attempted to move me toward a chair.

I shrugged him off and shook my head. “I will not stand by while others risk their lives to protect my church.”

They did not appear to grasp what I was saying so I stepped past them, threw open the door, and buried my makeshift cudgel in the forehead of the ghoul standing there. We moved out into the parking lot and stood abreast. There were three more approaching from the copse of trees. Corpses from the copse, I thought and chuckled.

“Que es chistoso?” Alejandro asked.

“Nada.” I replied, eliciting a bizarre sideways glance.

We advanced on the dead as a single unit and dispatched the trio easily. I had come to realize that they were little trouble to deal with, at least in small groups. Mind you this was before I saw my first swarm.

To shorten what has already become too long a tale, I stayed at the church for several weeks. We found that if we made no noise, the dead would pass right by without a glance. There was only one more occasion where direct intervention was necessary. We ate food from the pantry and we could gather on our few trips outside. I avoided stepping into the sanctuary, more because I did not need to see the stains on the floor rather than out of fear of divine retribution. I was treated with the utmost respect by my saviors, guests, housemates… I am not sure what to call them even now.

One evening, while out gathering what was left of the food from nearby houses, we noticed a distinct swell in the number of ghouls. They appeared to be wandering aimlessly with no real purpose, but there were certainly more of them now. Back inside the church there was a heated discussion that I was almost totally unable to follow. Later while taking stock of our dwindling supplies, Alejandro explained that they had made the decision to move on. It made sense to me to leave. With the growing number of fiends and the near depletion of resources here, we would have to consider a move to another location. Perhaps out west where population was thin even before our little apocalypse. Alejandro and his friends disagreed on where to go. Some wanted to go west for the reason I have already stated. The rest wanted to go north. They apparently believed that with winter on the way, the dead might move south toward warmer climates. As if they were migratory birds. I believed they would follow the food.

The next day I awoke to find the church empty. A few cans of food were left, and my favorite table leg. There was also a hastily scrawled note. All I could make out was “We go north” and some kind of apology at the bottom. I sat pondering the situation and was broken from my reverie by the sound of scrapping outside the front door. I thought nothing of it. It happened frequently. Maybe they could smell me in here or maybe there was some last vestige of humanity left in them that sought the forgiveness and comfort that brought them here in life. Given what I had seen in these last months I guessed it was more toward the former.

I gathered what little there was left of use into an old duffle bag and prepared to head out. I would go west as I had planned. There were several maps in my office, I paused a moment to pray for my friends as they had not taken one with them. I sat at my desk for the last time. Memories of Tuesday nights, writing sermons flooded my head. I would toil away trying to find the voice of the Spirit and in would come Laura with a tray of sandwiches and thermos of coffee. Sometimes there would be a wedge of apple pie if she was in a baking mood. I sat silently weeping and all of the sudden I realized that the scrapping had turned into a pounding. I rose from the desk to check the door and saw through the barricade that several of them had gathered and seemed intent on coming in.

“Service has been cancelled today I’m afraid,” I said lightheartedly to the door. This elicited a long low moan. I stood in the narthex and turned to the open door to the sanctuary. I could see the familiar rows of pews and the altar and my pulpit. I also saw what I had avoided the whole time I was here. A large brown stain on the floor about halfway down the aisle. I relived that day all over again in the span of a moment. My chest grew hot were I had been stabbed. My wrist burned where I had been bitten. Most of all, I felt as though my heart were being pushed through a keyhole in my sternum. All the anguish, all the rage overtook me and I screamed. I screamed loud and long. I tried to let everything out in that one hoarse cry. I do not know if I succeeded in releasing any tension, but I did manage to rile the group outside and the pounding grew even louder. I saw the door begin to shake in its frame. Ignoring this, I moved into the sanctuary and knelt beside what remained of my beloved Laura. I knelt and I prayed. For the first time since that day, I truly spoke to God. I asked for the purpose. Why was I left behind to suffer through this horrible ordeal without Laura, who was ever the stronger of the two of us? I saw in my mind a town. Full of frightened and starving people. The dead walked among them picking them off one by one. I saw a church in this town, similar to my own. The windows and doors were barricaded with lumber and I could hear the cries of children from inside.

“Go Samuel,” a voice told me, “Go and tend my flock.”

All at once I felt the divine fire in my belly. I rose to my feet and thanked God with every ounce of my being. I moved to the back of the church and grabbed my duffle and weapon. I took two steps toward the back door when the front came crashing in. There had to be twenty or thirty of them pouring into the church. My church.

“Get thee behind me Satan!” I screamed. “You shall not defile this holy place with your filth!”

I knew it would take more than invoking the name of the Lord to deal with them so I quickly ran out the back door to the shed. A five-gallon gas can sat gleaming in the sun. I knew at once what I was to do. It seems my original plan had been the right one after all, however with a much different purpose. I dropped my duffle and ran back into the church. I was immediately set upon by a dozen clawing hands. Full of righteous strength, I threw them off and began hurling gasoline throughout the meeting hall. The building was old wood and I knew it would catch without trouble. I hurled the gas can into the sanctuary and made my way back outside. I fumbled in my pocket for the lighter that Laura had given me on our fifteenth anniversary, back when I smoked the occasional cigar. It lit even though I had not filled in many years. Even as it left my hand a tremendous fireball made its way through the hall toward the narthex. I watched briefly as every ghoul in its path was immediately engulfed in flames. I walked slowly to my pack, shouldered it, and headed west.

It was a brief journey, and as uneventful as anything can be nowadays. I had a few run-ins with the walking dead and once, traveling through a small town I was forced to hide in a storm drain as several large vehicles rolled through. They may have been military but I could not be sure. Besides, I had a town to find. And find it I did. And that is how I ended up here before you today. Upon arrival I immediately began the work of rallying those left. We built a crude wall and dispatched any ghoul left within its perimeter. We put out the fires that were burning and condensed our supplies and weaponry. We turned the church into a barracks. We planted a garden using what little produce we had left and we even dug two wells. We maintain a constant vigil at the walls and continue to reinforce them as time and materials permit. We have built for ourselves a semblance of existence here and if it be God’s will we will defend it from any attacker, alive or not.

Max and Rocky

My dad’s a farmer. Was a farmer. Whatever. I live on a farm. Rocky is my side kick. He’s a 4 year old golden retriever. Good dog for a kid, and great at sniffing out the zombies. He’s all I’ve got left. Me and Rocky, have been kicking butt and staying alive alone for 3 weeks now. It’s hard to be 9 and alone, but I’m not really alone with Rocky.

School got closed, and all us kids were happy as hell. I can say hell now, I’m the man of this house. Anyway, school got closed and I went over to see my best friend Trudy. Trudy wasn’t feeling good, so she was in bed. Her mom lets me go up and check on her. She told me Trudy had been asleep since last night, and hopefully her fever had broken. So I grab my backpack with our favorite Wii game and go running up to Trudy’s room.

I get to her door, and that’s when I hear the moaning. Trudy is making this weird zombie noise. I thought she was feeling better and messing around with me. I opened the door. Trudy rushed me, and bit my arm. I screamed and ran back down the stairs, right out the front door and back home. My mom sees the bite and starts crying.

Dad and her are sitting at the kitchen table talking about what to do when I get sick. I can’t hear much, but it’s whispers and Mom’s crying a lot. Dad put a bandage on my bite, then sends me to bed. I fell asleep real quick that night, cause I was real tired. I had dreams about Trudy all night.

The next morning I woke up fine. Mom comes in with a gun in her hand to check on me. When she sees I’m OK, she hugs me and cries for a really long time. She gets Dad to check on me, and for a few days this was what we did. I’d wake up, Mom would bring a gun in to check on me, then she’d cry. Rocky just slept on the floor watching me. I felt fine, but my parents wouldn’t let me leave my room.

A week goes past and Dad comes in saying I can come out now. Way he figures it, if I was gonna get sick I’d have gotten sick by now. Dad says the town is in bad shape, and we need to be careful when we go outside. My Mom still watched me like I was going to turn into a monster any second. It was really great to be out of bed, even with the looks.

Another week went by, and we all loaded up in the truck. My parents figure we have to get to town, find out what’s going on and get some stuff. They didn’t want to leave me by myself, so Rocky and I had to go for the ride. They told me I had to stay in the truck, and not to talk to anyone. I was in charge of watching the truck.

We get to town and it looks like a bomb went off. Windows are busted. Stuff is everywhere. There were no people. The town is usually pretty busy, so it felt weird. There were a couple of wrecked cars in the streets. The front door to the store was open, and there were boxes laying everywhere. Dad and Mom both looked really worried.

They had a fight about getting out of the truck. Dad says it’s a bad idea. Mom says we need stuff, and maybe we might have to leave the farm. She says we got to get somewhere safe. That’s when she looked back at me. I never saw my Mom that scared. Dad’s just pissed. I can say pissed, I’m the man around here.

Mom wins the fight, and they get out of the truck. Dad tells me to keep watch and to yell if I see anyone. I said I would, I meant it too. I really wanted to keep watch, but there were so many places to watch. So Dad and Mom go into the store, and they come running out with loads of stuff. Food stuff, medicine stuff, and weapon stuff. All the stuff we would need to get out of town.

Then the moaning starts again. I start yelling, but I can’t see where it was coming from. I yell to them to get in the truck. They are coming and I know it! Rocky starts barking like crazy. They come running out of the store, but as Mom gets in her door she got bit. I tried real hard to keep watch, and Mom still got bit. It’s all my fault.

Dad pulls mom into the truck and speeds off. He ran over two or three of the moaning guys as we sped away. He didn’t even look back to see what happened to them. That’s when I knew Dad didn’t see them as people, and if he didn’t neither did I. No one talked on the way home. Mom cried really quietly.

That night Mom slept alone in a locked room. Dad went in and kissed her good night. He said good bye. I didn’t understand why he did that. If I didn’t get sick, she wouldn’t get sick. Mom called me in and kissed me good night. She said she loved me, and would always love me. She said I was her everything, and she was nothing before I was born. She really scared me. She wasn’t going to get sick. I didn’t get sick.

The next morning Mom was sick. She had a bad fever. She got so hot. This wasn’t fair. I didn’t get sick, she shouldn’t have gotten sick. Dad sat with her for the day, and by that evening she had died. I didn’t cry. I was too scared to cry. Dad locked the door and sat down on the hall floor. He wouldn’t talk to me. Rocky followed me around. He just kept putting his head in my hands.

In the middle of the night the moaning started. Mom was scratching at the door to get out. She wanted to bite us. I kept seeing Trudy come after me, then it would be my Mom. I stopped trying to sleep, the dreams were too bad. Dad was still sitting in the hall. Now he had a gun in his hand.

I was so mad. ‘You aren’t going to shoot her, are you?”

Dad didn’t say a word. He just hugged me, and pointed for me to leave. I heard the door open, and then a shot. He had shot her. He shot and killed my Mom. That’s when I cried. I sat down on the floor and cried until I was asleep. I didn’t have any dreams. I just slept.

I woke up the next morning and found Dad outside putting the last of the dirt on my Mom’s grave. I didn’t want to talk this time, but Dad did.

“She wasn’t your Mom anymore. Your Mom was gone.”

“You shot her. You shot Mom. You killed her.”

“No, Max, that thing that bit her killed her. Your Mom was gone. The thing that was left wanted to hurt us. It wanted to hurt you. Your Mom wouldn’t want that.”

That’s all we said. I was so mad at him. I didn’t understand. He killed Mom. I thought she would have gotten better. I didn’t get sick. She could have gotten better. He’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know. I didn’t talk to him for days. I don’t know how many, but it was a long time. He killed my Mom, I didn’t want to talk to him. Rocky just kept following me. He looked worried, if a dog can look worried.

Dad started packing up the truck one morning. He said we needed to leave. We needed to see if there was anyone else who was ok. He spent days going from room to room finding things we would need on our trip. He said if we were going to leave the farm, he was going to be sure we got everything good before we left. That meant all the canned food, water and camping stuff. We brought fishing rods, and our rifles. He even made me bring some books. Some for him, some for me. Dad said the road was going to be boring at night with no TV.

The day before we left Dad said I needed to learn to drive. That’s when I started talking to him again. Driving was going to be fun! It took all day, but I got really good at it. Dad said it was harder for me to drive because I just reached the pedals. That and seeing over the steering wheel was hard. Dad said if we were going to have a chance, I needed to drive too. That night we practiced loading the guns. He wanted to let me shoot some, but the noise would bring the moaners.

We got up early and did one more walk through the house. Dad grabbed a picture of Mom, and we got in the truck. I asked to run back in real quick, and I got my baby blanket. You better not think I’m a baby, I just got it because my Mom made it for me. I waved at her grave and we drove off. I know men don’t have baby blankets, it’s my Mom’s. Screw you.

That day was hard. We drove, but kept ending up stuck where cars were blocking the road. Sometimes Dad could go around. He had to be real careful. Other times he would get out and put the car blocking the road in neutral. He’d push it out of the way. Sometimes I had to help. Rocky got really good at barking if he heard a moaner. He sat on watch the whole time. Rocky is much better at being on watch then me.

We didn’t see anyone alive all day. A bunch of moaners were on the road and in the grass next to the road, but no real people. Dad never stopped, he just drove around them. They were too slow to catch the truck. He hit a few as we went, but they wouldn’t get out of the way and the rest of the road was blocked. They were all ages, and colors. Some didn’t look too sick, but you knew they were.

We had to get fuel twice. None of the gas stations worked anymore, so Dad pulled gas out of other cars. He showed me how to do it too. Said I needed to know all of this stuff so I could help keep us alive. He said I had to grow up real fast, and yea it’s not fair but it’s gotta be done. We drove a lot that day. I kept hoping we would see someone, anyone. By dinnertime I figured there was no one else left. It’s not right that the world changed so fast. I don’t think anyone saw it coming.

Dinnertime comes and Dad says he wants to stop for the night. It’s warming up, and he says staying in the locked truck is gonna be better than trying to find a dead guy free area. I hated being in that truck all that time, but I knew he was right. Dad got all our camping supplies, except the tent because a tent in the truck would have been stupid. He lit a small fire, and we ate canned stuff for dinner. It was gross, Mom always cooked better than this, but Mom was gone and food is food.

He put the fire out as soon as the food was cooked, and we got in the truck and locked the doors. Dad said you don’t want to draw attention to where you are. The fire would have shown the dead guys, or someone else, our spot and we wanted to sleep in peace. Once I ate and got that blanket around me I feel asleep. It was one of those times when you are awake, then its morning. I thought I would wake up to a moaner chewing on my face, but when I got up there was no one.

Rocky was wide awake when I got up. He was staring out in the distance. I wonder if he slept at all that night. Rocky is better at watch than me. Dad woke up freaked out too. Jumped right up with that ready to fight look on his face. When he saw it was just me, him, and Rocky he calmed down. We all had to take a leak, and back then we didn’t go nowhere alone, so all three of us went out of the truck together. That’s when we heard it.

Moaners. Sounded like a group of them. Rocky growled soft, and pushed me with his body back to the truck. We all got in and waited. Dad said starting the truck would bring them over to us so we just sat there. The sound got further away. It took forever before it was gone. Waiting sucks. Dad had me try to read my book. Said I should get my mind on something else. I couldn’t do it then, but today I can ignore the moaners. They are only scary when they are close. Even then, I can hold my own.

We waited and waited and waited some more. About an hour after they were gone Dad got out of the truck. He grabbed breakfast and drinks out of the back of the truck. Jumps back in and hands me an empty bottle. You gotta piss he says, do it in there. We aren’t stopping unless the truck needs gas. Then we take off.

It was hard to get very far. There was so much in our way. There were cars, or moaners. Traveling was hard, and Dad was right the nights were boring. I missed TV, and video games. I missed my friends, and I even missed school. Most of all I missed my Mom. Dad tried to keep me happy, but there wasn’t anything to be happy about anymore. I think Dad thought we would find people by now, I sure did.

Dad was getting gas out of another car when it happened. Rocky and I were keeping watch, but we never saw it. A moaner, was a kid once, crawls out from under the car and bites Dad in the leg. He screamed and kicked the thing about 20 feet. Punted it like you would a football. That moaner was the scariest thing I ever saw. It came out of nowhere. Its small size made ambush easy for it.

Dad finished getting the gas, and climbed in the cab. He wouldn’t look at me, or talk to me for miles. I didn’t know what to think. I know Mom got sick, but maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe I got my ability to get bit from him. Rocky whimpered a few times, I think he felt bad. Maybe he wasn’t better at watch then me. Dad pulled to a stop near a bunch of wrecked cars. He made sure the truck was on the other side so we could take off easy if things got bad.

“I’m going to sleep in one of the other cars tonight. You and Rocky stay in here.”

“Why?”

“You damn well know why Max. If I change I want you two to take off.”

“I’m not going to leave you here!” I fought.

“To hell you’re not! This is not a discussion Max. You know what to do, you keep going. Rocky will keep you safe. Follow the route I’m going to mark on the map. You stay safe for as long as you can. I’m sorry son, this world has gone to hell and it sucks, but you’ve gotta try to find other people. You’re different. You got bit and didn’t get sick. That’s gotta mean something. You might be the way to fix this. Find a doctor, or a scientist. Let them get a look at you. Even if it hurts, let them look. I’m sorry son. I should have done better, been more careful. I’m sorry…” That’s when Dad started to cry. Dad was tough; this scared the shit out of me.

“You might be OK.” I hoped he would agree. He didn’t, he just shook his head and packed his stuff up to go to the other car.

I slept really good that night. Laying down in the truck without Dad there was a lot easier. Rocky fell asleep on my legs with his head resting on the window. Morning came really fast. I did my best to check for moaners before I got out of the truck. I could see Dad in the car next me, and he didn’t look good. He looked sick like Mom. It didn’t feel real. It wasn’t fair. I already lost my Mom, now I was going to lose my Dad too. If there is a god, why would he do this to me?

I walked over the car Dad slept in. He rolled down the window with a handle or something. I never saw anyone open a window with a car off before. He looked really sick, all sweaty and red. It wasn’t fair. He should have been ok like I was. If I didn’t get ability to stay healthy from him or my Mom, where did it come from? Dad coughed really hard and a bunch of goo came flying out of his mouth.

“You’ve got to go Max.” he said.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have no choice son. I ain’t gonna get better. I’m going to get sick, then die. After that I’m gonna be a monster. You need to keep going, and I need you not to look back. You’re special boy. Something about you is different. Stay away from the things if you can. Don’t go near cities. Try to stay out of towns too. Kill em if you have to, but don’t go looking for trouble. You’re gonna have to do it on your own. I’m sorry son. I did so much wrong. Not just now, but before. Before all this shit started. I should have been less hard on you. I should have shown you and your mom how much you meant to me. I should have been a better man.”

“Dad, you’re a great man. We knew you loved us. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got mad about Mom.” I started to cry. Screw you if you laugh, my Dad was dying.

“You’ll be ok Max. You’re a smart boy. Rocky’s one helluva dog too. You keep each other safe. I know you’re gonna be a great man one day Max. I wish I could be around to see it. Be good to other people, but be careful too. Don’t let no one walk all over you. And watch out for moaners. I love you son.”

“I’m going to get you a gun and some food. I’ll be right back.” I said, but he motioned for me to stay.

“You need all the guns, and dead men don’t eat kiddo.”

I didn’t want to leave him with nothing. He was just going to sit there and rot away. I didn’t want to have him turn into a monster either. I guess that’s why he shot Mom. He didn’t want to see her that way either. It took me until then to figure that out. That’s when I went back to the truck and got the gun. I was going to be a good man just like my Dad.

“I love you too Dad.” I said as I pulled the trigger. Clean shot, and he was gone.

Rocky and me got in the truck and pulled away. I needed to get as far away from that spot as I could. Now its three weeks later, and all I do is drive. Driving around was fun for a while. Now it’s lame. I need to find a doctor or a scientist or some junk like that. I’ve got the cure in me, and someone will know how to find it. I just gotta find them.

William

Mother was bitten today. The nice neighbors down the street came out on the lawn while we were looking for food. I walked over to say hello, but Mother screamed at me to STOP! FREEZE! I did as she said because when I do what I’m told I get a Mars bar. I really like Mars bars. They are quite possibly the tastiest thing on Earth. So Mother was running toward me, but I don’t know why. She and Father always said the neighbors were “good” people so why wasn’t I allowed to say hello? I didn’t used to be able to say hello to people. It was scary and it made my head swim. We worked hard so I would be able to say hello to people. Mother and Father both said it was important. But now, Mother was screaming “STOP!” “FREEZE!”. I waved to the Nice Neighbors like she showed me. They didn’t wave back, which Mother says is rude. They started walking toward me, I thought they wanted to say hello which is polite, but Mother screamed even louder. She grabbed me at the same time the Nice Neighbor man did and they played tug of war with me. I did not like that at all. Mother was hurting one arm and the Nice Neighbor man was hurting the other. I tried to get them both to let me go. The Nice Neighbor man let go of me and bit Mother on the hand. She screamed so loud I thought my ears would explode. Father came running out of the house with his gun. Father says I am never allowed to touch his gun. He says it not a toy and I am never to touch it. I don’t touch it because I was told not to and when I do what I am told, I get a Mars bar. I very much like Mars bars. He shot the Nice Neighbor man several times. My ears were ringing so loud I didn’t hear the Nice Neighbor Lady come up behind me. She put her arms around me. I do not like hugs. It is very impolite to invade someone else’s personal space. Personal space is very important. Mother and Father both have tried to hug me and I do not like it at all. The Neighbor Lady tried to give me a kiss. This is beyond rude. The only one who has ever been allowed to give me a kiss is Mother and only on very special occasions. The neighbor lady tried to bite me on top of the head and I squirmed and screamed. I cut my hand on some broken glass once, it felt like that only on top of my head. Father’s gun went off again and the lady fell back into the street. I looked and Mother was crying and Father was crying so I started to cry too because sometimes when a bunch of people are laughing or smiling or shouting, you’re supposed to be doing the same thing. We stood there for a long time, all of us crying. Mother and Father moved close to each other and started talking. Mother said something that made all the color drain from Father’s face. He began shaking his head and crying even harder. I have never seen Father so upset. His face turned all red and he pressed his head into Mother’s chest and sobbed and sobbed. Mother slowly took the gun from Father’s hand. He just kept sobbing and sobbing. Mother turned to look at me. I tried really hard to look into Mother’s eyes, I really, really tried, but I ended up looking at her mouth instead, just like I always do when somebody looks at me in the face. I saw her mouth make the words “I love you William.” I said “I love you to Mother” because that’s the proper thing to say. She bent her head down and said something to Father, and then she kissed him on the head. I think she got confused and thought that Father’s gun was a telephone because she put it against her ear like she was going to make a hello-phone call. Father moaned and cried like something really sad had happened on a television program. I had seen Mother cry like that watching her stories while Father was at work. I was about to tell Father about the two people coming up the street, they were walking funny like they had had too much to drink. Sometimes, Father and his friends would watch football games in the garage and they would drink beers. Father never had too many, he said that getting drunk was not proper. But sometimes his friends would have too many and they would walk around like the people coming up the street now. They swore and yelled and smelled bad too. Just as I was about to tell Mother and Father about the people coming up the street, I heard the loud BOOM of Father’s gun again. Then I heard Father yell louder than I have ever heard him yell before. Only he did not sound mad, at least I do not think he did. It’s kind of hard for me to tell sometimes. Father was crying which I know means sad. The people saw us and started moving closer. I did not want another hug so I called out for Mother and Father to “let’s go in the house.” I was hungry and Mother had promised me a marshmallow sandwich with peanut butter for lunch. Marshmallow sandwiches are almost as delicious as Mars bars. Mother did not answer so I ran over to Father and started tapping him on the shoulder.

“Father, there are more people coming,” I said, “Can we go inside so Mother can make me my sandwich?”

Father would not get up. I tapped harder. I tried to get Mother to move too, but she just laid there. Her face looked gross. Almost like she had been hit in the face with a cherry pie like on those funny shows on TV. Father says they are funny when they smack each other, but I am not funny when I smack him. I do not understand this, but Father says it is rude to smack someone. Maybe someday I will be on TV. Then it will be funny if I smack someone with a pie.

I just kept tapping Father on the shoulder but he would not move. He just kept crying. I did not want the people to try to touch me. I did not want to talk to anyone today and I wanted my sandwich. I told Father I was going inside and started walking toward the house. I got to the door and turned around. I saw Father get up and start running toward me. The people were trying to grab him; it looked like he did not want a hug either. I asked him about Mother and he just shoved me into the house and slammed the door.

Amy

The house rumbled with a sound I thought I would never hear again. I knew it was a plane, and a big one at that, but who was in it? The children panicked and fled behind the furniture. I am pretty sure they thought we were all going to be destroyed by the sound alone. It has been a long time since we heard anything but the sound of the dead trying to get through our defenses. Living this way has made us all a little jumpy to say the least. The rumbling was over fast, and I worked my way to the hole we bored through the roof. This is our safest way to see what is going on in the neighborhood. When we aren’t using it for a lookout, we collect the rain that comes in with the passing storms.

The sky was littered with papers. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it wasn’t that. They rained down like confetti in the sky. Curiosity was killing me, but none of the papers fell within my reach on the roof. I was going to have to venture out into the street if I hoped to get one of them. Yet again I was faced with leaving the kids vulnerable if something happened to me, and what for, a stupid piece of paper. I knew I would have to get to them fast before the wind took them further away, so I started planning my route from the roof. I could see a few of them over in the neighbor’s yard. If they blew away another few were on the street. I’d rather grab from the yard, even with the extra climbing it looked like the fence has deterred the dead from roaming freely back there.

I was so locked in my head in planning I didn’t hear Garett climb up behind me on the roof. He was awestruck at the sight of thousands of papers floating gently to the earth. I could see he had begun to form his own plan on how to get one. That was not an option. He was not going out there to try to retrieve something that we weren’t even sure had any value. We spent a minute silent, just staring at the sight.

“You and your sisters can watch me go from here.”

“We don’t go out alone. You always need someone watching you. You taught me that.”

“Garett, this isn’t up for discussion. On a trip for supplies it makes sense, but this is a one man job.” I could see in his eyes he was about to argue who that man should be. “No Garett, me, not you. I’m going into the Henderson’s backyard to grab one and I am coming back right away. That’s how it is going. You grab a gun and sit up here. You can watch, and help if needed. It should be a quick grab and go. I don’t want to have to worry about you and me, just me. I promise I will make it back. We don’t even know what they say.”

“It’s the first thing we have seen since the TV and radio went out. It’s gotta be important.”

“Agreed, but I have my plan and that’s the way we are doing it.”

Garett rounded up his sisters and took them to the roof. Once I was sure he was ready with his gun in his hand I began the process of getting outside. It wasn’t an easy task because we had made every entrance and exit secure. Layers of wood had to be pulled off, and when I got back they would have to be put back up. When I stepped out the back door my anxiety level peaked. My heart raced and I broke out in a sweat. Venturing outside was terrifying.

I scouted out the best way to climb over the fence quickly and land without breaking my neck. To be honest with you I’ve never been in “athletic” shape, and weeks of rationing food and water have left me frail. I could hear the moaning and shuffling out in the street. Any noise would make them take interest in what was going on, so I had to be extremely quiet as I hauled myself up over the six foot privacy fence. I piled my picnic table and a chair on my side of the fence. Then I peeked over to see if there were any dangers on the other side.

Glancing up at Garett and giving him the thumbs up I hoisted my rear end up over the fence. I came down on the other side in a crash. My ass hurt, my side hurt and my wrist hurt. Plus the noise I was avoiding making had now been made and a dead thing was scraping at the fence near the front of the house. I knew I had to be quick. Those things use some kind of alert system, when one catches your scent a swarm will form. I looked around the yard, and couldn’t see any of the papers. Maybe it was the pain, or the dead thing clawing but I felt exposed and disoriented. Then I saw it. There was a paper stuck in between the slats of the fence on the other side of the yard. All I had to do was grab it, and get back over the fence.

First things first, I had to set up my way back over that damn fence. I drug a stainless steel grill over to the fence. It was all they had left in the yard. Not really the greatest thing to get you over a fence, but it was the only thing I had to work with. My side was killing me as I pulled the thing over. There was a crack as the dead thing ripped off one of the slats separating him and I. Now I could see the rotting arm pushing through the fence. The moaning sounded like it was in stereo by now. There was at least one more of them, probably more.

I hauled ass across the yard and grabbed the paper from the fence. I shoved it into my shirt, and another arm reached over the fence towards me. I needed to get back into the house, back to safety. Climbing up onto the grill was awkward. It took me a good three tries to get up there. I started to question my ability to get over the fence a second time. I yelled to Garett, who was on the roof looking panicked.

“How many Garett?”

“5!”

That was enough to get my ass in gear. With a burst of energy that can only be brought on by terror, I flung my upper body up enough to basically roll over the top of the fence. As I smashed in to the tower of table and chairs that I had haphazardly assembled, the small herd of the dead pushed their way through the Henderson’s fence. Now they were going to work their way through my fence. I needed to get inside, and get quiet. Garett raised the gun, and I motioned for him not to fire. All it would do is bring more of them towards us. The gunshot would be heard for miles.

I tried to stand, but my ankle had twisted horribly in the fall. Nothing was ever easy these days, stupid bullshit is what it is. I drug myself foot by foot across the yard. The herd was moaning in a frenzy on the other side of my piece of crap fence. I could hear them pulling at the planks to get through, and it was only a matter of time before they did. I didn’t look back, if they were going to eat me then so be it, but I was not going to lose any time looking back to see if it was inevitable. Just a few more feet to go, and I heard the first solid cracking sound. They had broken one of the slats off of the fence.

It took everything in me to get up the steps, and pull the barricade off to get back in to the house. Once in, I nailed and then screwed our layers of wood back up. The noise I was making would only make them follow, but we needed that thick wall between us and them. Garett tapped my shoulder, and I almost bludgeoned him to death with the hammer. He seemed unfazed at the close call he just had, and picked up tools and started helping me. Once we were secure, if you can even be secure, he helped me hobble up the stairs.

My ankle felt like someone was stabbing me in the joint with a hot poker. I asked Garett to grab one of our precious instant cold packs and some ibuprophen before we made our way up to the attic. Once we were there I finally felt safe. The sound of the attic steps being retracted and the hatch closed is the closest thing we have to music these days. Hannah and Zoe slid through the hole in the roof to see how I was. They were nice enough to get me comfortable and medicated before asking about the paper. For that I was extremely grateful.

I pulled the paper out of my shirt. It was a simple black and white flyer. “39.6436°N 74.6474°W. Quarantine will be required upon arrival. Our supplies are limited. It is recommended that you bring all essentials and food, water, medicine and gas. All other supplies are also welcome. We hope to see you soon, and stay safe.” There was a basic map drawn at the bottom of the flyer. I expected more. Maybe some answers, but there were none.

I read the flyer aloud to the children and I could see their excitement. They didn’t understand the logistics of getting to this supposed sanctuary. We were running low on our supplies, but we were fortified. We didn’t know what we were going to meet on the road. There was no guarantee that we would even make it. Fuel was hard to come by, and it wasn’t right around the corner. We would have to find a route that took us as far away from cities as possible, and that would add to our distance. I wondered if it was worth the risk.

“We should leave tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, Garett. My ankle needs a few days’ rest. We need to get a better vehicle for long travel, gather all our supplies and scavenge the area for more. We also have the herd of dead outside scratching their way in to our house right now. We need to give them time to get bored and find another place to get a meal. That’s if we decide to go at all.”

“You’re freakin’ kidding me? You don’t know if you want to go? We have to go! This is our chance to find other people and get the hell out of this attic!”

“I agree that the goal now needs to be to get out of the attic, and find other people. We can’t hide here forever. I understand all of that, but it’s not as simple as it was months ago. We can’t just jump in the car and gas up at a gas station. We can’t shoot through a drive thru if we get hungry. We can’t stay at a hotel overnight. We can’t even drive down the road without getting attacked. That’s reality now, and in order to survive we need to be prepared before we leave. We need to think before we act. You and the girls are all I have left now. I won’t risk your lives by rushing out that door. Help me prepare, all of you. Think of everything we will need. We need to make a list, do it right. It’s our lives on the line.”

The children took in what I said for a minute, but they came around. Zoe was first. She came to me with a pen and notepad. She had already sectioned off pages for each thing I mentioned. There were pages for fuel, food, places to sleep. Hannah curled up under my arm. She whispered that she would do everything she could to help, then drifted off to sleep. The chase she watched from the rooftop must have worn her out. Garett was last to come back, but the most helpful for that exact moment.

“I’m going back on the roof to check the situation. I promise I’ll be quiet. If we aren’t breached then I am going downstairs to get a few days worth of water and food. Then we start planning.”

I thought about pointing out that I was the one in charge, and that he was only a child but that had two issues. One, he wasn’t a child anymore, and two, I needed the help. After he scouted the roof for 15 minutes, he came back down and told me they were clawing at the door but it was only 3 of them now. That was good news. That meant that in the attic we were quiet enough for the dead to get distracted by another meal. Garett snuck downstairs and made three trips bringing up the supplies we needed. His last trip he checked the door I went out of to see if it was holding, and it was. He then grabbed our first aid kit, and some toys for his sisters. He may be mouthy at times, but he has taken over the father role for his sisters, so I let it go. I’m not a mother, never have been, and there are things he thinks of that I would have never entered my mind.

My ankle hurt for a solid week. Bad enough that I laid there with it elevated, and read a book that I had been holding onto for the last five years with every intention of getting to, but never found the time. The children were wonderful. The girls played quietly with the toys that Garett had brought up for them. Garett took care of meals, and watch. He really has grown up since this all began. Before the illness he was a spoiled American kid, just like every other kid his age in this country. He grew into an adult in a few months, right before my eyes. It was like watching grass grow with sped up film.

After a week I began to stretch my legs, and walk on my ankle. We were going to have to scout the neighborhood for a better vehicle and supplies, so I needed my legs to be in tip top condition before we went out there again. During my week of bed rest we compiled a long list of items we believed we needed for the long trip to the address. All of the items listed on the flyers were on there, plus a few of our own. We then debated for several days what kind of car would be best. An RV would be great for comfort, but would burn through gas. A gas efficient car was going to be too small.

In the end we decided on an SUV. The truth of it was we were going to take whatever car we could get moving. Mine was too unreliable, or in other words, was a piece of shit. The girls added a few items to a wish list. These were comfort items that they were hopeful we would find out there, but were not essential to our trip. Garett and I were to scout the neighborhood, and the girls would stay home and go through every nook and cranny in my home looking for things we may need. We had to pack light for people who were leaving forever, but we also had to get everything we may need. It was a horrible pace that we had to maintain. All we needed to do was forget one thing, and we may be dead for it.

Garett and I decided that day trips were going to be our best way to scout. The dead may see us, but we could also see them and that was important to our survival. Daylight would light the homes that we entered. A town without power was darker then darkest nights you could imagine. Come to think of it, nights were beautiful in a way they never were before. All of nature’s beauty was spread out before us due to electricity’s demise. I guess some things were better now that we were all doomed.

Mick

A caravan of cars made its way down Main Street today. They were here and gone before I knew what happened. I missed the perfect chance to get out of this damn store. I have been locked up in here forever. I lost count of the days a long time ago. I ran out of cigarettes a week ago. I counted those days. Seven freaking days ago. Seven overly long days. 175 hours and 32 minutes ago. I still have food and water. I’m not rolling in it, but it’s enough for now. I wonder where those people were going?

I finally balls’ed it up and got a weapon made. It was a crude spear. I spent a few days sharpening a piece of a display rack and attaching it to the end of a mop I found in a utility closet. The corner store had an apartment above it with an entrance in the back office. Took me a few days, but I learned that the residents were still in there trying to claw their way into the store to get me. Fuckers. Now I had enemy inside the store and out. Getting a weapon and taking their dead asses out was the best plan I had since getting myself in the store. Maybe if I was lucky they were smokers in their previous life and have a pack or two stashed up in that apartment.

