 
The Dying Times

Book One of the Survivor Chronicles

Second Edition

Nadene's Story in the Times of the Living Dead

Brian Kittrell

The Dying Times

Brian Kittrell

Copyright 2012 by Brian Kittrell

Smashwords Edition

**Connect with the Author**

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More Books by Brian Kittrell

_Already released and coming soon!_

**The Mages of Bloodmyr Series**  
 _The Circle of Sorcerers_  
 _The Consuls of the Vicariate_  
 _The Immortals of Myrdwyer_  
 _The Mages of Bloodmyr Omnibus: A Collection of Epic Fantasy Novels_

**The Survivor Chronicles**  
 _The Dying Times_  
 _The War of the Dead_  
 _Prisoner and Survivor_  
 _A World Forsaken_  
 _The Survivor Chronicles Omnibus: A Collection of Zombie Apocalypse Novels_

**The Panacea Series**  
 _Cure_  
 _Stasis_  
 _Blight_  
 _The Panacea Omnibus: A Collection of Science Fiction Novels_
Chapter 1

November

Nadene stepped onto the narrow stairs of the school bus and looked back at her mother. She smiled. She was halfway through the school year, and according to her teachers and progress reports, everything was going fine. Her mother, Pamela, tutored her in the morning and on the weekends, whenever her restrictive schedule would allow. Nadene treasured the little time she got with her mother because Pamela had to work the night shift at the local diner to pay the bills since Nadene's father, James, had sought a divorce a few months earlier. After a wedding that was announced, arranged, and put on two months following his divorce, he went to live with his new wife in a big, fancy house across town, leaving Pamela and Nadene to fend for themselves.

Nadene didn't mind. She no longer had to watch her mother sit up late at night in tears, worrying about when her father would come home. Pamela had told Nadene that she felt a sense of liberation in knowing the truth—James had been unfaithful, and he was gone. Although Nadene's grades had fallen sharply during the divorce, she was back on track and doing better than ever in school.

The bus slowly lurched forward. Pamela, her brown curls still wrapped in a towel, waved at Nadene and smiled. Nadene waved back with her lunch sack in hand, then took a seat next to her best friend, Sally.

"What's up, Dina?" Sally asked, barely looking up from her tablet computer.

"Me, apparently."

Sally stretched her back. "Yeah, I heard that."

Nadene leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of what was on Sally's screen. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Sally flipped it over. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, come on. What is it, Sal?" Nadene grabbed at the tablet, but Sally snatched it away.

"Nothing. Just drop it, okay?"

"Was it on Facebook?"

"Yeah."

Nadene held her palms in the air. "If it's on there, anybody can read it, but you won't let me see?"

"It's a private message. Sorry, I promised not to tell anybody."

"Oh, I forgot. Fourteen-year-old business. No way I could understand it."

Sally sighed. "It's just... private."

Nadene fell back in her seat. Why's she hiding it? We know everything about each other. Well... most everything. "I can keep secrets, too."

"Oh, yeah? What kind of secrets do you have that I don't already know?"

"Not telling."

"It's because you don't have any. You're just trying to get it out of me."

"If you say so, but it's your loss."

"It's not my secret to spread around, Dina."

Now, we're getting somewhere. She fought the urge to smile. "Why would I tell anyone?"

"This can't get out."

"Like I said, why would I tell anyone?"

"All right, but you have to swear. If you tell anybody, I'll say that you got into my Facebook." Sally shot a glance at the seat behind them, then lowered her head and her voice. "You know Mandy Coates?"

"Yeah, isn't she a junior?"

"Yeah, well," Sally lowered her voice. "She's pregnant."

"She's not—" Nadene said, but Sally grabbed her mouth.

"Damn, Dina, are you trying to tell the whole world?"

"Sorry... how did you find out?"

"Ricky's brother knows the guy."

"Your boyfriend?"

"No, Ricky from Pensacola." Sally rolled her eyes. "You know, sometimes I wonder how you skipped eighth grade."

"Well, whose is it?"

"Some guy she met online from Mobile."

Nadene stared at the ceiling. "You're kidding me."

"Nope." Grabbing her bag from the floor, Sally tucked the tablet inside, then pulled it onto her shoulders. "Oh, what was your secret?"

She shook her head. "Later."

"I told you—"

Feeling her stomach churn, Nadene said, "At lunch, okay?"

"Just say it, Dina."

"I went to the movies last weekend with Nick." The words came out too loud, and she felt her cheeks get warm.

Sally sat, wide-eyed.

Throwing her arms in the air, Nadene asked, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"What can I say? My little girl's growing up."

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that."

Sally leaned in with a devilish grin. "Did you kiss him?"

"No way," she said, grimacing with disgust. "On the first date?"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, how was it?"

"It was fun, but the movie was boring." Nadene put on her backpack when she saw the school's sign through the window. The bus growled to a halt outside of Grand Bay High School, and the driver opened the door. Nadene gazed at the red brick and white stucco walls, and she remembered how intimidating they had been the first time she'd seen them. With her grades back up and a few friends, she had gotten used to the place and even felt comfortable there at times. She eyed the yellow and red flowers in the bed of mulch, the outdoor tables beyond, and the bike racks, then donned her backpack and stood.

Before she stepped into the aisle, Nadene turned around and stared at Sally, uncertainty in her heart. Would she? No, of course not. Well—

"What is it?" Sally finally asked.

"About Nick... Don't tell anybody, okay?"

"It was just a date—"

"Please don't. I don't want the attention. Okay?"

"I won't, Dina. And don't say anything about... you know."

She nodded, walked into the aisle, and went down the stairs, landing on the sidewalk. Herded with the others like animals to the slaughter, Nadene entered the school and raced down the hall to her first class. Better get there before all the good seats are taken.

The day started with English, Mrs. Owens presiding. To Nadene, the woman had a certain way of turning the study of nouns, verbs, and adjectives into a truly fun and exciting experience. The class played word games and practiced public speaking on an almost daily basis. On Fridays, the class watched the school news program, and as usual, the television clicked on at the appointed time.

She looked up when she heard a woman's voice say, "...still unclear. General Mumbatu has been identified as a member of the Zaire Liberation Front, the newest addition to a series of global terrorist organizations springing up throughout Africa and the Middle East. Secretary Greene of the State Department has hinted that this may be just another unit of the much larger organization known as 'Six.'"

"All right, everyone," Mrs. Owens said, switching off the television. "We're pressed for time today. Everyone flip open to chapter twelve."

Nadene opened her textbook to the appointed page, then sighed. Shakespeare. I wonder if he ever imagined the students of the future loathing the study of his writing.

* * *

After English came the dreaded Mr. Redfern's mathematics dungeon, and from what Nadene had seen and heard, everybody hated math class because Mr. Redfern taught elementary math like a college professor—he started writing notes at the beginning of class and continued writing until the end of class, hardly explaining anything, then he would finally issue a homework assignment that would make a career mathematician blush. Relief, in the form of lunch, came around 11:30 a.m.

Ever since she could remember, Nadene had always sat with Sally at lunch. Nadene pulled out the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and the prepackaged fruit juice from her lunch bag. "Hear anything else?"

"About what?" Sally fished through her bag for her fork.

"The pregnant girl," she whispered.

"What else is there? It's not like things could get any worse."

"No? Of course they can."

"How's that? She's got a baby on the way, hasn't even gotten through high school, and the guy's not going to help her out."

"Did he say that?"

"No." Sally pulled the top off her Tupperware dish. "But they never do. Would Nick help you if, you know?"

"There's no way I'm doing that with him. We've only been on one date."

"I know, but I'm just saying. If you did, do you think he'd help?"

"Probably not."

Sally pointed at Nadene with her fork, her head tilted down. "You got it—"

Suddenly, the school bell rang in a familiar sequence, indicating a fire alarm. Nadene gazed at the red box on the wall and noticed that she could see the haze of smoke when the strobe flashed. It's not a drill? She stared at her best friend Sally across the table.

Nadene's teachers—Mr. Redfern and Mrs. Owens—stood and walked over to the student lunch tables.

"Everyone stand up and form a line," Mrs. Owens said, gesturing at Nadene, Sally, and the rest of the nearby students. "Come on, no pushing."

All of her classmates stood and formed a makeshift line at the door of the cafeteria. Nadene and Sally gave each other nervous glances. No matter how many times the fire drills had been done, the noise of the bells and the yelling made Nadene edgy. The thick black smoke coming from the cafeteria's kitchen wasn't helping, either. The sprinklers engaged, dousing everyone in the room. The teachers led them through the mist to the outside courtyard, through the middle school's playground, and stopped at the field on the farthest side of the school's property.

As they reached the edge of the field, the Grand Bay fire engines came around the corner, screaming with sirens. Nadene could see a small pillar of smoke rising from the cafeteria area, and she pointed. "Look at that."

"I guess the sprinklers didn't help."

Nadene nodded, then locked eyes with Nick, who was standing with his friends a few feet away. He smiled at her, but she turned away. We agreed not to be showy at school, didn't we? Why's he looking at me like that?

"It doesn't look like we'll be going back any time soon, Bill," Mrs. Owens said to Mr. Redfern.

"No, it doesn't, Joyce," he replied, turning toward the children. "Everyone go ahead and have a seat on the bleachers."

"Something wrong?" Sally asked, apparently noticing Nadene trying to hide behind her.

Nadene watched the firemen make their way into the school as flames broke through the roof. "Is Nick still staring at me?"

"No." Sally craned her neck. "I don't think so. Is that a problem?"

"I told him I wanted some time to think about things."

"You broke it off?"

"No, not that. I just don't want people to know right now. You know?"

Sally nodded. "It's just new to you. It'll get better."

"Will—" Nadene paused when she heard a howl in the wind, a long wail that quickly grew into a siren. The weather sirens? She looked around in confusion—the sky was blue, the sun was out, and she could hardly find a cloud in the sky.

Mr. Redfern looked at his watch and chuckled. "It's twelve o'clock. No need to get alarmed." It was the first of November at noon—the sirens were set off on the first of the month at noon as a test of the siren system.

"I don't feel so good," Nadene said, itching her skin. "It's like a mosquito biting me all over."

"Dina, it's just your nerves. It'll be over soon. No need to worry," Mrs. Owens said, overhearing, then pulled a strip of cloth from her purse and wet it from the water faucet sticking out of the ground near the bleachers. Placing it on Nadene's head, she said, "You'll feel better soon. Let's cool you off a little."

Sitting under the hot sun for what seemed like an eternity, Nadene watched the principal come walking out toward the field. He spoke to the teachers as school buses pulled up to the side of the field. When they were finished, Mrs. Owens said, "Since the fire damaged the school and the smoke's in the hallways and most classrooms, we will be sending everyone home on the bus."

"I don't feel right, Sally," Nadene said, still rubbing her arms. "Something isn't right."

"Didn't you say you and Nick went to the beach last weekend?"

"Yeah."

"Well, mystery solved. It's called a sunburn."

"It's not that, it's something else. I don't know what it is, but it's not a sunburn."

Nadene had feelings that she couldn't explain from time to time. Those unexplainable feelings of dread and pain or tingling in her skin seemed to come on strong when something bad was about to happen. She was even more confused than she had ever been, though; she had felt the pains after the fire, not before. Maybe they don't mean anything, she thought, eying the school. Maybe it's just my nerves.

* * *

The bus stopped at Sally's house, and Sally stood, then walked into the aisle. "Why don't you get off with me, Dina? Maybe Mom can find you something for that burn. Come on, it'll take your mind off of it."

Nadene nodded, stood slowly, and followed Sally off the bus, glancing at the metal sign on the gate. Nelson. The house's red brick exterior complemented the white trim around the doors, windows, and dormers, and like most of the other houses in Alabama, the front door was a combination of a thin screen door and a thick metal one, but the fact that the house had two fireplaces puzzled Nadene. She assumed that it was merely a showy feature because she knew that Sally's family never used either one aside from a few weeks out of the year.

The sun stung her skin as they walked to the door, but it was getting better. The sick feeling in her stomach had all but subsided, and the heat had reduced. Reaching the door, she took a breath when a cool wind swept over her and put an end to the itching. Relief at last.

Sally put her key in the lock, but immediately pulled it out. "Mom must not have any houses to show today." She turned the knob and opened the door.

The inside of the house was magnificent, and the entryway reminded Nadene of her old house, except for the lavish décor. Being a doctor at the local hospital, Robert, Sally's father, often had to entertain high-profile guests, and Nadene was never invited to those parties. "You wouldn't want to come," Sally had once explained. "They're boring... the people and the party both."

"You didn't have any appointments today, Mom?" Sally asked, dropped her bag in one of the dinette chairs, and sat across the counter from Haley, her mother.

"Nope," Haley said. "Seems like people don't want to get out and look today. I'll be glad when spring gets here; people will be chomping at the bit to buy again."

"Hi, Miss Haley," Nadene said, joining Sally on the seating side of the counter.

Sally gestured at Nadene. "Do you have anything that could help her, Mom?"

"What's wrong, Dina?"

"It's going away now, but my arms and face were itching and burning. I think it'll be all right."

"Well," Haley opened a cabinet and pulled out a tube, "put this on it anyway. You don't want it coming back or getting worse."

Hydrocortisone. Nadene nodded. "Thanks, Mrs. Nelson."

"Come on, Dina," Sally said, hopping off of the chair and heading toward the hall.

Nadene followed, then stopped when Sally did.

"You can put it on in there," Sally said, pointing at the bathroom door. "I'll be in the lounge when you get done."

Nadene shut the door behind her and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She blinked, then closed her eyes and rubbed them. The night before, her mom had worked late at the diner, and when that happened, Nadene usually sat awake in bed, peeking through the blinds when she saw headlights shining on it from outside. She hated the tired feeling, but she needed to know when her mother came home. She rolled up her sleeves and applied the cream in small dabs, then put some on her cheeks and neck. Turning on the faucet, she washed her hands, then rubbed her eyelids with her wet fingertips and patted her hands dry on the towel.

Sally had already started playing a video game by the time Nadene got to the lounge. "If you want to play, I can change it to something for two players."

Nadene shook her head. "I'm just going to rest for a while."