There was a spare set of keys in the office drawer, so I let myself up there. The stairwell ended with another door. Scratching and moaning, the apartment’s residents were right on the other side. I couldn’t figure out how to open the door with my spear ready to go. I made the fucking thing too long. It was awkward in my hand. That’s what I get for never actually being the badass that I talked myself up to be. I stood there like an ass for a good hour waiting for the magic idea to come to me that would make this whole thing play out like an action movie.

You know where I am the hero and I slay the bad guys with ease. In the movies I would open the door and in some move that shows off my skill and badassery I would kill two or three bad guys with one slice. I would also have an automatic that I found in some convenient trip to just the right place. This isn’t the movies, so here I stand with my weak ass spear that I don’t really know how to use.

I got it through my thick skull that I wasn’t going to figure out a better way to do this, so I better just open the door and deal with what was on the other side. I grabbed the knob and as I twisted I took a few steps back. The first one through the doorway was an old man, tiny little thing.  I tossed him over my shoulder and down the stairs as he lunged at me. His wife sped at me next, she only had speed because I was downhill and she must have weighed 350 lbs. in life. I got my spear up just in time, and she took it right between the eyes. How’s that for badass?

She went limp, and tumbled towards me. I had to brace my foot against the wall to pull my spear back out of her skull. What a freaking mess. I can’t explain to you what comes out of these thing, it’s not blood. It’s more like goo. As I wrestled my spear out of her brain, her scrawny ass husband was pulling himself up the stairs. Once the weapon was free, I sent her flying down on top of him. He was pinned at the bottom step underneath his behemoth of a bride. That was a hell of a sight. With him stuck all I had to do was walk down the steps, and skewer his head. In an instant, it was over. Kind of like putting down a dog; a rabid, flesh eating, dead person dog.

The apartment stunk like death. I opened all the windows. Being on the second floor of a building allowed that luxury. The owners of the building should have put a fire escape out one of the windows, but they did not. I have never been so happy that someone was a cheap ass bastard. I went room to room and when I got to the kid’s room I threw up. I don’t know, Mom and Dad turned and ate the kids I guess. Gross shit. There wasn’t much left, just a room painted with airplanes covered in blood. I’ve seen a lot of shit, but that shit is going to haunt me.

No smokes. Not one lousy pack. I told you this shit never works out like the movies. In a movie I would have found a carton of my brand sitting right on the counter as a reward for the fight I just went through. There would probably have been a hot blond spread eagle on the bed holding a bottle of Jack too. Life ain’t like a movie; I got no smokes and a baby massacre as my reward. It’s one lousy son of a bitch, it is.

That’s when the caravan went through. I got to watch from the second story window as they hauled ass outta town. Gave me an idea, though. I’m gonna pack one of them bug out bags I heard about before the whole world went to shit. The next time I see a living person driving down Main Street, I’m hitching a ride. Maybe it’ll be a hot blonde with a bottle of Jack. Yea, that would be fan-fucking-tastic.

Jessica

It’s been like a police state here. Vincent and his cronies rule with an iron fist. In the beginning it made sense to me, but the more I watched the worse I felt about the whole set up. As a group we gained a large portion of the island back. Vincent had them set up lines of defense. We gained more living every day, and eradicated more of the dead. Vincent quickly became “The Captain” and the rest of us became his crew. I shouldn’t really complain because personally I have not been treated poorly. This is due to Vincent’s need to archive his rise to power. I will be his personal biographer.

What I have seen him do to others has made my heart break. In this new island society if you are on the wrong side of The Captain then you are accused of being infected and shot. His mood swings are intense and knowing what will land you on the death list is impossible. I can’t put any of this in the book he has me writing. I just write of how he is doing the hard things to keep us safe. That these decisions are what has made him an extraordinary leader. The Captain is the only man for the job. That is what I am being forced to write. This is the largest work of fiction I have ever worked on.

Everyone on this side of the line has a job assigned to them. The Captain’s men evaluate what your skills are and from there you are put in training for one of the work units. This is a really efficient system. The largest men were put on the line or on the hunting crews. Anyone with any fabrication or machinist knowledge was put to work in the shop. There they fixed the items found in the sweeps, or made new items such as wind turbines from materials found. There were people assigned to scavenge, fish, cook, take care of the kids, and even a morale committee. Not everything that this regime did was bad, it was just the bad things overshadowed the good. We all became sheep following a madman.

Vincent grew each day in his megalomania. One evening he called me to his headquarters to hear the story of his ill-fated fishing trip. Walking into the office was like being called to the king’s throne room. There was an expectation that you would act as if you were standing before the second coming. His blue eyes held a hint of madness, but his overall demeanor was that of someone who was larger than life. His grandness grew every day as his kingdom expanded. The destruction of the society we had all known had brought Vincent into a power that he seemed destined to hold.

“You sent for me?” I shyly mumbled from across the room.

“Jessica, yes, I wanted to have you write something for me. I need to get this out while the memories are fresh. Everyday a small detail disappears and I feel they are all needed to tell the story with the completeness that it deserves.”

I sat down opposite from him at the large oak desk that served as him throne. Whatever he was going to tell was sure to be filled with the twists and bias of a man who believes his greatness is preordained. I fidgeted with the pencil I held as I prepared myself mentally for the lies I was about to be told. The notebook on my lap felt like a traitor, but it was I who was the liar, weaving this man’s story.

“We were having one of the best trips of my life when the call came in over the radio. Ships were in distress everywhere. There was chaos out there, and the coast guard was unable to deal with the enormity of the situation. I couldn’t see what was happening with just a call over the radio. I saw dollar signs. I saw myself riding a new Harley after raking in an insane amount of cash for the catch we had pulled in. We had a crew meeting and Cap decided that we would finish our allotted days and then turn back towards shore. Our satellite phone had been broken by some shitbag deck hand a few trips back and Cap never got around to getting a replacement. We only had the radio, no news from land so we couldn’t know how bad things had gotten. Some of the crew wanted to turn back, felt like there was a bad omen in the air. I voted with Cap, and our vote ruled out return.

Late that night when I was in the wheelhouse Earl comes up to tell me that Mike is sick. We were only on our second night, and I wasn’t turning around because one of the guys had gotten a little green. Earl suggested that I give the kid the night off. It was fine by me, but he would have to clear it with the other two guys on deck. One guy leaves and everybody else has to work that much harder. No one had a problem with it. They saw how sick the kid was, and didn’t want to catch whatever he had. Problem with being on a boat with someone who is sick are the tight quarters.

Mike went to bed that night and died. Now that doesn’t seem so strange, but then it was a tragedy. Cap wanted us to turn back and take him to his fiancé. She was going to ask what happened, and we weren’t going to have any answers. We left him in his bunk as we hauled ass home. It was an 8 hour trip back in, and we made it 6 when Mike woke up. We hadn’t shut the door to his bunk, and he had stumbled into the galley. There he got a jump on Roger. He killed Roger. Ate a good amount of him before Tim walked in on it. Tim started screaming and Mike got a bite out of him before shock wore off and his feet were able to work again. He ran out of there and into the wheelhouse.

Lou and Anthony were sitting on the deck bullshitting and smoking when Tim ran past them. They followed Tim, Anthony grabbing the first aid kit on his way. No one believes Tim’s story about Mike reanimating and eating Roger. Even with the large bite on his shoulder we all dismissed it as a psychiatric break due to the stress of Mike’s sudden death. The fact that the Mike zombie wasn’t beating down our doors to eat our brains also led us to think he had lost his mind. We didn’t know that zombies couldn’t climb ladders. The galley was down one wet, swaying ladder. That was enough to keep him where he was.

I sent Anthony and Lou down to see what was really going on. I sent those men to their deaths, and I will never forgive myself for it. That is why I am so careful now. No one ever goes anywhere without good scouting first. No more finding out what is behind door number one. I wish I knew then what I know now, because it would have never played out the way that it did. Anthony was bitten first. Mike was waiting at the bottom of the ladder and the minute Anthony stepped within biting height Mike had his ankle in his mouth. He fell down the ladder and trying to catch himself, got Lou by the ankle, and pulled him down too.

Lou managed to get partially back up before Mike took a bite of his leg. He made it on deck, but couldn’t get much further on his own. I had to go down and carry him into the wheelhouse. That’s when I looked down the hole and saw Mike killing Anthony. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a man die at the hands of another, fishermen are a rough group, but it was by far the most vicious. Mike was the predator, and Anthony was the prey. It was like a kill on the nature channel, no emotion, just death.

So far we had 3 dead crewmates. Mike was dead but alive somehow, and Anthony and Roger were gone. Cap and Earl were still down with Mike but they were separated from him by a solid metal door. I had Tim and Lou both but up in the wheelhouse with me. I stopped the boat 2 hours out from shore. We weren’t moving until I got things under control. I needed to get Cap and Earl safe. There was no way I was leaving 2 men down there with that monster. I left the boys in the wheelhouse and went to look down the ladder. I needed to see if there was anything I could do to stop him. Lou was looking worse than Tim when I left. He had a fever and was sweating like crazy.

I get to the top of the ladder and I hear the door open between quarters and the galley. Cap went all Rambo and tried to take Mike on with a metal pipe he found somewhere. Cap was a huge man. Not big, huge. He could take on 4 or 5 guys in a bar fight and come away without a scratch. He took Mike down with one giant swing to his head. Crashed that pipe right through his skull. Once Mike was put down, Earl and Cap made their way to the deck. We weren’t sure if he was going to come back to life again. Hell, we didn’t know anything then.

Earl just kept freaking out. He curled up in a ball on the deck and mumbled to himself the whole time Cap and I tried to figure out what was going on. We started talking options, and both agreed that we needed to get the dead off the boat. We couldn’t chance another incident. So Cap and I went down the ladder and carried our 3 guys up. We laid them on the deck, said a few words, and then tossed them overboard. We both figured we would catch shit for it later, but to hell with that, no dead on the boat. Earl quieted down once the bodies were off the boat. I’m pretty sure it was shock, because he just stared off blank eyed.

I went up to check on the boys that were bitten. They were both sick now and looked a lot like Mike did before he turned all killer zombie on us. I shut the door to the wheelhouse and informed Cap that we had 2 more men to deal with. By now it was morning, and we were both out of energy or ideas. I know we should have tried to get back to shore, and get them fixed up but neither of us could navigate the waters as tired as we were. We agreed on a quick nap, then back to shore. Judge us if you want, turns out that it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. They would have died no matter what.

I’ve never slept as hard as I did that morning. It wasn’t just me, Cap and Earl were out cold too. By the time Earl woke me up it was night. He didn’t want to go up and check on the boys alone. Earl isn’t cut out for zombies. He’s just not built that way. Cap and I got a large flashlight and went to the wheelhouse. There was blood covering the windows. Through the mess I could see Lou chewing on what used to be Tim. He must have turned first and gone after Tim before he died of whatever it is that is killing everyone. Now we had a zombie to kill in the wheelhouse. Not a great place to have to kill somebody. It’s a tight squeeze, so there isn’t a lot of room for swinging pipes.

We had to come up with another plan. We were dead in the water until we could regain control of that room. The nice thing about a fishing boat is the abundance of shit that can kill you. All we needed to do was find the right tool for the job. Cap decides that a large knife is our best bet. We both armed ourselves, warned Earl what was about to happen, and took off towards our target. Cap stormed the room first. He said it was his boat, and he was getting it back. I was right behind him. I never felt so alive in my life. This was some crazy shit and I was about to do the most insane thing I had ever done. For once I was doing it for the right reasons.

Lou gets Cap by the arm immediately. Sinking his teeth in, he got Cap off the offensive in one bite. I come up behind him and as I am about to slice his throat, he turns his head and chomps on my wrist. It was a quick bite, but it was a bite. I used my other arm to pull him off and stabbed straight through his eye. He went down like a bag of bricks. Cap and I looked at each other. We were both screwed. The only one left with a chance was Earl. He couldn’t drive the boat; he was just a deckhand and a new one at that. We had to figure out a way to get him back to land. Cap looked sick right away.

We decided that we would give Earl a crash course in running the boat. Once we got sick enough we would jump ship if you know what I mean. We couldn’t leave the kid to fight off zombies. Cap would have made one hell of a zombie. As big as he was he would have been the king of the zombies. After a few hours of talking to Earl about what to do I noticed Cap was getting sicker and I wasn’t getting it at all. No fever, not even a headache. Earl noticed too. He started saying that training him was useless, and I should get him back. Crazy fuck, he knew before I did that I was different. Cap made it through the night, but by morning it was time to say goodbye.

I kept waiting to feel sick but didn’t. I had to look at my friend, my drinking buddy. The man I have fought beside more times than I can count. The guy I trusted with my life and say goodbye. Cap was a better man than I, and it didn’t seem fair that I was going to live when he wasn’t. We both knew it was time, and true to himself Cap said he was going out the way he wanted, not the way the others had. He took a giant swig of whiskey and dove off the side of the boat. Earl and I stood there for a really long time. It felt like I had lost a brother and I wasn’t ready to move yet.

Earl and I stayed out at sea for another 3 days. I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to get sick. I knew if I did I would be bringing a plague back to the island I loved. I spent those days pondering why I was still alive. Why should a flawed man like me be the one that lives? I began to realize my purpose. That I was special. I am the future of our species. I was not weak like the others. God had created me different, and I am to be the way we live through all of this. I am the answer, and everyone else is to follow me. There can be no other reason to explain why I am immune to something that kills everyone else.”

He stared at me with those piercing blue eyes. He was waiting my response. What could I say? The man was insane. The power he has taken has rotted away his sanity like the illness rots away the people it kills. All I could do was look away and hope he would release me from that room. None of that story could be true. That was the only thing I knew for sure.

Amy

All of our scouting has paid off. We are on the road now with more than enough supplies. It wasn’t an easy task. It took a lot longer than Garett really wanted it to, but we got everything on our lists and more. The truck was the hardest thing to come by. Getting it packed up was an event too. We were lucky enough to find a newer SUV parked in the garage of one of the houses we were going through. They even left the keys hanging on a hook right next to the door. Talk about convenient.

It only had a quarter of a tank of gas, and I wasn’t sure how far that was going to get us. After we found it, and drove it back to the house we had to wait 3 more days for the dead that followed us home to get bored before we could go syphon gas from other cars. I didn’t have a garage so our best option was to back it up to the front porch and load it up over a few days. That was fine by me, but the kids were antsy about getting on the road. I, on the other hand, was growing more nervous every day. My dreams were filled with worst case scenarios.

Garett showed every chance that he could how valuable he really was. That kid is a great scout. He can spot the dead a mile away, and finds supplies even when well hidden. His memory is fantastic, and I never had to remind him what we were looking for. Most of the time it was him reminding me, or adding to the lists. My nephew, who was just a child a few months ago, is my right hand man now. I don’t know if I could have done any of this without him. Sometimes it seems like he has been training his whole life for a scenario like this.

His sisters have been essential too. They stripped my home of every usable thing, and packed all of our supplies so everything would fit into the back of our truck. Zoe is meticulous. She has every bag and box labeled and neatly organized. She even has an inventory sheet of everything we are bringing with us divided into subgroups. She would update us every morning with a tally of what we had, and what we still needed. Her sister was her perfect little worker. She never questioned her, and followed every order perfectly. We were becoming a well-oiled machine.

With the flyer in hand we piled into the truck and drove away from my home. We decided leaving at dawn was best. We wanted as much daylight as we could get on our first day. We didn’t know how far we would get, and wanted to find a safe place before sundown. I was an anxious mess, but the kids were on cloud 9. To them this was an adventure, a chance to get away from the horrors we have seen. For me it was a risk, and even though it was a necessary one, it was frightening.

We hadn’t even turned off of my street when the dead began to follow the truck. They heard the noise, and stumbled toward it. In the truck we could easily outrun them until we found ourselves at a road block. Garett and I had gone out a few days earlier and moved the military trucks that blocked the road out of town just enough for our truck to get through. We had walked the route we were going to take to make sure it was passable. We could only go so far though, and it wasn’t long before we were stuck where people had abandoned their cars. I bet they ran out of gas, and never made it back to fill them up again.

We did our best to go around the blocks as we could. Other times we had to double back and find a new route. Highways were out of the question. They were a mess of abandoned and smashed up cars. The best routes were side roads, but most brought us through neighborhoods. That was a bad thing. There were so many dead in the neighborhoods. It seemed like the first day if it wasn’t dead people it was dead cars. We did venture out of our truck twice to get extra fuel. It was slim pickings when it came to extra gas, and there were a few cars we wasted our time on. Leaving the truck was scary even with a gun in hand. You never knew when a dead person would come shuffling up. I still feel exposed out of the truck.

The first night we slept in the truck. We were on a road that seemed to go on forever with nothing but fields on both sides. We were miles from anyone or anything. That seemed like the safest place to stop for the night. I told the kids stories about their Dad and me as kids until the girls were asleep. Garett waited until he was sure they were out before he started to talk.

“Aunt Amy?”

“Yes sweetheart.”

“Do you think we will make it to the place on the flyer?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. We haven’t gotten very far today. We are nowhere near the dangerous part of our trip. That will be when we get further north. Up there the areas have more people that live closer together. We will have to find a way around all of that and I never left home. The furthest I have ever been is two towns over. That’s not true. The furthest I have ever been is today.”

“I think we will make it. We have to. We have nowhere else to go.” His voice trailed off. I knew he was trying to convince himself that it was true. He needed to believe that it would all work out in the end. I wanted it too.

“Get some sleep honey. We are going to need it. Tomorrow we go further into the unknown. I’ll stay awake for a few hours and keep watch. I will wake you up when it is your turn.”

He rolled over onto the truck’s door. Zoe had packed everyone pillows and blankets so we were as comfortable as you could be sleeping in a vehicle. I sat there alone in the dark watching for movement out on the road or the fields. It never came. I drifted off to sleep without waking Garett. That was stupid of me. I should have never left us vulnerable like that. When I woke in the morning our truck was surrounded by the dead.

They hadn’t noticed us because we were quiet and still while we slept. They were stumbling past the truck two and three at a time. A herd of them was following the road, looking for their next meal. The children were still asleep and I knew if I woke them the girls would panic and alert the dead that we were here. All I could do was watch, and wait. My breathing was rapid, and I kept imagining every breath I took was going to be the one that tipped them off. There must have been over a hundred of them. If they saw us there would be no way for us to get away. Their numbers would overwhelm us.

Five minutes, then ten, then fifteen passed. They were still stumbling down the road. I thought it was a group that would never end. Garett woke up next to me, and I quickly covered his mouth. I did my best to sign to him not to make a sound. Luckily, Zoe had left a pen and pad in the console for us to log the supplies that we had used so she could adjust her inventory. I scribbled quickly to Garett what was happening and how many there really were. In all caps I wrote, DON’T WAKE THE GIRLS. He wrote back, GOOD PLAN.

We sat in silence for another twenty minutes. It was like playing possum. If they thought you were dead, or even better didn’t see you at all, you were safe. The herd finally passed. That’s when the girls woke up. Thank god for small miracles. I shushed them right away and whispered to them that we would be spending another half an hour here before we moved on. We needed to decide if we were going to double back, or go forward and risk catching the herd.

No one wanted to go backwards, but we couldn’t see any way around it. When we started the engine I half expected to be swarmed. We made our way back down the road we had travelled the day before and turned at the first offshoot we could find. There was a need to get going in the direction of the address on the flyer. More than anything I wanted to feel like we were making progress. The few towns we encountered we sped right through. I even ran over a dead guy in one. He dented the front bumper, but that was all the damage the truck took from the hit.

We drove on for four more days sleeping at night in the truck. My back began to hate me. I’m not a kid anymore, so I don’t have the ability to fall asleep anywhere and feel like I slept a whole night. I made sure to wake Garett up for his turn at watch. That first night taught me a lesson about being caught off guard. We even had the girls watch together for an hour or two every morning when the sun rose. They ate breakfast and chatted while Garett and I got that extra bit of sleep. It’s amazing how much better you feel with just a little extra sleep.

On the fifth day we decided to stretch our legs for real before we put a full day’s drive in. We needed to reorganize our supplies too. Zoe’s system was great, but days of digging into it had left it messy and filled with trash. We were in need of water by then. There was a small town on the map right down the road. Towns were bad, but if we were lucky we might find a place on the outskirts with a well. We weren’t lucky that morning and driving in the town was the best we could do. This place looked like a disaster movie set. The streets were littered with trash, and broken bodies. I pulled to a stop on what looked like Main Street USA. Getting out of the truck right away was not the way we did things. We parked and did our best to scout out the area from the truck.

There was a corner store, a hardware store and a hair place. The corner store looked boarded up, but the upstairs windows were open. There was a sheet hanging down from one of the windows. I wondered if there was someone alive up there. The dead don’t do things like hang sheets out windows, signals were something the living would do. On the other side of the street there was a produce stand that was picked clean and a municipal hall. I chose the municipal hall as our place to go and look for water. Maybe they had a water cooler, and if they did they would have bottles of water with it.

Garett and I got out first. We brought our guns and a pitchfork Garett found when we were out getting supplies. Such a smart kid, he knew noiseless weapons were our best way to fight the dead. This could be a good or bad thing when it comes to abandoned buildings. The open door either let all the dead out, or it let them in. There weren’t many rooms in for us to search. There were a total of five, if you count the lobby. The first door we opened led into what looked like a multipurpose room. It looked like it had triple duty; court, meeting hall, and bingo hall. There was nothing of use left in there so we did our best to clear the room.

Door number two was a small office. Saying it was small was being generous. It looked like they had converted a closet by adding a desk to this area. I watched the door and Garett went through the drawers. We scored five power bars, and a Snickers bar. The girls were going to be in heaven. Two books were resting on the desk, and I popped them in my bag. There was an iPod Touch that Garett grabbed, and to both of our amazement the car charger that went with it. The joy on his face made this the best scavenging trip so far. I had to snap back to attention and look where I was supposed to, and not at all the loot we were getting. I heard shuffling coming our way.

I stepped out of the office with my pitchfork ready to go. There was a dead sheriff staggering towards me. He was in his uniform when he died, and it was worn and ripped from the fight he must have endured to end up this way. With one quick jab through the face his staggering ended. Now I had to figure out how to get my pitchfork back. It was a great weapon because of its silence, but it was bulky and was now embedded in the sheriff’s head. It took me a good 2 minutes to remove the weapon and by the time I was done Garett had finished in the office.

We moved to the next room. This office was much larger and had a very old and ornate desk. There was an American flag, and pictures of dead politicians. It was my turn to rummage and Garett’s to watch. I handed off the pitchfork and worked my way to the desk. Half of the drawers were locked, and there was no sign of a key. The ones that were open didn’t hold anything of value to us, and it was useless to try to bust open an old desk. Unlike the shit they built in the last few decades, craftsmanship like this was made to last forever.

I gave up and moved with Garett over to the last door. Jackpot! It was the break room. There was a water cooler with a half empty jug in it and a replacement on the floor beside it. There were also some non-perishables in the cabinets. I couldn’t help but smile. My choice was the right one and I was ecstatic. We had water and some extra food, what could be better than that? I grabbed the full jug off the floor and told Garett to cover me while I carried it to the truck. If we were only getting one of them I wanted it to be the full one. Outside there were two dead women clawing at the truck. Garett put his pitchfork into the closest one’s head, and before I had a chance to do anything to the other she went down. Behind her stood a man with a crude spear in his hand.

“Need a hand?”

“Thanks, for getting her off the truck,” I said as handed off the water jug to him. “We need it thrown in the back. Garett! Keep watch.”

“Name’s Mick. Can I catch a ride? I’ve been blocked in that corner store for ages.”

“I just want you to know before this all happened I would have told you to go fuck yourself, and if you try to hurt those kids I will kill you before you finish the thought,” I stared at him awaiting a response that never came. “All right, get in. You wanna grab anything before we leave? We already got what we were looking for.”

“I’m good. All I’ve got is the spear and the backpack. Where you heading?”

We loaded in the truck. I plugged Garett’s iPod in. It was a good way to get his mind off the fact that he had just been demoted to the kid’s row in the back of the truck. Garett eyeballed our new friend. I started the truck up, split the Snickers bar in two for the girls and began to tell Mick about the flyers and the mystery location. He agreed it was as good a place to start as any, and that he was eternally grateful for us getting him out of that store. He talked about the other cars and trucks he had watched race past his window. We were the first ones to stop long enough for him to get outside in time.

As we drove on I couldn’t help feeling mixed emotions. I was so happy to have another adult with us. I needed as much backup as possible, and as long as Mick wasn’t an axe murderer I was lucky to have him. Waves of fear would come over me, and I did my best to fight them away. I wouldn’t trust him right away. We needed to be more careful than that, but Mick may end up being the best thing we picked up on our adventure. His knowledge of the area also proved valuable. Back roads seemed to be his preference prior to the sickness, because he knew every one of them for a week’s worth of driving.

Getting gas and supplies was easier with Mick with us. I thought he was going to cry when he found a pack of cigarettes in a gas station we were raided. With the first drag his whole body seemed to turn to jelly. I was happy that he had found a mix tape in a car we were siphoning gas from. We pulled away, he lit up and I cranked the tunes up for just a few minutes and for the first time in a long time life seemed almost normal. It was then with his legs resting on the dash, arm out the window with that serene look on his face that I felt my first twinge of attraction for him.

Max and Rocky

Days go by, and we just drive. We pass through towns and there are no people left. Just moaners everywhere. I wonder if there are people locked in the houses afraid to come out. I wonder if we are just gonna drive forever. Rocky and me have gotten pretty good at taking out moaners. We’ve run over a few, and shot a couple too. Life starts feeling like a video game. You know the ones where you drive around hunting for monsters.

I know Dad said to stay away from them, and to look for people. That’s getting really boring. It started with just one. Rocky and I made a stop to get some gas and I saw one walking towards me. I was tired of running. I was tired of jumping in the car without getting the stuff I needed. Rocky and I were hungry. I had the gun in my hand anyway. So I shot it. I felt big. I felt like I could take on a ton of them. I had a gun, and if they were far enough away it was like my shooting games. The next time I stopped I tried to find one. I know it sounds crazy, but it was fun.

There was one time when I shot one and the sound brought more coming. That was scary. I got in the truck and took off. I knew not to stay and get eaten. Well, really I didn’t. Rocky went nuts and bit at my legs until I got in the truck. It’s weird having a dog tell you what to do. He’s really smart. I know he wants to stay away from them, but I wanna kill them all. If we can take them down maybe it would be safe. If I kill them all, maybe the dreams would go away.

I’m driving down a dirt road when I see real people. Rocky didn’t bark. I figure that was good. The men standing there pointed a ton of guns at us. Rocky growled when he saw the guns, but didn’t bark. Then a really loud woman came out to the front of the people. She told her guys to calm down, that it was a kid not zombies. The guys with the guns lowered them, but didn’t put them away. They stared really hard at us as the lady came over to talk.

“Where you from sugar?” the lady asked.

“Ohio.”

“You meet anyone else?”

“Nope. You?”

“A few have passed through. Some have stayed. Not many total. This was a small town before the illness, got a lot smaller. There were thirty or so of us left that didn’t turn into monsters. We got 3 people that stayed with us since then. We heard the same from the others who passed through. Not many alive anymore. Most people are dead or eaten.”

“Is it ok if I stay with you for a bit?”

“I don’t see why not. You have to go see Reverend Mathis. He’s in charge around here. He’ll be able to tell you a lot more than I can. We are just out scouting, good thing, too. We wouldn’t have seen you if we weren’t. Nice to see your dog, too. We aint got no dogs around here anymore. All dead. If they bite a monster they die. They don’t turn, they just die.”

Rocky sniffed the lady’s hand, and decided she was ok. He gave her a lick and then went back to keeping watch out the back window. Rocky’s better at watch than me. The guys are holding their guns more relaxed now. I wonder what they were afraid of?

“You all by yourself?”

“I wasn’t. My Mom and Dad got sick. I’ve been alone for a while now. Longer than a month. I lost count after that.”

Her eyes grew real big. I don’t think she believed me. It didn’t matter. Rocky and I finally found people. Real live people. We might even get to sleep in a bed tonight. I had some supplies I could bring in with me. Maybe if I gave them a bunch of stuff they would let me stay. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I really just wanted to talk to other people.

“Oh baby. You poor thing. Follow us back to our church. We’re going to take care of you.”

I followed the lady and her friends back to a church in the middle of town. The windows were all boarded over, and there were men with guns up on the church tower. There was a smell of cooking food in the air. I didn’t know I was hungry till I smelled that food. Smelled like something my Mom would make. I could see Rocky wanted the food too. He was sniffing the air like crazy.

One of the men offered to park the truck for me. I got Rocky and my bag out with me. We walked up the church steps. As we did, they closed the big gate we drove in through. The place was like a castle. It was locked up tight. I hadn’t felt safe in a long time. All the sudden my legs felt all wiggly and I got really sleepy.

I woke up wrapped up in my blankets with Rocky curled on my legs. I thought I was back in the truck and those people had been just a dream. They weren’t. It was real. There was a boy sitting across the room staring at me when I woke up. Scared me. It took a minute to figure out he wasn’t a moaner. If he was a moaner, he would have eaten me when I was sleeping.

“MA! HE’S AWAKE!” yelled the boy.

A woman came running in the room, and hugged me. “You scared us honey. You just passed out when you walked in the church. You slept for two days straight. Your dog has been on you the whole time. We had a hard time getting him to let us put you to bed, and cover you up. We took the blankets from your truck. Are you hungry? You must be hungry? What’s your name honey?”

“Max. I’m really thirsty. Can I have a drink?”

“Sure Max, I’ll get you some water. Try to sit up, but don’t stand yet. We don’t want you passing out again. Stay here with Larry. That’s him over there. He’s my son. I think you two are about the same age. He can keep you company and I’ll get you a drink and some food.” She turned towards Larry for the rest, “You be nice Larry. He’s had a rough couple of days.”

“Max, eh? How old are you?”

“9, you?”

“11. There’s a couple of kids here. They all want to meet you. Mom says we need to let you adjust.”

“Your mom seems nice.”

“She’s ok. You get to drive that truck all by yourself?”

“I had to, but my Dad taught me.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. Wish I could drive. We aren’t allowed to leave the church. Only the grown-ups leave the church.”

“What, are you prisoners?”

“Nah. They just say it’s safer. You see a lot of zombies?”

“Yup. Killed a bunch too.”

“No way! That’s awesome. I’d do that if they would let me try.”

He got real quiet and stared at me. I could tell he thought I was so cool for killing zombies. I just kept seeing my Dad’s face when I shot him. I see that a lot. I also see the night at the farm with Mom. I don’t really remember the moaners I killed. I only know how many because of the notches I carve on my belt for each one. I’m up to 14 notches. Not bad for a kid.

Rocky got up and sniffed my face. He gave me one big lick then jumped off the bed and went out in the other room. He must have thought his job was done. He is one smart dog. He must have been hungry too if he laid on me for 2 days. Maybe he was as tired as I was. I hope they let me stay with them. I liked sleeping in that bed. Might be fun to hang out with some kids again.

Larry’s mom came back in with some water and a bowl of soup. She even had fresh bread. It was the most delicious thing I tasted ever. I loved my Mom’s cooking, but I was never this hungry when I ate it. It was warm and in a bowl. Larry’s mom sat and watched me eat. She asked a bunch of questions that I really didn’t hear. I was too busy chewing. Then I got really sleepy again. She must have saw I was tired. She told Larry to leave, and let me rest.

She came over and took the bowl. She kissed my forehead, and gave me a huge hug. I slept all the way until the next morning. Rocky was back on my feet when I woke up again. This time my room was empty. That was nice. I really don’t like sleeping with people staring at me. I sat up real slow, and stretched my legs. My whole body hurt. Dad always said if you laid around too much you would get sore. He was right. It took me forever to get out of that bed. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to leave the room, but I had to pee really bad.

Rocky followed me out and put his head in my hand. He led me down a hall and into the kitchen. There were a group of people eating breakfast in there. It was so weird to see that many people. They were just eating and talking like nothing was wrong. I really hope they let me stay. Rocky looked around the room then ran over to a little girl. She took her food, broke off a piece and gave it to Rocky. I guess he made friends while I was asleep.

Mick

Being with Amy and the kids is strange. The girls warmed up to me right away, but Garett was a tough one. I did my best to not make him feel like I was taking over his territory. It’s just taking me time to get used to being around people again. The hardest part is being with the kids. Reminds me of my own, and how much I miss them. All the shit I missed. There’s nothing like the end of the world for you to figure out what a douchebag you were. I keep hoping the girls are alive and safe with their mother, but the more we drive the less likely that seems.

Sometimes I wonder if they are immune like me. Speaking of immune, crazy as this is, Amy is immune too. She isn’t sure about the kids, and isn’t going to test it. We spend the nights bullshitting and I couldn’t believe it when she told me the story about her getting bit. Crazy shit her and those kids have been through. She’s one tough broad. When she found out I was bit too she almost fell outta her seat. She’s right, what are the odds of two people who are immune finding each other? You got a better chance of being struck by lightning or winning the lottery.

We just kept driving towards that address on the flyer. Grabbing stuff on the go, and driving. We got too close to a city one day. A swarm of the dead was on the horizon. They looked like bugs they were so far away. It was impossible to get a count of how many there were, but it looked like those TV shots you see of people marching on DC. It looked like it would never end. Whipping the car around, and driving away as fast as I could seemed like the best plan. All we could do was pray that they didn’t hear us and follow. There was no way we could handle a swarm of that size.

Being stuck in one place even if it is moving all the time will drive even the sanest of people crazy. We made the decision that we were going to sleep somewhere other than this damn vehicle as soon as the opportunity presented itself. We ended up in a small town like the one I was trapped in for so long. Amy suggested we try to find a roof to spend a few days on. The weather had turned cooler and the truck would still be there if it was going to rain. Driving slowly up and down the streets we kept our eyes peeled for a place that would allow us a bit of reprieve from the cramped living quarters we have called home. The town hardware store had potential. The roof was large and flat, and there was a ladder on the exterior of the building that provided the only access. I scouted the roof first to check if it was really the sanctuary we had been searching for. Once I gave the all clear, we hauled all the supplies we thought we needed to make the barren rooftop a home for a few nights.

Amy unpacked all the camping supplies with the girls and I took Garett down to the store below to see what we could scavenge. The boy may be young, but he is a capable second when you are rummaging around in unfamiliar territory. Being lucky is a big part of surviving in this new world. At this store, we were winning the lotto lucky. The shelves had been cleared of a lot of the goods people needed in the beginning, but not picked clean. It was strange. I’m not the kind of man who looks a gift horse in the mouth, so I didn’t give it much thought until we were up on the roof again with our awesome haul.

“You see any of them down there?” Amy asked fearfully.

“Nope, not one. It’s like this town is empty. No dead and no living.”

Garett was jumping out of skin with excitement to show his aunt all of the goodies we had pulled out of the store. “The place was still full of stuff. Can you believe it? I got the girls some games, and chalk. Do you think they can use it on the roof? We got a few tabletop charcoal grills. Mick thinks they would be a good way to have campfires up here. He said sleeping in the car we haven’t really had to feel how cold it has gotten at night.”

He went on and on until his sisters came over and demanded that he play with them. We had found a few backyard games down in the store, and it was nice to see the kids get to be kids for a little while. I don’t think that the girls had ever played Frisbee golf, or ladderball before, but it didn’t matter since no one was keeping score. I sat and watched for a while and then I headed over to Amy and helped her finish setting up.

“I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t trust what Amy?”

“The quiet. Where is everyone? Everywhere we have been there are dead wandering the streets, hidden in the stores. Why isn’t this town like the rest? I’m afraid of the quiet.”

I scooped her up in my arms and held her as she quietly cried. Some people break down as a crisis happens, others break when the calm comes. Amy must be in the second group. It felt so right to have her so close to me. She breathed in deeply, and wiped her eyes. When she looked up at me all of the fear and pain she had been trying so hard to hide lay on her face. I don’t know what came over me, but I kissed her. I tilted her head back and lay my lips against hers. I half expected her to slap me and pull away. Before the zombies a woman like Amy wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to me, let alone being held by a loser like me.