Sally hit a button, and Pause appeared on the television. "Late night?"

Nadene nodded.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I put the cream on."

"Not that." Sally set the controller on the coffee table, then plopped down next to Nadene on the sofa. "You can't sit up all night and keep going. If you keep it up, you'll go crazy."

"I know, but who else's going to make sure she gets home? If something happened, nobody would know about it until I woke up the next morning."

"She's a grown woman, Dina, and it's not like we live in New York or Detroit."

"Yeah, but I just have to do it. I can't sleep anyway."

Sally nodded, then returned to her game.

Nadene watched Sally play, but she soon felt drowsy and drifted into a nap. She dreamed of faraway places, of strange, interesting people, and of great cities. She laughed and played through the streets, smiling and giggling with the people outside. Suddenly, the sky turned dark, as if a storm had rolled in. Flames licked the clouds. She turned and looked at the faces of the people, and they had changed. What were once cheerful, happy faces transformed into hideous monstrosities. They were covered in torn flesh and bore black teeth, and they chased Nadene. They tore at her dress and tried to grab her. She woke up covered with sweat, then put her head in her hands and cried.

Sally turned around, rushed over, and knelt down beside Nadene. "What's wrong, Dina?"

Nadene wrapped her arms around Sally's neck and hugged her. "It was just a dream. It just seemed so real. So real..."

Sally hugged Nadene, then pulled away to face her. "Why don't we get something to eat? I heard Mom banging around in the kitchen."

Nadene wiped her face, stood, and followed Sally. When they entered the kitchen, the smell of baked apples and steamed vegetables flooded the air. Nadene's mood lifted. Her stomach grumbled.

Haley scooped out a pork chop, some applesauce, and some vegetables onto Nadene's plate, then placed it on the kitchen table. Nadene tried to maintain some composure, but she was starving. Taking her seat, she slid her chair close to the table and gobbled up the food, then lay back with a full feeling. Sally helped her mother serve and feed her two younger brothers—Jared, age five, and Robert, Jr., who would turn one in a week—before taking her seat.

Haley switched on the small television in the kitchen and leaned over the counter to watch the evening news. The day had drawn to a close, and the sun was setting. Nadene went over to the kitchen phone and dialed her home number. No answer. She dialed the diner where her mother worked. No answer. Nadene called her house again and left a message, saying that she was over at Sally's house and telling her about what happened at school. Surely Mom has heard about the fire at school. Why hasn't she called looking for me?

Nadene hung up the phone and walked over to the counter. The reporter on the television was talking about the big stories of the day, and most of the news related to General Mumbatu, the Zaire Liberation Front, and Six.

"What's Six?" Nadene asked.

"From what I could gather, it's a big terrorist group. Some people are saying that they call it 'Six' because they have members on every continent except Antarctica, and they think that this Zaire Liberation Front's just another piece of Six."

"And they hate us?"

"There are evil men in the world who would want to hurt people however they can find a way," Haley said. "We only have ourselves to blame for much of it, though."

"We do?"

Haley nodded. "We created most of this problem. We trained their men, supplied them, and used them to fight our enemies for us. When we had no more use for them, we wouldn't take their calls, and they weren't happy about that. Then, we had the War on Terror. We'll fight that one forever, just like the War on Drugs. Politicians seem to enjoy creating new wars that never end."

Nadene nodded, then sat in silence and watched until the end of the segment.

"Why are we getting involved in this?" Haley said in a disappointed tone. "We're always getting involved in things that don't involve us." She cast a concerned look at her two sons playing with their applesauce. "I hope that they get things under control before my boys get old enough. I don't want my kids dying in some pointless war... I'm sorry, Dina. I didn't mean to ramble on."

Nadene averted her eyes. Sally had mentioned that Haley's brother—Billy—had been killed overseas. Haley had always blamed the politicians for it, and she didn't trust the government anymore. She often made comments to Sally about "Uncle Billy": that she wished he had been at the wedding, met his nieces and nephews, or had a chance to make a family and a life for himself.

"I'm sorry," Haley said. "I ramble on sometimes about how crazy the world is. I just wish things were different."

Nadene put her arms around Haley.

Haley petted Nadene on the shoulders and nodded, then walked over to the table and stacked the dishes. "I have to get the boys cleaned up and put to bed. Why don't you stay over? I'm sure your mom won't mind."

"I haven't been able to get her on the phone."

"I'll keep trying to get her. I don't want you to go home and be by yourself."

Nadene nodded, then went into the bathroom to change. She had a spare set of pajamas that she kept at Sally's house in case she stayed over, and Haley had persuaded her husband to buy an extra bed for Sally's room so Nadene would have somewhere to sleep.

The phone vibrated on the counter, and she snatched it up and smiled. "Hi, Mom."

"Hey, Dina. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Don't worry, Mom. Everything's okay—"

"Don't worry? How can I not?"

She's the one worrying about me? Nadene sighed. "How are things at the diner?"

"Busy as heck. They won't let me keep my phone on me during the shift—"

"I know, I know. I'm just glad to hear your voice."

"It's good to hear yours, too." Pamela paused on the other end. "One day, I'll make it up to you, Dina. I have to."

"Oh, Mom, you don't have to make up anything. We have each other, and that's all that's important."

"I know." Pamela took a deep breath. "I asked Haley if you could stay the night, since it looks like I'll be here all night. I'll pick you up in the morning, okay?"

"All right."

"It's starting to fill up again, so I have to go for now. Look, why don't we go somewhere this weekend?"

Nadene smiled. She didn't care where they might go or what they might do as long as she was with her mom. "I'd like that."

"Love you."

"Bye, love you." Nadene hit the button to end the call. She pocketed the phone, then walked down the hall and into Haley's room.

Climbing into the bed, Nadene pulled the blankets over herself. She could hear Haley in the next room changing Robbie's diaper. She texted to her mother's phone, Love you. Hope everything goes all right tonight. A light turned off in the hall, then Sally came through the door and hopped into bed.

"You want to do anything tomorrow?" Nadene asked.

Sally punched her pillow a few times. "Like what?"

"I don't know... The movies?"

Sally rolled onto her side to face Nadene. "It might be better to rent one. Mom mentioned that she has some houses to show and a lot of paperwork to do."

"What do you want to rent?"

"Something scary," Sally said with a devilish smile. "How about a nice vampire movie?"

Nadene shook her head. "I hate the scary ones."

"We can get one that's not too scary, Dina." Sally raised her arms and put on her corniest Transylvanian accent. "Something you can sink your teeth into, my dear. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Oh, God, no. Screw that," she said, pulling the covers tight.

"It's all fake, Dina."

"I know, but I can't stand all the blood and screaming."

"There's not that much blood. You've never seen Interview with the Vampire before?"

"Yeah, once or twice. It's scary enough."

"Fake blood and acting does that to you?"

"They make it look so real. Stuff like that gives me bad dreams. That's all."

"We'll find something." Sally reached over and cut off the lamp. "G'nite, Dina."

"G'nite, Sally," Nadene replied. She stared at the ceiling, afraid of having the same nightmare she'd had in the lounge, until she fell asleep.
Chapter 2

Sally opened her eyes to muffled shouting. She jumped out of bed, went to Nadene, and grasped her by the shoulder. "Dina, wake up!"

Nadene sat up in the bed as if in a daze, the bedsheets soaked in sweat. She felt the sheets between her fingertips and gasped for air.

Sally hugged Nadene and said, "It's okay, Dina."

"What happened?"

"You tell me. You started getting kind of loud."

Rubbing her temples, Nadene sat up. "I can't remember... I think I had a bad dream again."

The door creaked open, revealing Haley standing in the hall in her pajamas. "Everything okay, girls?"

Sally looked over her shoulder. "It's fine, Mom. She had a bad dream."

"Has Momma called?" Nadene asked, leaning forward.

"Yes, she called a little while ago. I explained what happened with the school. She wanted me to tell you that she will be here as soon as she can."

"When's she coming home?" Nadene asked.

"She said she would be home in the morning. She has to pull a double today, so she might not be back home until around nine or ten tomorrow morning."

A double. Sally loved the word even though she knew how much Nadene hated it, because it meant that they had more time to spend together.

"Go get some milk. It always helps me," Haley said, then stepped out of the room.

Nadene nodded, then gave Sally a distraught look and walked into the hall. I wonder what's gotten into her lately, she thought, watching Nadene leave.

When her mother returned with a pile of folded bedsheets in a basket, Sally sat up. "Do you think Dina's okay?"

"Oh, I don't know. I worry about her and Pam sometimes."

"Worry?" Sally asked, climbing out of bed to help.

Haley put the clothes basket on the top of the dresser and stripped Nadene's bed. "Pam has been having a hard time with the divorce and all. James left them in a mess, that's for sure."

"I know, but I don't worry."

"Well, worrying is what mothers do. You'll know all about it one day." Haley balled the sheets, dropped them in the basket, and spread out the new ones on the mattress. "We worry about our kids, our friends' kids, our friends... the whole world sometimes."

* * *

Before walking into the hall, Nadene glanced at Sally, who had climbed back into bed, then went to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. After a couple of sips, she heard the front door open and close, and a few heavy footsteps resounded against the wooden floor.

"Hello?" Nadene called out into the darkness. "Who's there?"

She received no reply. She crept toward the doorway near the front entry, then gasped. A silhouette of a man approached. A robber? One of those monsters from my dreams? She raised the glass of milk and prepared to throw it. I'll have to throw it hard. If I—

The silhouette stopped, and she heard a click. The hall light came on, and she recognized the man as Sally's dad, his hands full of files, papers, and a briefcase. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nadene set her drink on the countertop.

"Hey there, Nadene. I didn't know you were staying over," Robert said, nearly dropping one of his files.

"Yes, sir. Mom had to work late."

"It's nearly four in the morning." He glanced at his watch, then looked at her again. "You'd better get back to bed. School in the morning."

"I had a bad dream..." Nadene furrowed her brow. "It's Friday, Mr. Robbie. Well, Saturday morning now."

"Oh, so it is. Funny how you lose track of it." He smiled. "Let me squeeze by you."

Nadene stood aside, and Robert barely kept hold of everything before reaching the dinette table and setting it all down. He grabbed the remote control from the counter, switched on the television, and went over to the fridge. "You know if these pork chops are fresh?"

"Miss Haley made them earlier tonight." She crossed her arms and watched him pick through the leftovers. Robert was a tall, slender man in his early thirties, a resident emergency room doctor at the Grand Bay Memorial Hospital. She would never admit it to anyone, but she sometimes found herself fantasizing about him. She knew nothing would ever come of it, but she couldn't help but give in to her imagination when the thoughts surfaced.

Robert surfed the channels, stopping when he got to one of the local news channels. "Looks like your school's closed Monday." He pointed at a scrolling marquee across the bottom of the screen. "There was a fire today?"

Nadene nodded. "Yes, sir, but nobody was hurt."

"Good." He glanced at the ceiling, then gazed at the television again. "I imagine if they had been, I would've been the first to know."

She easily could have stared at the man all night, but when Robert turned up the volume, she was unable to ignore the news reporter's chattering. "It's still unclear what the Zaire Liberation Front and General Mumbatu intend to do, but they have issued threats to both the United States and the government of Zaire that they will use biological weapons if any group attempts to disrupt activities in their training camps. Meanwhile, the USS John C. Stennis task group is approaching the African coastline. We will keep you informed as we receive more information on this ongoing situation."

She shook her head, gave Robert a smile, and returned to Sally's room.

"All done, Dina," Haley said, looking up when Nadene entered. "'Night, girls."

"Thank you. Mr. Robbie's in the kitchen, by the way."

"Oh, good. I thought he'd be at the hospital all night."

Nadene climbed into bed, glanced at Sally, then rolled onto her side. She looked at her phone. One new message. She pressed the button. Sorry, Dina. We got busy. I'll be there in the morning. Love you.

* * *

Nadene woke, the morning light filtering through the curtains and blinds. She quickly checked the sheets and felt relief when she realized that they were still crisp and clean. She lay back in the bed, propped her hands behind her head, and closed her eyes. Saturday morning. As far back as she could recall, she couldn't think of anything similar to the feeling of waking up Saturday morning and knowing that she didn't have to go back to school for two whole days. Holidays and summer break were better, but she had to settle for what she could get.

She checked her cell phone. 9:00 a.m. The time stared her in the face, the screen devoid of any new text messages from her mother. Her mind was awash with memories of the fire from the day before, the bad feelings in her stomach, her itching skin, the bad dreams, and the fear. Rubbing her eyes, she crawled out of bed and wandered toward the kitchen.

She entered the kitchen to the pleasant smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes cooking on the stove. "Good morning, Mrs. Nelson."

"Morning," Haley called out to Nadene. "Looks like you've finally decided to join us."

Nadene made a grumbling sound and sat at the kitchen table. She toyed with the eggs and pancakes on her plate, taking small nibbles from different items as it suited her.

The reporter on the television arranged the papers in her hand. "The governments of Zaire and of the United States have made a resolution to stop the Zaire Liberation Front from continuing its terrorist activities in the region. In a statement earlier to the press, the President said, 'We will not stand idly by while a group of terrorists threatens world peace, especially with biological weapons. We cannot stand by and do nothing while an enemy is threatening genocide.'"

Nadene looked up from her eggs and saw Haley staring blankly at the television. Nadene remembered what had happened the night before and the sadness she saw in Haley's eyes when she was talking about her brother Billy.

The reporter continued. "The President has just released information to us that the USS John C. Stennis has initiated surgical air strikes in southeastern Zaire. It's believed by the military that these are the missile bases where General Mumbatu has been storing his biological weapons. We take you now to Wallace Hoskin, somewhere off the coast of west Africa."

The screen flashed to a scene of an aircraft carrier with planes launching from the deck. A small-framed woman stood at the center of the picture, frantically fighting the wind for control of her hat. "As you can see behind me, the Navy jets are taking off, en route to their missions in southeastern Zaire... Wait..." She put her finger in her ear, obviously trying to hear from a receiver. "We are receiving reports from the captain that rockets are being fired from the central-western part of Zaire. It's not clear at this time if the rockets are from the Zaire government or—"

Suddenly, the screen went black, then flashed to a red and white screen displaying "EAS—Emergency Alert System" in plain type, and a monotone sound blared through the speakers.

"We are sorry to interrupt the regularly scheduled program with an important announcement," a robotic voice said.

Nadene glanced at Sally, then stared at Haley. Is this real? They would have said it was a test if it wasn't. Wouldn't they?

The screen faded to the President standing behind a podium. "My fellow Americans, I come to you today to warn you of the possibility of a biological attack on the United States by the Zaire Liberation Front, a terrorist group that many of you have been following through the media for the past few weeks. Yesterday, this terrorist group threatened the release of biological weapons on the United States if we and the government of Zaire did not yield to their demands. The United States will not negotiate with terrorists, and we will continue to ensure world peace. We will not be held hostage by tyrants and warlords. We know that these terrorists have long-range missiles, and General Cormac will tell you more about them shortly. I am also issuing an executive order mandating all media stations to remain locked on the emergency broadcast system until this incident has been fully resolved, and we will instate and maintain a state of martial law east of the Mississippi river, effective immediately. Until General Cormac is ready to present his information, I will turn the podium over to the Surgeon General, Dr. Westerfield. Dr. Westerfield?"

The President walked away from the podium and out of the side door amidst a bombardment of camera flashes and questions from the press staff that he obviously would not answer. Dr. Westerfield stood and walked over to the podium with a stack of papers in his hand.

"Good morning. We have been studying the Zaire terrorists for some time in various circles of our government. Based on recent findings, we can now say that the ZLF is a part of the much larger organization known simply as Six."

Dr. Westerfield cleared his throat and continued. "We believe the most probable biological agent loaded in these missiles is Ebola. The symptoms of the Ebola virus are comparable to the flu, malaria, or dysentery, and may resemble these diseases if contracted. The best advice we can give is to stay in your homes, lock your doors, and maintain an independent water supply by filling sinks and bathtubs with fresh water. Ration your current food supplies.

"The Ebola virus is not airborne, but it can be delivered via an aerosol-type gelatin mist delivery system. The Ebola virus can remain active in or on exposed water, food, and surfaces for several days. We recommend closing all doors and windows and sealing any obvious openings in your home with wet towels to reduce the possibility of infection. I want to impress upon you the need to stay indoors; if you do nothing else, remain inside your homes or places of business. I will now turn the podium over to General Cormac who will give you some information regarding the situation."

Dr. Westerfield scurried away from the podium. Again, the press fired questions and snapped photos of another official who would not acknowledge them.

A highly-decorated four-star general stepped behind the stand, donned a small pair of glasses, and read from a piece of paper. "I'm General Cormac of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I have been asked to brief you on our contingency plan for this attack and the steps that will follow after the attack has been completed. First, we have identified the missiles that have been launched from Zaire as the Dnepr mobile launch vehicle, based on the Soviet SS-18 'Satan' ICBM, a long-range platform that can hit the entire eastern seaboard. If our information is correct, it will take these missiles about thirty minutes to get here."

Nadene shook her head. Thirty minutes? All the way from Africa? My God...

"It's still unclear how these missiles were obtained," the general continued, "although it's well-known that missiles identical to these have been converted to launch civilian satellites. Using information from the original ICBMs, these missiles have the capability of dropping around seven to ten multiple independent re-entry vehicles, which means that you have one warhead through launch until the target is reached, after which the missile splits off into seven to ten separate warheads that fall on their targets.

"Speculations are hazy about the payload inside the warheads, but as Dr. Westerfield stated, we believe they contain the Ebola virus in a gelatin-mist delivery system. We have already launched a missile attack to counter these missiles, and we will report on the effectiveness of this counter attack when we have those details. We are counting four missiles inbound to the eastern United States at this time, and we believe the most probable targets to be New York, Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, and Miami, based on the current trajectories."

The general turned the page, then quietly read the information. Nadene sat in awe of the act, amazed at a man, without any apparent nervousness, reading a piece of paper at his leisure, an entire nation hanging on his every word.

Finally, he continued. "It's estimated that forty million citizens will be affected in some way by this attack. It's imperative to stay in your homes or secure yourselves in your place of work. Attempting to flee the major cities and being in the open air will only increase your risk of infection."

The general gathered his papers, glanced up, and stepped away from the podium. Some White House aide walked up and read a canned statement that summarized everything that had been explained. Finishing, he said, "We will now begin replaying the past few minutes of news coverage on all stations until we have more information to report."

Nadene turned around and noticed that Haley was gone. Hearing running water, she went toward the back of the house. Nadene saw Haley filling the bathtub as she passed the doorway of the guest bathroom.

"We have to get ready if we're going to survive this. There's no telling where those rockets are going. Even if they do hit the Northeast, it could still get into our water," Haley said. "We have to get ready. Dina, watch this tub and turn it off when it's full. I have to call Robert."

Haley ran out of the bathroom, turned, and headed toward the kitchen. Nadene watched the bathtub and made sure it didn't overflow. Ebola? The missiles are coming... Mom. Where's Mom? Despite the urge to rush out of the door, run through the streets, and find her mother, Nadene closed her eyes. I can't. If I get caught outside when those bombs go off, it would defeat the purpose of going out there in the first place. God... twenty-five minutes? How much time do we have left? Did they target southern Alabama? Would they?

The bathtub eventually filled, and she turned off the spigot. It seemed like it took forever, but she was glad to get out of there. She closed the glass sliding door of the tub, then returned to the kitchen to see Haley pacing, her face red and her hair tangled. She punched a button on the phone. "I can't get through to anyone!"

Haley threw the phone down on the kitchen counter as Sally joined them.

"I'm almost finished filling up the plastic jugs and the bathtub in your bathroom, Mom," Sally said with an eager look on her face.

"Go around the house and check all the windows and make sure they're closed and locked," Haley said. "Dina, will you help her?"

Nadene nodded and went around with Sally, inspecting all of the windows. If they found a window open, they closed and latched it.

"We have to make sure the windows' seals are good, Dina," Sally said.

"How do you know that will even help? Have you had a viral bomb dropped on you before?"

"Dad mentioned it. He said that the windows in the hospital are closed up tight to make sure the diseases don't spread all over the hospital," Sally replied. "A virus is a disease, so it'll help keep it out."

Nadene sat there in shock, her eyes fixed on Sally. Is this really happening? Where's Mom? Fifteen minutes? Ten? When Sally went to the next window, Nadene simply followed and helped. When she finished checking the kitchen windows, Sally dusted off her hands and sat at the dinette table, and Nadene sat beside her.

Haley was still trying the phone with no luck.

"Why isn't the phone working?" Sally asked.

Haley pressed the buttons on the wireless handheld, then her cell phone, and finally let out a sigh. "Everybody's trying to call their families, too. The phone systems can't handle everyone in the country using them at the same time."

Haley kept trying to dial out while Nadene, Sally, and the two boys sat at the kitchen table watching a replay of the White House announcement. It had looped several times since they first watched it. I guess they have to keep playing it so everyone will get the news. I wish Mom were here with us. She should've been here by now. Nadene looked at her phone. Nothing. She texted, Love you. Call me.

The television moaned with an alert, and the robotic voice came on again. "Please stand by for an important announcement."

Nadene stood and folded her arms. Five minutes? Maybe ten? The missiles must be close now... God! Her breathing hastened, and her throat was dry.

The President was on the screen, but he stood alone. "We regret to inform you that our attempts to intercept the incoming missiles have had only marginal success. We've stopped one missile over Africa and another was shot down in the eastern Atlantic; however, there are still more missiles coming, and it's the belief of the military that we may be incapable of stopping them. We're still attempting to shoot them down with every resource available in our arsenal. We'll update you when we have more information on this developing situation."

There's a chance, then. There's a chance that they will get them all. Nadene clasped her hands and bowed her head. Please, God, let it work.

Nadene was gazing at the window when she heard a thunderous roar outside. No time left. No time! She ran to the door, opened it, and raced outside. Haley yelled for her not to go, but she didn't stop. Despite the risks involved, she couldn't stop. She had to see it.

She looked up at the sky and saw several long white clouds going out to the horizon. Rocket trails. She shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the air, then spotted an orange glow. There. The interceptor missiles seemed to be missing, because they exploded near the rockets, but they weren't coming close enough. Nadene heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"They keep missing it," Haley said, placing her arm around Nadene. "Let's go back inside. There's no telling where it's going to go off, and we don't want to be outside when that happens."

They walked toward the door as the warning sirens wound into a howl in the distance. The attack was on. Just as she reached the door, Nadene heard an explosion and looked up at the sky to see a fireball erupt with orange and black smoke.

She followed Haley and Sally to the kitchen television, and they waited for news. The television flashed with a special bulletin. On the screen, a general stood in a briefing room of some kind.

"This is General Anderson at the North American Aerospace Defense Command. We have attempted to intercept the remaining missiles inbound to the mainland, but we have failed. We have now confirmed detonations in the areas of New York, Washington, D.C., central-southern Virginia, and southern Florida, including the areas of Fort Lauderdale and Miami. The President, the Cabinet, and key government and military personnel will arrive here at NORAD and at other installations to ensure preservation of our government during this crisis.

"At this point, we are insisting that everyone stay in their homes and wait out the attack. We will broadcast further information as we receive it. Anderson out."

"So, this is what the government does when things get bad. They tuck their tails and hide in their holes that millions of people like me had to pay for. Where's the hole in the ground that my family gets to hide in?" Haley shouted at the television, flailing her arms.

Nadene watched the television replay General Anderson's message. "Maybe it won't be so bad here. The missiles didn't hit anywhere near here."

Haley sighed. "I hope you're right."

After the third replay, Haley said, "Well, that's it for now. I guess I had better start supper in case Robert comes home early." She walked around the breakfast counter and opened the refrigerator. "What do you think tonight, girls? French fries or mashed potatoes?"

Nadene simply stared at Haley, shocked by the question. She's asking if we want French fries or mashed potatoes during a missile attack, when millions of people are sick or dying?

"Well?" Haley asked.

"French... fries... I guess..." Sally said.

Haley pulled the French fries from the freezer and turned on the countertop fryer. She pulled chunks of meat from the mound of ground hamburger, rolled them into balls, then flattened and seasoned the patties.

The television flashed with the all-too-familiar "Please standby for an important announcement." Haley put the patty she had been pressing on a plate with the others, rinsed her hands, and wiped them on a towel hanging from the dishwasher handle.

The President appeared on the screen in a makeshift office. He sat at a desk that appeared to have been made in the 1950s, a faded American flag draped on the wall behind him. He held a stack of papers that had obvious notes and comments scribbled on all sides of them. "My fellow Americans, we are receiving reports from all over the country that our information and intelligence on these missiles was partially incorrect. Medical facilities are reporting that this is not a strain of the Ebola virus. The symptoms are similar, but the virus is unknown to us. The doctor who discovered this information, Dr. John Kemper, has named it 'Kemper-A virus.' Dr. Kemper and his team are racing to compare it against all known strains of virii available to us.

"For now, I must make you aware that this virus is highly infectious through blood and fluid transmission. Avoid infected persons whenever and wherever possible. The initial symptoms of the virus encompass all of the symptoms of the flu and can include those of other diseases. The virus's a known immunity-inhibitor, meaning that it'll make human beings less resistant to other diseases. The best advice we have is to remain inside your homes and places of business and do not let anyone who is showing symptoms of severe illness enter your safe place. We are now releasing the media stations to their regular broadcasting, since the missile attack has concluded. God bless and good luck."

"God bless and good luck," Haley said, a full dose of sarcasm in her voice. She shook her head. The television went black, then lit up with a scene of a newsroom with empty desks. Nadene glanced at Haley, before some news anchors came out and sorted through their papers.

"We have been off the air for some time now, and we will begin reporting the news items pertaining to this ongoing crisis as we receive them. The first story we have received is that there have been a record number of vehicle accidents on the interstates leading away from the affected cities. The only advice we can give at this time is that everyone remain inside your homes, and stay away from anyone showing signs of infection."

The screen cut away to scenes of the highways outside the major Eastern cities. Thousands of cars were lined up on the interstate out to the horizon. Nadene watched the people on foot scrambling to find a way through the traffic. It was like a rope with hundreds of little kinks and tangles all the way through it, leading off into the sunset.

Nadene sat and watched the television set. They said to stay in our homes. They said we'd be safe there. If the people would just do what they're told, they wouldn't be stuck in that mess. Why can't they listen?

"I can't help but think of those people that got hit. What kind of misery has been let out in the cities? It's not going to stay there forever, either. No, it will spread everywhere. It'll come here. We have to get ready to leave," Haley said.

"Where will we go, Mom? Will we go without Dad?" Sally asked. "I don't want to go without him."

Nadene pulled her phone out. No messages. She sighed. Mom, she typed, if you get this, please call me.

Haley looked down at Sally and caressed the side of her face. "We'll wait for a while, hon, but we can't stay here forever. If we don't hear anything by the morning, we'll just have to go find him."

Sally nodded.

* * *

Dusk crept over the landscape surrounding the house, and although she tried time and time again to call her mother, Nadene couldn't get through. She spotted the full moon between the clouds through the window, then turned and sat at the table in the kitchen, watching Haley serve the evening meal. Except for Sally's younger brothers, they sat and stared at each other, as if unable to speak.

The silence was broken by a loud banging on the door from outside.

Haley took a child safety lock off of a drawer, reached inside, and brandished a small revolver. "They better not want trouble. I've got plenty of trouble for them."

.38-caliber. Nadene eyed the gun. It was similar to the one her father had bought for her mother a number of years back.

Nadene clung to the opening from the kitchen to the entry hall and watched. Haley slowly approached the front door, the revolver shaking in her hand. Pointing it at the door, she unlocked the dead bolt. Just as soon as she had turned the knob, the door burst open, and in fell Pamela.

Dropping the gun to her side, Haley grabbed her chest with her other hand. "Pam?"

"Yeah... close the door back..."

Haley slammed the door and locked the deadbolt, then helped Pamela to her feet.

Nadene ran toward them. "Mom?"