She didn’t push away. With an intensity that I never think will be matched, she kissed me back. Her hand slid up to the back of my head, and she gripped my hair as she pulled in closer to me. Nothing would have pleased me more than to carry this woman off to bed, but we had no bed. We were up on a rooftop in a barren town with three kids looking to us for all the answers. As fast as the fire in her built, it died. She pulled away with a sad longing on her face, and went back to getting camp ready. What I didn’t expect was the hatred in Garett’s eyes when I turned back to see if they were ok. He had seen everything, and he was fuming.

Daniel

You ever walk through the woods? You ever walk through the woods for a really long time? You ever walk through the woods for a really long time trying not to get attacked by zombies? You ever walked through the woods for a really long time trying not to get attacked by zombies with the smell of shit clogging up your sinuses? I washed my pants at the first stream I came to, but you know, even with a bunch of detergent that smell never really comes out. Neither do the stains. So I walked around for a long fucking time. No idea where I was or where I was going. Funny thing about waiting to die, you don’t give a shit about anything anymore. I drank when I found water, ate when I found food. Once I grabbed a handful of what I thought were edible berries. They weren’t. I spent what I figure was a day or two tripping my ass off and when I woke up, I had shit my pants. Again. I think I got bitten again while I was out of it. There was blood all over me. So I just kept wandering. And not dying. Fucked up shit.

At one point I came up to a wall. Looked like it was put up in a hurry. With nowhere else to go I started following it around. I heard people on the other side, but before I could run I heard a shotgun rack and the bolt of a rifle slammed into place. I put both hands in the air.

“Don’t shoot!” I called out, “I ain’t a fucking zombie!”

I saw two heads peak up over the top of the wall behind a rifle and a shotgun.

“P-p-put your hands up!” Mr. Shotgun said, scared shitless.

I looked at my hands already in the air and the looked back at him trying to keep the sarcasm off my face.

“No problem Chief. Just take your finger off the trigger for me. I ain’t armed and I’m not crazy either.”

I could tell right away that these two had no idea what to do with the weapons they held, but at ten feet, everybody’s a sharpshooter.

We stood there for a surreal couple of minutes shooting the shit like the world wasn’t burning and they weren’t sort of holding me at gunpoint. I told them who I was and where I’d come from. I left out the part about shitting my pants. And the part about getting bitten. After a few minutes they began to let their guard down. Fucking amateurs. If I really a threat I could have taken them both out no sweat. Pulled them down off the wall and beat their fucking heads in with that fancy rifle. All of the sudden I hear this screechy voice on the other side of the wall.

“Timothy! What’s going on?! Who’s there?!”

“There’s some guy here. He seems okay,” one guy says. I’m guessing that one was Timothy.

“Is he armed?” came the voice.

“Doesn’t look like it,” the other one said.

“I’m not armed,” I called over the wall, “And I’m pretty harmless I guess.”

“I’ll get Reverend Mathis.” Then I heard her scurry away.

“Who’s the broad?” I asked.

“That’s the Reverend’s assistant. Francine. She can be a bit abrasive.” That was the other guy, Not Timothy.

“A bit,” I laughed, “Yeah seems that way.”

We stood there for a while, them pointing guns at me. Me smelling like shit. I wondered if they could smell me from where they were. I could hear the broad coming, talking a mile a minute to some poor bastard.

“Timothy, bring him around to the gate.” A male voice, calm-like. I wish he would have told the other guy to do it, then I could know his name.

Timothy motioned me to head south along the wall. I walked until I found the gate they were talking about. I heard a couple latches let go inside and it slid sideways along a track.

I stood face to face with an old guy who just had to be the Rev they were talking about. Francine was there too. Bouncing around behind him like a fucking Chihuahua on crank. Firing off questions without waiting for him to answer.

“Quiet Francine. Let us greet our new guest. My name is Samuel Mathis. This is Francine and Timothy, you’ve met. The other gentleman is Robert. Pardon the firearms, we can’t be too careful. There have been others not so polite as yourself coming around as of late. As if a plague of the walking dead were not enough to deal with… Ah well, if Man were not inherently evil perhaps we would not be in this situation… But before I break into a sermon. Please tell us your name.”

“Daniel. Daniel Forster. At your service.”

After making the acquaintances they led me inside the gate and closed it. I saw them throw three heavy latches and drop a huge log in place. Weird, but for the first time since this whole fucking thing broke out, I felt relief. Not safe, not by a damn sight, but relieved. I was around people, real people. Not like the jag offs from my unit. Those guys were real assholes. These people were good. I could tell right off the bat. I liked this reverend guy. I took a look around at their little compound. The wall looked pretty solid and as far as I could tell circled the whole place. There was scaffolding around most of it. Smart move. Good firing positions around the whole perimeter. Looked like they were trying to farm in some areas. I could see animal pens too. I immediately started thinking about bacon. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t had anything real to eat in at least a few weeks.

“Someone sounds hungry,” Mathis laughed. “We should get you fed. Francine, go and have Mary fix a plate for Daniel.”

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “We should probably get you a new pair of pants too.”

I laughed it off like it was a joke, but I will tell you right now, and fuck you for judging, but I almost cried right there. After how many months of dealing with assholes and cannibals, to have somebody offer to do something nice for me, something good… Even something as simple as offering me a clean pair of fucking pants. The Rev gave me the nickel tour. It was a fairly solid little spread. Pretty defensible from a military standpoint, even if it looked like most of the people here looked they wouldn’t know how to field strip a taco, let alone a rifle. Still, with a little training and the right fortifications this place looked as good as any for a standoff against a couple hundred walking corpses.

“Quite the setup you got here Rev,” I said.

“We have done what we can with what we have been given. There isn’t a man among us with any real training for this sort of thing. We have a few farmers, a couple of auto mechanics, various and sundry tradesmen, some with hunting experience, but no real military training. That is, until now.” He smiled and put a hand on my shoulder, stopping us in the middle of the street. “You see, I prayed to the Lord to send you here, and now you have arrived praise God.”

“Whoa there Rev. I don’t know how much the Big Guy had to do with my getting here. I just wandered through the woods waiting to die… with no real destination and I just sort of ended up here. I’ll help out if I can and stick around until it’s time for me to leave, but don’t go throwing any divine providence bullshit at me. I can’t handle that kind of pressure right now.”

“As you wish my friend. We could certainly use your expertise here. And I won’t force my divine providence as you call it, on you. For now, get something to eat and get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll put you to work.”

He laughed and clapped me on the back. The group led me to what passed for a mess hall around here. I had two plates of chow, some kind of stew, and more water that I think I have ever drunk in one sitting. I ripped off a loud belch and excused myself.

“He likes your stew Fran,” The Rev called into the kitchen. “I have instructed the residents here to leave you alone until after you have some rest. Needless to say they are quite anxious to meet you. We haven’t had any newcomers in some time, except for the boy, but you will meet him as well. For now, I have taken the liberty of preparing my own room for you. It’s one of the few areas that affords any privacy here I’m afraid. Tomorrow we will show you the rest of the compound and allow some of the others to introduce themselves.”

With that somebody came and took my plate, then the Rev walked me outside and up a hill to a house. An actual, honest-to-goodness house with four walls and a roof. We went inside and up the stairs to the softest, sweetest looking bed I have ever seen. Really it was just a cot mattress and an old box spring with a ratty blanket, but it looked like the fucking Hilton to me.

The Rev wished me a good night and closed the door. I asked if he was going to tuck me in. He just chuckled and said he would be downstairs on the couch if I needed anything. I don’t know what happened, but as soon as my head hit that pillow I was out. Next thing I know the sun is coming in the window and stabbing at my eyes.

Amy

Two weeks passed like lightening on the rooftop. Mick, Garett and I spent a few hours each day scouting the town below. There were no people, and no zombies. After the first week of no sightings we allowed the girls to come with us on our trips. Zoe was prepared as usual. She had a notebook filled with lists of items that would help us when we finally moved on from the slice of paradise we had found. I began to rethink the notion that we needed to follow the flyer. Why leave a perfectly safe and abundant shelter? If we changed our plans we could find a building in the area and fortify it.

No one was in agreement with me. They all saw the roof and this town as a layover. Where I saw an end to running, they saw a fill up station on our way to the true destination. Every day that passed I felt more compelled to push the issue. With each scouting trip we found ourselves faced with the problem of too much. There were too many things for us to take, and not enough room for us to take them. How’s that for a problem? My solution was to stay, and keep all the stuff. Too bad I was the only one to think this was a good idea.

Hannah had found a room in one of the houses that had been owned by a girl who could have been her best friend. The clothes, toys, books were perfect for her. I allowed her a few hours to replace all of the worn out, oversized things we had found on the road along the way. They never had a chance to pack, or take anything of their own when I grabbed them from their home. This bedroom was a blessing for the morale of a road weary little girl.

I sent Mick, Garett, and Zoe off to find more practical items. I wanted some time to spend with my niece, the only innocent person left on the planet for all I knew. Her sister and brother had begun the process of growing cynical and tired. Hannah was the exception. She was still a child at heart, and wanted to find magic in this broken world.

“Aunt Amy?”

“Yes peanut?”

“May I try on some of the clothes before we go?”

Looking into her eyes I saw she was afraid that I would deny this request. How could I though? This child had been positive through the hardest conditions. She kept a brave face and a smile even as we were chased by the monsters that used to only occur in the nightmares of children. Sighing, I put on my best smile and began picking clothes from the closet. I did my best to take out the frilliest and pinkest items I could find.

Hannah twirled around the room as she sported each new ensemble. As luck would have it, there was a wooden jewelry box with a wind up ballerina that spun as music played. The moment I showed it to Hannah, she stared at the small treasure and giggled joyfully. There we were, in the middle of the end of the world, and I was holding hands and spinning with the last ballerina left on the planet. It was like a dream I never wanted to end.

Tears rolled down her tiny cheeks. “What’s wrong Hannah? Did I do something wrong?”

“No Aunt Amy. Nothing is wrong. For the first time since you got us I feel like everything is right.”

I pulled her into a tight hug. Laughing and crying at the same time I assured her that I knew exactly how she felt. With one big turn, I turned the hug into a whirling dance. Her tears dried up and the cheerfulness rose and swelled until it was a wave of happiness that was better than any high ever experienced. Simple joy is hard to come by in humanities last days.

When we finally emerged, Hannah was a dressed in a fairy costume. Prior to leaving Hannah awarded me the title of fairy god aunt. Ribbons hung down from a poorly constructed bun, but my shoddy hair work was gratefully hidden beneath the most beautiful crown of flowers I had ever seen. It seemed the little girl who lived in this abandoned home had the same love of dress up that Hannah had. I loaded up all the items Hannah had picked in a wagon I had found in the back yard. She skipped merrily down the street a few feet ahead of me as we made our way back to the roof.

Three trucks came barreling down the street towards us. Dropping the wagon handle I ran towards Hannah. She froze in the middle of the street. Time slowed to a crawl, but I couldn’t force my muscles to move any faster. They must have believed we were zombies, no one would run a child over on purpose otherwise. My mouth was open, but no scream would come. I couldn’t warn her to move out of the way.

A small breeze blew and Hannah’s ribbons danced around her head. Surely they would see she wasn’t shuffling and moaning. At the last second Hannah found her voice and let out a shriek. But it was too late. They had sped up, aimed right at her and crushed my darling niece under the front of the first truck. I screamed in agony as I watched my little girl, my innocent fairy angel destroyed in a heartbeat. The windows opened, and the men inside began to shoot at me.

I took cover behind a car, praying that they would drive away. Maybe I could still save her I thought to myself. As the engines roared off in the distance I scrambled to her side. She was already gone. Clutching her body close to mine I rocked and cried in the middle of the road. I don’t know how long I sat there with her broken body pressed against my chest. The next thing I knew Mick was pulling me up. He was asking questions that I couldn’t hear or understand.

Garett just stared down at his sister. Zoe collapsed into a heap a good thirty feet away. I gathered what strength I had left and made my way over to her. As I hugged her all I could say was I’m sorry over and over again. Her crying echoed my own. We would never be the same. Hannah was the light of our group, and without her we were going to be like a body without its heart. We had lost our soul.

Garett kicked the wagon’s contents in the middle of the street. Anger bubbled inside of him, and without the culprits to take it out on he began to convulse. Her body was so light from the lack of true nutrition on the road that she weighed nothing as I cuddled her in my arms and walked towards the unknown destination where we would entomb our smallest family member. Mick and Garett buried her small body in a field under a tree. I nailed the fairy wings to the trunk. This way anyone who came across her grave would know someone magical was laid to rest there.

When we crawled back up on the roof that night I knew staying was no longer an option. In fact I needed to get out of the town, off the roof as quickly as possible. We spent the next few days going through the motions. Zoe was not to be left behind anymore, after losing her sister she was no longer a child. We added a trailer to the back of our SUV and filled it with as many supplies as we could. Looking out the rearview mirror as we pulled away from the cursed town I felt I finally knew why it was empty. Even the zombies knew to stay away from this place. It was a wolf wrapped in sheep’s clothing. A town that from the outside looked like paradise, but really was hell on earth.

Test Subject 63-04

This whole thing started with a report from some hick cop out of Bentonville, Virginia of all places. A random attack on a random individual by another random individual. According to the report, cannibalism was involved. So why would two platoons of regular infantry and a unit of Rangers out of Benning be sent to some two-street-light, back-water hole outside Bentonville you ask? Beats the shit out of me, but I’ll tell you this: I think somebody high up knew what that report meant. I’ve never been a conspiracy nut. We heard a lot of that crap at the barracks, especially after 9/11. The Government knows this or that, They caused this epidemic or that disease. We were a bunch of grunts just killing time waiting to be sent over to some desert somewhere. I never put much stock in that horseshit. Especially because nobody could ever tell me who They were, or how They managed to control all this shit when from where I stood They couldn’t even manage to get my paycheck right.

So there we were one afternoon, shooting the shit on a Friday waiting for our leave passes to kick in, when we got the call.

“Grab gear and haul ass to the cattle cars boys!” my sergeant shouted. He was a decent guy, it was our Captain who was the dick, but from what I hear that was pretty much SOP for the US Military.

I got my team together and we loaded in. We were kind of excited just to be doing something other than guarding the ammo dump or the water tower all day, every day.

“Where are we going?” a few of the new guys asked.

“You’ll know when we get there shitheel!” barked the sergeant, “You’ll get orders when you get them, until then shut the fuck up.”

The bluster was for show, I’d known him long enough to know that he didn’t have a fucking clue where we were going either. I caught site of the rest of the convoy as we loaded, looked like two platoons of straight-legs, a handful of tanks, three Bradleys, and one big transport with the unmistakable markings of the Rangers on the side. That and all the trimmings loaded into five or six support vehicles. A decent sized group, but nothing too major. I’d seen a bigger force dispatched to do parade duty. I realized later that this was as big a force as they were willing to send out without raising a lot of suspicion. All conspiracy theories aside, I firmly believe that it was leadership’s intent on keeping a low profile that allowed this thing to get out of hand. Had we sent a larger force, we would have crushed this thing in Virginia and the world may not have collapsed into a bunch of walking corpses.

Our orders were relayed en route. We were told a state of civil unrest had broken out in a small Virginia town and our role was to act as support for local law enforcement. They neglected to mention that the “civil unrest” involved a bunch of cannibalistic nutjobs shambling through the street attacking any living thing they came across. They also neglected to mention that local law enforcement had given up the ghost a while back.

By the time we neared Bentonville, you could see smoke on the horizon and the dim, red glow of a big-assed fire. We pulled right into the center of town and unloaded from the trucks. The CO immediately started barking orders for us to set up base camp right there in the street. None of the buildings looked occupied; we hadn’t seen anybody on the way in either. It looked like a ghost town, made all the more eerie by the fading daylight. I wish it had stayed that way.

We made a lot of racket setting up. Some of the guys started to question where the law enforcement we were supposed to be supporting was, and why they hadn’t bothered to come and brief us as to the situation, or at least say hi. The Rangers headed out to recon the area. About an hour later four of them came back in big, big hurry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Ranger move that way. They almost looked scared. These guys were trained to dig trenches with their dicks. I saw one in a barfight once, one guy against six linebacker looking frat boys. He took them apart. These guys didn’t get scared, so what the fuck were they running from? They made straight for the command center in the general store. About five minutes later my sergeant came out yelling for us to get ready. So we got ready. Not ready for what we saw though. We set up a firing line at the edge of a baseball field; the woods on the far side were where the Rangers came from.

First, we heard the moan. It sounded like the wind blowing through a haunted house, or like coffin boards dragging across the floor. Plainly put, it sounded like every one of your nightmares had gotten together and were dragging their way toward you from out of the spookiest woods imaginable.

Next came the stench. My father grew up downwind from a pig farm, a fact he would throw out every time we complained about anything as kids. I imagine this is what it must have smelled like. If you covered it in manure, set it on fire, and pissed out the flames. A lot of guys started puking, it was that bad.

On our first visual contact, everybody froze. Everybody. Three of them came out of the woods. These were the most mangled, deformed bodies any of us had ever seen, and most of the guys here had done time in Iraq and Afghanistan. A roadside bomb does a number on anybody close enough to see it, but these things made that kind of damage look tame. They looked chewed on. Their guts were hanging from their bellies. One of them had a broken arm, the bones poking out all over the place. How in the hell were they still on their feet?!

My asshole Captain called for them to halt. Good luck with that one chief. They just slouched forward, covering the distance between us and them. Three bodies, I couldn’t tell you if they were male or female, against a hundred men and six tanks. They never stopped moving. Even after we opened fire.

Chunks of them started flying. One of them was completely cut in half, but the torso kept crawling toward us. We had been trained from day one of BRM to aim center-mass, dead center on the target, so nobody was going for a headshot. One lucky grunt landed one though. Dropped the fucker on the spot. The victory celebration was short lived though as we soon noticed the rest of them emerging from the tree line. There had to be at least a hundred of them and there were more still coming out.

“Hell vomited up its dead…” I heard some guy on my right start to puke. The whole company opened fire, a lot of guys went full-auto. I barked at my team as best I could over the din. “One shot!” I yelled out. “One kill!”, came the reply. They were good bunch of guys. Too bad none of them made it out of there. Technically, nobody made it out of there, not even me.

These things just kept coming. Fucking relentless. That’s the only way to describe them. We took down fifteen or twenty before they got close enough to start grabbing guys. Twenty out of God-knows-how-many. Best count I could give would be three hundred altogether. Gunfire petered out and was replaced by screams and that godforsaken moan. I don’t think the tanks even fired a shot. Not that they would have done a lot of good. We were overwhelmed in minutes. I saw guys on my left and right disappear under a wave of decayed flesh. A couple of brave fucks fixed bayonets and tried a little CQB. They were eaten alive. Literally. I noticed the brass trying to beat feet back to the transports. They didn’t make it. I stayed with my men until every last one went down. After that I figure my responsibility was done so I got the fuck out. At least that’s what I tried to do. By then it was a sea of moaning, rotted bodies, biting and clawing and tearing. I tried to fall back to my vehicle but I got tripped up when a hand shot out from under a pile of bodies and grabbed my ankle. It was my sergeant. I thought he needed help so I reached over to pull him out. That’s when he bit me on the wrist. I howled in pain and kicked at him with my free foot. I just kept kicking and kicking. I was pretty freaked out. I watched the center of his face collapse until it was nothing but a bloody mangle of skin and tiny bones. He just kept trying to pull me closer and bite me again. I pulled my sidearm and shot him in the center of the forehead. Very lucky shot, I wasn’t aiming just acting out of instinct. As soon as the back of his head sprayed out behind him he let go of my leg and I took off. It was there that it clicked. You have to hit them in the head. Otherwise they keep coming. Then I heard jets. Not planes mind you, anyone with half a brain can tell the difference. These were big fuckers. Bombers most likely. Coming fast and low. I knew what that meant. They were coming to glass the area. Outstanding. I scanned for a place to run. No dice. I wouldn’t get out in time. I could hide under a vehicle but that would only mean I wouldn’t see the fireball coming. Buildings wouldn’t matter either, I knew what kind of firepower these guys were toting. I dropped to my knees and waited. They passed about half a mile to south and ten seconds after they were gone it looked like the sky itself was on fire.

“Nice going guys. You missed!” I yelled out to no one in particular. The people from the woods noticed the fireglow and started walking toward it. I saw some of the guys that had gone down in the fight get up and follow them. This last part I couldn’t believe myself. I thought it was maybe early onset PTSD.

Then the trucks came from the north. I don’t know how many of them there were but the first dozen or so didn’t even stop to check the scene here, they just kept going south toward the fire. I could hear shots from that direction as they made contact with the enemy.

A couple did finally stop and some seriously heavy dudes piled out of the back in full MOPP 4 gear. I stood up with my hands up, palms out in the universal don’t shoot me in the face gesture. As soon as they saw me they started firing questions at me. “What’s your name? Who’s your CO? Who’s the president?” I understood immediately that they were trying to figure out if I was going to leap on one them and try to rip his throat out. I gave my name, rank, and ID number, I told them where I grew up and where I went to basic, I told them what I thought was funny anecdote about growing up in Columbus just outside of Fort Benning. They seemed satisfied that I wasn’t going to attack anybody and lowered their weapons. Then one of them noticed the bite on my wrist and the guns came up again. One of them took off toward a carrier.

“We’ve got a bite! Get the Doc!” Two kept rifles on me while another strapped my hands behind my back with those little plastic restraint strips. I didn’t resist. Even when the strap cut into the already burning bite wound. I asked repeatedly what the fuck was going on. They tied my wrists, then tied my arms down, and finally put about a mile of tape around my ankles. I just kept asking what the fuck was going on. I knew I wasn’t going to get an answer. These guys had no rank, no insignia, no identification on their suits. I’m smart enough to know that those are the guys we aren’t supposed to know about.

Some scrawny guy a lab coat and respirator climbed out of the back of a Bradley and came over brandishing a huge needle.

“I’m going to sleep now, huh?” I asked.

“Yes son. But don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you,” came the reply.

“Yeah. Right.” I was out before he even pulled out the needle.

I woke up in this place. I haven’t seen the rest of the building but I’m guessing it’s a hospital somewhere. Could be two miles underground for all I know. I haven’t seen the outside of this room since I came here. I’ll tell you what I have noticed. One by one, the people that used to come around, to bring me food or take blood, have stopped coming by. The first few days, or weeks, or whatever the hell it was, this was Grand Central Fucking Station. I had guards at the door, meals four times a day, a train of doctors and nurses asking questions and taking blood. They were always taking blood... I’d answer the same questions over and over. Most of the people were okay I guess, nobody beat me or badgered me too bad. Except one guy I named Dr. Knowitall. I hate that guy. Just something about him creeped me the fuck out. I still couldn’t get anybody to answer my questions. They’d talk about sports and the weather, one of the guards and I played dominos a few times, but as soon as I’d ask about what happened in Virginia, or what was going on outside. They’d leave the room.

The closest thing I got an answer was from Molly. She used to bring me my bowl of water and sponge for my nightly bath. One night, we were flirting a little and I asked her out.

“Nothing fancy,” I said, “Just coffee, or maybe a couple of drinks and some sex.”

She comes back with, “Like that’s ever going to happen again,” and looks away all sad.

At first I thought she was just shooting me down, but something about the way she added the “again” and the look on her face told me that something real bad was going down out in the real world. Like whatever it was we came up against outside Bentonville was getting out of hand.

I stopped asking after that. Just went through the motions, let them poke and prod and interrogate all they wanted. Pretty soon I was only getting fed twice a day. Then most of the docs stopped showing up, then I only had one guard. Then almost everybody stopped coming. Except for Dr. Knowitall. The squirrelly fuck paces outside my door for a couple hours, comes in to ask some inane questions, then goes back to pacing the hall. I would be willing to bet that, whatever the hell is going on, he and I are the only ones left in this place. I know for a fact that he’s insane. And that he doesn’t know that I know he plans on killing me. In fact, I’ve made some, let’s call them travel arrangements, in which his attempt to shoot me will play a pretty important part on getting me underway. I just hope he tries to shoot me and doesn’t plan on letting me starve, or talking me to death.

Rev Mathis and the “Townies”

As per our usual routine, those keeping the last watch before dawn woke me up just as the sun came up. I went out into my garden and said my morning prayers. I added a special thanks for our new arrival. I felt that his presence meant that my original inclination was correct and that we were to begin going on the offensive against these foul things. I still didn’t understand my immunity but I felt its significance would be made clear at the right time. What I needed to do was to convince Daniel to help us. The “Townies” as they have begun calling themselves are a good hearted people. We haven’t let anyone in who we felt would be a threat to what little order we have maintained here. The downside to this is that we have no real offensive experience. We have been lucky that the few humans we have had to turn away were too tired and hungry to put up much of a fight. As for the dead, we have yet to face them in sufficient number to really test our defenses. Not that I wish us to be tested too thoroughly just yet. Though the time for that will come I suppose.

I have had to reconcile the Sixth Commandment for many of my new flock. As I said, they are a simple, good hearted people who, in life before this tragedy, lived small town lives.  I have explained to them that I believe these poor, unfortunate beings to lack any semblance of humanity. That is, they may assume a human form as have demons in the past, however they lack the morality, the intelligence, and the compassion that makes a human being a human being. In short, they have no soul. To dispatch one of them is to merely put to rest a body that has forgotten how to die. This philosophy seems have assuaged a good deal of guilt among the Townies.

When we first managed to put up the wall the first thought was to let them congregate outside. It was believed that they lacked the strength to breach the wall. We found out too late that that was not true. One night, fifteen or so of them broke through the wall on the south side of town. Luckily, we had a patrol close by. They raised the alarm and we dispatched the ghouls rather hastily. After the incident, it was decided that whenever one of them was sighted, they would be eliminated immediately in the quickest, most humane method available. This usually means having one of our more experienced archers take care of them. We have a decent amount of ammunition for the guns we have, but it was decided that it would be better not to waste any of it. Noise was also a deciding factor.

Sightings have become less frequent as time has worn on, both of the living and of the dead. We live by routine here. We have several gardens tended to by those with a knack for growing vegetables. We have about a dozen men that can hunt the nearby woods. We have six wells within our walls. We have an eclectic mix of individuals with varied skills. Some farm, some hunt, some entertain. We even have a handful of nurses and a man that practiced medicine of a sort. A chiropractor, but beggars cannot be choosers. We have church on Sunday and anyone caught breaking one of our laws is dealt with swiftly, but fairly. The only thing we lacked was a warrior. Now he has been sent to us. I must convince him to train a force.

I believe this place could be our Canaan, our promised land. This town is an oasis of His light in a barren desert of the damned, a place for us to gather our forces and prepare for what will no doubt be a long journey toward returning to His grace.

I have tried very hard to not let my ego run rampant. I do not wish to see myself as some kind of modern day Moses, nor do I wish others to see me that way, but the analogy is kind of hard to ignore. I have been bitten, yet I have been spared the fate of so many others. I cannot be the only one. There must be others that share my immunity to whatever germ this is that causes those apparently dead to rise and consume flesh. I have prayed on the matter, but the answers have not been forthcoming.

For now, I will walk by faith as I have promised to do. I must convince Daniel of his part in this. He has stated that he was not an officer and is, in his own words, not equipped to train men to do more than dig latrines. I believe he could show us how to shoot at the very least. Perhaps teach us some basic military theories or some defense strategies better than those we have now. Perhaps that will be enough.

I continue to be perplexed by the boy, Max. He is a conundrum. He has been through trials that would break most grown men, yet he does not appear to be shell shocked in the least. Not to say he is not a little peculiar. His proclivity toward “hunting” the dead for example. He seems to see it as some sort of game, where he wishes to be the one with the high score. This could prove to be dangerous in the future. But maybe we can harness that. If there were some way I could get him together with Daniel. It would seem that the two of them share some kind of warriors bond that I do not quite understand. It would be unfathomably easier for me to work all this out had I someone to talk to other than to a journal. There is no person within the town that I can really trust with my innermost musings. They all see me as their leader, a role I fill reluctantly, and it would not do for morale for them to see me as having doubts. I must appear as wise as Solomon and as cunning as David.

Daniel

Fucking Reverend is really getting on my nerves… For almost as long as I have been here he keeps pussyfooting around asking me to “lead his men”. What the fuck is that shit?! I told him from the jump that I was just a PFC. A grunt. I am no more qualified to train troops than I am to teach calculus or a damn cooking class. Actually, I’m probably more qualified to teach a cooking class. I wish he would just ask already so I can shoot him down. I relented as far as showing them some basic rifle marksmanship. There’s a fairly decent selection of weapons around here, a lot of hunting rifles and a shitload of good old American handguns in various calibers. We kept live-fire stuff to a minimum to conserve ammo, but most of these guys have a good grasp on which end the bullets come out of. It is damn hard to hit a moving target, especially one as small as a human head. Luckily, these things aren’t too fast.

And then there’s the kid. I hate to say it, but I love that little bastard. Reminds me of a kid from my neighborhood growing up. That little fucker was batshit crazy, but he had absolutely no fear. We used to play a game down by the train tracks. You’d run out in front of the train as it came over this one hill. The one that got the closest, without getting nailed of course, won. Ricky would come tear-assing from out of the trees so the driver wouldn’t have time to brake and he would run so close that he could have stolen the fucking conductor’s hat if he stuck his arm out.

I wonder where he is now. Ricky, not the conductor, I am relatively sure that guy’s dead, maybe he’s out there right now gnawing on a femur. But Ricky, that kid was tough. I know he spent a few years in prison for assault, but I have no idea what happened after that. I figure it doesn’t mean shit anyway. Not right now.

Fucking things breached the wall again. We spent the last three months fixing the damn thing and it only took six of them to tear a hole in it. They hit the outer trip wire but the damn alarm never went off. Fucking batteries. Some old lady went out to pull up some carrots and there they were. Half a dozen of them milling around just inside the perimeter. Well her screaming did what the alarm should have. It went off like clockwork after that. The four nearest guards were on the scene ricky-tick and took out the moaners with only ten shots. We got the collapsed section back up and burned the bodies just outside the wall. I don’t understand why we waste the fuel burning them, but the Rev says it’s a purification rite. Whatever. At least they don’t get back up. And let me tell you something. If you think they stink when there dragging around, get a whiff of them when they’re on fire. I would rather burn latrines. After the incident, I talked to the Rev about finding better digs. That conversation got heated pretty quick. I tried to explain that we only have so much scrap around here and it wont be long before it’s not moaners we’re dealing with, but a trained unit of real live men. With better guns than us. If that happens we’re toast. The lucky ones will get slaughtered. God knows what will happen to the rest. We need a fort, or a prison, or one those missile silos out west. Fucking A, that would be awesome.

Jessica

I still don’t understand how it happened. I was walking down the street to get to my next required meeting with Vincent and I was bitten. I was so far behind the line that it never occurred to me that I should be on alert for danger. At least not this kind of danger. Without even thinking, I stabbed the thing through the eye with my grandfather’s pen. It was over in a matter of seconds, but in those precious seconds I knew my life was over. No one gets bitten and lives. Vincent was going to have me shot.

His men saw it happen. There was absolutely no way I was going to be able to deny it, or hide from it. Not that the option to hide it was ever really there. The sickness sets in so fast, once infected your body shuts down. They swooped over and half of the men dragged me towards Vincent’s office as the other half took the dead body to the fire pit. Sadly, I wasn’t upset that this was to be my end. Each day I spent behind the line I felt as if I was dying anyway. It was a joyless existence. I wanted more than survival. I wanted to thrive, to feel alive. There had to be more to life than this, even as the world crumbles around us, and I preferred the thought of death by gunshot to one more day in this prison.

The men threw me down on the floor in front of Vincent’s desk. “She’s been bitten. Ten minutes ago, on the street two blocks from here. I don’t know how one got past our lines,” mumbled the oldest one in the group.

“Find the breach, and report back to me. Get everyone on it, even those who are off shift. This is the only thing that matters until the answer is found.”

“And her?”

“Leave her with me. She has hours before she turns, and I need to have her assemble the writing she has done before that happens.” He sighed, “Go. Find our weakness, and fix it. No mistakes with this boys. All we need is one in here, and it all goes to hell again.”

Once the men the left, Vincent sat and stared at me for a few minutes. His face never really betrays what he is feeling. It is one of the things that makes me so nervous about him. Normally, when someone speaks to you their intention is written across their face. With Vincent it is just a blank, cold stare. He finally let out a deep breath that I didn’t realize he had been holding in.

“I am sorry I didn’t keep you safe Jessica. You have become very important to me, and I will miss you when you are gone. I feel like I have failed you.” He said all of this, but his face read otherwise. He still looked cold and blank.

“You have not failed Vincent. These are impossible times.” I don’t know why I lied then. Why would I still fear a man who I knew was going to have me killed in a matter of hours. A death that I believed I was looking forward to.

The politician’s smile crept its way across his mask of a face. “You are too kind Jessie. Shall we go gather the writing now?”

“Of course. Everything is in my home.”

We walked silently back to my house. I was lucky enough to be able to keep my home through the takeover. Many were told that their homes were needed for this purpose or that, but in the end the best properties were being scooped up by Vincent’s cronies. I already told you what happens when you disagree with the current management. No one fought being relocated; actually, no one fought anything anymore. It was as if we had become zombies in our own right.

As I packed up the pages of the Vincent’s biography, it hit me. Even though I was unhappy, I didn’t want to die. I just wanted to escape. Being bitten changed all of that. I wouldn’t have the chance. Never would I live free again. My destiny was to die at the hands of a madman in a prison that I had agreed to stay in. As I picked up the papers, the weight of reality pressed deep into my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Panic set in, and I was hyperventilating. Vincent watched me with his lifeless face. There was no concern, I was just another pawn to be used and discarded. A good leader cares for his people. To Vincent we are nothing.

I finished gathering what he wanted, and managed to pull myself back together. If this was to be my end, I would get there with my dignity intact. It was at this point that I figured out I had nothing left to lose. “May I go sit and watch the waves for a while? I know my end is coming, but I’d like to see something beautiful before I die.”

“Of course. You will have to be escorted by one of the men. As soon as you show signs of sickness Jessie we will have to end your time with us. You can sit there as long as you wish, but don’t try to run away from your guard. You will be shot.” He said all of this in the most matter of fact tone I have ever heard. Speaking of shooting me like it was just one of those things you do on a normal day. I guess this is the new normal, but his lack of emotion left me cold inside.

Vincent took the writing with him and assigned a man to watch me on the beach. Rummaging through the shed below my house I found a few shovels and pails in a beach bag, and a beach chair. The toys were there for my brothers children. My parents made sure our home always had enough beach toys to build a sand city. Loading myself up with all of this leisure gear was comforting. Fall was here, and a cold wind blew gently across the dunes. It was a perfect day.

I spent the next few hours digging and shaping the sand into castles and buildings. Once bored with those designs I moved on to more creative expressions. By the time I had tired myself out there was a zoo’s worth of animals on the shoreline. Hippos, turtles, lions, tigers and alligators sculpted carefully, lounging in the afternoon sun. Exhausted from hours of digging, I relaxed lazily in my chair with my feet buried in the cool sand.

“How do you feel?” Tim the guard asked in a worried voice.

When we first arrived at the beach I could feel his stare beating against my skin, his anxiety of the sickness that was going to overtake me was palpable. As the hours passed his fear grew, but I lost in my building had barely noticed his presence.

“I feel fantastic Tim. I expect it should happen soon, so I am just going to sit here and think. Would you like to join me as I wait for the inevitable?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer before Vincent was made his way out to us with two of his men. I had seen these men before, and avoided them at all costs. Vincent didn’t recruit his personal guard by picking the men with the best qualities; instead he looked for those that the others would fear. If I had to guess I would say that both of these men had spent time in prison. They both towered over Vincent who was easily 6’ 2”, and they looked like two brick walls of muscle. Tim jumped at the sight of them.

The brick wall brothers never talked. Vincent was the brains and they were the brawn. “How is my girl feeling?”

His girl? What the hell was that supposed to mean? That man was infuriating. Calling me his girl as if he wasn’t about to have me exterminated. Sighing I resigned to fact that none of this exchange matter. My clock had run out of time, and the end was finally here. Scanning my creatures and buildings one last time, I began to pack up my stuff.