"Yeah, honey, it's me. I tried to get here as fast as I could. The roads are clogged with people trying to go west."

Haley helped Pamela to the kitchen table and prepared a plate. "Tell me what it's like out there, Pam."
Chapter 3

Pamela glanced at the two boys, then sat at the breakfast counter. Where do I begin? She recalled the scene of the crowded parking lot and the rush of customers the night before. "People were coming from all over, and Harvey's must have been the only diner open in town. Everyone gathered around the televisions to watch and discuss what was going on. We were so busy that I worked on into the morning. My boss told me to take a break, so I went to the break room to use the phone, but it wasn't working. I kept trying, but it still wouldn't go through. I fell asleep while I was waiting. When I woke up, the phones still weren't working, and the diner was fuller than ever. My cell had died, so I just left. I had to get to my baby."

"It's okay, honey. We took care of her. Go on with what you were saying," Haley said.

"I know you did, Hale. You and Robert... if it hadn't been for you, I would've been pulling my hair out wondering about my daughter." She smiled, but she could tell by the look in Nadene's eyes that it wasn't enough to hide her anxiety. "It seemed like people just kept piling in. People from all over. The more time that went by, the more people came in from further away. By the time people started saying they were from Jacksonville and Charleston, I decided to leave. They can get their own coffee. I had to find my daughter. I had to get home." A tear fell down her cheek. "My daughter's all I have." She wrapped her arm around Nadene and hugged her.

"We're going to be all right," Haley said. "We're all together now. We're going to make it through this."

"The roads were full of cars. I tried for an hour to get mine out of the parking lot, but I couldn't. Bumper to bumper. I got the things I needed and got out of there. It was faster to walk. Not much faster, but I was able to climb over cars and trucks blocking the way. It took hours to get here, but I'm just glad I made it."

Pamela sighed and took a drink from the cup in front of her. "The people that I saw out there weren't sick. The news reports said to watch out for people who looked like they had the flu. None of these looked like that." She shook her head. "I guess it hasn't been long enough for the sick ones to start showing up this far west."

"I have to get in touch with Robert," Haley said, picking up the phone and dialing a number.

Pamela heard a voice on the other end, but she couldn't tell what was said.

"I'm looking for Dr. Robert Nelson. He's in the emergency room," Haley said, then sighed, tilting the phone away from her mouth. "They put me on hold."

Nadene held her mother's hand and gave her a smile.

"I'm looking for Dr. Nelson. I'm his wife. I really need to—" Haley huffed. "They put me on hold again!"

An eternity passed while Haley tapped her fingernails against the granite counter.

"Robert! I haven't heard from you all day. Is everything okay? We're at home... we're all scared... we're waiting for you..."

Haley listened intently, but her face contorted with fear. "Robert! Robert? He hung up... he just hung up the phone!" She tried dialing again, but Nadene heard the busy signal blaring through the phone's speaker.

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Well? What did he say?"

"He said that they're busy. The staff they have can't deal with the number of people coming in."

"Sick people are flooding the hospital already?" Nadene asked. "This far west?"

"It's not that. Vehicle accidents, fights, and all the other madness that goes along with something like this. Transfers from overcrowded hospitals, too."

"It's okay, Haley. I'm sure he's fine. He's obviously very busy," Pam said. "There's a lot going on right now. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"He's never just hung up on me like that."

"Come sit down and relax," Pamela said, ushering Haley to the kitchen table. "You look weak. Have you eaten anything?"

"No, I just haven't found the time today."

"Well, let me fix you a plate." Pamela stood, walked around the counter, and pulled a plate down from the cabinet. "You rest yourself and try to relax. Relax, for your children's sake."

"It's okay, Miss Haley," Nadene said. "Try to take a deep breath."

Pamela served Haley a plate and a napkin. "Here you go."

Haley wiped her tears with the paper towel and took a tiny bite from a French fry. "We have to wait for him... Pam, what would you do?"

"I'd keep my children safe. Whatever it takes. If that means leaving without him, you may have to accept that."

"But we're fine—"

"I don't mean just up and leave, but if things get bad here, you may have to do it." Pamela sighed, then turned when the television flashed with breaking news.

The reporter, a middle-aged man in a suit, crinkled his papers. "We are now receiving our first reports from the major cities regarding these attacks, specifically from the medical centers. The missile strikes were widespread, affecting the entire area between Boston, Massachusetts, all the way down to Miami, Florida. There's not a town or city within twenty miles of the Atlantic coast that has not been stricken by this attack in one way or another. Reports are coming in that the hospitals in every Atlantic state have been overrun with sick or injured people. We do not have any reporters in the affected areas as of yet, due to safety and health concerns. We've been in contact with our offices in New York and Boston, and we should receive more information on this incident as it unfolds."

Pamela stared at her daughter with worry. So many sick, injured, dying, and dead people all over the East Coast... how long will we last?

Someone off-stage handed a piece of paper to the reporter.

"This just in," the man said, briefly reading the page, then clearing his throat. "The military is now claiming that all of General Mumbatu's bases in Zaire have been attacked by U.S. and U.N. planes and ground forces. The aircraft have returned to the USS John C. Stennis, but there's still no word from the ground forces that have gone into Zaire. We will continue to report news on this developing situation."

"Well, at least we got some of them," Haley said. "I hope they shoot that Mumbatu character, if he's not already dead. At least we got some of them."

The same information about the hospitals on the East Coast and the attack in Zaire scrolled across the screen. They always just repeat everything, Pamela thought. Can't they come up with something that people don't already know?

"Looks like we're not going to hear a whole lot more for now. I'll turn this up so we can hear it from the lounge," Haley said, clicking the volume button on the remote. She took Robert, Jr. out of the high chair, walked out of the kitchen and toward the lounge, and everyone followed.

"If it's all the same to you, Pam, I'd like you and Dina to stay here for tonight. I'd feel a whole lot better with you two here."

"That's fine with me," Pamela replied. "We should stick together through all of this. At least until we know what the next day or two will bring."

The night wore on, and Pamela watched as everyone fell asleep. The sound of the crickets chirping and bullfrogs croaking outside eased her mind. It was another calm, easy night in Alabama, despite everything that was going wrong with the world, and she would take the stirrings in the night over the clanging of dishes any time.

* * *

Nadene awoke to the morning light drenching the lounge in sunshine. She clambered to her feet, then rubbed her neck. I guess I slept wrong. Glancing at the other empty chairs, she figured she was the last one to wake, then looked at the clock. Noon? Nobody woke me?

She headed down the hallway to the bathroom to wash her face. It always seemed to help her wake up and get going. She cupped her hands in the basin and put her face over the toilet, because she didn't want to contaminate the water in the sink. That water was for drinking. I hope it doesn't come to that. That would mean things are getting really bad.

She walked out of the bathroom, down the hall, and stopped at a large window near the bedrooms of the house. She sat on the window sill and looked out across the grassy hills toward Grand Bay. She thought about her father, how he had abandoned her and her mother, how he had walked out on them without a second thought. I wonder how he's doing. She sighed. I don't care. He doesn't care about us, so I don't care about him. How could he not care if I live or die? He's no blood of mine. How can you just walk out on your family? Marry a new woman two months later? Buy her all of the things you would never buy your daughter's mother?

She stared blankly toward the town, then she felt a hand grab her on the shoulder. She screamed and turned around.

"It's okay, honey! I'm sorry I startled you," Pamela said.

Nadene breathed a sigh of relief and hugged Pamela. Mom cares about me. She's the only one who gives a damn about me.

Pamela knelt next to the window sill and said, "It's okay, Dina. Let's have some breakfast."

Nadene held Pamela's hand tightly as they walked to the kitchen. She rarely held her mother's hand, but it helped. Pamela didn't seem to mind; she almost seemed to enjoy it. Nearing the kitchen, Nadene detected the smell of tomato sauce, and she entered the kitchen to see Haley preparing a large meal.

"I hope you girls are hungry," Haley said.

"My, my, my, someone woke up on the right side of the bed this morning, Miss Sunshine," Pamela said.

"Let's not get feisty, now, Pam. I just thought everyone could benefit from a nice square meal, considering..." Haley said, her lips tight in a frown.

Nadene sat next to Pamela on the near side of the table, and Nadene started on her spaghetti. Pamela helped feed Robert, Jr., while Haley was getting a plate ready for Jared. The children happily sat and ate, but Nadene felt an ambient uneasiness in the room.

The television squawked with theme music, and the words 'Special Announcement' were plastered across the screen in big, bold letters. The reporter shuffled through his papers. "This just in... We are now receiving more reports from the offices in New York and Boston. There are people rioting in the streets, and these rioters are apparently upset at the government's inability to assist those sick and injured in the cities. The government is not allowing the media any interviews, and we cannot even be sure who's leading the riots at this time. We were able to talk to a few survivors, but details are sketchy at best.

"People who were injured in the riots said that the ones causing this are blind with rage and unwilling to negotiate. One survivor said, 'They simply attack anyone who's not part of the riot.' Government officials are warning everyone that the National Guard units in the affected areas will enforce martial law to maintain order, and the rioters who do not surrender will be shot."

The reporter paused after reading the last sentence and looked around, as if in disbelief. He finally continued, "We will now go live to Bill Casey at our New York office for further information on this developing situation."

The screen blinked from the local newsroom to a scene of disarray that looked like a tornado had whipped through it. The desks were covered with crumpled papers, some of the chairs lay on their sides, and the windows behind the desks had cracks and holes. In some parts, entire sections of glass were missing.

The reporter on screen had tears in his suit, and Nadene thought that he looked incredibly fatigued. "I'm reporting live from our office in New York City. The city is completely out of control. The Empire State Building is burning in the skyline nearby, along with several other buildings. The fires have been left to burn since there's no one left to put them out. The rioters seem to be composed of every type of person, every profession. We've even seen some wearing police and fire department uniforms. Everyone here's sick with the virus. It's only a matter of time before every last person in this city has been infected with the disease. We have no food, no water. We've locked ourselves in. There's a fire burning on the ground floor, but we can't go out there. Hopefully, help will come before it gets this high up. Don't come to New York; New York's lost." The man turned his head, a pounding sound coming from somewhere off-screen. "Dammit! Send help if you can! They've gotten through—"

Pamela and Haley stared at each other, and Nadene was filled with anxiety at seeing the fear in their eyes. Then she glanced at Haley's young sons, oblivious to what was happening.

"We have to decide what we are going to do," Pamela said. "We have to figure out if we're going to stay here or head west."

Haley furrowed her brow. "Why west?"

"I have some cousins in Texas. They own a big ranch west of Dallas, and I'm sure they'd put us up. We could go west to Mississippi, then Louisiana. After that, Texas. A few days at most."

"We can't leave, Pam. My husband's still in the city. I can't leave without him," Haley said.

"Come on, Haley. If you wait, you'll get stuck here."

"I can't go. You can go if you want to, but I can't go. We have to wait for Robbie."

"Hale—"

Haley shook her head. "I can't. If he's still not back by tomorrow, we'll go into the city to get him."

"All right. I understand you want to stay, but we—Nadene and I—have to go. You have a family, a house, and nice things; we have nothing here."

"Okay, Pam. If you have to go, you can go, but at least finish your meal. You'll need to be strong for the trip."

* * *

When she had finished her plate, Nadene stood and helped her mother gather up what few items they had. Haley and Sally walked them to the door.

Pamela opened the front door. "We're going to try to make it to the diner to get my car out of there, then we need to go by our house."

"Leave your cell on," Nadene said, hugging Sally. "Keep in touch with me."

Heading outside, Nadene looked back at Haley and Sally standing at the doorway and waving. She waved back with a frown, her stomach turning like the day the school had caught fire. Will I ever see them again? she thought. What if they don't make it? Even if they do, will we ever find each other? Nadene ran back to Sally and Haley and took them both in a big hug. "Please, come with us, Miss Nelson. Sally, we can go to the hospital and look for your dad. Just come with us."

Haley patted Nadene on the head. "If we leave and he comes home, we'll lose each other. We have to wait a while longer, Dina."

Gripping Sally's hand tight, Nadene tried to hide her tears. She leaned close to Sally's ear and whispered, "I kissed Nick. On the lips for like ten seconds." Taking a step back, she saw the bewilderment in Sally's eyes. "It's a secret, and you better not tell anybody. As long as we have that, we'll have each other. No matter how far apart we are."

"I love you, Dina," Sally said, embracing her. "Take care of yourself."

Pamela scribbled something on a piece of paper, jogged over, and handed it to Haley. "This is the number and address to where we're going in Texas. So we don't get lost in all of this mess." She closed Haley's hand around the note.

Pamela took Nadene by the hand and led the way down the street. When she reached the end of the block, Nadene felt uneasy at the stillness. About halfway to Harvey's, it was as if the quiet neighborhood had transformed into a graveyard for cars. People had abandoned their vehicles in the street and must have walked away the way Pamela said she had done. Seems like everybody thought it would be faster that way. Nadene knew that the suburb's two-lane roads couldn't support the kind of traffic the town had experienced overnight.

Pamela and Nadene continued down the street, then crossed it to make their way to the boulevard.

"This street leads to Harvey's. It's a little longer, but we'll have to climb over less cars. We have to get there and try to get my car out," Pamela said, walking quickly.

The number of cars increased steadily as they walked. Pamela stepped off of the street when they reached a point where the cars had completely blocked the road. She helped Nadene climb over the vehicles in the places where they couldn't get down the sidewalk. It was a chaotic mix of cars, trucks, vans, and motor homes of all styles, makes, and models. Nadene glimpsed the license plates on the vehicles. South Carolina. North Carolina. Florida. Georgia. So many cars.

When they reached the main boulevard in Grand Bay, Nadene cast a nervous eye at the other people passing nearby. They all seemed to have a purpose and destination, but she couldn't determine either at a mere glance. Following her mother through the streets, she decided not to make eye contact with any of the other people. She didn't want any of them to take her curiosity the wrong way.

Pamela led the way to Harvey's Diner on the corner, and Nadene shook her head at the crowded parking lot. The cars looked like neatly packed sardines in a can. Glancing at the neon sign above the diner, she watched the V flicker. Is he ever going to get that thing fixed? Guess not. It doesn't seem to be affecting business. She followed her mother into the cafe, through the employee entrance in the back, and she could see the full dining area beyond the kitchen.

The customers were gathered around the television sets, shouting their own commentary to the horrific events on the screen, until it flashed with "Special Report." The guests' attention must have been captivated by the television because Nadene could've heard a pin drop.

The nicely-dressed local reporter was on the screen again. "Our New York office is now advising us that the situation's much different than we initially reported. They can only communicate with us by teletype at this time, so we do not have any video footage of the situation. The rioters seem to be completely unaware of their surroundings, and they're wandering the streets in a daze. When they encounter uninfected persons, these crazed individuals will bite, scratch, or try to rip apart anyone who comes in their path. What began as a riot has turned into an utter horror of chaos and destruction. It leaves us with this question: what do these rioters want? Their blood lust seems to know no bounds or limits."

Pamela glanced at the screen, then went behind the counter. Nadene stayed and listened to the news report. Pamela disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with her purse, a coat, and her keys in hand.

Harvey, his hands full of plates, stopped when he saw Pamela. "Pam, can you bring some coffee to the corner table—"

"I quit, Harvey. We're going to Texas," Pamela said. "I appreciate the job, but we have to get out of here."

"You're going to leave me high and dry?" Harvey took her to the side of the counter. "I gave you a job—better pay than I've ever given a waitress—and now, I can't count on you?"

Pamela sighed. "It's over, Harvey. Can't you see? I'd suggest you get going before it's too late. You see all these people? They ought to get out of here, too. Sitting around here is just asking to get infected when the sick ones start showing up in droves."

Harvey nodded. He had a look in his eyes that told Nadene he wanted to leave, but he hesitated. She studied the man's worried, indecisive expression. The diner must be all he has left. Could I leave if this was all I knew? If everything I had was placed squarely in this diner?

Pamela took one last look around and headed outside with Nadene. They walked around the building toward her car. Pamela screamed, and Nadene did the same out of reaction. From the darkness came a hand, then a face.

"Dammit, Wayne!" Pamela clutched her chest. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," the old man said.

Nadene had seen Wayne a couple of times at the diner, but she rarely had gotten close to him. When Harvey hired the old man as a busboy and dishwasher, Pamela had told Nadene that he seemed nice and always tried to help her. Nadene sniffed the air and pinpointed Wayne as the source of the liquor smell, an aroma similar to the one her father wore on the nights he was especially violent and argumentative.

Pamela shook her head. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry," the man said, his tone apologetic and kind. "Harvey said he needs me to stay and help, but I'm getting worried. More and more people keep showing up, and a few of them are sick."

"You could leave, too." Pamela shrugged, her palms up. "Couldn't you?"

"That's what I thought, but I didn't know how until you said you were heading west."

"And why do you want to come with us?" Pamela asked, crossing her arms.

"Everybody here," he gestured at the building, "is content to sit 'round the TV and watch the end of the world. I don't, but I can't just walk out of here."

Nadene could tell that her mother knew something, but she didn't say what she was hiding. Instead, Pamela replied, "All right, Wayne. Hop in the car."

Wayne nodded, his long gray hair draping his shoulders.

"What's your last name, by the way?" Pamela eyed him. "I don't think I ever asked."

"Scarborough," he replied, pulling out a pack of Lucky Strikes.

"Well, Wayne... there are two things you should know about me. First, I don't smoke," she said.

Wayne put the cigarettes back in his pocket. "Yes, ma'am. What's the second thing?"

"Second, I don't drink. And I can't stand the smell of bourbon. My ex used to drink the stuff like it was water."

He looked down at his shoes. "Well, how do you feel about a little conversation?"

"Conversation's fine, but let's get in the car and get out of here. We're not going to make it to Texas just sitting around like this."

Pamela and Nadene got in the front of the car, and Wayne joined them in the back. Nadene scanned the sea of cars in the parking lot.

Pamela started the car, then stared at Wayne in the rear-view mirror. "When we get to my house, you can take a shower while we pack."

"Thank you for your kindnesses, ma'am."

"Call me Pam." She put the car into drive and looked around. She put the car in reverse, but kept her foot on the brake. "There's no way out."

Wayne pointed past the front seat. "We'll have to jump it."

"I guess so." Pam sighed, put the car in drive, and hit the gas. She gripped the steering wheel. The car hopped the curb, and she turned to head down the sidewalk. The car slammed into a few trash cans, scattering them. When the car reached a piece of road that wasn't packed with cars, Pam turned the wheel, and the car bounced onto the street.

Pamela sighed. "We can make it to the highway if we keep to the back roads. If everywhere else is like this, it's going to take a while to get to Texas."

The trip to their house took longer than Nadene remembered. The back streets were rarely blocked, but when Pamela ran into abandoned wrecks or stranded vehicles, she yanked the wheel and hopped onto the sidewalk. Nadene, relieved when the car came to a stop in their driveway, smiled at her mother.

To Nadene, the house was an island of security, of sanity and safety, in a world gone mad. On the porch, the American flag on one of the narrow white columns fluttered in the breeze. Beyond it, the red brick, oak door, and federal-style windows had always given her the feeling that she belonged to a normal family in a normal house in the middle of a no-name town. She knew that she would have left one day, but she'd always believed that her reason would be college or getting married, not fleeing from ground zero.

Pamela sorted through her keys on the way to the door, and Nadene followed.

Entering the house, Pamela turned to Wayne, pointing toward the guest bathroom. "You can clean up in there. Let me get you a change of clothes." She went through the hall to the back bedroom, and Nadene was left standing there with Wayne in an awkward silence. Wayne was an older man, probably in his early fifties. He had an unkempt black and white beard. He looked like he hadn't had a haircut in about a month. Most of his clothing was old and tattered. If he had been cleaner and in a neater set of clothes, he might have looked like a distinguished older gentleman, but Nadene couldn't get past that smell—the bourbon perfume mixed with the stink of sweat.

Pamela returned with a pair of jeans, some shoes, and a shirt, then handed them over to Wayne. "These should do. They were my husband's, and you two are about the same size."

"Your husband... he passed away?" Wayne asked with hesitation.

"I wish," Pamela said jokingly. "No, we're divorced."

Wayne nodded, and walked into the bathroom. Nadene heard the squeak of the shower knob turning, then the hiss of water. Pamela slapped her palms against her hips. "Let's see what we might need for the trip."

Nadene nodded, following Pamela to the kitchen. Pamela pulled down some boxes and paper bags from the pantry, and Nadene helped her pick out what they would bring for the trip. I still can't believe it. Biological weapons? Riots in the big cities? Seems so unreal.

* * *

Inside the bathroom, Wayne hung the clothes on the towel rail and inspected the tub. He hadn't felt the warmth and coziness of a nice, hot shower in what seemed like years, and his skin tingled in anticipation. He cut the water on and adjusted the knobs to get the temperature right. Taking off his shirt, he twisted and turned to free his dog tags, tangled in the fabric. They landed against his bare chest with a jingle, and he eyed them in the mirror, which was fogged in on the side from the hot water.

"What happened to you, young man?" He caressed his chin and neck, the scraggly hair rough to his touch. "Where has the time gone?"

He opened the cabinet beneath the sink, reached around inside, and felt the crinkle of plastic. He pulled out the trash bin, balled his dirty t-shirt, and tossed it in. "Won't need that anymore."

Once he was fully undressed, he stepped into the waiting warmth of the shower, the contrast of the coolness of the air and the heat of the water exciting his senses.

His mind swam with memories from long ago. He thought of his wife and child, God rest their souls. He thought of his life in the military, of his time in the service in Vietnam, and, as he always did before popping the cap off his faithful bourbon, of the life he had led and the life that he had lost. He wept quietly while the water flowed down the drain, and he hoped that, with the soap and dirty water, his pain would follow.

* * *

"He sure is taking a long time," Nadene said, gesturing at the hall bathroom.

Pamela put some clothes and toiletries into one of the backpacks. "He has a lot of cleaning up to do, honey. Let him enjoy it."

"What do you know about him?"

Pamela looked away, nearly dropping a bar of soap. "What do you mean, hon?"

Nadene stared at her. "You know something about him that you don't want to tell me, don't you?"

"He's homeless, Dina. Well, he was until he got hired at the diner. Harvey let him stay in the back."

"We're taking some smelly old homeless guy with us?" Nadene asked. She glanced at the bathroom door, blushing from what she'd said, but she had to say something.

Pamela sighed, staring at her shoes. "He's a good man. I know he is."

"What gave it away? The stench of alcohol? His ratty clothes?"

"You can't judge a book by its cover." Pamela took her by the shoulder, walking with her toward Nadene's bedroom. "Before Wayne came to the diner, I had to work my whole section with hardly any help. Harvey hired Wayne, and all of a sudden, my life got easier. He helped me carry heavy orders, clean up my tables, and sweep the floors."

"Homeless people are dirty, aren't they? Didn't you say they steal?"

"Sometimes, but Wayne's different." Pamela smiled, following Nadene into the bedroom. "One time, I waited on this man and his wife. The man gave me hell, but the wife simply sat quietly next to him. When they left, I looked at the table and thought, 'Of course. No tip.' Half an hour later, Wayne came over to me and handed me a twenty-dollar bill."

"What for?"

"He said that he saw the woman hide it under the napkin dispenser with just a little bit sticking out."

"She tipped you twenty bucks?"

"Yeah, probably for having to put up with her husband."

Nadene shook her head. "What's that have to do with—"

"Everything, Dina. He could've pocketed that twenty, and I would've never known. But he didn't."

Nadene walked toward the bed and stopped at the nightstand. She picked up one of the picture frames and stared at it. She couldn't remember when the photo had been taken, but she remembered posing with her father in a handful of pictures.

Pamela walked past her, opened the closet door, and pulled down some boxes full of winter clothes. "You can bring that along if you want."

"I don't want it. I just wanted to look at him one last time. He doesn't care about you or me anymore, Mom. I can't even look at him."

She dropped the picture on the floor and looked away, trying to choke back the tears.

"Honey, we can't let things get us down. We'll be fine, but we have to stay together. We have to stay focused," Pamela said firmly, wiping the tears away from her daughter's cheeks. "It may not seem like it, but your dad does love you."

Nadene nodded, but she didn't agree. If that's true, why hasn't he come to get us? Why didn't he call or look for us? He doesn't care about us. He only cares about his new family now. Her mind raced with the memories of the bitter divorce, the revelations of infidelity during her parents' marriage, and the late nights that Pamela had spent locked away in her room, crying.

Pamela finished packing and Nadene went with her to the living room. The bathroom door opened, and Wayne emerged in a haze of steam. Nadene immediately noticed that he had shaved, and his hair was combed back away from his face.

"Feel better? You certainly look a lot better," Pamela said when he joined them.

Wayne nodded. "I just appreciate what you're doing for me, ma'am. I hope I can repay your kindness."

"I told you to call me Pam." She tossed some linens in a box and closed it. "We can't go all the way to Texas with you calling me 'ma'am' the whole time. I'm almost half your age, anyway."

Wayne smiled. "All right, Pam. That shower's totally different from the truck stop, that's for sure."

Truck stop? You've got to be kidding me. Nadene eyed him, raising an eyebrow. I guess I can't complain. He could've chosen not to shower at all.

Pamela seemed to ignore the comment. "Would you like something to eat before we go? I've packed just about everything that won't spoil. There's still some sandwich meat and some milk in the fridge, and there's some bread in the pantry. Help yourself."

Wayne walked over to the counter and started putting together a sandwich. He made no effort to hide the pleasure on his face while he ate it, as if he was sampling a foreign delicacy that excited his taste buds. Watching the old man eat nearly brought a tear to Nadene's eye; she had been cruel in her thoughts of Wayne, and she regretted thinking badly of him. She could see the kindness behind his gentle eyes, the charity and mercy that her mother must have seen all along.

"Eat as much as you want, Wayne. You'll need to be strong for the trip. Can you drive a car?" Pamela asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. We'll split the driving." Pamela took a seat at the dining table, then offered a chair to Wayne. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself? What did you do before you started at Harvey's?"
Chapter 4

Nadene sat beside her mother and watched the old man's trembling hand. Wayne cleared his throat and took a sip of water. He took a deep breath. "I grew up in Grand Bay, not far from here. When I was twenty, I joined the Marines. Wasn't a whole lot of choice to it, really. Back then, they still had the draft. So I did my basic training in North Carolina and went off to Southeast Asia. I was a helicopter pilot—you know, the Hueys. Bell made one damned fine piece of machinery."

He paused to lick his lips and gulp his water. "When I got back to 'the world'... you know, the States... I looked up my high school sweetheart. Betty was her name. As far as women go, she was quite a fine one. I wasn't too shabby myself in those days, which might be hard to believe looking at me now." He smiled at Nadene, and she smiled back at him.

He picked up the cup of water and set it back down without taking a drink. "We got married shortly after I got back. We had a child early the next year. Things were good for a while. We enjoyed three birthdays with Emily—that was her name, my daughter—before she was taken from us. Then Betty passed.

"Now I'm just a dried-up old man with nothing to love besides my drinking. I don't want you to feel sorry for me, though. I don't want pity, but I don't want to be around here when the sick ones start showing up in droves."

Pamela simply nodded, then put her hand on Nadene's shoulder. "Let's go."

Once Nadene and Wayne were outside, Pamela, her hands full and a pack on her back, turned off the hall light and shut the front door. She slid her key in the deadbolt, but stopped. "Funny."

"What's that, ma—Pam?" Wayne asked, taking the heaviest items from her.

"Doesn't seem like there's any point in locking it, is there?"

"Lock it. Maybe when things get back to normal, you and your daughter will return." Wayne lightly shook the boxes in his hands. "What do you have in here, anyway?"

"Food. Enough for a week or two. I don't want to stop unless we need gas."

"Good thinking."

Pamela nodded, then walked to the car. Nadene hopped in the front seat while Wayne loaded the trunk. Starting the engine, Pamela waited for Wayne to close his door, then backed out of the driveway. She glanced at the rear view mirror, and checking the street to their right, she slammed the breaks.