“She has been busy in the sand all day. Hasn’t shown any sign of sickness at all. It wasn’t until a minute ago that she finally put the shovels down to rest and watch the ocean.” Tim reported uneasily.

“Hmm.” Vincent’s face was still unreadable, “It has been hours, she should have spiked a fever by now. Jessie? Do you feel sick at all?”

“No.” I answered carefully.

“Then finish packing up. We are going to move you to a building for quarantine. Tim you can take off. You’re off duty for today. I better not find out that you discuss any of this with anyone. There will be consequences for you if this gets around. We don’t know anything yet and I do not want the rumors to start flying.”

With that Tim practically ran off the beach. Very few liked to be in Vincent’s company for more than a few seconds. The longer he was with you the more likely you were to be put to death. No one was going to know what had happened to me. Not until Vincent wanted them to. There was no mistaking the fact that I was still a prisoner. My two oversized guards led me to a small room in what used to be a library.

Vincent followed me in to the makeshift cell. “Are you hungry Jessie? I want you to be comfortable in here while we wait to see how you fare. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet, but maybe, just maybe you really are my girl. I am sure I am not the only one in the world that is immune if humans have a chance to survive this. There must be a woman, too. The fates have destined me to be the ruler of what is left after all the pieces fall. They must have seen to it that I would have an heir. A child born from two parents with immunity would be the next step in our evolution. Now all we have to do is wait. Time will tell if that woman is you.”

With that said he turned and left the room. The guards were instructed to never lose sight of me. Their lives depended on his monitoring of my condition. If I turned I was to be put down immediately, but if I did not after 3 days I was to be brought to him. Vincent looked me over one more time before leaving the building. Sickness took over my body, but not from the bite. The idea of being intimate with him repulsed me. If there was a way that I was going to survive the bite I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay around long enough to be violated by him. Three days, that was how long I had to plan an escape. The days passed quickly and I never did get sick. I also could not get his soulless eyes out of my head.

Wayne

Months have gone by and we are still locked away in our own little slice of heaven. The kids are restless and want to go outside and run around. My wife has done her best to keep them busy and entertained, but a 20’x10’ area for four people can get cramped pretty quick. Shelia decided after a week of being down here that the kids needed to be schooled still. She spends a few hours each day going through their lessons with them. Keeping their minds busy has helped with the cabin fever. Our food supplies are still good, and water is not too low. Morale is the biggest issue we got right now.

I use the radio to get updates every day. The whole mess seems worse, with no hope of getting better. I had a plan to keep us safe, but not for the rest of our lives. No one wants to spend a lifetime locked up underground. Reports from other preppers leaving their shelters in search of somebody, or anything haven’t boded well. Many times we never hear from them again. Others just drove far enough to realize that there was no escape and headed back to the safety they had in their shelters. All reports stress how dangerous it is out there. It’s not a place to bring kids.

So now what am I supposed to do? Waiting it out was the plan. I was going to shut us in and allow the world to fall apart only to emerge after the initial danger was over. This doesn’t seem like it will have an end. Shelia, god bless her, has been trying to keep my mood light but I feel more defeated by the day. All of my time and energy was spent getting ready for something like this to happen, but I never had the forethought to see it was what it was, the end of humanity. I believed that we would recover. The human race would move on, and be stronger for it. My arrogance was naïve.

One of the brave that ventured outside found a flyer from the government. It had an address and a list of items they wanted you to bring along. He thinks it may be a safe zone for survivors to try to take back an area and research a way to eradicate the living dead. I hope he is right. He left 5 days ago for the facility, and has promised to check in when he gets there. The rest of us are waiting for that check in like a lifeline. Many of us see it as our only chance. Imagine an area where all of the best prepared survival experts will end up together.

Two major concerns have been voiced over and over while we wait to hear if the place even exists. The first, and most commonly feared, is this area is not a sanctuary. What if the government or someone else is just luring those with the supplies they need  into some sort of trap? What an ingenious idea, like a spider with a web. Second, what if this isn’t the government but a group of individuals who have seized power. There could be chaos, or worse a dictatorship ruled by an evil warlord.

Even if this place is the sanctuary we have all been longing for, getting there will be hell. For many it will be impossible. Luckily for me, I am second closest to the facility. As we discussed our concerns we have also talked our way through a preliminary plan if we are going to try to get there. It was agreed upon that we should attempt to arrive at the same time. We want to go in as a group in case there is danger.

That means I get to leave almost last. Meeting points are being arranged, and some people are sounding like they have some life back in them. The thought of a bit of freedom, danger and all, has raised many of the group’s spirits. Wish I could say the same for me, but I’m no liar. Looking at my kids listening to my wife as she teaches them how to read and write has me worried. I feel like I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

The radio comes to life with a familiar voice. 5 days was all it took for him to get there. Mind you, he was only 50 miles away. Call signs were a thing of the past, so he just started talking.

“I’m here. It’s what we were hoping for, a place to get together. They are going to put me in quarantine, but I told them I had to tell you guys what I saw first. They hold you for three days away and guarded. Then you get to go in to the general population. They confiscate everything you have, personal items get sent to your room and everything else goes into the communal pool. It’s not the government per se, but it is government guys. There is a mix of military and scientists. A bunch of regular folks, too. From what they have told me they have an average of 5 newcomers every day. There is more than enough room here for all of us. They have a whole town under their control and walled up. It is a small town, out in the middle of nowhere, but it’s defendable. It is the best we are going to get. If you are coming, then do so. Scary as hell getting here and you’re going to hate me for telling you to leave the safety of your fortifications, but when you get here you’ll see. We’ve got a chance. See you all soon, and good luck.”

Then he was gone. The radio went nuts with people ready to go. I looked at the kids and my wife and wished we could just stay here forever. We can’t though, and better to leave when the getting’s good. I shut my radio off for the night and started the list. We only had a few days before we had to get a move on.

Tim

When Vincent dismissed me for the day I ran as soon as I was out of sight. That man scares the shit out of me. Being around him makes all the hairs on your body stand right up. I wasn’t native to this island, so I felt lucky that he let me live when his group finally cleared the roads to the spot where I was hiding. Before the illness took over the world I was a nobody. I tried to stay a nobody here too, but Vincent likes to shoot anyone who doesn’t pull his weight.

Watching that writer woman all day freaked me out. I heard she was bitten. The rest of the guys were told to go off on patrol and find where the thing got in. Someone must have screwed up. Our lines were secure, and Vincent had us picking off the dead all day. Bonfires burn corpses all day long. The smell is unbearable at times, then you think about it and understand the smell equals one less threat. I waited all day for her to turn, or get sick, but she didn’t.

The look on Vincent’s face when he saw she was not only healthy, but full of energy, was intense. I could see I was in a situation well above my pay grade. He didn’t need to threaten me to stay quiet. I knew right away it was in my best interest to keep my trap shut. The writer didn’t look as scared of Vincent and his boys. Not like me, I was close to pissing my pants.

She held her head high when talking to him. It looked like she was trying to read his face. Staring into his eyes, I think she was trying to figure out what he was thinking. There is no use in that. The man is a statue when he wants to be, and any expression other than rage is a fake. He plays up for a crowd what they want to see at that moment. Vincent is a natural born politician. Saying anything, or doing anything to further his agenda.

After a night of hiding in my room I was called back to writer guard duty. I expected her to be sick as a dog by now. You have no idea how surprised I was to see her sitting in her cell, I mean room, reading a book. I was joined by another man I had never met before. We relieved the two goons at the door and spent the next 12 hours sitting by the door waiting for something to happen. There was nothing to do but shoot the shit all day, and I learned more than I ever wanted to know about my new partner Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t from the island either. He spent longer than any man should have to endure on the other side of the line. It didn’t take me long listening to him to get the feeling that his body may be intact, but his sanity was in question. Vincent’s men had recently freed him from his shithole of a hiding spot and he took to the group like a fish takes to water. Eddie couldn’t say enough about Vincent and Earl. They were his saviors even though neither of them was there for his rescue.

He had what I like to call blind loyalty. Vincent is really going to love this guy. Hero worship is the number one quality when you are part of The Captain’s Crew. I, on the other hand, wish I could find a way out of this mess I’ve landed in. Nothing would make me happier than getting off of this damn island. Jessica is busy eating her third meal of the day. This was strange, since the illness takes your appetite away almost instantly. It does however replace it with an insatiable craving for human flesh once you reanimate.

Stoic as ever, she seemed to be fearless. Then I saw it. There was a glimpse of fear in her eyes. As quickly as it was there it had faded away. Why did I feel more frightened for the fate of this woman then she seemed to feel herself? Being Vincent’s prisoner was an oddity. Normally he would have shot you by now if he felt it would serve his purpose. That was what was nagging at me. He believed she had another purpose to him.

Why couldn’t she see that Vincent seeing her as special was a very dangerous thing? I feared that whatever he wanted from her was worse than her death. Yet she sat there, eating her fish and bread. When I got back to my room that night I saw her face playing over and over in my head. I couldn’t get that look of fear out of my thoughts, even if she only showed it for a second.

The next day I was ordered to resume my post outside her cell. At least I wasn’t surprised by her lack of sickness this time. I was beginning to wonder if she had ever really been bitten at all. Then, as if on cue, she removed her sweatshirt and her shoulder was bare and mangled. Not only had she been bitten, a chuck of her had been eaten. She asked politely for a bowl of warm water and soap to clean her wound. Eddie jumped at the chance to go stretch his legs.

“You need anything else?”

“A way out,” she mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I don’t need anything.”

There it was again. That glimmer of fear. She instantly recovered, and her eyes went right back to the look of a woman in deep thought. I wish I could have read her mind. She was an enigma. There was no real way to explain the strength of this woman. Grown men tremble in fear of Vincent and she sits there all day tough as nails. Maybe it wasn’t courage, I began to wonder if it was stupidity. Being a writer doesn’t guarantee you are intelligent, does it?

Whatever it was, I wanted some of it. If I had an ounce of whatever was making her so brave I could take off. I wouldn’t fear the patrols or goons. My ass would be on the next boat to zombieville. Anywhere had to be better than here. But I didn’t have what she had. I was a piece of shit coward who was going to stay here long enough to lose my value and become just another log on the fire.

On day three there was still no change in the writer. Eddie was full of stories about his idol Vincent. All he did all day was recite back the propaganda bullshit Vincent’s men have been pushing on us since I got in here. There was no way I was going to voice my opinion about our beloved leader. Eddie was lemming, nothing I could say would ever change his mind about Vincent. It could, however, change his mind about me. And not for the better.

When our shift was over the goons came to take the writer away. It was made clear that we were not to discuss this with anyone, or heads would roll. Eddie babbled his love for Vincent and his gratitude for being chosen for such an important assignment. I mimicked him. What else was I to do? If they thought I wasn’t enthusiastic enough about Vincent I would be dead before sundown.

The writer was taken from her cell to Vincent’s office. The look wasn’t there this time. I expected to see it. She looked like a royal prisoner of war trying to maintain as much dignity and grace as possible. That was the moment I knew, I would do anything to get her off this island and away from that man. We hadn’t spoken but a few words, but her fearlessness made me want to stand up and fight for her in a way I wouldn’t fight for myself.

Max and Rocky

I don’t fit in with the kids here. I wish I did, but every day I see that I don’t get to be a kid anymore. I tried at first, but the more I tried the worse it got. They annoyed the heck out of me, and I think I scared the hell out of them. All they wanted to hear was stories from outside. All I wanted to do was forget. Rocky and I just needed some rest, and a chance to breathe, but they were crammed up my butt all night and day with the never ending questions. The boys were the worst.

I had to repeat the same stories over and over again. None of them ever asked what it was like for me before, they only wanted to know all the bloody details. I didn’t mind at first, I was proud of what I had done. Proud of the moaners I killed. But then I was tired of hearing myself talk. I felt like a cd stuck on skip. The other boys turned on me quickly and decided I was a liar. They said I made it all up, all because a detail or two was missing the 45th time I told a story. That was when I stopped talking to them.

I started to follow the reverend around like a shadow, and Rocky followed me. He was working with Daniel to get the men ready to take on the zombies if they brought the fight to us again. Daniel is a weird guy, but I like him best. He is tough and strong, but doesn’t seem like he wants to be in charge. He could run this place if he wanted to. I wondered why he didn’t. Things would go a lot smoother that way. The Reverend is a great guy, but he doesn’t know squat about fighting.

I watched long enough to figure out that I was better at most of the stuff than the adults. Daniel saw me hiding and finally called me out on it. He asked me to line up and try what he was training the adults to do. He didn’t yell at me and tell me to go back and play with the kids like most adults would do. I told you he was smart. So he had me shoot at a target. I guess I did good, because after I took my shot he told me to get in line with the men and stay training with them. He said it was a waste to have someone who knew what to do hiding in the corner.

Rocky laid down off to the side, but kept his eyes on me the whole time. The camp had a few small run-ins with the zombies before, but Daniel and I knew that there were huge swarms out there. I had seen them. If we couldn’t get this group ready, we would all die when they showed up. People were afraid here, but not afraid enough. They were too comfortable. Life was too easy.

Trainings went well for a while. The guys were starting to get it. They didn’t have it in them to train all day. That was going to be a problem, because we needed them to get good as fast as possible. Daniel and I would spend the rest of the day training after the guys would say they had enough. That time was the best, just me, Rocky and Daniel fixing our walls and talking about what else needed to be done.

He never looked at me like I was too young to know stuff. He would ask me what I saw and what I fought when I was alone. He also asked me about my life before the zombies came. It was nice to talk about my mom and dad. Then one day I thought I should tell him why I was alone.

“Daniel? If I tell you something you promise not to think I am a sicko?”

He took a deep breath and stared at me for a minute. “Sure kid. Whatever you say stays between us, and I won’t judge you for the shit that has to be done out there. These guys may not get it, but I was out there too. To be honest with you kid, I am not really good at that touchy feely bullshit though, so if you need that you might want to talk to the Rev.”

“Nah, I don’t want touchy feely. I just…” I tried to say what it was that I wanted and figured out that I didn’t really know what I wanted. “I just gotta say it I guess and know I’m not completely screwed up now.”

“Max, you are the only guy around here I feel like being around at all. You and Rocky are it. So if you’re screwed up, hell I am too. Change that, I am screwed up. I ever tell you I walked around with shit in my pants for way too many days to be called sane ever again.”

“Shit in your pants?” I bust out laughing.

“Thanks kid,” he laughed too, a deep belly laugh that shook the air. “Now you know my deep, dark, nasty, shit filled secret. So you owe me. What’s on your mind?”

“My dad had to kill my mom.” I blurted out. Then like a waterfall the words came and I couldn’t stop them. “He killed my mom, and I was pissed. I didn’t get it that she wasn’t coming back. I got bit before her and I didn’t get sick. How come she did?”

His eyeballs got huge. I forgot that I had never told anyone about the bite. He must have thought I was a monster about to change right in front of him. Shit, Shit, Shit. But I couldn’t stop, I just kept talking.

“My dad takes me away from my farm, and tells me about how screwed we are and how life is pretty much going to suck from now on. I’m a man now. I have to be able to take care of myself. I got that, I knew I wasn’t allowed to be a kid and have fun anymore. There wasn’t any more fun to have. Then dad got bit.”

I was shaking by this point, of all the stories I told since I got here, this wasn’t one of them. “He got bit, then he got sick. I did right by him,” I said tears rolling down my cheeks. “Fuck Daniel, I am a sicko. I shot my own dad.”

I pulled my knees up to my face and sobbed like a little crybaby. I couldn’t help it. I felt like such a piece of crap. Rocky nuzzled my legs, and licked at the tears on my face. Daniel just stood there. He looked like someone had sucker punched him. All I could think was he was about to force me to leave the group.

I was so wrong. Daniel sat next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He was quiet for a long time. Every second that passed was torture. When he finally spoke I was the one that was in for a shock. I still can’t believe it is possible.

“I got bit too.” His voice was calm and even. The look of surprise had left his face. “I didn’t get sick either. We watched so many people die and come back from this shit kid, that it was hard enough to accept that I was somehow immune, but you too. That’s almost too much. But if you think about it, there must be more. It can’t just be you and me kid. If it was one of us then maybe, just maybe, it was one of those once in a billion things. We need to talk to Rev. I wonder if there are more of us out there that are hiding this little secret?”

I guess I am not a sicko for killing my dad. Daniel didn’t even mention that I had said that. He just kept saying, “There have to be more,” over and over. We packed up for the night and headed back to camp. Daniel told me to take Rocky to get something to eat, that he needed to talk to the Rev alone. I didn’t care. I was tired and really didn’t feel like talking anymore that day.

William

I’m going to Grandma’s house. I have a packsack with some clothes and a flashlight. I have a plastic shopping bag full of food and I have Father’s gun. I have seen Mother use it and I have seen Father use it, though I do not think you are supposed to point it at yourself to shoot someone else, so I think I will be able to shoot it. I do not like being alone here and I miss Grandma, so I will go to her house. I know the way. Mother used to drive us there once a month and I am very observant. I would like to bring my video game but it does not work anymore. I tried to call Grandma to let her know I was coming, but the phone does not work anymore either. Mother and Father both said that one day I would have to learn to take care of myself and I believe now that this is what they were talking about.

That day when Father used his gun on Mother, the day I was bitten, when we got back inside the house, Father cried. I had never seen Father cry before. He cried a lot. I tried to hug him because I thought that would make him happy. I tried to tell him a knock-knock joke, but we never got past the knock-knock part. The neighbors from outside started knocking on the door, which is what made me think of telling him a knock-knock joke. He just got slowly out of his chair and locked the door. I asked him again about my sandwich. He smiled and went into the kitchen. I sat down in front of the television and got a puzzle from under the table. I heard him in the kitchen still crying. I also heard the cupboard open, then the refrigerator, which meant he was making me a sandwich. I had just finished the puzzle when he came back into the living room with a plate for me.

“That’s very nice work William,” he said looking at the puzzle. “You always were better at those things than I was.”

On the plate was a marshmallow and peanut butter sandwich, my favorite next to Mars bars, some potato chips and a pickle slice wrapped in a paper towel so it would not get the sandwich soggy. Father was always very good to me.

I saw that he was still crying and that confused me. I did not understand how he could still be crying.  I finished my sandwich at the table in the living room.  I tried to find something on television that was not the news.  I do not like the news.  It is boring.  But all of the channels had the same news.  The President was getting into a large plane while people with guns tried to stop anyone else from getting on with him.  The reporter in front of the camera was saying something about “total chaos” when a man came up behind her and bit her on the neck.  There was a great deal of blood and then the TV showed a funny picture of a cartoon repair man running with a tool box and the words, “We are having technical difficulties.  We will be back shortly.”

I went into the kitchen to tell Father about the funny cartoon.  He was sitting at the kitchen table still crying.  He had his wedding ring pressed against his lips and his gun resting against the side of his head.

“Father, there is a very funny picture on the television.  You should come see.  It will make you happy again.”

He turned slowly around to face me.  Father knew it was easier for me to understand what people meant if I could see their faces when they talked to me.

“I’m sorry William.  I know you will not understand what I have to do, but I want to tell you that it is what has to be done.  I could not live with myself if I let you become one of those things.  Just know that your mother and I love you very much and that we will all be together again in Heaven.”

I asked where Mother was, if she had come back in the house while I was eating my sandwich.  He cried even harder, even started making strange gurgling, choking sounds with his mouth.  I did not know how to respond to this so I turned to walk back to the living room.  From behind me I heard the clicking sound of Father’s gun.  When I turned around again, Father was pointing it at me.  I knew this was dangerous, but when I told Father, he just said it was important that I know that he and Mother loved me very, very much.  He just kept saying it over and over and over, we love you very, very much.  He was crying very hard.  He could barely keep his eyes open he was crying so hard.  The gun was shaking in his hand.  He kept looking away and the gun would drop a little.  Then he would look back at me again and point the gun at my forehead.

This went on for quite a while.  I wanted to go back to watching television, but I knew that Father wanted me to do or say something.  Since I had no idea what that was, I thought it would be better to wait for Father to tell me.  So there we stood.  Father cried and cried.  I thought maybe I should start crying again too.  Maybe that’s what he wanted me to do.  The he told me to go back to watching television.  I could hardly understand him because he clenched his teeth when he said it, but I went back into the living room just the same.  The funny cartoon was gone from the television.  They were back to a newsroom were several tired-looking people sat around a table yelling at each other.

I would watch a movie instead.  I walked over to the shelf with all of my favorite movies and when I looked in the kitchen, Father was back at the table, this time with his head down on his arm.  At first I thought he was taking a nap, but then I heard him crying still.

I decided to watch Bud Abbot and Lou Costello Meet Frankenstein.  It used to be hard for me to make decisions like that, but Mother and Father and I worked very hard on getting me to be able to be decisive, that was Mother’s word.  Father would just say I needed to make my mmm-mmm-ed mind.

I was watching the part where Wilbur makes a mess out of several packages in a storeroom when I heard the crash of Father’s gun from the kitchen.  I went to look and Father was still there at the table with his head on his arms, only something looked different.  There was blood all over one side of the table.  Father wasn’t crying anymore.  By the time Chick and Wilbur were rowing off into the moonlight, I had made up my mmm-mmm-ed mind.  I was going to Grandma’s.

Reverend Mathis

Daniel says we need to find a better fortress. I feel that we are to remain here. He and I have had several arguments about the topic. I have tried to make him see reason. We have all that we need here. The Lord has blessed our gardens and several of the Townies are quite adept at hunting deer and rabbits, though their numbers have dwindled with the coming of the cold. I believe our time would be better spent reinforcing the wall and training the men to fight. This area has been getting more active lately and we can ill afford to have our meager defenses really tested. These are good men, men willing to fight and die to defend those in this town, but despite the training they have received from Daniel, they would be no match for a large group of the undead, let alone a sizable group of brigands like the ones Daniel seems certain will eventually happen upon our village. I have faith that the Lord will protect us nonetheless.

We have heard planes in the last few weeks and while this seemed to bring hope to some of the Townies, I could not shake the sense of foreboding that accompanied that low droning thunder. We have also heard the unmistakable sound of large numbers of motorcycles in the distance. Daniel assures me that they are Harley Davidsons. He says that you cannot miss their distinct sound. I cannot sit still and ignorantly believe that these groups that have been appearing as of late will either leave us alone or even be beneficent. I can understand why Daniel would want to leave, but then we would have wasted all this time. We can build a stronger defense here than we would be able to muster if caught out in the open on some back road searching for greener pastures that may not even exist.

I acquiesced to allowing Daniel to send out scouting parties of four or five men moving in growing, concentric circles looking for locations that he feels may be more suitable and more defensible. Daniel gave them very specific instructions on what to look for. Two of the first groups to return brought me a very curious piece of information. Identical scraps of paper, very hastily printed on low quality paper, which is of course understandable given the state of things, proclaiming the location of some government installation or something. According to the flyer, they are trying to consolidate what remains of the human race so that we might avoid extinction. A very nice thought. I have not told anyone else about the flyers and I have instructed the men to keep silent until I have had time to meditate on what it might mean.

I have had my faith tested many times throughout this ordeal, and I believe I have been found lacking on more than one occasion. I also believe that I have grown stronger with each failure and that my walk with the Lord is closer than it has ever been. So is this another test? Am I to believe that this place is our salvation, or is it some kind of trick? Is this, in fact, the remnants of the countries government attempting to reclaim our homeland, or is this flyer the work of a band of pirates simply seeking to draw its prey in close. Maybe, just maybe, the whole thing is a joke. A sham perpetrated by some disturbed individual whiling away the last of his days mocking the last little bit of faith that may exist in others.

I suppose I will have to talk to Daniel about this. As much as he and I may differ in opinion on just about every subject, the people in this town have come to see him as as much of a leader as they see me. I would gladly hand over the reins if I thought that he would have them. He and I will of course argue over which path to take regarding this new information, but perhaps in our argument we will manage to make some sense of things and straighten out some of these convoluted details that seem to cloud my understanding. I shall, as always, meditate prayerfully before I proceed.

Vincent

She was brought to me by my most trusted men. I never noticed it before, but she looked like an angel. She was to be the saving grace to our species. Another, like myself, who was immune to the disease that threatened to consume the whole world. I am Adam, and she is my Eve.

If there are other women that are immune I will take them as wives as well, but Jessica will be the first, the most important. She will be where it all begins. As she stood there, I could see her awe of me. Like a virgin bride, waiting in nervous anticipation of the man who would fulfill her dreams. How lucky she is to be elevated to this status.

The men released her, and she sat shyly down on one of my office chairs. They excused themselves as they were instructed to prior to her retrieval. I looked her over again and watched as she coyly played hard to get, bundling her arms around her body, covering herself from my eyes. I’ve danced this dance before, where a woman says she isn’t interested, but really wants you to take her.

“Do you know what an honor your healing has bestowed upon you?” I asked.

She shrugged, and pulled her arms tighter.

“Jessica,” I explained slowly, “you are the world’s luckiest woman. You have heard my stories and knew them to be true. It would have been honor enough to be my biographer, for you to be the one who passed the knowledge, firsthand, of my greatness to the generations of survivors that will come from me. I am destined to be the head of house and literal father to the humans that can survive this catastrophe. Without the mother it would not work. But God himself has placed us here together to find one another. You will bear the children who are able to survive this place.

It would be better for all of us if you could grow to love me. We will work towards this as a goal. I know you may be afraid, afraid that you are now on the close to the same level as me. We are gods in this new world. People we look to you as they do me for guidance. They are seeking a way for humanity to reclaim its place as the rulers of this planet. They need to see that there will be a future, even if they aren’t going to be a part of it.

We need to act quickly. At your age we will only be able to bring a few children to birth. As soon as you are with child we will arrange for a caretaker. You will have very little to do with raising the children while you are still fertile. Pregnancy will be your main purpose. It is a higher calling for you. If we find other women who are immune they will be brought to me as well. You will always be the most important though.

If time passes and no other women are found, I may impregnate women who are unknown in immunity. Then we will test the children. My immunity may be strong enough to pass without an immune mother. But, I am getting ahead of myself here. Right now, you are the most important woman in the world to me.”

For the last part, I moved close to her. My hand slid across her knees. She was shaking. Obviously, she is overwhelmed at this wonderful opportunity. Staring up at her on bended knee I said, “I love you, Jessica. I love you because you are the woman that will help me become the savior of this world.”

She held her breath for a minute as she took in those words. Then she promptly fainted. As she lay on the floor, eyes closed, I put myself in her place. An average woman, now cherished by the most powerful man left on the planet. What a lucky woman she truly is.

Jessica

It was worse than I ever could have imagined. He has decided he is God. That is bad enough, but it gets worse. Not only is he a deity, but I am a vessel to bring his children in to this hellhole. Love him? I am supposed to love him. My mind is spinning. Breathing is becoming difficult. I cannot see a way out of this.

Keeping a calm face when you are trembling like a mouse caught in the paws of a cat is difficult. I’m managing it, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Other women? Oh God, this just keeps spiraling out of control. I don’t want to be with him, I don’t want other women to be forced into a harem either. I can’t breathe.

Lucky? I am lucky? This is the worst scenario I could have ever imagined. I know if I do not go to him willingly he will take what he wants. There is no way around that. My choices are go to bed with a man I despise acting as if I enjoy it, or be held down and risk painful beatings for refusing him something he will take anyway. The room is getting fuzzy.

He is touching me now. Saliva is welling up in my mouth laced with the burn of stomach acid. If I throw up on him what will happen? He is still talking. “I love you…” he hisses. There was more, but I didn’t hear it. Around and around my head spins, similar to getting off an amusement ride. What was the name of that ride? The Puker? The Spinner? The Gravity? Gravity…? Gravitron. That’s it. The Gravitron. I feel like I am falling. God, I hope no one catches me.

Test Subject 63-04

I made it out. That’s all you really need to know, but if you’re really curious, just know that Dr. Knowitall fucked up. Bigtime. I guess he was tired of waiting for me to die so he busted into my room one day wielding a large kitchen knife. What a joke. If I weren’t a military-trained killer, he might have been able to do some damage. I saw his opening attack coming a mile away. He threw open the door and came at me screaming and flailing his arms. I sidestepped his clumsy thrust and chopped at the back of his neck with my forearm as he stumbled past me. As soon as he hit the ground I was on him. I dropped a knee into his back, grabbed two handfuls of hair and beat his forehead into the floor until I heard his skull crack. I could hear his breath gurgling through what was left of his face so I walked over to where his knife had landed, picked it up and pressed it against the back of his skull right where it met his scrawny neck.

“This is how you do it,” I said as a pressed the tip of the blade through the skin. Then, with one clean thrust, I buried it up to the hilt. I didn’t really expect anybody else to come through the door, but I waited just the same. After a few minutes, when I didn’t even hear an alarm sound, I made my way cautiously out into the hall.

The place was a mess. Overturned carts, garbage everywhere, busted windows. What the fuck happened here?!

I needed to find some clothes and some food. I searched the floor they were holding me on and only found more mess. I was tempted to try an elevator, but I didn’t like the idea of escaping one cell only to be trapped in another. I found the stairwell and decided to make my way up. I would start at the top and work my way down. Maybe I could find somebody in one of the rooms who knew more than I did. I really hoped I wouldn’t run into a guard, but given the state of the place I didn’t think it was likely. It was entirely possible that Dr. Knowitall, I never did get his name, and I were the only ones in the place. On the top floor I found some offices. There were a couple of vending machines that I raided. Nothing says happy Armageddon like a Big Texas Cinnamon Roll. At least this floor was cleaner than downstairs. I didn’t find any clothes though, and there was no way in hell I was going outside in the paper pajamas I had been living in.

I searched from room to room, floor to floor gathering anything I thought might be useful. Some packaged food, a few bottles of water. I found a nice framing hammer in a supply closet and thought it would do for a weapon until I could get my hands on something with a little recoil. About four floors down, this put me just above where I was being kept, I found a small barracks. I scored two pairs of almost brand new BDU trousers, three shirts, and one hell of a sturdy pair of boots. The insignia were all wrong, but it felt good to get a uniform back on. I had even managed to promote myself to a sergeant first class according to the chevrons and rockers on my sleeve. I crammed the extra clothes into a duffle along with my food and water. The wall lockers looked pretty much the same as the one I had back in Georgia. I left the top drawers alone. Those were the only personal space a soldier was allowed, I had to respect that. I found plenty of clean socks and t-shirts. I left the underwear untouched. Looks like I was going to have to go commando. I grabbed a couple of canteens and a pistol belt to clip them to. There weren’t any real weapons here either. I found a few acetate batons, but they’re pretty worthless.

It was about this time that I stopped to wonder about the electricity. If my assumptions about the past month (had it been a month, I hadn’t really been keeping track) were true, then shouldn’t the power have given out a long time ago. I know they had to have a pretty big generator in this place, but who the hell had been feeding it? I could tell it was still running because I found working lights in about a third of the rooms I checked. I was broken from my musings by a scraping sound coming from a room down the hall. It was accompanied by a weird, gurgling moan. Not good. I set down my duffle and hefted the hammer in my right hand. I moved slowly toward the door, reached out for the handle, and cracked it open an inch. I was immediately thrown backward as the weight of the thing crashed into the opening door.

It looked like one of the previous residents of the barracks upstairs, at least 6’6” and somewhere in the neighborhood of 350 pounds, even with a sizeable chunk of his midsection torn away. He stumbled toward me as I scrambled backward. At least he wasn’t moving too fast. I made it to my feet and swung the hammer in a wide, sidearm sweep. It made solid contact with the thing’s jaw, tearing it off. The shock went straight up my arm, numbing my hand and I dropped the damn hammer.

The ragged remains of this thing’s face bore down on me as it tried to grab my arm. The stench of it was unbearable. I looked around for another weapon within arm’s reach but couldn’t see anything worth it. I landed a kick in the thing’s chest trying to drive it back. It was like kicking a slab of beef. I flew backward with the recoil and landed on my ass.

“Back to square fucking one,” I thought, crab walking my way backward to get the hell out its reach. With Beefy between me and the only semblance of a weapon I had managed to find and no hope of effective hand to hand combat, I will admit I had my doubts about the survivability of the situation. I got back on my feet and turned to run when I spotted it; the body of a guard half buried by a fallen bookshelf in one of the offices. I recognized the boots and the black fatigue pants. I crashed through the door hoping this guy wasn’t carrying one of those fucking batons, although given the circumstances, I would be happy to go after that thing with anything other than my dick in my hand. I could hear the fucker limping after me. He was close, too close. If there wasn’t something I could use in this room, I would die here. I rammed the bookshelf with my shoulder ignoring the jolt of pain. It flew across the room and revealed my savior. A beautiful little .45 tucked neatly in a holster on the belt of my new, dead best friend. In one smooth move, I un-holstered the weapon, flipped off the safety and brought it around to where I judged the waiting head of Beefy would be. There wasn’t time to cock the weapon; I had to pray that there was a round in the chamber.

As I squeezed the trigger, a received the satisfying crash that only an M1911 can give. I saw the top half of Beefy’s head disintegrate into a fine red, brown mist and his body hit the floor.

I stood for a moment relishing the ringing in my ears because that meant I was still alive to hear my ears ring. I took a couple of deep breaths smelling the cordite in the air and waited until I felt like the world wasn’t going to give way under me. Then I fell on my ass.

This was some fucked up shit. My head was spinning. I slumped there for a few minutes and took a swing from my canteen. I wasn’t going to bother making sense of any of this right now. I didn’t have that kind of time. I need to get the fuck out of this dungeon.

I checked the guard’s body and found two more clips for the pistol and a ring of keys that I thought might come in handy. I also found the back of his head missing and the majority of his brain gone. I moved past Beefy cautiously. I knew from experience that a good head shot kept them down permanently, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I checked the mag in the pistol and found that it held four rounds. That plus the two full ones gave me eighteen rounds total. Decent start, but I needed to find a rifle.

I made it back to my feet and decided to finish up my search as quickly as possible. I started wondering if I should be checking bodies for car keys. There were plenty of those. Bodies I mean, the kind that don’t get up and chase you. I realized it would be pretty fruitless unless I grabbed all the keys I could find then spent God knows how long trying to match them up to a car in the lot. Then there was the question of gas. Too much to worry about right now.

I continued making my way down, floor by floor. In the cafeteria I found some decent canned goods and a shitload of spoiled food. I stuffed a couple cans in my duffle. I didn’t want to grab too many and weigh myself down in case I had to go on foot. And since I still had no idea where I was going on foot, I thought it might be better to travel light. I did refill the canteens and I also snagged a few bottles of water. I had about given up hope of finding a real weapon when I landed on the bottom floor.

As I came out of the stairwell I was greeted by what looked like the aftermath of one hell of a firefight.

Twenty men in black fatigues lay sprawled on the floor. Among all the bite marks and gouges, each one had a neat little hole in the center of his forehead. The front doors were disintegrated. Bullet holes pocked all four walls. Brass littered the floor. If I was five floors up from here, how the hell did I not hear this going on? I knelt down to examine the casings. I found some .556, some 7.62, and a lot of .30-06. That last caliber meant civilian hunting rifles. What I didn’t see were any bodies not wearing a security uniform. No civilians, no military, no zombies. What the fuck happened here? Again, I didn’t have too much time to wonder. I sorted through the scattered rifles and found a handful of serviceable M4s. I scrounged of half a dozen magazines, each with a few rounds in them. I checked belts and found a few boxes of ammunition. I scooped up a Kevlar helmet and was delighted when half a brain didn’t spill out. Into the duffle it went.

I figured I should scan around outside to see if I could figure out where the hell I was and where I was going to go. I moved out through the space where the doors used to be and out into the entranceway. More bodies outside. Here were the civilians I was looking for. Scattered among the carnage were several bodies in ACU camo. That meant Army. My guys. I moved cautiously out through the bodies and turned back to check for a sign on the outside of the building, just an address, 109 Governor St, in big-assed letters on the side of the building. I moved among the few cars in the lot trying to plan my next move when out of nowhere a face slammed into the driver’s window from inside a sedan.