"Damn," Wayne said, tugging on his seat belt. "I—"

In an apparent effort to dodge, a car swerved on the street behind them. Nadene turned in her seat and saw the other car smash into a truck parked on the street. "What the...?"

"I don't know, but we should help them." Pamela backed onto the street, put it in drive, and pulled up to the wreck.

Stepping out, Nadene could smell the oil boiling on the engine block of the car, and white smoke clouded the air. She followed her mother and Wayne toward the mangled vehicles. When she reached the driver's door, Nadene gasped at the sight of blood.

Seemingly unfazed by the gore, Wayne picked up speed. "Call 911."

Pamela pulled out her phone. "Mine's dead."

"I'll try," Nadene said, taking out hers. After dialing, she listened to the beeping on the other end. "It's not working."

"It's too late," Wayne said, shaking his head at the body on the hood. "She's gone." He took a few more steps. "Both of them." He pointed past the truck.

"Both?" Pamela asked.

"Another one was thrown into the street over here."

Nadene stared at the hole in the windshield where the other person must have been ejected, blood all over the glass. She tried her phone again, but it was no use.

Wayne returned to them on the sidewalk. "We had better get going, Pam."

"Get going? But what about—"

"We can either stand here until the sick ones come, or we can get on the road. Help isn't coming for them, and even if it was, it wouldn't make a difference."

"We can't just leave them, can we?" Nadene asked, dropping her jaw.

"We don't have a choice. There's nothing we can do for 'em. You can keep trying 911, but I suggest you do it on the way out of town."

They got back in the car, and Pamela put it in drive. Rounding the corner at the end of the short street, Wayne turned in his seat and looked back at the wreck.

"Something wrong?" Pamela asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.

Wayne cleared his throat. "Huh?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, nothing. Just thought I saw something."

"What was it?" Nadene asked, looking in her side mirror.

"Nothing. Let's get going." He buckled his seat belt and brushed his hair with his hand.

* * *

Pamela drove along back streets until they reached the edge of town. Nadene's eyes widened when she saw that the highway was even more crowded with vehicles than the boulevard back in Grand Bay had been. Thankfully, there was an underpass, and the car could get through to the other side without much trouble.

On the other side of the bridge, Pamela stopped, her eyes locked on the road sign. "Left to Mobile. Right to Birmingham. Straight to Biloxi. Straight will probably be our best bet. We just have to avoid the highways for a while."

Nadene leaned over to see that the needle on the gas gauge was sitting on a quarter of a tank. "That won't get us to Biloxi."

"Nope," Pamela said, pointing ahead. "There's a gas station a few miles down, though. That's where we'll fill it up."

Wayne pulled himself between the seats. "If there's any gas left."

"It's the best option. Since they added the overpass, fewer people go this way."

Nadene peered through the window, glimpsing the few abandoned cars on the roadside. I guess they walked away from here or got a ride. Some of the doors had been left open, the owners apparently unconcerned with what would become of the vehicles.

Pamela switched on the headlights of the car. "It's getting dark out."

The suburbs far behind, the road twisted and turned through the hills and pine trees. Nadene remembered the road from the few trips she'd taken along it. "Is the lake on this road?"

"Yes, hon." Pamela tightened her grip on the wheel.

Nadene watched her mother; she knew that look. Pamela always had the same expression when she recalled happy memories with James and Nadene, a sullen face distraught that the marriage had ended so badly. Although her mother never said so, Nadene knew that the glower meant that the issue—whatever it was—should be discussed no further. Nadene leaned back in her seat and gazed out the window again.

* * *

"There it is. We have to stop there and get gas, and we'll be back on our way," Pamela said as gas station came into view. She pulled the car into the parking lot, then put it in park near pump four. The lights were on in the convenience store, but Nadene couldn't see anyone behind the counter. It looked deserted.

"Strange," Pamela said.

"I'll go check it out," Wayne said. "I have a few bucks I can put on the gas."

"Here, take this money, too," Pamela said. "If they have any cold drinks, can you get some with the change?"

Pamela handed him a few bills, and he nodded and stepped out of the car. He walked toward the gas station and reached his hand out toward the handle, but he stopped.

Pamela rolled down Nadene's window and leaned across her. "What's the matter?"

"Something's not right."

"What's wrong, Wayne?" Pamela asked, stepping out.

He scratched his head, and Nadene got out to join her mother.

"What is it?" Pamela asked again.

"There's blood... all over the floor."

Nadene looked past Wayne and saw dark red stains inside the store.

Pamela cleared her throat, grimaced, and clutched her chest. "Are you sure it's blood?"

"Positive." Wayne, his hand shaking, reached into his pocket, pulled out his pack of smokes, and put a cigarette in his mouth.

Pamela covered her face with both of her hands and shook her head. "Oh my God."

"Shouldn't we help them, Mom?" Nadene asked.

"Yes... See if you can get the police."

Even though she hadn't gotten anyone before, Nadene nodded, took out her phone, and dialed 911. She shook her head. "It's still not going through."

Wayne put his hand on the convenience store's door. "All right. We'll have to go in there."

"We can't go in there," Pamela said. "What if—"

"If the robber was still here," Wayne said, "he would've come out by now. Somebody could still be alive in there."

"All right," Pamela said, taking Nadene by the shoulders. "Get back in the car and keep trying until you get someone. Until I come get you, stay there and keep the door locked."

Nadene returned to the car, and once she was inside, Pamela and Wayne both took a deep breath. Wayne opened the door.

* * *

The last time Wayne had seen that much blood, he was in a war zone deep in a jungle hellhole. It's everywhere, he thought, gazing at the blood. "See what I was talking about? All over the floors, the walls, the counter—"

"I see it," Pamela said with a shocked look on her face.

Wayne searched for a way around the blood, then noticed Pamela trembling. "Calm down. We have to see if there's a phone."

"I can't do this—"

Wayne shook his head. "You wait here. I'll go in, take a look around, and call 911. You just keep an eye out for me, okay?"

She nodded, holding the door open.

Wayne stepped to the side, doing his best to avoid getting any blood on his brand new shoes. He gently moved the bags of potato chips and beef jerky sticks with his foot, making as little noise as possible. When he got to the first aisle, he noticed the shelves were a mess. The next aisle was the same. Reaching the counter, he peered over the register. A white female in her mid-twenties lay face down in a pool of blood. Cigarettes, cans of chewing tobacco, and lottery tickets littered the floor. Half of a mop handle—one end jagged—was still in her hand.

He took a deep breath. He imagined dying in a pile of smokes and scratch-off lotto tickets, fighting to the death to defend a handful of change and a time lock safe. And here I was thinking it would've been a shame to die in the jungles of Vietnam for another man's war. Poor woman.

He scanned around the counter for a phone. He spotted one hanging on the wall behind the register. To keep from stepping in the blood, he climbed over the countertop, nearly knocking the register off. He picked up the phone, dialed 911, and waited for someone to answer.

"Grand Bay 911, where's your emergency?" a female operator asked.

"I don't know exactly where I'm. We stopped at this gas station—"

"We have your address. Are you out at Grant's One Stop?"

"Yes, I think that's what it's called—"

"And what's your emergency, sir?"

He was getting tired of being cut off. "The clerk's dead. That's what my emergency is. It looks like a robbery went bad and now the clerk's dead. Can you get somebody out here? Now?"

The operator sat quietly on the other end.

"Hello?" Wayne asked, his neck and ears getting hot.

"I'm here, sir," the operator said. "I had to put the information into my computer. Did you see who did this?"

"No."

"Is the person breathing?"

"No, I told you already: she's dead." His hand trembling, he tried to keep the phone steady at his ear. "We just drove up and found her."

"Can you tell how she was injured?"

"No. There's blood everywhere, and I'm not touching anything!"

"We have someone on the way. It may take a little while before they get there since some roads are closed."

"Well, it's not like she's going to get up and leave. Oh, and there's a wreck on..." He tilted the phone away and stared at Pamela.

"Bluebird," she said. "Off Hummingbird."

He repeated the address to the operator.

"That's a long way away from where you are—"

"We came through there to get here, but we couldn't get through on the cell. Just letting you know."

"All right, sir. We have officers on the way to both locations."

"We'll be here!" He slammed the phone down, then rubbed his temples. He climbed back over the counter and joined Pamela at the door. "They're on the way." He pulled a cigarette from his pack of Lucky Strikes. "Damned shame. It was a young girl."

Pamela glanced at Nadene, who was still sitting in the car, then walked over to the car and motioned for her to roll down the window. Wayne couldn't tell what they were saying, but he didn't care. He was content to sit, puff on his cigarette, and wait for the cops to show up. Could take a while.

Halfway through his smoke break, he watched Pamela come back and sit on the curb beside him. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's okay. How about you?"

"Me?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "Fine. Seen worse."

"In Vietnam?"

"Yeah." He coughed. "There, here, everywhere. World's a shitty place—sorry."

She waved her hand. "Heard worse."

"I guess they've got their hands full with all this mess going on," he said, stomping out his butt. "I bet they wish they had taken that plush bank job or that cozy manager position instead of this."

"Who?"

"The cops. And the firemen, all of 'em."

"Yeah, you're probably right, Wayne."

"What about you?" he asked, noticing her eyes nervously shifting.

"I'm just... scared."

"Yeah?"

"We haven't even gotten out of Grand Bay yet, and we've seen three people killed. There were wrecks out in front of the diner, but nothing as bad as the one in front of our house."

He lit another cigarette, took a drag, and blew the smoke straight up into the air. "Want one?" He shook the open pack toward her.

She hesitated. He could tell that she would have normally declined, but with all that was going on, she was obviously thinking it over.

"It'll take the edge off," he said, tossing one over to her along with his lighter.

She lit the cigarette and started to take a drag. She coughed before she could inhale it all the way, and he chuckled.

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's just funny to see someone who doesn't smoke try to smoke."

"It's not funny," she said, throwing the cigarette down.

"I think you're turning green!"

She folded her arms.

He stopped laughing. "I'm sorry. I just need a good laugh sometimes."

"I can't see how you can laugh at a time like this. That woman's dead in there, and you're out here laughing."

"I said I was sorry. Look, we don't know that lady from Adam—Eve, for that matter. She fought, and she lost. If she'd given up the money, the robber might not have killed her. You worked in a diner. Isn't that what they teach you when you get robbed? Give them whatever they want?"

"Yeah, but maybe she was trying to fight for what was right, Wayne. Maybe she was trying to defend and hold on to what was hers. You don't have to pity her, but don't mock her."

"Hey, I wasn't mocking her. I didn't do it; blame the bad guys for the bad things." He thumped the ash off the cigarette. "Where are these cops? They should've been here by now, don't you think?"

Pamela stood and paced. "I don't know why you're asking me. How should I know?"

"Don't be mad at me, Pam. I said I was sorry. She's another person who died needlessly. Can we both just agree on that and leave it alone?"

"All right." She sighed. "It's just... I've never had to deal with—"

"Not many people have. Don't worry about it."

"Do you ever get over things like this?"

"Yeah, eventually. You never forget, but it fades." Hearing something on the breeze, he stood. "You hear that? Sounds like... yep, a siren."

A squad car crested the hill, lights and sirens blaring. The siren cut off when the car neared the gas station. When it stopped, a male police officer got out and walked over to them. The officer towered over Wayne, and his sleeves drew tight around his biceps. He reminded Wayne of the young soldiers in Vietnam that were just out of training. A pretty boy, too. Wayne glanced at the man's perfectly tanned arms and face, and he couldn't see a spot that hadn't been shaved, groomed, or otherwise cleaned to impeccability. He had short black hair, and barely had any left on the sides.

"I'm Deputy Polaski, Mobile County Sheriff's Department."

Wayne crossed his arms. "They only send one of you guys to a robbery-slash-homicide?"

"We're short on manpower, sir." The deputy pulled out a notepad and a pen. "Where's the body?"

Pamela pointed toward the gas station's front door. The officer walked over to the door and opened it, then stepped inside and took a long look around. Wayne approached the door, but the officer held up his hand. "Please don't come in."

"I've already been in there once. Afraid I'll contaminate the evidence?"

"No, sir. I just need to do my walkaround. If there's anyone else in here, I don't want you to be in harm's way."

In harm's way? Does he expect me to believe someone would be hiding in here all this time, waiting for the best chance to make his escape? Wayne shook his head. Sometimes I wonder if cops aren't just robots with good disguises.

Polaski proceeded around the pool of blood, turned the corner at the end of the counter, then walked slowly to the body. He donned a pair of latex gloves, then lifted her up on one side and turned her over. "What the hell?"

"What is it?" Wayne asked.

"Her throat. It's gone."

Pamela's eye widened. "Gone?"

Polaski manipulated the woman's head and body. "Her throat has been ripped out. It's not here." He set the body down, then glanced down the aisle behind the counter with interest. He removed his gloves slowly and drew his pistol.

Wayne and Pamela took a quick step back. Polaski walked slowly toward the back door. Wayne traced the trail of blood on the ground that Polaski seemed to be following. Reaching the back wall, the officer turned and put his back against it, then took a deep breath. Polaski kicked the door, then darted into the back alley. His gun out in front, the officer turned left and right, then looked up. He disappeared from view into the alley, then returned to Wayne and Pamela at the front door and holstered his sidearm. "Well, I found it."

"Found... what?" Pamela asked, putting her hand over her heart.

"The rest of her throat," the officer said.

"Why would anyone tear out someone's throat and carry it to a back alley?" Wayne asked, staring at the officer's pale face. "Doesn't sound like a robber."

"Well, it looks like someone or something was..." The officer grimaced like he'd taken a bite out of a lemon. "Eating it."

"Eating it?" Pamela gasped. "You must be joking."

"No, ma'am, I'm not joking. It looks like something was eating the throat," the officer said nervously.

Wayne turned when he heard a scream from outside. His skin tingled when he saw the look of horror on Pamela's face.

She pushed past Wayne and sprinted into the parking lot. "Nadene! My baby!"

Rushing out behind her, he heard the horn of the car and saw a man reaching into the passenger's window.

* * *

Nadene turned around in her seat as flashing blue lights illuminated the interior of the car. The deputy stepped out and approached her mother and Wayne. She reached into her pocket when she felt her phone vibrate. Sally Nelson. She clicked the center button and read the text. What's up?

She typed her reply. Crazy stuff. Sitting at a gas station. Someone was killed. She looked through the window to her right and watched Pamela and Wayne talking to the deputy.

Sally's reply came back fast. Sick people in Mobile. Police trying to keep control at the hospitals. We're trying to make it back home.

She shook her head. Back home, she typed. Riots? The battery low, she set the phone down and looked at the storefront. The officer had gone inside, and her mother and Wayne stood at the front door and seemed to be talking to the officer.

The cell phone vibrated in her lap. We went to the hospital to get my dad, but we couldn't get through, she read. Typing a reply, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She put the phone in her pocket, then looked to the left and saw a man walking across the parking lot a hundred feet or so from the car.

She rolled down her window and leaned out. "Sir?"

The man stopped and turned slowly. Is he drunk? She squinted. Is that... blood? In an instant, her ears and neck got hot, and her pulse raced. The man started toward the car. Her hand trembling, she cranked the window's handle. Coming around the car, the man had a crazed look in his eye, a dead stare unlike anything she had ever seen.

"Come on! Come on!" she shouted, as if yelling at the window might make it go up faster.

The man reached through the opening with his filthy hand and grabbed her hair. She screamed and tried to pry his fingers from her head. Breaking his grip, she climbed over to the driver's seat and honked the horn. Mom's gun. It's in here. She opened the center console. She threw the contents out and located her mother's revolver. She pointed it at the man and tried to steady her breathing.
Chapter 5

Nadene saw her mother stop halfway across the parking lot, then put her hands over her mouth and let out a muffled gasp. "Oh God! Help!"

"Freeze!" the deputy yelled, pulling his pistol and taking aim. "Hands up or I'll shoot!"

Nadene knew that the man could hear the officer shouting because she could, despite the man's growling. The man tried to break the window by punching it, then kicked the side of the car. She heard the crack of a gunshot, and she saw the deputy with his gun pointed in the air.

The officer lowered the gun, bringing it in line with the madman. "This is your last chance. Hands over your head or I'll burn you down!"

Refusing to obey, the man ignored the officer's commands and kept trying to get into the car. The deputy took aim and fired. The bullet struck the man in the shoulder. Blood sprayed onto the car's windshield, and the man faltered. He slowly stood upright again.

"I know I hit the bastard!" The deputy steadied his weapon and pulled the trigger again.

The second shot hit the man in the lower back. He stumbled a few steps, then righted himself. When the man struck the window with his fist, it shattered, and he bent over and reached into the car for Nadene.

Memories of her recent nightmares flashing through her head, Nadene squeezed the trigger. Her ears rang from the sudden blast. A spray of blood erupted in a mist, and she fired again. The third round hit the windshield, and the fourth bullet struck the man in the head. He went limp. She fired two more shots into his back. She pulled the trigger a few more times, but the gun was empty. Blood leaked from the exit wound in the back of his head, and she pushed the driver's door open and stumbled out. She tried to spit the copper taste from her mouth, but she couldn't get rid of it. Somebody else's blood? In my mouth? Sick.

She watched the blood drain from the stranger's head, and her cocktail of emotions mixed into a fatal brew. She felt powerful, for she had stopped that which was trying to do her harm. A parent or a friend hadn't been there to stop it. The police had no part in the act. She had defended herself, and although she was frightened, a certain strength welled up inside her.

Approaching, the deputy kept his pistol on the man, then looked over at Nadene. "Are you okay, miss?"

"I'm fine." Nadene dragged her sleeve across her face to clear away the blood and tears. "Why was he trying to kill me?"

Pamela ran over and grabbed Nadene, enveloping her in a tight embrace. "I don't know, baby. Did he hurt you?"

"He pulled my hair kind of hard," she said, touching the top of her head. She winced from the pain. "Ouch!"

Examining Nadene's head, Pamela reached into her pocket. "It's bleeding a little." She pulled out a napkin and handed it over. "Hold this on there."

"Mobile-Twenty-Three to headquarters," Polaski said, grasping a radio mic on his shoulder in one hand and his pistol in the other.

Nadene, her knees weak, leaned across the trunk of the car where the others had gathered. Did I kill that man? She took a few deep breaths. Was he alive? He looked like something out of those horror movies.

"Mobile-Twenty-Three, go ahead."

"Mobile-Twenty-Three, need backup as soon as possible to this location. The clerk is deceased inside, and I have discharged my weapon on a suspect who was trying to attack a civilian."

"Mobile-Twenty-Three, all units are tied up on other calls. Stand by at location, secure, and wait for backup."

"Ten-four." Polaski sighed, then turned toward the others. "Well, looks like we're going to be here for a while."

Wayne folded his arms. "Considering how long it took you to get here, I guess you're right."

"Look, we're doing the best we can, okay?" Polaski pointed at Wayne. "I just got off a fight with three suspects before coming out here, and I had to fight them by myself!"

Wayne chuckled. "That's what you get paid the big bucks for, isn't it?"

Polaski shook his head, then licked his lips. "Give it a rest, old man."

Nadene watched him approach the robber's body, keeping the gun trained on the corpse. She pushed off the car to spit, but she couldn't rid her mouth of the metallic taste.

"Are you planning on killing him again, officer?" Wayne asked, folding his arms.

Polaski ignored him. He reached into the car and felt the neck of the man, but he pulled back quickly.

"So, is he dead or what?"

"Yeah, he's dead, but he's cold. And he's got all these wounds all over him like the clerk had on her throat." Polaski backed away without turning his back on the body. He glanced at Wayne, then did a double-take and raised his weapon.

Wayne threw up his hands. "Whoa, there, partner. No need to get crazy. I won't make any smart remarks about the guy anymore, okay?"

"Don't shoot!" Pamela said, grabbing Polaski by the shoulder.

Polaski jerked away, then pointed at Wayne. "Get down!"

Nadene saw a woman, covered in blood and ambling toward them, through the front windows of the gas station. "What the..."

Wayne shouted, "Holy shit!" at about the same time that Pamela blurted, "Oh my God!"

The clerk crept toward the door, then placed her bloody hands on the handle and awkwardly pushed it open. Barely through, she let go of the handle, and the door closed on her foot, causing her to stumble.

Polaski stuttered, "Ma'am... are you okay... err... How can you be alive?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she continued walking toward them, and Nadene could see the blank stare in her eyes.

Polaski raised his free hand, the pistol trained on the woman. "All right. That's close enough. Stop right there!"

Ignoring the officer's order, the woman staggered toward them.

"Ma'am, if you come any closer, I will open fire. I'm giving you to the count of three to stop where you are and show me your hands!"

Nadene's stomach turned when the woman came into the bright fluorescent lights above the pumps. Her wounds gaped open, and her cold, gray eyes reflected no light. The front of her light blue uniform was drenched with blood. She groaned hideously as she approached.

Shaking violently, Nadene grabbed her chest. Her skin was on fire, and her head felt like it was about to explode. What's—happening—to—me... She buried her head in her hands and tried to fight the pain.

Polaski gripped the pistol with both hands and fired a shot into the woman's chest. The bullet passed through her and painted the glass door behind her. She shifted backward two or three steps, absorbing the shot, then stood upright and started toward them again.

"Shoot her in the head!" Wayne grabbed Pamela and Nadene and hid behind the deputy.

"Right between the eyes," Polaski whispered. He fired, and the woman fell, landing on the ground with a raspy exhalation.

Pamela crouched next to Nadene and yelled, "What the hell is going on?"

Polaski dropped his pistol to his side, the muscles in his hand tense. "I don't know."

"Zombies," Nadene said, glaring at the robber's body through her frazzled hair. "That's what they are."

"No such thing." Polaski took hold of his radio mic. "Mobile-Twenty-Three, headquarters—"

"What do you call that, then?" Nadene asked, pointing at the dead man sticking out of their car, then at the clerk. "Or that?"

The radio squawked. "Go ahead, Mobile-Twenty-Three."

"Stand by one." Releasing his mic, Polaski stared at Nadene. "It's impossible. People can't just come back to life."

"Can't?" Wayne gestured at the clerk's body. "Think about it. If you could walk around, would you sit in your own blood for an hour? There couldn't have been any blood left in her body."

"Look, we're not doctors. How do we know what can and can't happen—"

"You don't have to be a doctor to know she was dead. She was dead, Officer. She's right," Wayne said, folding his arms. "You know she is. There's no other explanation."

"Mobile-Twenty-Three, headquarters," Polaski said into his mic.

"Go ahead."

"Ten-four... Be advised, the clerk stood up and was approaching me and these civilians in an aggressive manner. I discharged my weapon, and she's deceased... again."

The radio remained silent.

"Do you copy my traffic, headquarters?"

"Ten... Ten-four... copy," the operator said. "Two subjects down at your location."

"What can you advise on my backup?"

"I can't advise."

"Ten-four. Go ahead and show Mobile-Twenty-Three clear of this scene. Advise Coroner's office for pickup. I'm ten-seven."

"Negative, Mobile-Twenty-Three," the operator said hastily. "Mobile-One advised all units must remain in service until—"

Switching off his radio, Polaski looked back at Pamela and Wayne. "My name's John. John Polaski. What's yours?"

"I'm Wayne Scarborough," Wayne extended his open hand, "and this is Pam..."

"Schafer, and this is my daughter Nadene."

Nadene cast a curious eye at her mother. She had always used Kent as her last name, but she followed her mother's lead. She liked the idea of getting rid of her father's surname. "I'm Dina... Nadene. Schafer."

"Well, where were you folks going?" John asked.

Pamela shrugged. "We have family in Texas, but anywhere safe will do. You're 'ten-seven?' What does that mean?"

"Off-duty."

Wayne furrowed his brow. "Just like that?"

"Let's just say that you don't have to draw a picture for me to know when sugar has turned to shit." John pulled the slide back a little, examined the chamber, and let go. "I can't help what's going on now. Nobody can. You get to a point where you have to worry about yourself."

"Where will you go from here?" Pamela asked.

"South."

"South?"

"To Mobile."

"Where in Mobile?" Wayne asked.

John put his gun back in his holster. "Downtown, the hospital."

"Are you sick?"

"I need to get someone."

"You can't. It's suicide to go that way," Nadene said. "My friend just texted me and said that the people are out of control. Riots. More like a town full of zombies."

John eyed her through a pause. "I can't just leave her there. I have to get her." He opened the trunk and pulled out a rifle.

"Whoa, I haven't seen one of those in person since Vietnam!" Wayne said.

John smiled. "The AR-15. Standard issue these days."

"Really?" Wide-eyed, Wayne stared at the weapon.

"Ever since the Hollywood robberies all those years back, they keep us equipped with one. Smooth," John ran his hand across the magazine, then along the forestock, "and accurate."

Pamela shook her head. "You can't go to Mobile."

"And why not?"

"The streets are blocked as far north as Grand Bay, and if these..." She sighed. "If zombies are all over Mobile, you won't make it."

"If your daughter was in Mobile," John glanced at Nadene, "would you go back for her?"

Pamela stared at Nadene. "Yes, but—"

"Then you understand." John closed the trunk, then walked around to the driver's side of the squad car. "Best of luck to you folks."

Wayne waved, and Pamela wrapped her arm around Nadene's shoulders.

Am I going crazy? Nadene shook her head, her eye twitching uncontrollably. I just shot a man six times, and the cop's leaving? She watched the officer stick his rifle in the passenger side and start the engine.

John threw the car in drive and made a U-turn, heading toward Mobile.

"Well, that's that," Wayne said. "You have any towels in there?"

"Towels?" Pamela asked.

"Yeah, to... clean up the front seat." Wayne extended his hand. "You know..."

"Yeah." Pamela opened the trunk, dug through the boxes, and tossed Wayne a towel. "Good idea."

"You okay, Pam?"

She rubbed her forehead and faced the ground. "I just don't know what to make of all of this. People coming back to life? Coming back to life..."

Wayne patted her on the arm. "We'll just have to do what we can to survive."

Pamela nodded.

Nadene stepped toward the road, watching the patrol car drive away. "Do you think he'll make it?"

"I don't know, honey," Pamela replied, walking over to Nadene and putting an arm around her shoulder. "I'd like to think so."

Turning, Nadene heard a thud, then saw the corpse—the man she had shot—hit the ground. Wayne opened the door and wiped away the blood and gore from the seats. When he finished, he said, "I'll turn on the pump. We still need gas."

"Did I do the right thing, Mom?" Nadene asked, watching Wayne go into the store.

Pamela furrowed her brow. "Of course, Dina. You did just what you were supposed to do."

Wayne put the gas nozzle in the tank and leaned against the car, waiting for it to fill. He put his hands in his pockets.

Nadene sat on the ground and stared at him. Two bodies on the ground still dripping blood, and he's filling the tank like nothing's happened. Maybe it makes him feel normal. She averted her gaze when Wayne looked her way, because she didn't want to get caught spying.

Nadene pulled out her cell phone, deleted what she had written before the attack, and typed into the phone. Walking corpses. Zombies. They're real. Don't take any chances. She hit the send button.

Suddenly, she leaned over, the agony of shooting the man overwhelming her. The ill feeling in her stomach peaked, and vomit erupted from her mouth. She felt a hand on her back and heard her mother say, "It's okay, Dina. It's okay."

* * *

"How's that gas coming?" Pamela asked, shutting the trunk.

"Can't take much more, I'd say. Fourteen gallons so far."

"Good." Pamela helped Nadene to her feet. "You okay now, honey?"

Nadene nodded, then looked up. What was that? She searched the distance for the source of the screeching noise, but she didn't see anything. Suddenly, a patrol car shot over the hill, caught air for a few feet, then slammed down onto the pavement.

Wayne returned the nozzle to its cradle, then joined them at the back of Pamela's car. "What the hell is that? The long-awaited backup?"

Pamela shook her head, then stared at the police car racing at them. "Maybe it's the same officer. He sure is driving fast."

Pointing to the south, Nadene screamed, and Wayne and Pamela turned.