It looked female-ish. It was bloated and grey-green and as it smashed itself against the glass trying to get at me, the skin of its face started to slough off and smear down the window. I pulled the pistol pressed it against the glass right in the center of the things forehead and pulled the trigger. She flew sideways into the passenger seat minus the top of her head. Brown and black chunks of rotted brain sprayed the interior of the car. I just stood there wondering if this was going to be a regular thing now. Me shooting people in the head I mean.

I was dragged out of my reverie by the moan. I flashed back to Bentonville as I turned and saw five or six of the things making their way toward me through the cars. I immediately fell back toward the building not wanting to be out in the open and possibly get flanked.

The noise, the gunshot, that’s what had to attract them. Fucking idiot. I realized I would need to find another, more silent weapon when I got the chance. I got back inside as they started to catch up. I tossed the duffle and the M-4 off to the side by the stairwell, scooped up one the other rifles and prepared for a little hand-to-hand. Without a bayonet to fix, I was going to have to Mark-McGwire it on these guys and swinging a rifle like a club is the quickest way to ensure that it never fires again. I grabbed the barrel in both hands and waited. As soon as the first of those things was within range, I brought the butt of the rifle down in a lumberjack swing into the top of its head. I say “into” because that’s exactly what happened. The top of the skull caved completely in like stomping on a spongecake. No crunch, just squish. It fell like a stone. I reared back to take a swing at the next one and saw three more come through the doorway. I had a pretty decent bottle neck here, but if there were many more out there, this may become a problem. I couldn’t let them get between me and the stairwell in case I needed to beat feet.

I swung at the second guy and received a more satisfying crack as the rifle butt made contact with the side of his skull. Apparently I didn’t hit him hard enough because he kept coming. I stepped back and tried the overhead shot again. This time he went down. Numbers three and four were slouching in and I saw another three moving toward the building from outside. Shit. I wasn’t panicking yet, but I couldn’t risk more gunfire in case there were a whole lot more out there, I didn’t want to bring them in here. I wasn’t going to be able to stand here swinging for the fences all day. Eventually, my arms were going to give out.

I took down the third, fourth, and a fifth son of a bitch. By then I knew it was about time to make my retreat to the stairwell. Then, from outside, I heard the unmistakable thuppa-thuppa-thuppa of a chopper. It was coming too low and too fast for me to even hope to get outside before it passed, but the things in the yard all turned at the same time toward the noise. I crunched the skulls of the two left inside with me and saw the mob in the grass turn to follow the chopper. They apparently lost all interest in me which I was not going to complain about. I watched as a rain of paper obscured the view from out the door. I would have preferred they dropped napalm, but then I would have been toast too so I guess you have to take what you can get.

The mob lumbered away following the noise and as the last few stragglers left my line of sight I cautiously made my way out of the building and out into the parking lot again. I snatched up one of the papers. At first glance it looked like your average, run of the mill flyer for a pizzeria or a dry cleaner’s, only done by a four-year-old. I took a moment to cautiously watch the herd of them wander off toward the sound of the chopper, now a barely audible thump way off in the distance.

I wasn’t going to hang around out here all day, but I did pause to wonder why the hell they would have chosen this spot to drop their payload. There were a fair amount of papers scattered over the parking lot, but it was by no means covered. The breeze has already begun picking them up and blowing them toward the highway. I wondered again where the hell I was and where I was going to go from here.

“Fuck it,” I said to nobody, “I’ll deal with that shit tomorrow.”

I read the flyer as I made my way back inside. Some outfit claiming to be a safe haven. Apparently they had walls and food, weapons and safety. Apparently, they were trying to consolidate those of us who were left. Apparently, shit really had gone to hell while I was relaxing in my little hotel room.

According to the coordinates on the flyer this place was located somewhere in southern New Jersey. Great, the armpit of the east coast. I’d been through the northern part of the state once on my way to New York. Interesting smell is all I can say. Maybe I would head that way anyway. Where the hell else was I going to go? Of course, it would help to know where the hell I was now. Maybe there was a map somewhere inside, or at least a piece of mail.

I scooped up the gear I collected and made my way back up the stairs. I figured I would spend a night in the caf and head out in the morning. I could spend a little more time searching the building. It dawned on me that if this was a government building that they might have a motor pool. That would mean a whole line of gassed up vehicles with keys in same general vicinity. Beats digging through corpses’ pockets trying to find some keys then trying to figure out which vehicle they belonged to. It also beat the fucking hell out of going on foot.

I was tired and hungry and pissed off, but at least I had a destination. Such as it was. I dropped down at a table and rummaged through my bag for a can of whatever. Tuna. Great. I hate tuna. Fuck it. I scooped it into my mouth with my fingers and washed that horrible fucking taste out of my mouth with a bottle of water. I could replace them from the stores in the kitchen. I wandered around the room kicking at garbage and I decided to check out the maintenance closet. I listened for any noise coming from inside, I had learned that lesson already, and when I didn’t hear any I pulled the door open. Pretty standard cleaning closet, map, broom, bucket, cleaning fluids, and there, in the back leaning against a shelf was a three-foot-long crow bar. The curved end was painted bright orange with the name “Cappy” scrawled in indelible ink.

“Hello Cappy,” I said as I hefted it in one hand judging the weight, “You just might be my new best friend.” For a silent weapon I could do a hell of a lot worse. I went back to my table and set down the crow bar. I sat there staring at it for while just letting the realization that the whole world, or at least the east coast had gone to shit. I was living in a world where crazy, fucking cannibals roamed the streets and if you didn’t kill them the right way, they would just keep coming.

My dad used to use the word “fuck” a lot. Like, literally every other word a lot. Hearing it over and over kind of desensitizes you to it. It loses a lot of its impact, but as I sat there at that table idly fingering that crow bar contemplating the last few months, or however long it had been, I suddenly started laughing. Because never in my life, or my dad’s, had there ever been a more appropriate situation to express the exact meaning of that word.

So I sat there, staring alternately between the crow bar and the flyer trying to figure out my next move.

Mick

Amy was almost gone a few times since we left the town. She pushed us all away. For days she stared out the passenger’s window, with nothing to say to the rest of us. There was only a hollow shell of a woman, eyes glazed over, unable to function. I did my best to keep the kids from going crazy too. It was selfish, but I couldn’t handle anymore zombies, and that is what Amy had become.

Then she got angry. Damned if that woman didn’t wake up one morning with revenge and hellfire in her soul. Supply runs became dangerous as hell because she had become reckless. I don’t know where she found it, but she started using a bat on the dead. It was as if she wanted to get as close as possible to them, and get sprayed by as much goo as she could when she cracked their skulls. The problem was, she no longer cared if she lived or died. A woman without fear doesn’t watch out for danger, and even worse she goes looking for it.

I think Garett got tired of saving her ass when she got in over her head. He knew we needed her, not just to be around, but to actually be around. We had stopped to see if we could syphon some gas, and get some much needed food and water out of a pileup we came across, when Amy spots a few moaners shuffling in the wood line. They would have never known we were there, except she starts tapping the bat on a car’s hood.

“What the hell do you think you are doing Aunt Amy?” Garett barks at her.

“Fuck’s it look like Garett?” she flatly replied.

“I don’t really know anymore? Are you trying to get killed, or are you trying to get us all killed? From what I can see, you could give a shit about whether we live or die anymore.” He spit back.

“You should respect your elders, Garett”

“I’ll respect you when you start acting like an adult again!”

As they got louder, more zombies noticed. The few in the woods were within biting reach now, and in the distance more could be heard making their way towards us. Amy starts swinging away with a rage that could only be appeased by death. One, two went down, and then another. Each swing brought more destruction, not just to the dead, but to Amy. She looked like a feral animal.

Seven, eight, nine, all down in an instant. Then the group began to overwhelm her. She couldn’t keep up with the numbers. No amount of rage could fight away the wave of rancid, rotting flesh that was soon going to engulf her. That’s when Garett and I stepped in. Within minutes the zombies were down on the ground, with no threat to rise again. In the middle of the carnage stood Amy covered in what was once blood.

Garett walked up to her, pulled his arm back and bitch slapped her. “Grow the fuck up! We are done with and tired of your shit. She died Aunt Amy, and it sucks. But this whole God damned world sucks right now and we need you to stop being such a jackass. Now get in the car and knock this shit off. If you can’t do that, if Mick and I are going to have to spend the rest of our days pulling your ass out of the fire because you don’t feel like living anymore, then just fucking say so. That way we can leave your sorry ass on the side of the road with your dumbass bat and you can spend the last few minutes of your life swinging away. Otherwise, we need you to be right here, right now. Helping us figure out how to get my other sister to a safe place. Do you understand me?”

She shook her head slowly, and broke down in tears. But the boy did the right thing. She climbed into the car, and that was the last time she played chicken with the zombies. She cried till she was out of tears, then she slept for a whole day. When she woke up she was back to her old self. All she needed was a good kick to the ass, and I am so grateful that Garett had enough courage to give it to her.

Days went by, and we only talked about the here and now. We avoided any real conversation, and many nights we were silent on watch. The car started to feel like a prison. The weather was turning warm again, so I decided we would find a roof to get some fresh air. It sucks that you just can’t decide something like that, and magically find one. Everything takes forever now, and simple things like finding a safe place for a quick rest test your patience.

On one of the long stretches of highway we drove past a rest stop. You know, one of those plazas, miles away from anything else. The kind of place a trucker used to thank God for when barreling down the open road. Well, the road wasn’t as open anymore, but there was still one guy that was thanking God for this rest stop. It took a bit of maneuvering to guide the SUV into the parking lot, but it was going to be well worth it.

We angled the truck to make climbing up on the roof as easy as possible. After we had left the town where our little angel was killed, I had picked up a ladder when I came across it. It stayed strapped to the top of the truck. Best damn plan I came up with so far. If the only way up is our ladder, and we pull it up with us, we all get a good night’s sleep. We set up our campsite, and I was worried that maybe I had made a mistake. Maybe this would be too much like our home in paradise and I just sent Amy back into a tailspin.

The kids seemed to relax the second they got out into the sun. Both of them lay down on a blanket they had spread across the roof. They looked like sunbathers; all that was missing was the sand. I pulled out the grill, and lit up a fire. That morning I shot a rabbit I had seen on the side of the road. It wasn’t much, but fresh meat was a treat these days.

We spent the whole day laughing and relaxing for the first time in more days than I care to remember. Amy didn’t shut down, or freak out. The tense look on her face had drained away, and, she finally looked at ease. Night came, and the kids crawled into their tent. They had been sleeping in the truck for so long. They couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep once they were able to lie all the way down.

I tapped the pack of smokes I had found. They were stale, like almost everything left in this world. Stale smokes, stale food, the air even had a stale feel to it. Amy checked in on the kids, and then she found her way over to me.

“Can I see your lighter?”

“You don’t smoke.”

“I don’t smoke cigarettes, but in high school I was known to smoke something else every now and then. Did I show you what I found when routing through a backpack on one of our runs?” She reached into her pocked and pulled out a joint. “It’s been years, but I am pretty sure I will enjoy this right now.”

“Why Amy, I never knew you weren’t always a responsible goody two shoes!”

“Fuck you.” She giggled.

She sank into her lawn chair. Staring up at the stars, she started to sing. It was soft, and I never heard the song before, but it was beautiful and full of sadness. Passing the joint to me, she brushed her fingers against mine. I hadn’t realized we hadn’t touched since we left that town. A spark of electricity passed between our fingers.

“Ow! You shocked me!” she cried.

“Is that such a bad thing?” I countered. In one swift move I grabbed her arm, and pulled her on my lap.

With her curled up in my arms, I finally relaxed. We lay there looking at the stars. Silence was not a threat this time, it was a comfort. Her body tensed, and I feared she was going to pull away. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Suddenly, her lips were pressed against mine. It had been so long since I had been with a woman. Even before the outbreak, it had been a long couple of years.

I had divorced my wife, and unlike many people, I became celibate. Not by choice, I was a bitter angry prick, and had no urge to find another she beast to turn all crazy and walk out on me. Looking back, my ex-wife leaving with the kids was probably the smartest thing she ever did. I was a real asshole to them, and wasn’t much of a man. It’s crazy how it took the end of the world for me to figure all that out.

Now, at that moment, I had a woman who was so far out of my league, that before this entire clusterfuck happened would have clutched her purse close if we passed on an empty street, grinding up against me. I wasn’t going to lose this moment again. I scooped her up and carried her to my tent. I half expected her to push me away. What a happy surprise for me when the opposite happened, and she took the lead.

Within seconds of laying her down, she had stripped off all of her clothes. She must have been stunning before, now she was still gorgeous, but way too skinny. I made a mental note to feed her more. No woman should have all of their ribs showing, I like my girls with curves, and hers had all but disappeared. As I began to kiss my way down her body, she trembled in my arms. I almost didn’t make it to the actual act, just touching her made my body want to explode.

Unexpectedly, she pulled me off and flipped me on my back. She ripped my pants off, and rose up above me. That was the most perfect sight I had ever seen in my entire life. I couldn’t hold back any longer, and I tried to suppress the roar that was building as I climaxed. Panting, she collapsed on top of me. I could feel the shit eating grin spreading across my face. Well, there goes an attempt to play it cool.

“Fuck, that is exactly what I needed.”

“Me… too … it… was…” I tried to reply, but was still out of breath.

“I know this is going to come across really needy, but can I just lay here with you wrapped around me for a bit?”

“Uh-huh…” I wheezed, pulling her within my arms.

“I’m going to try to be here more. You all deserve that.”

I was going to respond, but I heard her breath change to that soft sleep breathing. I laid there for a few hours just enjoying this moment. I didn’t know if it would ever happen again, and I wanted to imprint this night into my memory. Whenever it got bad again, this is what I would think of. I meant to get her back to her tent by morning, but I dozed off before that happened.

I awoke to the sound of Garett zipping the tent back up, and storming away. Damn, I thought. I knew the kid would take this bad, and having a pissy teenager stomping around was definitely going to kill my mood. Popping a pair of pants on, I snuck out of the tent hoping not to wake Amy. Garett and I were going to have to have a man to man. What I saw over the horizon stopped that plan dead in its tracks.

If you squinted, the whole landscape looked as if it was moving. The scene resembled waves crashing on a distant shore. Within minutes the movement came into focus. The dead filled the road, and the woods surrounding it. This was unlike any swarm I had ever witnessed. They went on for as far as you could see, in every direction. They stumbled past the building, like a massive flood. Pushing each other forward, the pace was slow, but never ending.

I don’t know if a city had emptied, or if like droplets of water this group had pulled itself together. Garett and I ducked down so that we could peer over the edge of the building to watch, but not enough to draw attention. Fear rushed through both of us. We had seen so much, dealt with so many dead, but the number in this group was terrifying. How could we survive if there were this many?

What if there were more groups like this out there? Are all the dead making their way to each other? The questions only led to more questions. We had no answers, and there was no safe way to get any. I woke Amy and Zoe. Then we just sat there, for hours. After a while we realized we didn’t need to hide, just needed to be quiet. The dead didn’t look up unless a noise drew their attention that way. We decided not to push our luck, and tensely perched in chairs waiting for the sea of dead to end.

Eventually, it did, but the damage to our morale was done. We had gone from the highest we had felt in months, to completely hopeless. The decision was made to stay put on the rooftop for a few days longer. We wanted to give that mass of rotting flesh a huge head start in wherever they were going. Rethinking our route to the safe zone was a priority, too. Where that group went, all my instincts were screaming go in the opposite direction.

On the third day after the million zombie march, a new sight was seen moving on the horizon. A group of cars, trucks, jeeps, motorcycles, and campers were heading in our direction. They were much slower than the zombies, because they had to stop every few feet to make enough room for all the vehicles to get through. Part of me was wary of the people, and another part was jumping for joy. We had enough time to decide if we wanted to flag them down before they reached us.

“I say we signal them.” Garett pushed.

“I agree, but we have to discuss the risks.” Amy countered.

“What risks? We are looking for people. That was the point of us leaving. You finding Mick worked out wonderfully for the two of you,” he spat at her.

Blushing, Amy shot me an embarrassed look. She must have picked up on Garret’s disgust with our actions. I reminded myself to talk to the boy the next time we were alone. He wasn’t going to screw this up for me. I refused to be cock blocked by a sixteen year old kid. Not now, when you don’t know how long you have left.

“Fine, we wave them down.” I stated. “Just be on the alert for danger. We don’t know these people, they could be trouble.”

“Whatever.” He snarkily said in that tone that only a teenager can use seriously.

The caravan was much closer now, and we all stood up and started waving our arms. They stopped where they were, and it looked as if they were having a meeting of their own about coming to see us. That made me feel better. If they had gunned it towards us, I would have been worried about the mental state of these people.

As they made their way up to our truck, I got a look at the supplies this group had. It was an amazing sight. They had everything you could have ever asked for in an end of the world situation. That sealed the deal for me. They weren’t going to want our shitty supplies. They were all set.

A man pulled his camper up next to the roof. He jumped out of the driver’s door, and made his way up the ladder on the back of the rig so that he was up at our level. The rest of the group circled up their vehicles and waited to see if they were staying put or moving on. The man on the roof eyed us real quick and signaled for the group to cut their engines. They did, but still stayed put.

“Name’s Wayne. Yours?” He spoke in a friendly voice.

“Mick. That’s Amy, Garett, and Zoe.” I pointed at our group as I named them.

“You guys stuck up there? Or are you taking a break from the road?”

“Started off as stretching out from being in the truck too long, but we saw a mass of zombies pass through while we were up here, and are rethinking our route.”

“Where were you headed?”

I pulled the flyer out of my pocket, and as I did Wayne did the same.

“Well, shit! What a coincidence. We are heading in the same direction.” He laughed.

Wayne turned and gave a signal to all the other people in his group. They started unpacking. He asked if was ok for them to make their way up to the rooftop. The more I saw of these guys, how organized they were, their demeanor, the more I knew I would be a fool not to try to get our little group attached to theirs.

We had a feast that night. One of the guys had bagged a deer, and a few squirrels. Add to that the prepackaged food they had with them, and it was a party. Garret had dropped his snotty ass teenage thing. One of the group members was a fifteen year old girl, and a pretty one at that. Amy and I were out of his radar, and I changed the conversation I would have from it is none of your damn business, to don’t get us kicked out of this group by trying to screw the guy’s daughter.

As we ate we discussed all the things we had seen. Turns out these guys were preppers. You know, the nutjobs that spent all their money preparing for the end of the world. Damn smart of them too. They had only just emerged from their bunkers to go to the same place we are headed. They had a guy that got there already, and said it is safe. What a fucking relief! All this time driving towards it we never knew if it was a good place, or a trap. Now we do.

They were just as concerned about the massive herd we saw. When I explained the size of it, they made me repeat the details over and over. It was decided that we would yet again wait a few days before heading out. Wayne said he would work with us to learn all of their signals. It keeps them safe on the road. They also wanted to go through our supplies with us, and make sure we were fully stocked in case we got separated.

Anything we were lacking we were lucky enough to find in the store down below us. We hadn’t had a chance to make a sweep through it, and it was well stocked still. That may have been due to the ten dead freaks roaming around inside. Wayne had us demonstrate our skill in extermination before we collected the supplies. I could see he was pleasantly surprised that we all were proficient in putting down zombies. You have to figure by this point anyone still alive is.

Amy spent her nights in my tent for the rest of the time we were there. Life was as good as it was ever going to get. I had a good woman, a family, and a new group of people who were actually ready for this hell hole. I think my luck has really made a complete turnaround. I didn’t want to jinx it, but I really felt happy. Laying there at night, with Amy asleep draped across my chest, I felt like I could finally relax.

Daniel

I think I have finally had it with the Rev. I know he’s got his “mission from God” and I don’t mean to disrespect him, but this shit is has gone beyond stale.

We found these flyers out along the highway talking about a safe place. Bigger, better fortified than this dump could ever hope to be, and probably better run too. Like I said, I got nothing against the Rev, he took me in when he didn’t really have to, but this town is sorely lacking for leadership.

I won’t criticize him openly, I couldn’t do the job any better and I don’t want it anyway, but he is way too dependent on guidance “from above” if you get my meaning.

Take this flyer shit… This place is where we need to go. We’re running out of food and ammo. The gardens aren’t growing fast enough to feed the few people we have here. There’s shit-all for hunting too, the animals are either dead or just gone from the area. And it is only a matter of time before some gang of hardcases notices our spread and comes and takes it. I keep telling the Rev that there is no way we would be able to hold off even a small group of organized thugs, or a sizeable group of zombies either. We need to pack up our shit and roll out. We have enough vehicles for the fifty or so people living here, and this place on the flyer isn’t that far. We could be there inside of a week. We might lose a couple of the older folks on the trip, but how long are they gonna last just sitting here? Half-starved with nothing to do all day but stare at the walls and wait to die. What kind of existence is that for these people? Fucking Rev says his god told him we’re supposed to be here for some fucking reason only He, with the capital “H” knows about. Bullshit.

So we patch the wall, we till the gardens, we look for new spots to dig wells and latrines. We scrape out another fucking day, every fucking day. Meanwhile, the moaning on the other side of the wall gets louder and the grumbling in my stomach gets meaner.

The Rev won’t even go for the idea of sending a scouting party over. I brought it up one night at one of our meetings. We could send 8 or 10 guys, I’d go with them. We’d be back in a couple of weeks and we would know one way or the other what was up with this group from the flyer. They were printing up paper for fuck’s sake. What group of pirates was going to go to the trouble of making a fucking brochure? Rev says no dice. He says that if we were supposed to go, God would send a sign. When I asked what he thought a thousand pieces of paper falling from the sky was. I thought for sure he was going to tell me to go fuck myself, preacher or no preacher. He closed his book, got up from the table, and sulked off to his room. Discussion over I guess.

Fuck him and his god. Tomorrow, I’m taking 6 guys over the wall and we’re going to see what the hell’s up over in Jersey.

Jessica

Every day I lived the lie. I woke up and found myself trapped in the nightmare. There was nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. I had no other options, except death, and as much as I hated this existence, I wasn’t ready to end it all just yet. So I played the game the best way I knew how. I acted as if being with him didn’t disgust me. I’m not sure if he believed my act. I’m not sure he cared.

I was guarded at all times. If he wasn’t with me, one or two of his goons were watching. At first I thought it was to protect me, but over time I saw the way they were looking at me. They were waiting for me to make a run for it. As time went on, I felt myself dying inside. Hope was gone, and the longer I stayed trapped, the less I was myself. Vincent was obsessed with creating an heir. Nothing was more important to him.

He had his men round up pregnancy tests. I can only assume they raided a pharmacy, since they came back with a case of them. Our ritual became test in the morning, then sex. Test in the evening, then sex. There was no point in explaining the mechanics of testing to him, that it takes time for the hormone to show up. He never really listened to anything I had to say. Every negative test result was a double edged sword. Negative meant no baby, a baby I didn’t want, but negative also meant another round in bed with him.

This was a no win for me. I began to detach myself from the reality I was living in. Becoming a character in one of my stories was the only way to not lose my mind completely. I watched from the outside as she went to bed with him again and again. Disgust would take over my body, and as soon as he left I would throw up. Eventually, I stayed on the outside looking in, my body becoming yet another zombie. My body went through the motions. It must have been enough for Vincent, for he never questioned any of it.

The days ran into one another. Time blurred, the routine of it all made it impossible for me to know how long this had been going on. I had to be reminded of the simple things, when to eat, or bathe, even what to wear. Nothing seemed important. The bodyguards would try to talk to me, but I would just stare blankly at them. There was nothing to be said.

Vincent came to my room one afternoon. This was odd, I normally only saw him in the morning or evenings. The look on his face was one of excitement. When a crocodile smiles at you, it is a very frightening thing.

“Dearest, I have news.”

I nodded my head to show that I had heard him.

“A group of survivors paddled over from the mainland. I allowed them into a quarantine area. It’s been such a long time since we had news from off the island. One of them was carrying a flyer. There is another colony over there. These people were afraid to go there, that is why they ended up here. They felt it was a trap. I’m not sure. Maybe this is what we need. They may have the people there who can figure out why I’m immune, and use that to save us all.“

He sounded so rational, so unlike him. There had to be an angle. Some way that he felt he could use this to his advantage. I felt a glimmer of hope wash through me, but it faded as quickly as it came. Even if I could get to the mainland, how would I know where to go? He would never just let me leave. And he sure as hell wouldn’t tell me where to go to get away from him.

Then I thought of the poor people in quarantine. They believed that they were escaping the trap, just to walk into one. I prayed that they would do as he said, and not end up dead like so many others. He stood and wrapped his arms around me. Sliding his fingers down my back, he eyed me like a piece of meat.

“I would take you now Dearest, but I have a few things I need to do first.” His lips pressed against mine, and I could feel myself pulling out of my own body again. “I will be back, and we can celebrate this good news tonight.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me off the ground. He carried me to the bed, and tossed me on my back. Lowering himself to my body, he ran his hands down my shirt, undoing the buttons as he went lower. “Until later my dear, when we can have enough time together,” he said suddenly and headed towards the door.

I could breathe again when he was gone. They sent Tim this time. All of the other guards scared me. Tim was different. You could see the fear in his eyes, and sometimes the pity. Most of the higher ups were people with agendas. They were bad people who fit right into the crew. Not Tim, he made the mistake of being called over when I was bit, and that alone put him higher up than he ever should have been.

“Hello Tim.” I said in my hollow voice.

“Miss Jessica, is there anything I can get you? Have you eaten yet?”

They have all taken to asking if I have eaten. Unlike the others, when he asked I felt as if he actually cared. That maybe, I was more than just guard duty. I was so tired of being alone. I know that sounds strange, due to my unfortunate living arrangements. I missed being myself, having conversations, and just feeling safe with someone else around. Being a caged bird was wearing me down, and I longed to be set free.

“I ate Tim, thank you, but I do need something. I am out of books again, and wonder if there are any more lying around. “

“I will find out for you.” He answered with that oh so common look in his eye. The one that makes me feel like he is trying to decipher how I am doing all of this. The look that makes me feel like he sees me as human.

For the next few hours we engaged in small talk. I babbled on and on about the three books I had finished reading since he had seen me. He told me of the news of the island. Tim’s stories were told without feeling. He would just relay the facts. There was no hero worship, and for that I was grateful. I never spoke of Vincent. Nothing good, nothing bad was ever uttered. I trusted Tim as much as one could in my situation, and even though I was needed alive, it was a gift to be treated as well as I was.

Night came, and Tim took his leave to the other side of the door. Vincent made his entrance and our nightly routine began. After yet another negative pregnancy test our “celebration” commenced. He opened a bottle of wine and gave me his version of the events that Tim had already relayed to me. The difference was Vincent’s version all had the slant of him being the gears that made the island move smoothly. All failures, on the other hand, were the fault of others.

“Dearest, I feel as if you should resume your writing. We still need the future generations to have a record of all of the great things accomplished before them. Without our history, they will have to repeat our mistakes, not that I have made any. But they will see the mistakes of others and avoid them. This will be your legacy to them.”

“If that is what you wish. I have time between our visits.” I could hear her say.

She was there again. Taking my place. She would live through the horror for me, and I would stay clean. Untouched by the man who I knew was evil. I just hope she lets me take my body back. Each time she takes over I wonder if this will be the time. Am I giving the rights over to her because she has to be soiled by him? Do I even deserve my body back?

It was over as quickly as it began. That is the gift of no foreplay. The act itself is quick when the man doesn’t care if the woman enjoys it. She let me back, a bit too early for my taste. I laid there trapped under his sleeping body. I learned early on that pulling away only led him to draw me in. So there I lay, stiff as a board. I would have prayed for morning, but morning just brought another round.

Frantic knocking awoke us both. One of Vincent’s larger goons came bursting through the door. It had to be important to risk the wrath of Vincent. No one was allowed to see my naked body but him. I was his possession, and he had made this fact very clear to his guards. Vincent shot upright with a look that could have stopped the devil in his tracks.

His eyes scanned my side of the bed, and relief washed over his face to see that I was covered by the sheets. “Tell me,” he ordered in a flat tone.

“They…they….burst…through…” the goon wheezed, obviously out of breath from his trip to find Vincent.

“Enough.” He interrupted. “I am sorry my dear, I do not know when I will be back, but I have to deal with this. Relax, you need not worry.”

With that, he rose out of bed and dressed quickly, but calmly. As much as I despised the man, I had to admit he carried himself with an air of power. Even when facing unknown danger, the kind that made a man the size of his messenger panic, he seemed unfazed. This was the moment that I knew why all of them followed him. While they were busy pissing their pants in fear, he was standing above them all as calm as a spring breeze.

With that I was left alone. I had never been so grateful for a zombie breach. I was going to have one night alone, something I haven’t had since I was found to be immune. I dressed, and then went back to bed. For a moment I may have even felt a hint of joy. Sleep came easy and I drifted off as soon as my head hit the pillow.

“Jessica,” he whispered as he shook me awake.

The world was fuzzy as I tried to see who was waking me. “Tim?” I questioned sleepily.

“We need to go now. The breach will only distract them so long. I need you to grab just what you need, and throw it in this pack.” A bag was stuffed into my hands.

“Go? Go where Tim? We can’t leave… can we?”

“Yes Jessica, we can, but we have to go now. I broke the defense to give us some time, but it won’t last forever. You need to get moving. I have a boat waiting, but we need to go now.”

I was confused, and scared, but not stupid. This was it. The only chance I would ever have to get out of this hellhole. I thought for a split second and realized I didn’t care if I died trying. That made me move. Two minutes later we were on the run with my small pack of supplies. God I hoped he had more, otherwise we were screwed.

Tim put a hoodie on me as soon as we left the room. In the dark I looked like everyone, or no one at all. We needed that anonymity, because all the men knew who I was and what Vincent would do if I got away. Tim held my hand and led me through the town. His route was deliberate, but we did not rush. There was no need to look suspicious. Finally, we came to the bay.

Tim pulled back some brush and tied to the shore was a small boat. A duck blind. It was genius. The thing was already camouflaged. He helped me in, and I found out how prepared Tim really was. The boat was stuffed with supplies. As he pushed away from the island I felt the weight of it all at once. Once those floodgates opened it was impossible to close them. I cried for what felt like hours, and when I had no tears left I curled into a ball and fell back asleep.

Guilt woke me with a start. I had left Tim to take care of both of us. This man had risked everything to save me from Vincent, and I hadn’t even said thank you. “Tim?”

“Jessica. You are awake.” He whispered. “We need to stay quiet still. We made it across the bay last night, and are attached to some tree in the middle of the marsh. I don’t want to attract any of the dead. I am exhausted. Do you think you can watch for a while and let me sleep?”

“Anything,” I whispered back, and pulled him close. I kissed his check ever so gently. “Thank you.”

He blushed, handed me a gun, and tried to find a comfortable place among the piles of supplies. Hours passed without a peep. The worst part about being on watch is being alone with your thoughts. I replayed every event since the outbreak began, second guessing every decision I made. By not fighting Vincent did I allow all of this to happen or was I right and it would have happened anyway? My stomach turned the more I struggled with my own path. I needed to wake Tim. I couldn’t be alone in thought anymore.

I waited as long as I could, then I woke him. To my surprise he was happy. “Did you look at what I brought?” he questioned proudly.

“No,” I stated feeling very stupid.

“Then you are in for a treat, because we have a great breakfast in here somewhere.” He rummaged through the bags for a minute and smiled as he pulled out a box of Pop Tarts. “Aha! Found them. I hope you like cherry.”

“I love cherry. It is my absolute favorite flavor.” I lied, because at that moment I was happy to be alive and free, and this man had made all that happen.

“Awesome.” He replied.

He carefully rose out of the boat and untied us. Next he pulled out a compass, and a flyer. We were heading to the place on the flyer. Inside I was screaming with joy. Not only were we escaping, but we were not heading out into the unknown. We had a goal, and all we had to do was get there. If we were lucky we could manage to find our way before Vincent, and warn them of what was coming.

Wayne

It has been slow going since we left the rest stop. That massive herd was following the highway. We sent a few scouts out to see if they had switched directions, and the result of their recon was no. It was disturbing to hear about the size of that swarm from one of our own. Bill is not known to exaggerate. The man is a straight shooter, and his words were “it never ends.” After that news it was decided that we would take the back roads the rest of the way.

This left us open to attacks as our caravan slowly made its way through towns. The one advantage was our ability to pick up supplies as we went. I suggested to Mick that Garrett get a vehicle of his own. We needed to show up with as much supplies as possible. It would also add the advantage of an extra set of wheels if one of our other cars becomes incapacitated. We’ve had to dump a few cars along the way. Things break, or get stuck. Shit happens.

Garrett had cozied up to Neil’s daughter Emma. She’s a pretty girl, but not the brightest bulb in the batch. Neil was pissed at first, but the more he got to know the kid the more he liked him. One thing about preppers is we always have to have a plan B, and Neil realized if something happened to him Emma would need a plan B. So that is what he is grooming Garrett to be. It helps if someone out here cares about your loved ones as much as you do.

Neil and Emma lost his wife and her mother on the way to meet us. Emma’s grandmother was in her seventies, and was hard of hearing. As they loaded up she didn’t hear the dead as they approached her. Her daughter saw them and tried to save her mother. The two women were no match for the two large male zombies. Neil pulled Emma away as she tried to take off after her mother and grandmother. He had to shoot all of them. By the time he met up with us Emma had forgiven him for what happened. Neil told the story once, then it became one of those things you didn’t bring up.

Mick, Amy and Zoe were good additions to our group, too. They had been on the road so much longer than the rest of us. There were things that they had seen, or done that we hadn’t thought of yet. I was just happy we didn’t pick up a drain on our resources. Our group was a solid 20 before we picked them up, and one of the benefits of it being only preppers was our self-reliance. We shared, but any family in our group had the ability to fend for themselves.

After they joined us, we took a page from Mick’s book and started sleeping on rooftops. Strip malls became our favorites. They stretched out with enough space for us to be able to spread out. The only disadvantage we had to deal with was the buildup of dead after a night or two on the roof. We would get too comfortable, too noisy and that would draw them in. In order to get back on the road, we would have to send a clearing party down to wipe out the ones that we attracted.

Mick was helpful with that, but Amy was a real badass. The first clearing party she took part in all the men stopped helping, and just stared in amazement. She had a bat, and was just swinging at the bleachers. One after another they fell. For guys like us a sight like that was probably one of the sexiest things we will ever see. A drop dead gorgeous woman who can take care of herself was awe inspiring. Mick picked up on the vibe, and kept her extra close for the next few days. None of us would have ever pushed that line, but damn it was something.

Time went on, and they just became another family in our group. They had earned our trust, and they trusted us in turn. That was the real thing that was going to save your ass out here. You have to be able to trust the group you are with. You could have all the supplies in the world, but if you can’t rely on the group of people you are with, you will end up dead. It’s just that simple.

One of the towns we pulled into had a different feel to it. It was quiet. The roads looked staged. Very quickly we felt that we were being herded. The paths were too obstructed, only to be next to one that was too clear. Neil signaled for us to turn around when it happened. Shots rang out. Neil’s tires took the hit. Then the car behind his was targeted. They shot right through the windshield. Our defense plan went into effect.

It was quickly determined that the shots were coming from the rooftops on each side of the road. All members of our group ten and older were armed, and knew what to do if we were attacked. All of our training and drills had been for this moment, not for the living dead, but for the living who wanted us dead. I almost felt sorry for the son of a bitches who thought we were easy pickings. They had opened Pandora ’s Box attacking us.

Within seconds the first sniper was dead. That left three more. They weren’t quite as stupid as I had hoped, and when they saw what they were up against they took the cowards way out and hid. The noise was going to attract the dead, that was a sure thing, and unlike our foes we were down in the hornet’s nest. Every minute or so one of them would get ballsy enough to pop up and squeeze off a round. What a waste of ammo, and after a few shots we had killed another one of them. I am pretty sure it was my son who hit him. Damn, I was proud.

The remaining two started moving in between shots. Neil took a round to the leg. Emma pulled him in my camper. My wife followed in to administer first aid. We were working like a well-oiled machine. Mick signals me that he is going to work his way up on one of the roofs. Amy followed behind him to give him cover. The rest of us kept the aggressors pinned down while he climbed up. Once he was on the roof we heard three shots. Mick stood up and gave us the all clear signal.

He was wrong though. The roofs were clear, but it was hardly over. Three trucks came around the corner from behind us. We were blocked in now. Neil’s car was dead in the water unable to move, and so was the one behind his. This group had set the trap so that only one car could pass through this street. Now with their friends behind us there was no way out. Amy scaled the building to put herself above the scene with Mick. The signals came down that we had six to deal with.

By now the dead had made their way through the maze of obstructions to join the party. The children were herded into my camper. The trucks occupants were unaware of the situation, and that was the only thing we had going for us. They didn’t know that their sniper friends were dead, and that we had two of our own on their rooftops. Without that knowledge they felt safe enough to pour out of the trucks. Mick and Amy shot two immediately.

The secret was out. We lost two good men in the next few minutes. The dead did our job for us and swarmed one of the trucks. Both men were dead in moments. Their screams were sickening. When a man is killed with a gun it is quick, but being ripped apart by demons is slow and hellish. With only two left the men realized they was no way to win this firefight, and they jumped in the last truck and tore ass out of there. Our attention was then focused on clearing the dead as quietly as possible. We didn’t want to draw anymore in.

Mick and Amy descended from the roof, and out came Amy’s trusty bat. The more rotted the zombie, the better it worked. The really old ones just exploded when she hit them. Garrett ran over to his aunt with a sharpened shovel, and made sure she wasn’t overwhelmed. I took the heads off of five of those dead freaks. It was a rush beyond any drug you could ever use. My body felt nothing, no fatigue, nothing but adrenaline. Soon enough it was all quiet.

Then the crash came. My whole body was exhausted, spent. I had used every ounce of energy in the fight. We had never been up against anything like that before, and even with all of our training our bodies were not used to it. That is all of us except Mick and his crew. They had been living like this for so much longer, and they were used to the surge of energy. They had done this over and over to survive. The most any of us had fought before this was four or five zombies. We had always been smart enough to scout and turn if the direction was too dangerous.

It was good to see as a group we could handle it, but we needed to work on our endurance if we were going to make it to the place on the flyer. Once the area was deemed clear for real, I entered the camper to see how my wife was doing in dressing Neil’s gunshot wound. That woman was an angel. She had it cleaned, sealed, and bandaged. He was lucky, and the bullet had passed straight through. The two useless cars were to be emptied, and the supplies were moved to one of the attacker’s trucks. It was almost full on fuel, and the tires looked good.

While that was being done I had Mick check the buildings with me. These assholes had been trapping groups in this little trap for a while now, and had accumulated a large stash. The only two things I was interested in were the weapons, and water. Our other supplies were more than enough to get us to our destination, but these two things would secure our welcome when we got there. We took load after load of guns out to the truck. I lost count of how many we picked up. The two cars were pushed to the side of the road, and we moved on.

Daniel

The scouting party I gathered never made it out to this other camp. We barely made it a couple miles past the outer wall before we ran into a herd of those fucking things.

We were moving at a pretty good clip through the trees. Me and the 4 guys I thought would be healthy enough to make the march. I wanted to bring the kid, but I figured the Rev was going to be pissed enough at me over this little field trip; I didn’t want him pissed at Max too. Besides, if something went down while I was gone, the townies were gonna need him.

We were cutting a trail north through the woods headed toward the highway. Jimmy thought maybe we could boost a car and drive at least part of the way there. We came out of the tree line into this little housing development. I figured, shit, if it was a car we were looking to steal, we should be able to find one here. I told the guys to keep their voices down and stick close to my back. We moved slowly around the backyard of a nice looking McMansion and out in the street were about two dozen moaners. They hadn’t noticed us yet. They were just kind of standing around looking down at their feet, sort of shuffling around a little.

I had to wonder if maybe we couldn’t just sneak right past them if we were quiet enough. Jimmy broke that train of thought right the hell off when he pulled his revolver and started shooting. I don’t know what the fuck he was thinking and I never got a chance to ask. I pulled my pistol and called the retreat as all two dozen zombies turned and started toward us. Did I mention Jimmy was shit for accuracy with a handgun? We were so busy firing at the moaners in front of us that we didn’t see the handful come out of the house behind us.

I heard a choked yell and turned just in time to see Jimmy get pulled down by two fat fucks in bathrobes. It was his own damned fault for starting this mess. The rest of us hauled ass back to the woods shooting back over our shoulders. Jimmy only screamed for a minute.

We ran all the way back to the wall. I thought we outran them. I was sort of right. We hit the wall about ten minutes ahead of them. We busted through the gate and I went straight for the Rev’s place. Max was playing with his dog in the street. He saw me running and tore ass to catch up.

He yelled as he was running, “What’s going on?!”

I was too out of breath to respond in anything other than one word sentences. “Coming. Moaners. Lots. Get. Guys. Wall.”

He got what I was saying and turned mid-stride to gather a fire team. This kid was good. I crashed through the door of the Rev’s house. He was at his desk with that damned journal. I stood there a second, hand on my knees trying to catch my breath.

“What’s this about? Why did you…”

I waved my hands to get him to shut up so I could get a deep enough breath to explain.

“We were in the next town and we ran into some trouble. Some of it may have followed us back here,” I told him.

“What were you doing there? And what do you mean some of it may have followed you back? What followed you back?”

“Relax Rev. There’s maybe twenty moaners. Max already has a team at the wall to take care of them. It’s under control.”

Now it was his turn to wave his hands at me. “Under control?! We are about to be attacked at any minute because you decided to go out on a beer run or for whatever reason. We will continue this conversation later, for now get to the wall.”

It took a little longer than my ten minute estimate, what I didn’t count on was their group picking up stragglers along the way. There had to be at least a hundred and fifty of them, probably closer to two hundred, but with numbers like that a rough estimate was all you needed. By the time they showed up I had shooters on the wall waiting, I just didn’t have enough. As soon as I saw how many there were I leaned over to Max and told him to tell the Rev that it was time to go. I told him to go calmly to the Rev’s place and tell him it was time to blow this pop stand. Max took off to sound the alarm with his dog right behind him.

There was no way we were going to keep this herd out for long, if at all. At least The Rev had at let me draw up a bug out plan and run a few drills with a handful of key people. A big part of that plan was in the shitter already. We didn’t have enough time to load everything I wanted to take into the trucks. I also had to hope that the Rev would let the kid run the show. Max knew what to do. The Rev would likely just stand there rebuking the moaners while they took us all down.

The first zombies staggered into range. “All right boys,” I called out, “You know what to do. Take your time and make your shots count.”

I sighted my first target and let my training take over. I heard shots popping off to my left and right as the men on the wall did the same. Not every shot was a kill, I would say it was probably closer to one out of ten for some guys, but we held them longer than I thought we would.

We even managed to drop around thirty of them by the time they made to within banging distance of the wall. We kept firing as they piled up against the base. There were too many of them and we all knew it. Not one man left his post, though; I got to hand it to them for that. Nobody panicked, nobody ran. They just kept shooting as the wall started to buckle inward.

I heard the first of the trucks fire up as the wall started to shimmy against the weight of all those bodies. I sounded the retreat.

“Fall back! To the trucks, we are bugging out!”

One after another, we jumped down and hauled ass for the line of pick-ups and cargo vans that Max and I had rounded up for just this occasion. Most of the townies had crowded around the area, each carrying a bag or a rifle or both. They were hurriedly loading gear into the vans and looking frantically over their shoulders in our direction. I waved them on with both hands, looking for Max and The Rev. I heard the wall fall as I made it to the edge of the crowd.

“Get in the vehicles! Now!” I yelled as I turned to take a firing position. I thought if we could drop a few more of them it might buy us some time. Max dropped to a knee about five feet to my left and started shooting. A couple other guys from the wall took positions next to him.

Moaners were pouring in through the busted section of fencing. I didn’t want to say anything out loud but I was going to have to give us pretty long odds on getting out of here. We were taking them out, just not fast enough.

I heard the rest of the trucks start up and I looked back over my shoulder to see a couple of guys throwing open the front gates. Suddenly this seemed the worst idea in the world to me. Probably because as soon as the bar went up another stampede of zombies fell through the gate in a giant, biting mass. Fucking great, our odds just got a whole lot longer.

The men at the gate were swallowed up, I don’t even think they had time to scream. One lady in the cab of the lead truck did. She slammed it into gear and spun the back tires spraying me and about twenty others with gravel and dirt. A couple of the people too close to the truck got cut up pretty bad, but in about three minutes they weren’t going to care. The truck finally got some traction and took off toward the open gate. She mowed down about six or eight moaners before running out of momentum and the tires started slipping in the mud again. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the driver tried to gun the engine and only succeeded in burying the back tires in the dirt and mud.

As soon as the vehicle stopped they were on it, pounding the doors and trying to climb into the bed. By this point there were so many people screaming that I couldn’t tell which screams were coming from the truck and which weren’t. Not like it mattered by then.

I saw Max take off toward the truck firing his .22 pistol as he went. He even took a couple down and that is damned hard to do at a full run. I don’t know what his plan was; I don’t think he did either.

The driver threw the door open and tried to make a run for it. She didn’t make three strides before being pulled to the ground. I saw her go down behind the truck, then I saw them pile on top of her, then I saw chunks of meat start flying through the air as they tore her apart.

Max skidded to a halt, turned on his heel, and started toward another truck without missing a beat. Rocky was right at his side the whole time. It’s like he and the dog had some kind of telepathy. I knew guys who spent a lot of time in combat together that got that way. I had a second while reloading my rifle to wonder where the fuck the Rev was and why we weren’t rolling out with what we had loaded. I started to call out to Max when I got my answer. The Rev came barreling out his church with a ruck in one hand and a bible in the other. He started toward one truck, but stopped dead when he saw a swarm of moaners pour over about a dozen townies in the back of it. Max was frantically waving from the cab of a cargo van and the Rev moved toward that one instead.

We were losing townies left and right. Anybody with a weapon never stopped firing though. I saw some brave bastards dying ugly. Looking back I think that’s what pissed me off the most. We should have been long gone before this ever happened. Had we left when I said we should have, we would be sitting pretty in a bunker by now. Not getting chewed up in the courtyard trying to get out before we all died. I started to fall back toward Max not so much to get away from the moaners, but because I wanted to get my hands on the Rev. More specifically, I wanted to get my hands on the Rev’s throat. I was almost out of ammo and as I looked around I saw more than half of the townies lying on the ground in various sized chunks. FUBAR doesn’t quite cover it, but it comes close. That morning we had around 80 men, women, and children eking out an existence within our walls. I doubted there were more than 15 of us left right now. I was going to choke the shit out of the Rev for this. I said a quick prayer to his god to keep him alive long enough so I could.

I threw myself into the back of the cargo van that Max was driving and slammed on the front wall to get him to go. There were 7 townies back there with me, 4 men, 2 women, and one of Max’s friends. I spotted a pick-up with a handful of townies in the bed falling in behind us. We rolled the back door down as Max crashed through the half open gates and took off down the road. Every one of those townies has the same shell shocked look on his or her face.

Back there rolling around with us were 8 or 10 duffle bags and half a dozen ammo cans. I could only hope we had more ammo in the pick-up. I knew Max knew where to go. Our plan involved a rally point twenty miles up the road. I had to hope the pick-up was going to meet us there. For now I slumped down against the side of the truck, closed my eyes, and tried to get those screams out of my head.

Tim

Things couldn’t have gone better during our first week away from the island. The weather was perfect, as it is in late Spring. I wasn’t sure she would come with me. All those weeks I spent planning and sneaking things into the boat, but I never told her what I was doing. She was friendly with me, more than she was with her other guards, but we were not friends. I took a huge chance, and it paid off.

“Tim can I ask you a question?” she probed.

“Anything. We are in this together kiddo.”

“Why did you do it? Why risk everything to save me? You could have just left by yourself and they may not have even noticed you were gone. Or they could have figured that you were killed in the breach. Now you brought me along, and invited a mess of trouble. You know he is going to come after me, he has too big of an ego to let this slide. You made this so much more dangerous by bringing along.”

“I thought you were going to ask one question,” I replied with a smile. I knew she would ask me these questions, but I never really figured out what I would tell her. I was going to have to wing it. “Jessica, I watched you since you were bitten. I couldn’t figure you out. You never looked scared. Always carried yourself with pride, even after he decided to lock you away and treat you as his own personal sex slave. I knew long before that though, I knew I had to save you. I was trapped too, but I didn’t care what happened to me. Then I saw you, and knew I had someone to fight for. “

She smiled, then her head fell into her hands. “I was never that brave. Inside I was terrified. I hated the way he looked at me. Then he started touching…” she trailed off.

I didn’t push.

“I felt ill every day. I made the choice to act like it was alright, but it wasn’t. A piece of me died every time. I had no other choice as far as I could see. There was nowhere to hide. He was going to take me if I let him, or if I didn’t. What choice did I have?” She trailed off again.

“No one can ever judge the decisions you made.” I stated. “You were in an impossible situation, with no right or wrong answers. Life is funny like that. It isn’t black and white. Instead, it is grey and muddy, and you end up covered in a mess. Getting through it, that’s the important part. You never cracked. You are so much stronger than I am. “

“I never felt strong.” She sighed.

“You may not have, but it was obvious to the rest of us that you are. You are by far the strongest woman I have ever met. That made you worth risking my life for.”

“That sounded like a line from one of my books.” She giggled.

“Cheesy? Yea, I guess, but true.” I snickered.

From that moment on she was relaxed around me. She must have been so worried what my intentions were. I never thought of that in my preparations. Taking her from one man, and having her trapped with another, only in a much smaller space. Only I didn’t want to father a baby with her, so that was a plus. I couldn’t imagine wanting to bring a child into this world. Even if they had the chance of being immune, they still could be eaten alive.

Vincent had told the rest of us about the flyer a few days before I set off the breach. He had taken it off of some people who had made the trip over from the mainland. As soon as their boat docked they were asked if anyone had ever been bitten before and recovered. They responded as most would with a laugh at its impossibility. This led to them being shot and stripped of all useful supplies. There was no quarantine zone for newcomers. Not unless there could be another woman to try to make a baby.

I wondered what would have happened if another man was immune. My best guess is that Vincent would have him killed, and anyone who had the knowledge that he existed. Another immune male would take away his savior status, and we can’t have that. So, the flyer was found on these refugees and Vincent saw an opportunity to expand his kingdom. His two most trusted men were sent to find this mainland colony. Earl was not thrilled to be pushed out of the safe zone, but he would never disobey Vincent. Eddie was more than happy to take the assignment. He would do anything to prove his loyalty and value to his master.

They had taken off four days before I set off the breach. I decided to give us a bit of space, and lucky for us I was in the room when they had discussed the route they would be taking. Earl made a few copies of the flyer. They wanted to make sure that they had backups in case the two of them didn’t make it back. What a morbid thought, making copies for your replacements. That was how I got my hands on a copy. I was asked to deliver them to the office and slid one off of the pile.

Now here we are drifting along down some cedar water creek. Quietly making our way south towards the colony. The dead haven’t paid much attention to us. We only had to put down three so far. The woods are filled with them, but they have been ignoring the boat covered in reeds as it floats past them. If we can keep the pace we are making right now, we will be at the place in no time. I don’t want to be overly optimistic about this, but things couldn’t be going better.

Test Subject 63-04

I took a good, long look at myself in the reflection from the jeep’s windshield. Pretty hilarious. I looked like I belonged in some post-apocalyptic science fiction movie. I started to chuckle, then I realized I might very well be in some post-apocalyptic science fiction movie. Not as much fun as it sounds.

Nevertheless, I looked the part. Dressed in black fatigues with a rifle over my shoulder and a jeep full of random gear. Mad Max; eat your fucking heart out. Quick before the zombies do.

Anyway, turns out I was in the CDC building in Virginia. Amazing what you can find out by looking at mail strewn all over the floor of an office. Fair warning, you may have to move aside the body of a guy in a lab coat with a pistol in his hand and a giant hole in the back of his head. Oh, and it is also going to smell really bad. Olfactory discomfort aside, you can gain a lot of valuable information, like your current location. This will come in handy when you decide to follow the advice of a flyer you found in a parking lot outside the government building you have been held in for an unknown amount of time. When this flyer gives you the location of a camp of some kind where you may be able to see another human being that won’t try to eat you alive, well you need to know the start point of your little trek…

Jesus, I think I’m cracking up.

I also found a GPS unit that seemed to still be functioning so that would do to get me started, but I have a backup map book with alternate routes already marked out. The trick is going to be getting out of Richmond. If I could get out of the city then I could pretty much run north parallel to I-95 for three hundred or so miles. I couldn’t pretend to know how long it was going to take. My best guess would be somewhere between six hours and a month. Depending, of course on how many people I had to kill between here and New Jersey…

Reverend Mathis

We finally pulled the caravan off the road after what must have been fifty miles. Two of the trucks were dangerously low on gas. We had several cans in the back of the van but the idea was to see if more could be scouted before dipping into our reserves. We pulled into the woods down what looked like an old logging road. We felt that it would be unlikely that we would run into the dead out here, but a lack of vigilance may be what put us in this position in the first place.

I decided not to argue with Daniel over the radio, to wait instead until we could discuss things in private. The group had been through enough and to see those they had chosen as their leadership at odds with each other wouldn’t do anyone any good. Suffice to say, the moment Daniel and I are alone, I may very well… I cannot pretend that I would pose any physical threat to Daniel. He is far better at violence than I am, but if the opportunity were to present itself, I am not entirely certain that I would not take advantage of it. Perhaps if he were to turn his back, I could get the drop on him.

How could things have gone so wrong, so quickly? So many dead, so much lost, and for what? Daniel’s little power play lead an entire army of those things back to us. We would have been fine if he hadn’t chosen to be so rebellious. We had an agreement! I told him it was too risky. I have not felt this kind of anger toward another human being in a very long time. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and crush the life out of him. Not very Christian, I admit, but his mistake is inexcusable. Perhaps I should avoid speaking to him until we reach our ultimate destination lest my anger get the better of me and we end up in a physical altercation. I imagine this would be even worse for morale than for the Townies to see us arguing.

Can we even call ourselves the Townies anymore? Our town is gone. If I close my eyes I can see those things wandering the streets still feasting on the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters.

I cannot even begin to think about what this may do to Max. To be so young and to have been through so much already… He is truly a special child to be so strong, but still, all this must take a toll on him. How much more can he possibly take? How much more can any of us take?

Daniel

That bastard is lucky I didn’t fucking kill him. I sat fuming in the back of the pickup waiting for the Rev to come out of the van. We gassed up the vehicles and regrouped as best we could. The townies were understandably shitting themselves. A lot of questions going around. Where were we going? How would we get there? Did so-and-so make it out alive? People counted their losses and mourned the dead right there in the woods.

I passed out some water and some rations, tried as best I could to console people and to tell them how proud I was that they fought as well as they did, not that it mattered. We lost. I took stock of what and who had made it out. Three vans, two pickups, a Jeep, and the delivery truck. That last one held most of our bug out supplies so at least there was that. Still no sign of the Rev. I half hoped that he hadn’t gotten out, but I heard him talking to the driver of the pickup over the radio on the way here. Sniveling, weak-assed little pansy probably didn’t have the balls to face these people after what happened. That’s okay. He would have to come out eventually. And when he did, I would be on him.

We had a decent amount of ammo and plenty of weapons, rifles, handguns, a few shotguns even, but we were out in the open now. Vulnerable on all sides, and not just exposed to the dead. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we ran into my old Army unit and got ourselves robbed and/or killed by that shithead captain of mine. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass. Aside from them there must be hundreds of other assholes running around out here that we have to worry about.

We had enough food for at least a few days, maybe a week if we stretched it out. Water was going to be a problem real quick though. All totaled about twenty-five people made it out of the town, ten men, eight women, and seven kids, eight counting Max, but I wouldn’t count him as a kid. Then there’s me and the Rev, but I wouldn’t count him in with the men either.

So I was moving through the ranks, consoling some of the guys, congratulating others when I saw him. The Rev had finally crawled out of the van he was hiding in and was talking to one of the younger couples. As I didn’t see their kid with them and the girl was crying pretty hard, I figured out what they were talking about pretty quick. I waited for him to move away from them and soon as he got to his feet, I charged.

I screamed at the top of my lungs just before I tackled him to the ground, all the anger that had been building for months just sort of gushed out. We hit the ground with a flat thud and before he knew what was going on, I was pounding my fists into his fucking face. He tried to push me off, then he tried to cover up. I heard gasps and a few screams behind me but I didn’t care.

“THIS WAS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT,” I screamed as I pounded away on his ribs and face. “ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?!?”

I hit him a few more times and rolled off onto my back panting and, I think, crying a little. I heard his gurgling breaths so I knew I hadn’t killed him. Lucky bastard. The people around us just kind of stood there stunned, slack-jawed and staring.

I got to my knees and started getting my feet under me when out of nowhere Max spear tackled me from behind. I face-planted in the dirt and felt my nose break from the impact. Max was on my back wailing away with his tiny, ineffective fists. I bucked him off, rolled over, and leaped up. He ran at me, but I grabbed his arms and pinned them to his sides.

“What did you do to him!?” Max screamed and spit in my face and tried to get free.

I wasn’t until I saw the look on his face that I felt any regret for what I did. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I should have just waited until my head cooled a little. Maybe I should have just hit him once or twice and been done with it. Fuck it, too late now. I shoved Max a little too hard and he skidded on his ass in the dirt. I started to mouth some kind of half-assed apology, but nothing came out. Max just sat there staring at me.

I turned and stumbled back to the pickup. I could barely see, between the broken nose and the look on Max’s face I couldn’t clear the tears from my eyes. I grabbed a rag out of the tool box in the truck and tried to wipe the blood off my face and hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max get up and go over to the Rev, who was at least sitting up, a crowd had gathered around him and were giving him water. Nobody would even look in my direction.

Max and the Rev talked something over, then the Rev patted Max on the shoulder and hugged him. Max got up and walked into the crowd. That was the last time I ever saw him.

Jessica

Struggling to breathe I was suffocating. Trapped under a tree with the water rushing around me I fought against the current with all my strength, but it was a losing battle. If I couldn’t pull myself out from under the branches I was going to die. How’s that for irony? I am immune to whatever is killing everyone else, but I am going to die just the same.

Last I saw Tim was trapped in a fight for his life. We had left the duck blind a few days ago because we ran out of calm water. Walking along the river left us exposed. We did our best to avoid the dead, we were armed, but not well enough to take on a large group. For days our plan was working, but we stumbled on a group of at least twenty dead. They spotted us before we had a chance hide, and to be honest we were so tired from traveling our reaction was less than ideal.

Tim pushed me behind him. I don’t know what I did to deserve a guardian angel, but Tim was mine. Ever since we left the island I have felt protected, watched over. Yet again, he put my safety before his. He motioned for me to double back. I wasn’t going to argue. He had the only gun, and my sharped stick wasn’t going to hold up against a large group of dead. I made the mistake of looking back one more time to see how Tim was holding up against the horde, and I tripped over a root on the shoreline.

The water was frigid. Immediately the wind was knocked out of my lungs, and I had forgotten the dead that were on the shore. From the moment my body hit that water I was thrashing through the water in hopes to feel dry land. I was too weak to swim in calm water, and this river was anything but calm. My body bounced off of logs, and rocks. Each blow left me more battered. The culmination of this river ride was a one way trip under a downed tree. I became tangled in the branches and fought for each breath.

My face kept slipping under water. Drowning is a horrible way to die. There is nothing peaceful about your lungs filling up with water. Your body wants to live, but you are growing more tired with each passing moment. I tried to calm down. So many times you hear survival experts say that panic will kill you. I stopped thrashing around. The current was still washing over me, but I could predict when my face would be under water. This allowed me to take small breaths in between those moments.

Once I knew I could get air, even though it was small, unsatisfying breaths, I could focus on removing my legs from their trap. Slowly I pulled at them, but only one would come free. I realized that the other was held in place by my shoe. If I could just take off the sneaker, I would be free. I only had one chance. The sneaker was too tight to slip off. Drawing in as much air as I could I plunged under the surface. The cold had numbed my fingers, the murky orange water made my eyes useless.

Each second that passed felt like it would be my last, and panic was beginning to creep back in. Suddenly, my foot was released. I grabbed for the tree, but the current was too fast, and I was too tired. My head broke the surface, and I was able to draw in a beautiful, full breath. A log was coming at me at lightning speed, though if you think about it, I was going at the log at lightning speed. It was stationary, and I was not. Smashing into it I used what little power I had and wrapped my arms around it.

Amazingly, the log was on the river’s edge. Motivated by the chance to live, I managed to pull myself up the log and onto the shore. I had no idea how far I had traveled, or if Tim was still alive. What I did know was that I needed to get moving. If I lay down now I may never get back up. The temptation to sleep was calling me, like a drug to an addict. Just like the drug, sleep would be the death of me. So, I fought the urge and limped slowly upstream. I had no weapons, no supplies, and no left shoe. I needed to find Tim.

The sky was lit up like a painting at sunset. Oranges, reds, and purples were spread out along the horizon. What should have been viewed with wonder, was seen with dread. I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was dark, and my good friend panic would be back. I kept hoping I would see something familiar, but it was all the same. Trees, dirt, and rocks as far as the eyes can see. I followed the river’s edge like a shadow follows his man. One foot in front of another, I trudged along trying to ignore the cold, and pains of hunger. I wondered if this was what they felt like.

Did they feel at all? Were they wandering through the woods cold, tired, and hungry? Was that why they needed to feed all the time? They were never full. For a moment I thought I had died and become one of them without knowing it happened. Maybe I had drowned. I guess I would know when I saw a live person. If I attacked then there was my answer. I had to find Tim. He would tell me what to do.

Muddy white sneakers lay at the end of a pair of legs that stretched out from behind a tree. I approached them with caution, the whole time praying I was wrong. There wasn’t much left of the rest of the body. His face was missing, but I knew this man. I also knew I was screwed. I lay down beside him on the forest floor. Wrapping my arms around his cold, blood soaked body I began to cry. For the first time since he rescued me I didn’t feel protected. As I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep I prayed again, but this time it was a prayer to never wake up.

Test Subject 63-04

“My name is Ian. What’s yours?”

No response, just that blank, quizzical stare. I could tell he wasn’t dead. The dead ones don’t look at you like they’re trying to figure you out, just figuring out how to get a hold of you. This one was half-hiding behind an overturned candy rack. I almost didn’t spot him. When I did, the first thought in my head was to pretend like I didn’t. Just keep moving. I was making good time, no sense in slowing myself down trying to put together an entourage.

Then I distinctly heard my mother’s voice damning me to hell for all time if I didn’t stop and see if I couldn’t help the boy. He wasn’t a boy, had to be at least twenty, but something in his face made me think of him that way.

So there I stood trying to get him to at least come out from behind the shelves.

“Are you hurt? Are you hungry? Are you alone?”

He didn’t even blink just stared at me not quite making eye contact but keeping me in the center of his field of vision. I couldn’t stand here all day. I only saw a few of those things outside when I ducked in, but were there are a few, there are a few more.

“Okay kid, I’m going to load this bag with some chocolate bars, you know, kind of round out my stash, and then I’m going to take off. If you feel like talking, now is the time.”

Nada. Almost like he figured if he ignored me long enough I would disappear. Which is exactly what was going to happen.

I went about grabbing a few candy bars, some smashed up fruit pies, and some more bottles of water. I was squatting over a pile of snack cakes digging around for some of those coconut cupcake things when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I dropped my shit, rolled forward over one knee and came around with my pistol expecting to see a corpse with his claws out. It was the kid. Jeez-us, how the hell did he sneak up on me??

He didn’t even flinch at the .45 leveled at his forehead.

“You’re fast.” That’s all he said. In this even, matter-of-fact tone, like he was telling me it was going to rain.

“And you’re sneaky,” I replied trying to match his tone even though my heart was about to jump out of my throat.

“You have to be,” then in a creepy, low whisper, “When they see you, they try to grab you, then they try to bite you. That is very rude. Father said I should never be rude.”

A fucking soliloquy from a kid who two minutes ago wouldn’t say ‘shit’ if he stepped in a pile of it.

I resumed the task of procuring my damned cupcakes while the kid rattled on about how he was going to his grandmother’s house because his mother and father were both dead. It was more than a little creepy hearing somebody regale me with the gruesome details of how his mother had been half eaten, then shoots herself, then the dad kills himself, with absolutely zero emotion. Something was seriously fucked up about this kid. I guess it was just shock or post-traumatic stress or some shit. Couldn’t say I blame him.

“You want to tell me your name?” I asked.

“My name is William. And your name is Ian. You told me before when I was hiding from you.”

“So where’s Grandma’s house Will?”

“William. I do not like to be called Will, or Bill, or Willy, or Billy.”

“Sorry, William. So where’s Grandma’s house. Maybe I can help you find it.”

“I know where it is. Mother used to drive us there and I am very observant. I will go north on Main street until I see the high school, then I will go west until I see the apple farm, then I will go north again, this is route 15. Only cars can go on route 15, but if I stay to the side I will be okay. On route 15, I will go north until I get to exit…”

“Okay, okay kid. I get it, you know where you’re going. How about I tag along, I’m headed in the same direction, roughly speaking.”

“I would like a Mars bar first. I haven’t found one here yet.”

“Well today is your lucky day William. I just happen to have four of them in my bag.”

He smiled at that, a real smile, content and happy, like the whole world wasn’t floating in the shitter, just couldn’t be, because he was going to get his Mars bar. At that moment, I envied the fuck out of this kid.

That all changed when he realized that I meant the bag was out in the Jeep. His face went blank again and he just stood there shaking his head.

“Father says I must never get into a car with a strange man.”

“We aren’t strangers kid. We’re old friends, you and me. William and Ian, like out of some old western. We roll into town, scoop up all the Mars bars, maybe a pretty lady or two and then ride off into the sunset,” I said, trying to motion him toward the door. I didn’t know how much longer we could stay here before one of the dead noticed us hanging out and started trying to get in. And I still needed to get some gas in the Jeep before we rolled out. “I’m not going to hurt you William. I want to help you get to grandma’s house.” It sounded stupid when I said it out loud.

“Father says I must never get into a car with someone I do not know unless they know the password. Do you know the password?”

“Shit, kid. I don’t have a fucking idea what the password is, but we don’t have a whole lot of time to stand around here playing getting-to-know-you games. We have got to roll. Please. Come with me.”

Back to square one again. That same empty eyed stare. It was different this time though, I could tell he was working things out in his head, turning the idea over. It looked like it was taking an effort though.

“Do you promise that you are not a bad person?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. I was an Eagle Scout you know.”

He stood there for another minute, grinding the thought down until he could get his head around it. Then all of the sudden he nods, walks over behind a counter and grabs a Ninja Turtles backpack and head for the door.

“You shouldn’t swear so much. Father says it is not proper.” And out the door he goes.

I followed him out, scanning for corpses. Two of them were dragging their way up the street in the opposite direction, one I had seen earlier, the other was new. I threw our bags in the back of the Jeep and opened the door for William. He hesitated just a second before climbing in and asking for his Mars bar.

“They’re in the black bag in the back. Go ahead and help yourself. I have to get us some gas or its going to be a short trip.”

I grabbed the jerry cans off the back bumper and spied the handful of cars in close enough vicinity. I walked around the front of the Jeep moving toward a sporty little number half up on the curb. William was sitting in the passenger seat munching away with his eyes closed. I thought briefly about the trip he must have taken to get this far. He had to be retarded or something. How the hell had he made it this far? What did that say about me and the rough fucking time I’ve had of it. What about all those hardcase mother fuckers I had seen along the way, half eaten and dragging their own guts behind them? I figured his being retarded must have been a benefit rather than a burden. He had no real idea what the hell was going on. In his mind he was just going to Grandma’s for the weekend, hoping to get some snacks along the way.

I sucked half a can of gas out of the ‘Vette. A good start, but not enough. I moved to the next car, some little beater wrapped around a sign pole. Doesn’t anybody know how to drive anymore? I made my way past the driver side toward the gas cap and I just about shit my pants when a corpse missing half its face slammed itself against the glass from the inside. No way it had the strength to bust the glass, but I was a little worried that the racket might signal one of its friends.

I managed to top off one of the cans and get about a third of the other. I noticed my buddies from earlier had perked up and were headed back this way toward the shithead in the car making all the noise. The gas I had would have to be enough.

I beat feet back to the Jeep and William was still sitting in the passenger seat, chocolate smeared on one cheek and a contemplative look on his mug. I fixed the cans to the back and climbed in. I turned the key and as the engine kicked over one of the corpses threw itself onto the hood.

“That man looks angry,” William said.

“I would be too. If I was dead and all I wanted to do was lay down…” I trailed off as we sat there watching this thing beat itself ineffectually against the hood of the Jeep. I was more intent on watching William’s reaction to the whole thing. He just stared at it. No fear. No revulsion. No reaction at all, like he was watching an egg fry or an ant crawl on a windowsill. I couldn’t figure him out.

“We should go now,” William said, pointing out the windshield past the roof of another car. There were at least a dozen more corpses dragging their way toward us.

“Fuck ‘em,” I blurted, throwing the Jeep into first and driving over the fucker on the hood. I was half tempted to drop it into reverse and finish the job, but Mom always told me never to tempt the Devil. With my luck, we’d get hung up on the body and end up zombie chow.

“You should not swear. Father says it is not proper.”

“I’ll do my best kid.”

We drove in silence for a while. Progress was slow, moving around piled cars, on and off of side streets. We didn’t see too many more corpses either. At one point, I even managed to stop and fill the tank and both gas cans. Might even have enough gas to get to New Jersey, or at least close to it, even giving up my original plan to follow I-95.

William wasn’t the most conversational driving buddy. Every few minutes he would make some observation about a wrecked car or a gang of zombies shambling across the street. I noticed that they seemed to move in packs. It didn’t look like any kind of active decision, just kind of like those old pictures they used to show of Russians lined up for bread, only they were lined up for human flesh. And they weren’t standing still either, kind of shuffling along with no real purpose, unless one of ‘em gets a look at something they want to chew on. That happens and they home in like missiles. Slow moving, but fucking relentless.

So we just kept creeping north when we could, east when could, and doubling back only when we had to. The GPS didn’t last long, but I had maps. The going was slow, but not as slow as you might think. The back roads weren’t too tangled until you got close to an on-ramp for the interstate. We should be in New Jersey in less than a week, maybe even just a few days.

Max

“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen”

That was the last thing I said before I left. I didn’t say anything to Daniel. With all the adults freaking the hell out about what happened to the town it was easy as hell to snag a set of keys and a backpack. Rocky knew something was up and was waiting in the back of the pickup. We took off before they noticed a thing.

“Fuck them.” I mumbled to Rocky.

“Damn near got me and you killed, mother fuckers. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck…”

“And shit.” At that point I started laughing like a crazy person because I was tired, angry, and cuss words are always funny.

Rocky shook his head at me. I figured we had driven far enough to take a look at what we had in the truck to work with until we could find a safe place to get supplies. Supply runs with Daniel had taught me a few things, but being alone was going to be my biggest advantage. Rocky and I can scout an area silently. That dog has always read my mind and always seems to be where I need him without any instructions.

Burning tears flowed down my cheeks. God, I was angry. Grabbing Rocky around the neck I ran my hands through his fur. If they had let something happen to him I may have killed them all. He was all I had left of home. Rocky is family. I learned my lesson. Don’t get to comfortable. Comfort gets you killed. So Rocky and I would keep moving.

My mom had an old farm dog that she loved. Goldie followed momma the way Rocky follows me. Goldie would curl up on the porch after supper and lay warming my mom’s feet while I played in the yard. One summer Goldie got fat. She got lazier, and spent most of her day lying on the porch, even when momma was busy. Growing up on a farm I knew it meant she was carrying pups. But Goldie wasn’t going to have pups the easy way.

It was late one evening that Goldie started panting really heavy. Her eyes turned glassy and she just stared off in the distance. My mom brought some blankets out to the porch and tried to help her get comfortable. Nothing was helping, but momma said that was how it is sometimes and we just had to patient. I waited as long as I could; curled up on the extra blankets I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of a truck rushing up the gravel driveway. It was still dark, and with only the light on the porch I could hardly see. My mom’s face looked tired and worried. I wondered who was here. Doc Thompson jumped out of his truck and sprinted towards our porch. Goldie lifted her head to show she saw him, and then rested again. Eyes closed she panted furiously. Something was very wrong.

“They aren’t coming, Doc. Least not on their own.”

“Lizzie, I will do what I can, but this porch isn’t the best place to have treat her. I can’t make any promises.”

Dad scooped me up and brought me in the house. I protested for a bit, but he told me they needed room, and I would probably be in the way. I prayed and prayed that Goldie and the pups would be alright. But, when I heard my mom’s cries I knew that those prayers hadn’t been answered. Curiosity beat out fear and I snuck back out to the porch. It was covered in blood, and back in those days that kind of sight stuck with you.

Mom had Goldie’s head resting on her lap as she stroked the dog’s fur. I could tell Goldie was gone, but momma wasn’t ready to let go. Doc had something really small and gooey in his hand. He was working furiously at keeping that small thing warm. As I managed to get closer I saw it was a pup. One lone little guy fighting to stay alive. Without a doubt, at that moment I prayed harder than I have ever prayed for anything in my whole life.

“Max, come here,” Doc called at me. “I need you to take over, my hands are going numb.”

As he handed me the pup, he explained what he had been doing. Performing little gentle circular movements on the pup’s chest would keep the blood flowing, and hopefully get him breathing on his own. We were at it for over an hour. Doc looked down at the pup, and sighed.

“If he makes it on his own till morning we are in the clear. Put him down your shirt against your skin. That should keep him warm. There really isn’t anything else we can do.”

Doc then got up, hugged my Mom, and loaded up his things. As put his tools away in his truck he promised to call later in the day to check on everyone. Dad carried momma up to bed. I heard him whisper that he was sorry over and over again as he took her away. When he returned, he grabbed the shovel out of the shed and went to bury Goldie out in the side yard. I never connected it before, but that was the same spot he buried momma.

When he had finished, he took a seat next to me on the porch swing. “We have to get all this cleaned up before your Mom wakes up. She is really gonna miss that dog. Speaking of dogs, how’s the little fighter doing?”

“He’s still breathing.” I said. “Doc said that’s the important part.”

“Yea it is. What are you going to name him?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.” It never crossed my mind, I was too busy being scared that he was going to die, and praying that he wouldn’t. Dad was right, he needed a name. Once I knew it, it felt like he was going to make it. He was real now.

“ I betcha know now. I can see it on your face. “

“Rocky. Like the boxer from the movies. This pup is tough, so he needs a tough name.”

Dad smiled at me. “I think that is a great name for him, Max. You stay here keeping him warm and I will go get the hose. Let’s clean this place up, then go inside and make all three of us breakfast.”

I spent every second with Rocky after that. Well, until school started. But by then he was strong as could be and didn’t need me holding him to keep him warm anymore. We were brothers, it didn’t matter that he was furry and I wasn’t. We took care of each other from day one. I wasn’t every going to let anything bad happen to him. I felt the anger growing in my gut again. I pushed myself up and away from Rocky.

“Keep watch, boy. I’m gonna see how screwed we are.”

My backpack was loaded up with three days worth of food and water for Rocky and me. That was a good start, but it wasn’t going to keep us alive very long. The truck had a rifle and a hand gun in it. Those were two huge scores. The hand gun didn’t have much ammo, but the rifle had a decent amount. There was better accuracy with that one, so I put that in the good luck pile.

We were low on gas, but when aren’t we anymore. Gassing up is a pain, and the townies would always bitch and moan about how they had to go further and further to get it. I had a small knife, a tire iron, and few blankets. Rocky and me needed to find a small town fast, or we weren’t going to make it. I signaled for him to get in the cab, and we took off down the road.

By sunset we had come across a place with potential. I wasn’t heading in there so close to dark, though. It would have been different if I knew the town, but it was suicide to get trapped at night somewhere new. I didn’t take off just to get killed the first night making some rookie ass move. We parked the truck up on the ridge about a half of a mile away from the town. Finally, I felt like I could relax. All that fighting Daniel and the Rev had been doing for the last few weeks had put me on edge.

I didn’t say goodbye to Daniel when we left. Breaking his nose said everything I needed it to. Daniel was the only guy there that had ever made any sense. He knew better than to treat me like some dumb ass kid, then he goes off and acts like some dumb ass kids himself. I probably should have told him why I was mad, but what would it have helped. Him and the Rev are so bent on playing king of the hill, that we lost a bunch of people because of them.

I only said goodbye to Rev because I really believe he didn’t mean it. He was just too damn stupid to know better. Daniel I expected more from. He should have been able to see what would happen if he went off halfcocked. “You gotta plan every move out here,” He would tell me. Then he doesn’t plan at all. Or maybe he did, I don’t care. He almost got Rocky and me killed, and I ain’t putting up with that.

Rocky scarfed down his can of dog food. I’m not ashamed to say I scarfed mine down, too. Before all this crap happened, I never would have ate the stuff. But now? Hey, it’s food. Locking the doors, I pulled the blanket over both of us and drifted off to sleep. Neither of us stayed up to keep watch, I guess we just needed a good night’s sleep, or some time next to one another. Either way, when we woke up it was morning.

“We need to go in that town today, boy. The faster we can get in and out, the better.”

I thought about eating breakfast before we went in, but I figured it may upset my stomach. Better to deal with it later, and maybe with better food. Starting the truck was much louder than I expected. Rocky was on top of his job, and his head jerked back and forth as he scanned the area for moaners. We gave it a few minutes, when no one came stumbling along, we drifted down the ridge. “Back to the way it ought to be,” I stated. “Right, boy?”

I’m pretty sure he agreed, cause he licked my hand.

Mick

The more time I spent with Wayne and his friends, the more I liked them. They were down to earth people. Watching how they are with their families makes me wish I had been a better man back when it wasn’t a matter of survival. Some nights I dream of the days my ex-wife and I were still together. I had it all wrong. Years of resentment made me hate her. I can see now she wasn’t the piece of shit I believed her to be, she was just trying to navigate all my bullshit. Some nights I wish her and the kids have found a safe place, others I wish they died just so they wouldn’t have to struggle anymore. No matter what, I promise myself I will never be that selfish son of a bitch anymore.

Amy only knows the good me. It started as a mask that I wore so her and the kids would give me that ride that I needed. Then it became who I was. They say a man can change, only if he really wants to, though. I’ve come a long way from that asshole locked up in the corner store. Nice part about reinventing yourself with people you just met is that they will never know you did it. They will believe this is who you have always been.

We’ve been pushing along on the back roads for way too long now. Days are beginning to merge, and there are times when I think we have actually managed to go backwards. Oh hell, it probably just feels that way. Wayne is doing a great job keeping spirits up, but the trip that should have been over months ago seems like it will never end. We need to work our way back to the highway. Anything is better than the stop go we face going through every small town along the way. Plus we keep picking up strays. I know we were once strays that were added to this fine group, but we can hold our own.

Two days ago we rolled up into yet another middle of bumblefuck town, which barely merited a mention on the map. Amy, Zoe and I were four cars back from the lead. Being stuck in the middle was good or bad, depending on who you are talking to. If I had a choice I’d pick rear or lead. I like having an escape route. Anyway, we roll up into this shithole that’s been torn apart and immediately know that a supply run is going to be useless. Not my call though, because middle man gets no say in the matter. Jim was up front that day and he was known for stopping everywhere.

The man did not care what the area looked like; he was determined to find some magical treasure in every lousy neighborhood we drifted through. This was a big part of our issue with getting to the place on the flyer. We spent way too much time worrying about being prepared for every issue that could arrive. This group has some great qualities, but over planning is definitely holding us back. Amy could sense my frustration and took my hand in hers. No one has ever calmed me like she does. The anger eased back as she traced tiny circles on my hand.

Jim signals for an all stop, and we pull our vehicles in position. Lining up while parked makes no sense, so we point the cars in ways where they can pull around each other if needed. Garrett is right behind me, and Emma pops out of her dad’s truck as soon as we stop to go running over to him. Things have gotten pretty serious with those kids. Amy was ready to kick his ass about it. Weird shit must be going on when I become the voice of reason, and it ended up being my job to talk her out of it.

Life moves too fast now to get fixated on something so trivial as age or how long someone has known another person. Each day could easily be your last, and it would be a shame to see a kid like him miss out on something as monumental as first love. I still remember that girl from back in high school who was my first everything. That kind of intensity can’t and shouldn’t be repeated, but when it happens it is one hell of a rollercoaster ride. All you can do is strap in and enjoy it.

It’s harder for her to let the kids go. She feels a duty to them and her dead brother to keep them safe, but this world ain’t safe. And to be honest Garrett hasn’t been a kid for a long time. There they stand kissing and cuddling, acting like this is just a normal day, just like any other normal day when you are a teenager and in love. Well fuck, I’d give anything to feel like that right now. I squeeze Amy’s hand and plant a small kiss on her forehead. Time to man up and go treasure hunting.

The best way to handle these runs was to send one person from each vehicle. We always left behind at least one person capable of getting those cars out of there if needed. Too many people moving from building to building generally led to too much noise. Noise led to dead guys, and dead guys led to us becoming dead guys. Garrett got to stay behind this time because he was the only driver for his truck. I had a feeling when we returned that we would see Emma join him for the next leg of the journey. She was pretty good at still spending time with her dad. It was one of the things Amy and I both liked most about her, she had loyalty.

Ten of us slowly make our way towards Main Street, USA. What a waste of time. I can feel my anger building up again. Every time we march down streets out in the open, we are risking our lives for a few cans of tuna. All I can do is remind myself that anger makes me careless, and figure out a way to reign that shit back in. Wayne reaches the first store door. Hand signals are shot all around, but we have done this same scenario so many times most of them are just for show. We damn well better know where we should be, and who has what job at this point.

Tap, Tap, Tap. Wayne used the tip of his gun to arise any “sleeping” zombies. We all stand there waiting for the ten count of no movement. Once that happens the door is pushed open. Locked doors don’t really seem to exist anymore, unless there is someone behind it. Most people make such fast getaways from wherever they may be that they forget to lock up on the way out. All but two of us filed into the store flanking the edges. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, find anything useful, then get the hell out of there.

Same old shit. There was nothing left in this place that wasn’t destroyed. Perishables perished. All the long term pantry stuff had walked its way out the door already. We did a courtesy loop, found nothing, then filed back out. Four more times we made this same move. By the last store I was over it. I signaled Neil that I wanted to take his spot outside to guard. That Neil was a good guy. He never asked why, just shook his head and walked in. So there I stood outside waiting for Jim to decide enough is enough and maybe let us get moving again. At this pace years will pass before we get there.

Two shots rang out from in the store. Every instinct I had told me to go inside and see if they needed help, but that wasn’t my job. Standing guard sucked in times like this. You couldn’t leave your post. The noise may draw in the dead and someone has to be there to stop them. All I could do was hope that it was us killing someone, not someone killing us. Sounds of a struggle came from inside the store. Just when I thought that the curiosity would kill me, the group poured out the front door.

I took a quick head count. Ten were there, but something wasn’t quite right. I scanned the group and Neil wasn’t among them. Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea. We somehow lost Neil in that store and gained what looked like an elderly woman. No one talked on our way back to the trucks. When we arrived Wayne made his way over to Emma. If I had to pick one reason to not be in charge, it would be the job that Wayne has every time we lose someone. He has to tell the families. I don’t envy that task.

Emma collapsed in Garrett’s arms. It was decided that we would camp here tonight, and allow Emma some time to grieve. Really I think we just stuck around because we aren’t really in a hurry to get anywhere. I managed to get some time to talk to Wayne. His face has aged so much in the time I have known him. It makes me wonder if all this sticking together is worth it.

Ian & William

I almost lost the kid in Virginia, somewhere near Marshall according to the map. Rolling through some town or another, we were looking for food and water, Mars bars and Snoballs, nothing new. This place was different. It still looked like shit, don’t get me wrong, but almost likes somebody had tried a little too hard to leave it looking like shit if that makes sense. William was his usual quiet self as we moved slowly down the main street looking for a food store with the windows intact. This town didn’t look too bad, not like some of the places we had been through. Most of the buildings still had glass and doors and the streets weren’t littered with half-eaten bodies. That’s why my ass was up, as my sarge would have said. Not up high enough though.

I came around a blind turn and right before it would have been too late, I spotted a thin wire strung about a foot high across the road. The Jeep skidded to a stop just resting against it. Another inch and it would have thrown whatever trigger it was tied to. I dropped the Jeep into reverse but before I let the clutch up, a van shot from an alley and crashed into a pole behind us.

“Fuck! William get down!” I screamed and grabbed his head and shoved him, a little too rough, down to the floor. I popped the clutch and the Jeep slammed into the van just as the driver’s door started to open. I heard a startled cry over the crunch of metal.

I only had one shot to get us out of here alive. I had to hope that whatever the hell was tied to the other end of that wire wasn’t big enough or fast enough to take us out. I shifted into first gear and bucked forward. The wire snapped as the Jeep snapped through it. At first there was nothing, no explosion, no popping tires, nada. I never let off the gas, not wanting to wait around to see if whatever the booby trap was had just misfired. We made it maybe ten feet before the gunfire started to follow us. It started coming out of the second floor windows of two stores simultaneously. One store was behind us by three buildings, or at least that’s what it looked like before a shot took out my side mirror. The other building was at the end of the street, right in the middle of the T intersection formed by the end of the street I was currently tearing east on, and the one I was planning to tear north on in a hundred yards. It was a damn near perfect firing line.

Three men moved out of the alley the van had come from with carbines trained on the Jeep, two more came from around the half-crushed vehicle with hunting rifles. I floored the gas and the Jeep threatened to stall out right there. It was at that moment that whatever delay their little trap had ran out. Only I don’t think the delay was intentional. I guess we all thought it was a dud, because two big sedans came crashing down from the top of buildings on either side of the street, right on top of the three from the alley. Damned messy way to go.

Two rounds punched through the windshield half a second later. Then two more hit the hood and another went through the radiator. We weren’t going to get much further in this vehicle but hopefully it would at least get us the fuck out of here.

I took the left at the end of the street way too fast and put the Jeep up on two wheels. We kept taking fire the whole time but the guy up in the window seemed to be the only one who knew what he was doing. A round hit the passenger seat right where William’s head would have been had he not been cowering on the floor. Though I wouldn’t say “cowering”, from what I could tell he was just sitting there not reacting at all to being shot at. He didn’t look happy about being jostled around, but he didn’t look scared either. Another right turn and we would be out of immediate danger, or at least I hoped so. The Jeep was making some very bad noises and I knew that if we had to beat feet we were toast.

One more round took out the back left tire and that was it. I fought to keep the Jeep from rolling and crashed into a burnt out wreck on the curb.

“Don’t fucking move William! Stay here and don’t move!” I screamed throwing open the door, grabbing my M-4 and rolling out behind the wreck. With any luck they hadn’t seen William and would only be looking for me. I had no idea how many there would be but it wouldn’t be long before I found out.

Two men in jeans and camo t-shirts came around the corner making nice, high targets of themselves. I hit the one in the lead dead in the chest. It was kind of nice to be able to aim center mass again after always having to make headshots. He went sprawling forward and his partner almost tripped. I took the opportunity to fire two shots and caught him in the shin and the hip. Down he went screaming. I rolled right to get a better look at who else was coming. Didn’t see anyone so I decided to advance to the next vehicle. I wanted as much ground as possible between me and the Jeep, between them and William.

Four more guys were coming up the street, moving a bit more cautiously this time. Two civilian hunting rifles, one AR-15, and a .45. Dumb bastard didn’t realize that a hand gun, even a nice big .45 was almost useless in this situation. They hadn’t seen me yet. They were looking at their buddies lying in the street. I sighted the one with the AR and was about to squeeze the trigger when a hot stream of air whipped past my left ear. Fucking sniper! My friend from the window no doubt. I dropped and rolled left under the car. I took a couple pot shots at the feet of the men on the street as they gave up stealth and ran toward my position. I caught one in the ankle and when he hit the ground I put two rounds into the side of his face.

I was pretty well fucked and I knew it. Even if I managed to take out the other three coming at me, I still had at least one sniper and who knew how many others that may be waiting for me to poke my head out. I could only hope they hadn’t seen William and that he would be smart enough to wait for them to finish with me before trying to get away.

No way in hell I was going to die with a full magazine anyway. I rolled backward and hugged the wreck as tight as I was hoping that the sniper wouldn’t be able to get a bead on me. I moved around the back of the car with my weapon up and started firing. Two more went down with little red holes in their chests before they even realized that I wasn’t under the car anymore. The sniper took at least three more shots at me but hit nothing but pavement. I could feel the little chips of stone cut through right leg of my pants and bury themselves, burning, in my calf.

Mr .45 dropped his weapon, threw up his hands, and ran back the other way. That left my friend upstairs.

I booked it across the street trying to make a small target. I was starting to think our luck had turned when the door to the building I was headed for flew open and I caught the butt of a shotgun right between the eyes. I was out before I hit the ground. As I fell I saw some huge thug dragging William out of the Jeep by the back of the neck. Then it was just black.

I came to with my feet tied to a desk chair and my hands cuffed, or at least tied tight behind my back. My head was throbbing and everything was blurry, but at least I was still alive. I tried to swing my head around, to get the layout of the room and hopefully catch a glimpse of William. They better not have hurt him… ‘Course I’m going to have to figure out how to get the hell out this chair before I can go around making any threats.

The room was small, grimy, basically square, and it smelled like shit. I don’t mean it stank, I mean it smelled like someone had been using it for a latrine for a while now. There was no way I was going to be able to wiggle out of these ropes to find out if the door was locked. I thought about trying to smash the chair against the floor, but the frame felt like steel. My scheming was interrupted by the door bursting inward hard enough to almost take it off the frame.

“You son of a BITCH!”

The short, squat guy who offered the greeting followed it with a wild haymaker swung that caught me on the left cheek and sent me and the chair to the floor. I smacked my head hard enough to almost get knocked out again. An arm snaked under me and set me upright again.

“You’re gonna pay for what you did to my boys out there you mother fucker!”

He punctuated the statement with another shot in the face. I felt my lip splint against my teeth and my mouth filled with blood.

“You fired first asshole,” at least that what I tried to say. Even I couldn’t understand what came out of my mouth.

“No use begging fucker. I’m gonna make you suffer. Make you fucking beg for me to kill you.”

The blows started again. The face, the ribs, the stomach. No real technique, just a lot of anger and ham-sized fists. Doesn’t mean it hurt any less. I don’t really know how long the beating lasted. I know I almost went under a couple of times and he had to stop to catch his breath once or twice.

By the time he was done my eyes had swollen almost completely shut, at least four of my teeth were either busted or knocked out completely, and I was pretty sure my jaw was broken.

I sat there, head throbbing, every breath stinging in my chest, waiting for whatever this asshole had planned next. He was wrong on one count, no way was I going to beg him for anything. I had a brief moment to wonder about William again. I offered a silent apology to no one in particular for dragging him into this. I thought I was helping, but apparently not. I had no idea what the hell they were doing to him, if they were sick enough to torture a retarded kid or not. Those kind of rules went out the window a long time ago I guess. The only thing I knew for sure was that if I got even the slightest opportunity to get out of this chair, I was going to take it.

Fat Bastard gave me one last hard slap in the face that left my ears ringing and walked out of the room. I listened to hear the click of a lock but didn’t. I guess he figured I was beaten half to death and handcuffed to a chair, why bother locking the door. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.

All I had to do was not pass out, then somehow manage to get out of these fucking cuffs, then somehow get the drop on Fat Bastard even though I could barely see. Shouldn’t be too hard…

William

The room is dark. I do not like the dark. I am not afraid of the dark, Father says a grown boy should not be afraid of the dark. I still do not like the dark. Earlier, I heard Ian’s voice through the wall. Then I heard sounds like thump, thump, thump and grunting. At least I know Ian is here. He seems like a good person even though he swears too much. Father says that people swear when they cannot think of something intelligent to say. Ian seems to be very intelligent though. He knows a lot about fighting and shooting and war. Those are good thing to know now.

I do not know who grabbed me outside, but he was very rude. I told him so and he pushed me down and told me to shut up. I cut my hand on the ground and it hurt, but I did not cry. Father says that grown boys do not cry either. I think Father would like Ian if they ever met. I wonder if Ian drinks scotch like Father did. This room is also cold, much colder than it was outside. I hope that Ian comes in soon, he has a flashlight in his pocket. I am not afraid of the dark, but I do not like it and it would be nice to have a flashlight like Ian’s.

The rude man shoved me into this room and pulled handcuffs out of his pocket. I stared at him the whole time. Father says it is rude to stare, but I get confused sometimes about why people do certain things and it is hard for me not to stare. He seemed to change his mind and put the handcuffs back in his pocket and left. He did lock the door after he closed it. Then the light went out and the room was dark. Then I heard Ian’s voice and the thumping. That went on for a while then everything was quiet. I like it when things are quiet, but I do not like the dark. I decided to sit on the floor and wait for Ian.

I wish I had a flashlight.

Ian

At some point I passed out again. I woke up to Fat Bastard sitting in a chair across the room from me just staring. My head was still throbbing, but at least I could see again. I guessed my jaw wasn’t broken either because I could clench it without too much pain, other than the broken teeth. I still hurt to breath too, but at least I was still breathing. I felt hungry too, which was odd, but a good sign.

“Can I get some water?” I figured it was worth a shot, worst thing he could do would be to tell me no, and then beat the shit of me some more.

“Don’t got none,” Fat Bastard replied, lying. I know they got at least six gallons out of the Jeep, but I wasn’t in a position to argue. I tried to shrug my shoulders, both to see if I could and to make it look like I didn’t care. I hoped he bought it.

“You killed seven of my men and broke Jimmy’s wrist. I’m gonna kill you eventually, just thought you should know why.”

Again, not being in a position to argue I didn’t point out that his guys attacked us first. I wanted to ask where William was, but a big part of me didn’t want an answer to that question.

“So what happens next?” I asked making direct eye contact. I guess I was hoping that being bold was the way to go here. My Granddad always said that people who thought it couldn’t get any worse usually found out pretty damn quick how it could. I figured, worst case scenario, he could beat me for a few hours before I passed out, maybe a few days before he killed me, what did I have to lose.

He spit right in my face and slapped me against the side of the head hard to make my ears start ringing again.

“What happens next is I think I’m gonna wail on you some more, maybe knock out the rest of your teeth, than I’m gonna go and have some fun with your half-wit, little friend.”

That’s when I lost my poker face. And Fat Bastard saw it. He fell on me with his fists again. My already tenderized face split open as he pummeled me. Pretty soon my eyes had swollen shut again and we were right where we were yesterday. He just kept swinging away, punctuating each blow with a grunt.

“Just” WHAM “Think” WHAM “About” WHAM “Me” WHAM “Fuckin” WHAM “That” WHAM “Little” WHAM “Retard…”

The chair fell over and I heard either it, or my arm, crack. Fat Bastard pulled me back upright and I could feel the chair wobbling. If I had any fight left in me, I might have been able to bust the chair in half and get free.

“I think I’ll make him blow me first. It’s been a while since I had a decent blow job and he’s got such a pretty face.”

It turns out I had a little fight left in me after all. There was no way in hell I was going to let this mother fucker sodomize the only friend I had made since the world ended.

I knew I only had one chance, and it was a slim chance at that, to get out of this chair. If I could get my weight forward enough and stand up fast and straight, it should pull the back off the chair and the cuffs would slide right off the slats. Then I would have to be quick enough to deal with Fatty. He was the only one I had seen, but I knew there had to be at least one more. Otherwise, who the hell had knocked me out yesterday. I’d have to worry about that later, if at all.

I wiggled my right ankle just a little to see if I could still feel my boot knife, but it was gone. That would have made this easier.

“I’m gonna leave you awake, so you can hear us in the next room. Don’t worry, I’ll be tender with him this time.”

As soon as his back was turned, I leaned forward in the chair and shot my legs straight. Just like I thought the back split from the rest of the chair. What I didn’t count on was that my left wrist would dislocate before it did. The pain shot up to my shoulder, but as soon as I felt the tension of the cuffs let go I swung both arms out in front and charged Fat Bastard as he turned toward me.

The look of surprise on his face as it occurred to him what was about to happen told me he was no professional. I took him in the chest with my shoulder and we both bounced off the wall and crashed to the floor. I came down on top of him and immediately started raining down elbows into his face. I brought my knee up into his crotch and received a very satisfying grunt of pain in return. He tried to buck me off but I hooked my leg under his and did my best to try and choke him with my left forearm. The empty loop of a handcuff that had only a minute ago been secured around the slat of a chair dangled from my right wrist and I got a grisly idea.

“Don’t think you’re gonna be getting your rocks off today sweetie.” I whispered in his ear while I continued to smash his fat , fucking face. I opened the empty cuff and grasped the end like a hook. He gave one last violent shove that almost succeeded in throwing me off and then I buried the semi-sharp cuff/hook right in his fucking neck. I’m sure he would have screamed had I not torn out his adam’s apple. Instead, he just gurgled and spat blood. I kept twisting the cuff, trying to saw his head off until the blood stopped spurting and he stopped kicking.

I laid there for a minute trying to catch my breath. I knew I probably didn’t have all the time in the world to be lying around, but fuck, things had turned around pretty damn quick and I had to get my bearings.

I figured William had to be close if this sick bastard thought I would be able to hear them, at least on the same floor, most likely in the same hall. Then I had to figure out how to get us out of the building, then out of this fucking town. I had no clue how many others were left. Rapid mental arithmetic told me there had to be at least one other asshole in the building. Odds were there were more than that. I had to hope we could get out without running into any of them. The Army trained me to fight long past the point where my body and mind would have given up, but in all honesty I didn’t know how much I had left in the tank. At this point, the only thing keeping me going was the fact that there was no fucking way I was going to die here and leave William behind to be some kind of toy for these fucks.

I needed to get my hands on a weapon, I needed to find William, and I needed to get us the fuck out of here, preferably in that order. I rolled Fat Bastard’s pockets, but didn’t find anything worth keeping. There wasn’t anything in the room worth taking either. The busted chair, a filthy mop sink, and a mattress in the corner stained with blood or shit or both.

I listened out into the hall and didn’t hear anyone moving around. I moved out of the room slowly. The hall was dark. Four or five doorways lined each side, all closed. There was a set of steel double doors at the end of the hall with an exit sign above them. So what then, just start knocking on doors hoping to find a slow kid and not a cannibal?

I pressed my ear to the first door. No sound. I tried the knob and it turned slowly. I eased the door open until I could squeeze my head in side. The room was empty as far as I could tell. It looked like a small classroom. Only one were a bomb had gone off. The desks were overturned and broken, the chalkboard covering the front wall was shattered, shredded books and papers littered the floor. I moved down the hall to the next door. I heard very loud snoring behind it. I knew from many, many nights of experience that William did not snore so I thought it best not to open this door just yet. The next room was another classroom and was likewise trashed and empty.

Across the hall, behind the third door, I found William. I slowly opened the door expecting another empty room and I saw him sitting quietly in a ratty armchair staring at the wall with that blank expression I had come to envy. He turned at the sound of the door and started to say my name. I raised a finger to my lips. He got the message but smiled just the same. I realized I had never really seen him smile before. He looked contented enough at times, cramming a Mars bar into his mouth, but never really “happy”. The look on his face told me that they hadn’t done anything to him and I said a silent prayer of thanks for it.

“What happened to your face?” he whispered, pointed to my mangled grill.

“Fell down some stairs,” I replied, momentarily forgetting that he had no grasp of sarcasm.

He nodded as if that was the only thing that made sense and went back to staring at the wall.

“We need to leave now William, and we have to be really, really quiet.”

“Are there more of the zombies here?”

I didn’t know how to respond. How long had we both been running, trying to stay away from the dead when right now I was more concerned with the living. No sense in trying to explain so I just nodded. His smile dropped away and was replaced by solemn resolve.

“Okay. Let’s go,” and he pushed past me into the hall.

I scanned his room and saw nothing of value. We quickly and quietly searched the other two rooms and came up with nothing. That left the room across the hall with the snorer. I suppose, if he was in there alone, I could get the drop on him, maybe smother him with a pillow. Maybe I could grab one of the desks from the other room and beat him to death with it. What I wouldn’t give for a blade right now…

I listened at the door again and heard the snoring still going strong. I motioned for William to wait at the far wall and eased the door open as slow as I could. I poked my head through far enough to see a mountain of flesh lying face down on mattress on the floor. What I saw against the wall sent me into a blind rage. All my own pain and weariness fell away and the only thing I could think of was wrapping my hands around the neck of this mother fucker and squeezing until his head popped.

As I moved across the room three things happened one right after another. First, as I advanced, I caught sight of a buck knife on the dresser so I scooped it up as I passed. Second, since I wasn’t trying to be quite anymore, Snoring Beauty woke up and started rolling toward me, a look of surprise breaking on his face. Third, I fell on him before he could even sit up and just started carving the enormous mound of his belly with the buck knife.

“YOU SICK MOTHER FUCKERS!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!”

He batted ineffectually at me with his arms, but it was too late and I think he knew it. Blood began to dribble out of his mouth and then he was coughing up chunks of his own internal organs. I just kept stabbing and slicing and hacking.

I saw William out of the corner of my eye moving through the doorway.

“Don’t come in here!” I yelled and he stopped halfway through. No way did he need to see what was going on in here. Not what I was doing and certainly not the bodies chained to the wall.

At least a dozen sets of handcuffs were bolted to a beam nailed to the wall, a set of wrists in each. All of them were women. All of them were naked. All of them in varying stages of FUBAR. Bruised, bloody, and broken, every one of them disfigured and mutilated. Fucking senseless.

I got to my feet and stood there listening to the blood rush in my ears while William waited obediently out in the hall. I was going to find and gut every one of these fucks, then I was going to burn this entire fucking village of psychos to the ground and salt the earth.

I moved out into the hall still holding the buck knife in my good right hand. I was completely covered in blood and out of breath. William didn’t flinch, just stared at me.

“William, I want you to go back to the room you were in and close the door. Do not open it until I come to get you, okay? Just wait quietly until I get back.”

“You have blood on your shirt. You should find another shirt. I have a clean shirt in my backpack, but I do not think it will fit you. May I borrow your flashlight?”

I chuckled a little as I dug in my cargo pocket looking for the penlight he wanted. No dice, they must have taken it while I was out.

“Sorry William, I don’t have it on me.”

William shrugged and walked back to the dark room at the end of the hall. I had mixed feelings about sending him back there, but I sure as hell couldn’t bring him along to sweep the building with me. If I stuck close to this floor and branched out once I knew he wasn’t going to be in any immediate danger, I could clear the top floors and work my down.

I found the stairwell and moved quietly up to the top. Only five floors, should go pretty quickly provided I didn’t run into an entire group. I still had no idea how many I was up against here. My hope was that I could get my hands on a real weapon before too long or this was going to be useless. The adrenaline I was running on wasn’t going to last forever and it wasn’t going to do shit against one asshole with a handgun.

I backed down to the fourth floor, one up from where William was no doubt sitting quietly in a chair and counting cracks in the floor or whatever the fuck he did to occupy himself. This hall was laid out similar to the one below, four doors on one side, five on the other. I moved just outside the first door off the stairwell. It was open a crack and a light flickered through the opening.

I listened to hear voices or snoring or farting but got nothing. I couldn’t see around the corner into the room so I eased the door in. The room was empty. A half-burned candle sat in a dish on a bookshelf. More school desks were piled against the wall. Luckily no one was chained to the walls in here. I moved back in to the hall and checked the rest of the rooms, one by one, the same way. All of them were empty. So who lit the fucking candle?

I rechecked the closets and the storeroom before heading back to the stairwell. Nothing. Not even a fucking broom handle. Ditto the third floor, though I did find a clean shirt. Well, cleaner than the one I had on at least. That should make William happy.

As I moved out of the stairwell into the second floor hallway I heard voices. Faint but there, coming from the last door on the right. One of them was crying. I moved against the wall and made my way slowly up the hall holding the knife low, ready to gut the next motherfucker I saw. Outside the door I could definitely make out three distinct voices. One female and two male. Guess which one was crying?

I tried the knob, but the door was locked. I reared back to kick in the door, but I heard one of the male voices moving toward the door. I backed up and hid in the next room, falling just out of sight as I heard the door open. Whoever it was hawked and spat on the floor. He moved past the doorway I was hiding in and I got a good look at him. Another fat mountain of flesh, pale and sweaty, dressed in filthy sweatpants and no shirt. The way I saw it, I was doing what was left of humanity a favor by ending this shithead’s life.

I moved behind him and in one motion rocked his head back with my left forearm and brought the knife around and into his throat. Blood sprayed the carpet and he dropped to his knees with a thud. His hands went to his neck as he tried to spin around to face me. The look on his face was totally incredulous, like he couldn’t understand how he had gone from raping some woman one second to bleeding to death in a dank hallway the next. I put a boot in his face and sent him to his back.

“Rot in hell you piece of shit.” I hawked my own loogie and spat in his face.

I turned toward the room again and moved into the now open doorway. I only saw the woman. She way tied face down to the bed. She wasn’t crying anymore, probably because she was dead. Maybe she was better off that way all things considered.

I waited in the door way for Mystery Guest #3 to show his face so I could peel it off his fucking skull and wipe my ass with it. I stood there for at least a minute and nothing which meant he knew I was there and wasn’t going to show himself.

“Come on out asshole, “ I called into the room, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Fuck you!” came the reply.

I moved slowly through the door watching for any movement. I caught sight of the bastard’s elbow around the corner behind the bed. What kind of weapon did he have? It couldn’t be a gun otherwise he would have fired by now. I bent to pick up a shoe off the floor. I whipped it at the exposed elbow and chuckled when he cried out. I heard the thud of whatever he was holding and charged him. As I came around the corner, he had crouched to pick up the baseball bat he had dropped.

I brought my knee hard into his temple and he went sprawling to the floor. I came down on top of him with a knee in his chest and hit him three times in the bridge of the nose with the haft of the knife, knocking him out.

I could have just slit his throat and been done with it, but I decided that might be too good for this puke. I got up and looked back at the bed. The naked body looked used and empty in a way I had never seen before. I cut the ropes and rolled the body to the floor. I picked up the unconscious fuck and tied him down in her place. I stuffed a dirty rag into his mouth for when he woke up.

I moved around to the head of the bed and grabbed a hold of his thumb. I bent it back sharply toward the wrist until I heard it snap. He came to instantly, his eyes went wide and he immediately started screaming behind the gag. I smile at him as I grabbed his index finger and snapped it sideways. His eyes clamped shut now and it was his turn to cry.

“You are a group of very sick individuals,” I told him as I moved around toward the left side of the bed, “The world has gone to Hell. Literally. And you and your little group are here doing this?!” I motioned toward the body on the floor. “Just so you know, there is always a price to pay. Walking corpses or no.”

I snapped the fingers on his left hand one by one. By the time I took hold of his pinky, he had passed out again. I didn’t want to leave him the opportunity to try and get free so I also broke each wrist. I scooped the bat off of the floor and swung it hard at both of his knees.

“Enjoy your slow death.” With that I turned and walked out of the room, bat in hand, buck knife in my back pocket.

With the rest of the hall cleared, I moved to the ground floor. The entrance to the building took up most of the space. Two large supply closets lined the back wall. I opened the first and found cans upon cans of food and three cases of MRE’s. There was also enough bottled water in here to last William and I a month. The second closet held the contents of the Jeep. My rifles, William’s backpack, and there in the middle of the pile, with a big fucking halo around it was Cappy. I tossed the bat and grabbed the crowbar.

I doubted there was anyone else in this building, but I had no way of knowing if this was the only occupied one so I figured we should move quick. Setting Cappy back down I grabbed my M4, checked the chamber and mag, and flipped off the safety. It felt good to have a rifle in my hands again.

I went back for William who was very pleased to hear that I had found his backpack. Or at least I’m guessing he was pleased, how the fuck could I tell. I left him in the entry closet with our supplies and told him I would be back as soon as I had scouted the street. He nodded, only half paying attention, he was rummaging around in his backpack for God-knows-what.

I left him on his own and moved toward the door. Out on the street, I could see the bodies of the men I killed yesterday. There were also a ton of wrecked cars, burnt-out and flipped over like charred turtles. None of these were going to do us any good. I knew the Jeep was around the corner, unless they’d moved it, but I doubted they had. There was no way I could drag William out onto the street without knowing if any of these other buildings were occupied. Too risky.

Then I had an idea. Not my best idea, granted, but a serviceable distraction and maybe a bit of revenge for all those women upstairs. I was going to burn this fucker down.

I moved William and our supplies to the back fire door. I also liberated a couple cases of MRE’s and several gallons of water. If we didn’t find a vehicle quickly, I wasn’t going to be able to carry much of it and I knew better than to ask William. Still, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity and I sure as shit wasn’t leaving it here.

I moved up to the third floor and started piling books and garbage in the hall. A place this filthy would burn easy enough, at least I hoped it would. I was right. By the time I made it from the end of the hall to the stair well, the pile of trash had already caught the wall behind it.

I ran down to the ground floor and hustled Ian out into the alley. I heard glass shattering around the front of the building, but didn’t hear any kind of alarm, no yelling, no one running to check out the smoke billowing from the now busted windows. Maybe that was a good sign. I still had to find wheels ricky-tick. The fire wasn’t going to stay in one building. My guess was the whole town would be in flames by sundown.

I left Ian and our pile of worldly goods in the alley and made my way cautiously to the street. I hugged the wall as I moved past one wreck after another. As I rounded the next corner, I spotted a sign for a used car lot. I got my hopes up a little too high. As the lot came into view, I saw that all that was left of it was a giant pile of twisted metal. Like every vehicle was thrown in a pile and then stomped on. Strike two.

I didn’t want to move too far from William just in case there were still more of them here. And even though I hadn’t seen a walking corpse since yesterday, I had no way of knowing if there were any of them here either. Fuck, for all I knew these sick fucks kept them as pets.

I had just about given up and decided we would have to go on foot when I saw it. A big, beautiful Humvee parked half way up on the curb. Not some pussified civilian Hummer either, this was the real deal. Painted desert sand like it just came back from the Gulf. Had we made a right instead of a left in the Jeep yesterday we probably would have run right into the fucking thing.

I slid along the wall and opened the passenger door. The floor was littered with beer cans and chip bags. Fucking travesty. I crawled over the mess and hit the starter. It took three tries, but that diesel sucking motherfucker roared to life and I couldn’t help but celebrate a little.

I threw the tranny into gear, cut the wheel hard to the left, and pulled off the curb. Half way through my u-turn the windshield exploded into a spider web of cracked glass. I knew it was too good to be true. We still had some friends here. I tore ass up the street and slammed on the brakes in front of the alley where William was waiting. The top two floors were already blazing and a plume of black smoke rose into the sky.

“Time to go buddy,” I shouted as I jumped out the door, “Grab your back pack and climb in. Stay low to the ground, and crawl onto the floor like I showed you. Okay?”

William nodded, stone-faced and did as he was told. I grabbed an arm load of gear and tossed it through the back door, ran back to the pile and did it again. On the third trip I heard footsteps slapping on concrete. We’d have to leave the rest.

I jumped behind the wheel and we took off. Another round punched into the back window, embedding itself in the glass. I kissed my palm and slapped the roof.

“You can come up now William.” He climbed into the seat and strapped himself in dutifully.

“This car is very dirty.”

“You bet your ass kiddo,” I said laughing, “We can clean it up later. Right now I want to get us the hell out of here and out into the real world again. Where all you have to worry about is a reanimated dead body trying to eat you alive.”

My humor was always lost on William. He just sat staring out the window as the buildings flew by. Eventually the buildings gave way to more and more trees. I backed off the gas, but just a little. I didn’t see any vehicles following but I wasn’t taking chances.

“I think I would like to be a soldier,” William said randomly from his side of the Humvee, “I think I would make a good soldier.”

“You know what? I think your right. How’s about I start teaching you tomorrow,” I replied.

“It is a deal.”

As soon as I couldn’t see smoke on the horizon and I was relatively sure nobody had tried to follow, I pulled off into the woods and drove us back along a fire trail. I cut the engine and just sort of slumped in my seat. I had nothing left in the tank, I mean beyond running on fumes. My adrenaline cut off like a switch and the last two days fell on me like a truck dropped from the top of a skyscraper. I let out one long sigh and commenced to falling asleep.

“Do you promise that tomorrow you will teach me to be soldier?” came a voice from half a mile away.

“Train. The word is train,” I replied, “And yeah kid, tomorrow you start basic. Right now, I gotta sleep, K?”

“Okay. I will make a very good soldier.”

With that he pulled his knees up, let his head fall, and closed his eyes. He was out before I was, I could hear the soft snore. As I drifted off myself I wondered what kind of soldier William would make.

It was barely dark when I had passed out the night before, but I still slept until almost noon given the sun. One of those things was beating itself against the back window. William was staring at it with that blank look of his. I realized it wasn’t completely blank though. It was like he was trying to figure something out, and like he almost had. There were three more of them in the woods slowly dragging toward the Humvee. I knew there was no way they were getting in here, but if too many of them gathered we may not be able to get enough momentum to push through them and get out.

“You ready to roll out William?”

“Yes. Today you will start training me to be a soldier. It is very important that I learn to be a good soldier.”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely! Let’s blow this pop stand.” I hit the starter and threw the Humvee into gear. I saw a wide spot up ahead that should serve to make a three point turn and get us out of the woods and back on the road to New Jersey. Though for the life of me I had no idea why I should be excited to go there.

“When I am a soldier, will I have to swear so much too?” William asked contemplatively.

“It does kind of come with the territory. Just never cuss around a lady or a C.O.” I chuckled at my own little joke.

William sat for minute pondering and just sort blurted out, “Fuck.” Then he nodded approvingly to himself. I laughed out loud over that one and gave the steering wheel a healthy punch.

“Did I do that wrong?”

I pantomimed wiping away a tear and said, “I’m so proud. You’re a natural kid. Let’s call that lesson one. And you, my friend, are all go.”

For the next fifteen minutes William sat in the passenger seat with the calculator look on his face staring out the front window, randomly picking one four-letter word and repeating a few times until he felt like he had it down. He started with the basics, fuck, shit, dickhead, you know fifth-grade stuff. He seemed to graduate to mother fucker and cock sucker pretty quick, he did spend quite a bit of time on the former, wanting to get that one just right before moving on. I smiled the whole time. Another five miles down the road he started experimenting a little, stringing together some of the smaller words. I don’t know where the hell he came up with ass-cunt, but I laughed my balls off at it and decided I may add it to my own arsenal.

When he had exhausted his own list he asked if I knew any others. I told him he had pretty well covered all the ones I knew. I did try to teach the couple of curses I knew in Farsi, but my own pronunciation was bad enough, I don’t think either one of us would have been understood. We passed most of the afternoon that way and I have to say it was the first real good time I had had since before Bentonville.

I kept us moving roughly north with the occasional jog west or east to avoid a town (I wasn’t taking that chance again) or a snarl of wrecked cars. If we kept this pace we would be at the shelter in a couple days. The shelter that I had no idea what to expect at. Could be another group like the one we just ran from, or it could be a military detachment holed up and sealed off, or it could be a bunch of damn hippies that just want everyone to mellow out… Of course we could also be dead in a matter of hours if I made a wrong turn somewhere… Fuck it. Lets go visit the Jersey Shore.

Daniel

So after Max took off, or at least after I realized that Max took off, I thought about hitting the road myself. There was no way I could stick around with these guys after what I did to the Rev.

Townies brought him water and a blanket. How fucking sweet. I may have gone overboard, but that son of a bitch was the reason so many of the people we called friends two hours ago were dead.

I sat in that pickup for what felt like an hour just listening to the blood rush in my ears, trying to cool down. I watched as one Townie after another made their way over to the Rev as he sat in the dirt. Eventually they got him up and sat him in one of the vans. Nobody even looked at me. Can’t say that I blamed them after the way I went all Tyler Durden on the Rev. I saw one girl, I think she was an ER nurse or something go to the van were the Rev was sitting, I think her name was Susie. She seemed to check him out and give some kind of all clear.

She made her way over to me, real slowly, staring at the ground like she was working up the courage to look me in the eye.

She spoke softly, but stern, like a mom scolding a kid, “The Reverend is hurt badly, but he’ll be okay. Just in case you cared.” It stung.

“I… I’m sorry. I just sort of lost my temper. I…”

“YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM!!” With that everyone turned in our direction. “Every one of those people over there is hurting right now! Look what just happened to us! All the work, all the sweat, the last six months, wasted, WASTED! But you don’t see anyone else here ‘just sort of losing their temper’! We need leaders right now, more than ever, but instead we have you!”

“I never wanted to be your goddam leader!” I shouted back, to the crowd, not just to her. I saw the Rev turn his head in my direction. “I tried to tell him I wasn’t the guy, but he just kept pushing me and pushing me, talking about how his God had a plan and I had to be part of it. Well FUCK THAT! AND FUCK YOU! ALL OF YOU! I told your precious fucking reverend that I was no leader. I was a fucking private for fuck’s sake! Do you know what that means?! It means I took fucking orders, and I could barely manage that! I am now and always have been a fuck up! So take a good look, take a good, long fucking look at your ‘leaders’! I told him we needed to get out, that we needed to go to the place on the flyer, but he just kept talking about his fucking wall and the garden and his fucking God’s plan. Well look where all that got us! Every one of those men back there died for NOTHING! Ask the Rev were we go now. Ask him! I will bet you my left fucking nut that he’ll shrug and say some shit like ‘it’s God’s will’. Fuck that and fuck all of you.”

I slid over into the driver’s seat intent on leaving every one of these fuckheads in my rearview mirror, but when I went to start the fucking thing, no keys. I punched the steering wheel in frustration and the pain in my hand flared all the way up to my elbow.

Susie spoke up again, “That your big plan? To just take off and leave the rest of us with even less than we have now? Big fucking man. You’re right. You are a fuck up. You’re doing us a favor by leaving, but why not go on foot and at least leave us with the truck?” She turned and walked away leaving me sitting in the pickup staring blankly out the window.

She was right. The least I could do was leave them the truck. I rolled out the door half-limp and in shock. I grabbed a pack off the bed, thought about scooping up a rifle, decided they would need it more, and just started walking. No one tried to stop me. I doubt more than four or five of them even saw me go. I snuck one last look at the Rev. I caught his eye for a second, but I have no idea what he was thinking. His face looked like raw hamburger and his eyes were unreadable. I also thought about going over to apologize before I left but decided there wasn’t any point.

I just started walking down the road in the opposite direction from where I thought they were headed.

The Rev

I watched Daniel walk off after the scolding Susie gave him. I doubt that what she said pushed him over the edge; I imagine he had been planning on leaving prior to that. I was glad to see that she talked him out of taking the pickup truck; we would need it if we were going to make it far enough south to get close to this shelter of his.

I thought briefly of calling out to him, of stopping him, but I realized that no one in the group would ever look at him the same after what had happened. Despite the pain in my face, I bore him no ill will. Hadn’t I planned on doing the same to him? Would I not have were I physically capable? How stupid I was to think that I would have any chance in a physical confrontation with a trained soldier. I had no choice but to forgive him. For the good of what was left of our group and for my own soul.

As for my own condition, Susie said that I would be okay. I would be in a tremendous amount of pain for some time, and my face would probably never look the same again, but that I would require only minor medical attention. After her “discussion” with Daniel, she crawled into the back of a box van, presumably to grab her medical bag, which consisted of some bandages, antibiotic ointment, and half a bottle of ibuprofen.

One by one, what remained of the Townies encircled me. They asked if I was alright, if I needed anything. I waved them off with as much of a smile as I could manage. Several of the men began to talk about going after Daniel. I put a stop to that immediately.

“Let him go. He will find his own penance. As for us, we must regroup as best we can and get back on the road.”

A murmur of confusion began to circulate among the small crowd.

I got shakily to my feet and did my best to speak above the din, “Some of you may remember talk of a flyer that was brought to us some time ago. This flyer spoke of a fortification, a sanctuary located many miles south of our town. Daniel and I spoke at length about this place. It was Daniel’s opinion that we should send a handful of scouts to the location, to see if it was what it purported to be. I disagreed, foolishly I now see. I said that we had built our own safe haven, that we were growing stronger and that we shouldn’t throw away the work we had done. I was wrong. I was wrong and many have paid for my hubris with their lives. For this I beg not just the forgiveness of my God, but of all of you as well.”

I began to sway slightly and my vision swam. I felt arms grab me from behind and guide me slowly to the ground. I sat in the dirt and tried to continue, “We must go to this place and pray that there are good people there. I believe it is our last hope.”

After a pause I added, “There is one more thing, something that I have kept to myself for too long. I do not know what it means, if it means anything at all, but it must mean something.”

I steeled myself for what felt almost like a confession, “I know that many of you have seen many horrors since this all began. We have all seen people we love murdered, eaten alive by the dead. I know that some of you have seen what happens to someone who has been bitten or even scratched by one of those things. How quickly they succumb to fever, then death, then rise again in a most unholy way. I tell you that I was bitten once. And that I still live.”

A shocked gasp seemed to come from the crowd in one breath. Their faces all wore the same look of incredulous confusion. I rolled up my sleeve to show the scar I had hidden since my time in the woods.

Murmurs of “I don’t understand” and “Did he say he was bitten?” circulated through the group. A few people actually shrank back a little.

“It was a long time ago, not long after all this began, when I still had my church. My wife and I kept our doors open in the beginning to provide the spiritual guidance we felt people would need...” I told them everything, the man that raped and murdered my wife and the attack in the sanctuary. I told them of the doctor who had taken me in and about my time with Alejandro and his family. I told of them about the time I spent wandering with no direction and how I felt that God had led me to them. The last part they already knew, but I believed then, and I still believe now, that the Lord has led me to shepherd this flock.

“We will take the day to mourn our dead, but in the morning we will leave for this place.”

Again, I rose to my feet. I waved off the men that tried to help me. I told them to set a camp in the tree line, to light a small fire, and circle the vehicles around it. The crowd dispersed and set about their tasks with a distracted air. Several of the women moved into the back of the box van and began to sort through the food and blankets that were hastily thrown there when we left. Some of them pawed through children’s toys and clothing that belonged to children that hadn’t made it out. Tears caught the glint of the setting sun as it touched each face in turn. Tonight I would do what I could to honor the dead and console those who survived. I prayed silently for the Lord to give the words I would need to do this. I prayed for Daniel, and for Max. Most of all I prayed for those of us that remained.

As the sun sank lower and darkness settled into the woods, a small fire was lit and we all gathered around its warmth. Low conversations took place and many were still crying. One by one, faces turned toward me. I closed the Bible I had been absently thumbing through after our meager meal of canned ham and vegetables.

I began to speak, not intending to deliver a sermon, but in my line of work that can be hard to avoid, “I will not stand before you tonight and quote from this book,” I raised the Bible before them, “Instead, I will speak of those who died today; our husbands, our wives, our sons and daughter, brothers and sisters. Those who gave over their lives so that we could escape and survive. I will speak of those whom we have lost before, on the long roads that brought many of us to the town we fled today. In a time when we have lost so much, to lose any more seems unbearable. The Lord tells us to be strong in our faith, that we will be tested for His name’s sake and that those of us who remain faithful will be rewarded with life everlasting. That He will fold us into His arms and we will bask on the warm glow of His eternal love. How many among us, in the last few months, has not wondered when the test stops and the basking can begin. Each of us has in the privacy of our own heart, at one time or another, felt that God has abandoned us. That this is no test. That God has left us alone to wallow here until such time the forces of Satan literally consume us. Have we not been damned to exist on this forsaken chunk of rock until we starve to death, or fall prey to cannibals, or die by the hand of our own fellow Man? Have we not seen the lowest point in our own history? Is there one among us who does not look at Job with envy?

“I will not stand before you on this the eve of our greatest loss, our most painful sacrifice, and quote the 23rd Psalm in some vain attempt so console you. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death… It is no longer just his shadow that we walk in anymore. Our haven has fallen. In my own arrogance I believed that we were somehow safe. I believed so foolishly that our faith alone would protect us. That somehow we were to be the last of the Lord’s light in this world. Even then I knew how stupid and naive this idea was. And now the Lord has shown me the folly of my blindness, and forced our brothers and sisters to pay the price for it.

“I will spend the rest of my life begging forgiveness from each and every one of you. In the morning we will take stock of what we have left, both in supplies and in each other. Then we will make our way to this sanctuary. I pray that we all make it there together, but know this, we will all be together in the end. We are tested, our faith stressed to the point of obliteration, but still we must persevere. The only thing that I can say anymore with certainty is that God still watches us, whether or not He still watches over us…”

I intended to go on, but as I gazed out at what remained of my flock, I saw nothing but the shell-shocked faces of concentration camp photos starting back. My speech offered no comfort, no encouragement, and I was tired, so tired. I shrugged and sat back down by the fire. Conversations resumed in a low murmur. One by one, people went to sleep, or pretended to. Some crawled into vehicles while others just rolled onto their sides by the dying fire. I think I even managed to sleep a little. I cannot be too sure, at one point I was staring off into the forest, the next the sun was crawling over a distant hill and someone was tapping me gently on the shoulder.

Daniel

One foot in front of the other. It didn’t seem like too long ago I was in this exact same shitty position; walking down some shitty road in some shitty backwoods state, just waiting to die. At least I hadn’t shit my pants this time. I figured I’d just keep walking until I ran into a group big enough to take me down for good. Moaners, marauders, gypsies, shit some roving band of circus clowns out for a night of mayhem, I didn’t give a shit. Just something to end this fucked up existence.

As soon as I took off I realized how tired I was. Tired of the Rev, tired of the Townies, tired of being hungry, tired of working my ass off every day to just barely scrape by. So I just kind of said ‘fuck it’. There’s something to be said about the freedom you feel when you finally give up. I figured one day, maybe two before I was dead and then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit anymore. I didn’t feel suicidal, just done.

So I walked all night, just kind of dragging my feet, letting the pack swing from one shoulder. I thought about why I had grabbed it. I sure as shit wasn’t going to use it, and maybe those people I left back there would need it. At one point, a couple miles down the road, I thought about turning around just to bring it back. Pretty fucking stupid. Then I thought about just sitting on the side of the road to wait for death. That seemed a little too pansy to me though, I at least wanted to go out on my feet.

So I walked. The sun crept over the tree line and the little birdies started singing. Fuck them too. Somewhere up ahead was the end of my road and I was totally okay with that.

I heard the rumble of a diesel coming from behind and my spirit picked up, maybe it wouldn’t take as long as I thought. I let the bag slip from my shoulder, took a few more steps, and turned around on the shoulder.

“Here it comes,” I thought. Then I saw the vehicle, or vehicles I should say. I recognized the box van immediately. It was the one Max and I stole from behind a convenience store a couple months ago. Behind it rode what was left of the Townies in a sad little caravan. Maybe they were coming to finish me off for I did to the Rev. I stepped out into the middle of the road and raised my arms out at my sides like I was being crucified. I closed my eyes and smiled. I was checking out. Then I heard the squeal of old brakes and when I opened my eyes, the van had stopped and the Rev and a couple others were getting out. They strode up with palms out and up showing me they weren’t armed, like I would put up a fight at this point. Then they just stood there.

I decide to break the silence, “You guys lost? Place you’re looking for is the other way.” I pointed down the road past their vehicles for emphasis.

The Rev responded, “We want you to come with us. We need you.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna head this way until something kills me. Maybe see some countryside before I go.”

“Please don’t do this to yourself Daniel. I forgive you for losing your temper. Please, come with us.”

“You forgive me!?” I laughed at the sky. “Fuck you and your forgiveness.” I took a step forward and the two men flanking the Rev moved to intercept me.

“Relax guys. I’ve hit my quota for beating up priests today. I only wanted to make sure you hear this good. FUCK OFF! I am done with this… THIS,” I motioned my hands toward our surroundings, “What kind of life is this anyway? I’m done. That’s it.” I turned and started walking again.

“If you want to do me a favor,” I called back over my shoulder, “Put a bullet in the back of my head. Or better yet, just run me over with that truck when you pull your U-turn. That way you’ll at least save the ammo.” I half-expected one of them to take a shot at me as I walked away. Nobody did. I heard them talking low to each other. One of them wanted to leave, the other said he agreed with me, and of course the fucking Rev was trying to talk both of them out of abandoning me.

I heard footsteps start to follow me.

“Daniel,” the Rev’s voice, “Daniel, please. Come with us.”

I stopped in my tracks and just sort of sagged. “You really don’t get it do you?” I asked. “If I go with you, after what happened last night, you really think anyone over there is gonna look at me like anything but a fucking psycho? I can’t say I blame them, but there is no way I can go with you now.”

“Do you really believe that Daniel? Do you really believe that these people lack the capacity for forgiveness?”

That’s when I wheeled on him and the other two started running over. The Rev waived them off again. “I don’t need your fucking forgiveness! I’m not sorry for kicking the shit out of you. I’m only sorry I stopped when I did!” My lie probably would have been more convincing if my voice hadn’t started to crack half-way through.

“Then don’t accept my forgiveness, but please take my apology. I’m sorry Daniel. I should have listened when you said we should leave. I blame myself for the deaths of those people and I have vowed to lead them to this haven you have discovered. I need your help Daniel. You and I both know we won’t make a day without you. You claim to not be a leader, but who was it that taught these people to fight? It was you. You taught Max to channel his anger and the two of you led what little army we had. I saw you when the town was overrun. You acted like the finest field general that ever walked a battlefield.”

“That’s enough,” I cut him off. “Quit blowing smoke up my ass. I fought alongside those bastards and probably should have died with them. Shit, Max was more a leader than me and he’s only a kid for fuck’s sake.”

“Nonetheless, Max is gone. He told me to tell you goodbye, to tell you that he had to go it alone for a while, that you would understand. I let him go. I cannot do the same to you.”

“He say where he was going?”

The Rev shook his head and we both stood there for a while staring at each other. In my head I was weighing whether or not I still wanted to die. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t totally convinced I should go with the Townies, but maybe I could catch up with Max. The two of us could roam the countryside like a couple outlaws in some old western. Looking for zombies to take out. Maybe getting a little tail every now and again from some damsels in distress.

“Daniel, please. I beg you. To walk away now would be to condemn every one of these people to death.”

“You really think they’ll be okay with me tagging along? Those two right there are ready to break my neck and leave me here to rot.”

“Only because they thought you were a threat to me. There is something I must tell you Daniel, something that I only just told them. I was bitten. Back when this whole thing began, back when my wife was killed. I was bitten, and I survived.”

I waited patiently while the Rev retold his story, some of which I had heard before, some of which I hadn’t. When he got to the part about wandering down a road waiting to turn into a moaner but didn’t, I smiled.

“No shit,” I said flatly. “You too huh?” With that I walked past him as he stood there slack-jawed. I scooped up my pack, slapped Jim on the shoulder, and made my way to the driver’s side of the box van. “Let’s go gentlemen. We have at least a week’s journey before we get to the Promised Land. Hey, it beats forty years right?”

Ian and William

We ditched the Humvee in some town called New Gretna. It was the kind of place that I’m guessing looked run down even before the world went to shit. According to the map, we were moving west on route 542 which would take us right to the location on the flyer. I planned on taking a detour through the woods once we got close. William and I agreed that it would be a good idea to scope the place out before we just walked up to the gates.

I was honestly impressed with how quickly William picked up on the whole soldiering thing. He listened intently when I explained some basic hand signals, practicing each one until he had them memorized and I have to say he shocked the shit out of me when we worked on his marksmanship. We stopped in a field just over the New Jersey border to practice, and when I put that rifle in his hand it was like he was born carrying it. I let him fire about fifty rounds which brought us down to three hundred or so, but it was worth it for him to get acquainted with the weapon. I had a feeling that if it came down to a firefight he would do better with more than just some theoretical knowledge of how to shoot. The question remained as to whether he would be able to squeeze the trigger with a human at the other end of the sight, it was that way for everybody, but I really didn’t have much doubt that he would be able to take out a corpse.

So we were moving on foot, each of us loaded down with gear, slowly making our way toward what I hoped would be an end to this fucked up little journey. There was a chance we would get there and the place would be empty, or full of psychos, or burned to the ground like a lot of places we had seen on our way here. I figured we would drive off that bridge when we came to it. For now, I was holding out just a little hope that this would work out. I could hear my captain’s voice in the back of my head, “suspicious fucking alertness you asshole”.

I figured it would take us a day to make it out there on foot at the pace we were going. I wasn’t going to push William too hard, plus I wanted to show up before dawn and get a good look around before first light. There were plenty of woods around to hide in if we needed to get out of sight. There was another area where William excelled, camouflage. We worked on that one for a few hours driving through Delaware and we stopped off for the night. The next morning it took me fifteen minutes to find the little bastard, and then it was only because he started laughing the fifth time I walked right past him.

If we got to this place and everything was cool, I could take them back to the Humvee to get the rest of our supplies, if not we could beat feet back to it and take off for… Well for fucking Canada for all I knew. Once or twice we had to duck into the tree line when a vehicle would pass. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or not, but I wasn’t taking chances.

It had been a while since we had run into any corpses, apparently even the dead hated New Jersey. At least these people, whoever they were, were trying to clean things up around here. The roads were pretty clear, nothing was actively on fire, and like I said, no bands of roving cannibals.

We walked through the night and just like I planned about an hour before sunup we were just outside some place called Batsto Village. It looked like one of those Ye Olde village reenactment places where they showed middle school kids how to dip candles or spin cotton, a bunch of rundown buildings and an old cedar mill. William and I ditched most of the gear in the woods and moved in a wide circle to the northeast, around a row of what looked like old bunk houses.

They had a pretty sizable motor pool of jeeps, pickups, and other assorted vehicles. From what I could see most of the activity was around the main house on the other side of the river. A couple of big deuce-and-a-half’s were parked over there. At one point, about a dozen people came out of the one of the side buildings, eight of them got in one of the transports and it took off down the road. The other four started to patrol around the lake and William and I faded a little further back into the woods.

William tapped me on the shoulder. “We should go invisible now,” he said, fading back into a dense pile of brush.

I wanted to get a closer look at these guys so I let him hide while I crept forward through the trees. They moved well, like a proper military patrol. They swept north along the river bank constantly scanning the forest and the paths. Each carried a carbine at port arms. As they neared my position, I fell back in the thicket. They moved past without a second glance and I resumed my recon of that main building. There were piles of ash in several spots like they had been having bon fires. Thin wisps of smoke were coming out another one of the small buildings and as I moved a little closer I swear I smelled cooking meat. My mouth filled with saliva as I thought about eating a meal that didn’t come out of a plastic and foil pouch.

Another truck came into view rumbling down the road that led to a parking lot off to the side. This one was a cattlecar like they used to use to drive around grunts during basic training. It came to a stop and the driver jumped out and ran to the side to open the door. At least twenty people poured out onto the blacktop looking dazed. The driver and his partner herded them gently toward one of the outer buildings. Three women in fatigues came out to greet them. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but nobody was shoving or acting aggressive. Maybe there was hope in this place after all.

I was brought out of my reverie by the snap of a twig behind me, but before I could turn I felt the muzzle of a rifle against my ear. I didn’t have to turn to know it was a carbine, or to know that there were three others probably pointed at me as well.

“Put down the weapon, slowly. We aren’t going to hurt you unless you make us.” The voice was calm, and not entirely unfriendly.

I complied, laying down my M-4 slowly and raising my hands to show I wasn’t going to try anything.

William picked that moment to reveal himself. He slid out of the brush with his rifle up and aimed at the guy closest to me. “Drop your fucking weapon, you fucking asshole fuck,” he said.

The other three swung their carbines in his direction and I shouted that it was okay.

“I don’t know if they’re friends yet William, but you should put your weapon on the ground.”

“You said I should never let my weapon touch the ground. You said I would have to do push-ups if I did.”

I had to laugh a little at that. “It’s okay this time William. They aren’t going to hurt you.”

William hesitantly laid his rifle on the ground looking at me the whole time. The four lowered their carbines and seemed to be relieved to be able to do so.

The lead one spoke up first, “We should start with introductions. I am Major Michael Schmidt, you can call me Mike, and this is Franklin, Rich, and Teddy.” Each waved a brief greeting.

“Corporal Ian McCellan, sir. This is my partner William,” I said, moving to attention out of habit.

“At ease Corporal. We don’t much stand on tradition out here anymore, though it is nice to see.”

William stepped forward, “I am a soldier too sir.” He attempted a salute and Mike returned it with a grin.

“Well on behalf of those here at Outpost Alpha, welcome.” There were handshakes all around and for the first time since I could remember, I let my guard down just a little. If these guys were planning on torturing and killing us, they were at least lulling us into it the right way.

Franklin picked up William’s rifle and handed it back to him butt first. William accepted it smartly and slung it over his shoulder like I showed him. Mike scooped mine up, made a show of inspecting it like we were running drill and ceremony and handed it back to me with another of those grins.

It was Rich’s turn to speak up, “You guys hungry? We got venison in the smoke house should be just about ready to come out. Your welcome to come and eat with us.”

William’s stomach rumbled an answer and we all laughed, all of us except William who just stood there a little confused at what just happened. And just like that, we were part of the group. We all walked back toward the main house as Mike explained the deal.

“You will be quarantined for three days, understand this is necessary for the safety of everyone here. After that, if you show no signs of infection, you will be transported to a secondary location where the bulk of our force is stationed. It’s not as noble as it sounds, mostly we are just trying to hold things together until someone can figure out a way to deal with whatever the hell has been going on.”

“Who were those people in the cattlecar?” I asked.

Teddy answered, “We have been sending out flyers for a while now. We get ‘em out as far as we can. The chopper don’t run no more, but we’ve had a couple groups go out in vehicles to the north, south, and west. Usually we get groups of two or three, today we picked up almost twenty. You’ll meet them in quarantine.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “I came all the way from North Carolina. I picked William up along the way.”

“I was on my way to Grandmother’s house, but Ian had Mars bars,” William added.

Mike leaned close to me and whispered, “What’s up with him? Is he retarded or something?”

“Something like that,” I responded, “I don’t think he’s retarded or even slow. His brain just works a little different is all.”

Mike nodded thoughtfully, “Gotta wonder how he made it around before you picked him up. With those things out there, they move it packs you know, I’ve seen them take down entire units. That kid’s gotta be one tough mother fucker.”

“Oh he’s tough alright, Sir. I think the way his mind works, the way shit just kind of happens around him and doesn’t get in his head, I think it helps. We went through some shit a couple weeks back in some shit town in Virginia, ‘those things’, they aren’t the only thing you have to worry about. Anyway, the situation was beyond completely fucked up, but that kid,” then a thought occurred to me. I turned around and walked backward as I called out to William, “Hey William, how old are you anyway?”

“I was born on Thursday, June 16th in 1988 making me twenty-four years old.”

Mike and I both laughed, William looked at us quizzically which just made us laugh harder.

“Anyway, as fucked as things got, he just kept going with that same look. I don’t know how to explain it. He makes the same face whether he’s eating a candy bar or if he’s hiding in a trash can. Like he’s figuring things out.

“When we got out of Virginia, he asked me to train him to be a soldier. So I did, or started to at least. He just sort of soaks everything in. I taught him marksmanship. Driving through Delaware, I told him all about how to charge the weapon, aiming center mass, clearing jams, all that shit. When we got into Jersey, I put a rifle in his hands and it was like he’d been shooting for years.”

“We can always use good soldiers,” Mike said. “Here and at the compound.”

“Compound, Sir?”

“Where you’ll be going after your quarantine, Corporal. You didn’t think this was all there was did you? That four men with shitty carbines were all that was left of civilization? We gave these coordinates as a security measure. That way, anybody wants to try and fuck with us, can never find the base.”

“Has anyone tried to fuck with you?”

“So far only twice. Last time was at least three months ago. Some Mad Max fucking biker gang. They came in from the north armed with AK’s and zero sense. We used to get more of the dead here, but we run regular sweeps. Our outer perimeter runs through some heavily wooded terrain, gives us a decent advantage. This area wasn’t real heavily populated before Hell threw up on it.”

“That explains why you’ve been so welcoming.”

“Fuck with us and see how welcoming we are, Corporal,” Mike said smirking.

They led us to a couple shitty, old picnic tables. Franklin went into the smokehouse and came out a minute later with a steaming pile of meat and several plates. Rich offered us bottles of water and the six of us sat down to an honest-to-goodness meal for the first time in as long as I could remember. Talk was light, Rich explained that he used to live in the area. He told us how he used to bring his kids to this place in the summer. I didn’t have to ask what happened to them. Franklin wasn’t from too far away either. We traded war stories, ate and I felt like a human for a while. William, as usual, wasn’t overly talkative, but he seemed to be enjoying himself nonetheless.

After we ate, Mike got back down to business. “Time to check you two in officially. Nothing too painful, little bit of paperwork, inventory your gear, check you for injuries, or bites.”

“Bites?” I had to hope he didn’t catch the crack in my voice.

Rich answered, “You ever seen what happens to somebody who gets bit, or even just scratched by one of those things? Two days, three tops, they die. Then they get back up again; and not in the miracle, praise Jesus-y kind of way. Happened to a buddy of mine, had to put him down myself.”

My scar didn’t look too much like a bite mark anymore, but I wasn’t sure how close they were going to look.

Mike continued, “I’m going to be straight with you, Corporal. This is not some kind of Shangri-La. Life at the compound probably won’t be any easier than out there in what’s left of the world, just less lonely. I’ve seen plenty of people come through here not understanding that. They think they’ll latch on to our group and everything will be hunky dory. Everyone at the compound has a job to do. If you slack, we drive you as far out into the Pine Barrens as you want to go, and we leave you there. That’s how it has to be. Resources are too scarce right now to tolerate any buddy-fucking gold brickers. If you make it through quarantine, we will take you to the compound. You will be assigned a task, your friend will too. From then on you are just another cog in the glorious machine. Hooah?”

I nodded an affirmative and Mike continued.

“Our primary objective is to keep alive the men, women, and children at the compound. I do not hold any aspirations as lofty as rebuilding civilization, hell, look at the state of it when everything went to shit. I don’t miss my cell phone or the fucking internet. At any rate, life is hard now, our responsibility, and yours if you choose, is to make sure it is no harder than necessary for those people.”

“How many?”

“You’ll find out in a few days.”

With that Mike and Rich led us into one of the small houses. Two people already quarantined waved from the top of a short staircase. They didn’t look anymore beat up than I did, well than William did anyway. Like they’d been through some shit, but these guys weren’t roughing them up.

“That’s Kim and her husband Pat,” Mike said as he nonchalantly ruffled through my duffle. “They’ve been here a couple of days now.”

Mike motioned for William’s backpack. William clutched it to his chest and looked at me. I nodded that it was okay and he reluctantly handed it over.

“I promise I won’t take anything from you, Kiddo. I just need to know what you have in there.”

William responded flatly, “Please do not call me ‘kiddo’”, paused a moment and add an overly formal “Sir.”

Mike gingerly opened William’s pack and made a show of gingerly peeking through the top. He handed it back to William who slung it over his shoulder and stared at the couple at the top of the stairs. I handed Mike my duffle without being asked, he shook it once or twice and handed it back without even undoing the latch.

“Formalities,” Mike said. “But then where would we be without them.” He chuckled and for a moment, just a moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of something under his grin.

Mike shook each of our hands, waved politely to Kim and Pat, turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Rich exited last. He nodded a polite goodbye as he closed the door. Again, that gut feeling that something wasn’t right here.

I decided to chalk it up to my nerves being fried, but as I heard the bolt slam shut, I was glad I hadn’t mentioned the Humvee.