Fifty or more people crested the hill, shambling toward the gas station in pursuit of the police car. Nadene heard a loud boom and saw shredded rubber and sparks flying out from the fender well of the car.

The patrol car slid to a stop, and John jumped out and ran to them, the driver's door still swinging. "Do you have room for one more?" Not waiting for a response, he opened the back door and climbed inside with his rifle. "Come on!"

Nadene ran to the passenger's side and climbed in, buckling her seat belt.

Wayne dragged Pamela to the driver's seat. "Get it started. We've got to get out of here."

Pamela turned the key and slammed it into drive. Wayne jumped in the back seat, and Pamela hit the gas.

"What the hell is going on?" Pamela shouted.

"The end of the world—" His hand shot up between the seats. "Look out!"

Jerking the wheel, Pamela steered the car to the left. The window shattered. Pamela slammed the brakes inches before hitting a tree. "What was that?"

"Keep going," John said.

Pamela reached for the door handle. "What if it was a person?"

"That's what I'm afraid of. Just forget it. Don't look back."

Pamela nodded slowly, turned the wheel, and cried quietly. Nadene hadn't seen her mother cry that much since her father left. She looked at her phone and punched the button. She forcefully pressed it a second time. Dead. Searching her backpack on the floor, she located her chargerand plugged it into the cigarette lighter.
Chapter 6

A voice roused Nadene from her nap. How long have I been out? She looked at her cell phone. At least it's charged up. Eight o'clock, she thought, glimpsing the darkness outside. Four new messages.

All of the messages were from Sally. Nadene read the first message: Getting crazy here. Zombies? You can't be serious. She scrolled to the second: Sick people walking the roads. Had to turn out all the lights. She went to the next: Heard gunshots and screaming near the front of the neighborhood. The last message said, Looks like they're biting people. Killed Mrs. Finch across the street. You were right. Write me back ASAP!

Nadene took a deep breath. What can I say? I'm powerless. She closed her eyes and hoped that Sally and her family were all right, but she couldn't deny that she felt relieved that she wasn't trapped in Grand Bay with the undead roaming all around her house. She typed: We're in Seven Hills. Trying to escape. I love you.

Putting the phone down, she glanced through the window and saw a road sign.

"What was that?" John asked.

"Seven Hills, that way. We had to go north a while," Pamela said, glancing at the rear view. "These little country roads don't connect to many others."

"Do you remember how far until the turn off?"

"Two miles."

"Stop in there. We can go by the sheriff's post," John leaned forward, "and get some gas."

"We don't need any gas. We've only been driving a couple of hours."

John pointed past her at the fuel gauge. "Yeah, you do."

"What?" Pamela tapped the instrument panel. "How can that be?"

"Must be leaking gas," Wayne said. "This isn't a brand new car, you know?"

Pamela shook her head. "Yeah, but it's nearly empty already. It's never done that."

"Well, it's doing it now. We'll see about getting another car in Seven Hills."

Wayne looked at John. "We should've taken your car."

"Nah, it wouldn't have worked."

"Why?"

John sighed. "I had a blowout when I landed. We didn't really have time to change a tire, you know?"

"You've got a point," Wayne said.

When the sign for Seven Hills came into view, Pamela took a right. Nadene read the sign marking the town's limits. Seven Hills—A Quiet Community—Population: 851. Pamela stopped the car on a hill overlooking the widespread rural community.

"I wonder how many of those eight hundred forty-two are sick with that virus," John said, gazing at the valleys between seven high spots. "I didn't bring that much ammo."

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?" Wayne asked.

Pamela turned around in her seat. "You aren't going to shoot them just because they're sick, are you?"

"Just sick?" Wayne shook his head. "No. But if they're... changed like the ones back there at that gas station? You better believe one of us is going to shoot instead of asking questions."

John nodded and checked his rifle. "You got that right. If they refuse to stop, they'll get a tap to the forehead to let them know I mean business."

"What about the rest of us?" Pamela asked. "My gun's out of bullets, and you're the only one with a weapon."

"If we can get to the sheriff's post, it'll have more guns."

"Sheriff's post?" Wayne asked.

"Mobile's a big county. We maintain a couple of smaller posts so we don't have to rely on just one location. This one's called Seven Hills EOC."

"What's an EOC?"

"Emergency Operations Center. Down the street a little from the fire station." John pointed at the street ahead. "Just head that way."

Pamela grasped the steering wheel and stared at her lap.

"You okay?" John patted her shoulder. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'm not feeling well. I need a break, I think."

Wayne said, "I'll drive. Would you like that, Pam?"

She nodded and switched places with Wayne.

John tapped Nadene on the shoulder. "You mind if we switch places, Dina? Might be better if I can shoot forward if needed."

"Sure," Nadene said, then got out and climbed in the back seat with her mother.

Wayne stepped on the gas, and the car lurched forward. John stuck the tip of his rifle through the narrow crack in the window, and they slowly made their way to the edge of the rural town center. Nadene sat with her hands clenched in her lap, fearful of what lay behind every bush or darkened window.

Cutting on the radio, Wayne squinted, then turned up the volume. The short message was advising people of evacuation plans: places to meet for pickup, safety instructions, and short bits of no-brainer survival information. Nadene shook her head at the message and thought, As if we really need someone to tell us to stock up on food and water? I guess there are people out there who must be told to breathe, too.

"They're talking about going to the fire station on the radio," Wayne said. "Might be worth taking a look. Maybe they can take us to Texas."

* * *

The town of Seven Hills was small, and like most small towns Nadene had visited, it was centered on the post office, the town hall, and the fire department. Retail businesses lined the main street that ran north to south through town, and homes had been built throughout the surrounding area. Parked cars fronted the shops, and a church, its steeple rising into the heavens, stood with its face toward the road. Nadene stared at the stores and houses with shallow breaths, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"There's a sheriff's car," Pamela said, pointing down the street. "Is that the EOC building?"

John nodded. "Looks like Sergeant Henry's car."

"You can tell who it is? Cop cars all look the same to me," Wayne said.

"It's got one of the newer light bars on the top, and it's a newer model. He likes to hang out on the north end, too."

"Sounds like you two were quite the pair, pretty boy," Wayne said, giving John a wink.

John shook his head and pointed, obviously offended by the poke at his masculinity. "Just pull in there."

Wayne pulled over behind the patrol car.

John leaned forward, examining the police car, and Nadene peeked between the seats. Someone was sitting in the driver's seat of the car, their head tilted slightly, as if he was looking in the rear view mirror to see what was behind him.

"I'll talk to him," John said, getting out of the car. He walked up to the driver's side window and leaned down.

"He's ugly..." Nadene whispered, her skin itching. The itching turned to burning. She rocked back and forth, and Pamela leaned forward, rubbernecking.

* * *

John touched the side of the car, then jumped back. What the hell?

Henry's left eye dangled out of the socket and rolled back and forth like a pendulum across his cheek, and his jugular had been ripped out. Blood had soaked the left side of his uniform, the dark crimson a stark contrast to the khaki. John hadn't noticed before, but the side of the police car had blood running down it. He looked at his hands, covered in blood, and, examining the side of the car and the nearby sidewalk, he saw hand prints on the concrete. Somebody climbed out of here.

"Oh my God," John whispered. Henry reached out toward John, but the living corpse was trapped in the driver's seat by its seat belt. Henry moaned, but little sound escaped because most of the air bubbled out in the blood that trickled from the open wound in his throat.

John scanned his surroundings and reached for his weapon. He noticed streaks of blood running down the windows of some of the stores and houses. Some of the glass was broken out altogether. A few of the doors had been left ajar. He didn't want to face whatever lay behind the tattered blinds and curtains by himself.

He returned to the car, then said, "This isn't good. He's one of them, one of those things. We should make a plan, get what we need, and get out."

"We can't leave. The car's leaking gas," Wayne said, looking down at the instrument panel. "It's probably running on fumes."

"Well, we might be better off on foot. We need to get to the fire station, and we need to be quiet about it. If we take the car, it could run out of gas on us, and it's a lot louder than walking."

Pamela threw her hands up. "Go on foot? Are you crazy? There could be hundreds out there."

"I think it would be the best thing to do, too," Wayne said. "We would stand a better chance without the car."

"We're going to have to find guns, too. They may have some in the lockup in the EOC."

Pamela looked at Nadene and said, "We need thirty-eight caliber bullets for mine."

"Don't worry about that. A thirty-eight won't do you much good. We'll get you a forty."

Wayne shook his head. "No, we'd better find some rounds for her gun. A forty's a lot to handle if you've only used a thirty-eight. Besides, the thirty-eight worked on that one back at the gas station."

"Fine. I'm going to grab the shotgun from Henry's car. Anybody can use one of those."

"I'll take it," Wayne said. He turned the car off and stepped out.

"Come on, honey." Pamela grinned. "We'll get through this."

"Don't look in there." John drew his pistol. "Just go to the door to the EOC and wait for me."

Pamela gestured at the car. "What about all of our stuff?"

"We'll get it in a second. For now, we need to get weapons." John walked up to the patrol car's passenger side door again, and with some measure of hesitation, he studied Henry's movements, waiting for the opportune time to grab the shotgun. It's just hanging there, John thought, glancing at the release switch. Just have to snag it and run.

He snatched the shotgun and pulled it free from its holder. Henry's hand brushed his forearm, and the contact sent a rush of chills all over John's body. Closing the door, John turned toward the others, then breathed a sigh and joined them.

"He's trapped in there, but he tried to grab me," John said, handing the shotgun to Wayne. "His skin is like ice."

Wayne smirked. "Maybe they really are dead, eh, Officer?"

"I would've put him out of his misery if it wouldn't alert the rest of them, however many there may be."

"Good idea." Wayne inspected the shotgun, then pointed it at the door of the EOC building. "Ready?"

John nodded, put his index finger over his mouth and whispered, "Shh. Be as quiet as possible. Don't scream and don't talk. I'll be in the front, so follow my lead. Let's go."

* * *

Nadene watched John turn the handle and push open the door. He clicked on the flashlight attached to his rifle and scanned the pitch-black room beyond. He stepped in, followed by Wayne, and Nadene entered after her mother. She felt like their footsteps were pounding against the floor, ringing a dinner bell to the monsters likely hiding within. She understood how prey must feel before the kill: afraid, helpless, and unknowing of what was in the darkness.

Inside the door sat several desks and tables. Must be a common office space. She noticed a hallway set in the middle of the wall across from the exit door, then gazed at the barred window next to it.

"There," John said, pointing his rifle at the barred window. "Storage. If they have any guns, they'll be inside."

John stopped. Shining his light into the store room behind the bars, John stared at a heavyset man. He wore a uniform like John's and stumbled around as if he was in a daze, his right hand missing but not gushing blood. The wound secreted a viscous black substance that flowed down his fingers like syrup straight out of the refrigerator.

"Psst," John hissed.

The man slowly turned around, and John took aim. "Right between the eyes." John fired. The man tensed up and collapsed to the floor.

John crept over to the open doorway, stepped out, glanced inside, then stepped backward. "Clear."

"How do we get in there?" Wayne asked.

"The door's down the hall. This way." John led the way, and Nadene and the others followed. They reached another door at the end.

John turned the knob. "Locked." He turned to stand in front of the door, gave it a stout kick next to the knob, and the door flew open. The heavyset man lay on the floor with a pool of black liquid forming around his head.

Scanning with his rifle, John tiptoed into the room, shooting a look at Wayne. "Watch the hallway."

Wayne turned around and readied the shotgun. Nadene entered and locked eyes on the body lying on the floor. She didn't feel disturbed by the sight of the man, the blood, or his injuries. Things like that used to scare the hell out of me. Maybe it doesn't because I know he won't come back again? A large table took up most of the far wall, and shelves of numbered boxes and envelopes dominated the right side.

John pulled a few cases out from the back of the room and set them on the table. He opened the cases and handed out the weapons. "They're all loaded and ready to rock." He opened the last case and pulled out what looked like a machine gun. "Wow! Would you look at that?"

"What's that?" Pamela asked.

"That is an MP5," he replied. "It's a nine millimeter machine gun. Pull the trigger once, and it keeps throwin' out rounds until it's dry."

"Is that good?"

"Yes... and no. It's a great gun, great firepower, but the only way we've been able to kill them is by shooting 'em in the head. And you can't hit something in the head on full auto. We'll take it anyway, just in case we run across some living people that give us some trouble."

"Living people?" Pamela clutched her throat.

"Yeah, like raiders, but we shouldn't waste automatic weapons on those," John pointed at the dead body, "if at all possible."

John handed the hunting rifle over to Pamela, and gave Nadene the shotgun. He gave Wayne the new assault rifle and took his modified version back.

Nadene had never held a shotgun before. She had a hard time keeping the barrel from drooping toward the floor. "It's heavy."

"I know, honey, but you might need it," Pamela replied.

John strapped the MP5 to his back, then helped Nadene. "Point at the head and pull the trigger. Hold on to it, 'cause it's going to be loud and try to jump out of your hands. Every time you shoot, pull this toward you," he grasped the handle pump, "to reload it. If that doesn't work, get me or Wayne to cock it for you. We'll worry about reloading later on."

Nadene nodded and tightened the strap on the shotgun. The bottom of the gun dangled close to the floor, and the top of the barrel stood higher than her head. She felt awkward carrying a gun that was almost the same size as her.

"Let's go," John said, walking out of the storage room and back into the hallway.

Suddenly, the lights shut off, and emergency lights in the halls flicked on.

"Not good," John said.

"Why?" Pamela asked, looking around nervously.

"These interior doors are, for the most part, magnetic. Without power, they open up," he replied.

Hearing a creaking sound, Nadene turned as the door at the end of the hall crept open. A pair of decrepit hands poked through. John pointed his weapon—and flashlight—down the hallway, illuminating the faces of the walking corpses.

"They must have heard the gun shot," John whispered, pressing the butt of the rifle into his shoulder. Wayne took aim.

Two shots rang out, and the first two zombies, a male deputy and a female clerk, fell face first to the floor.

The other two picked up speed, their arms outstretched toward Nadene. One let out a tortured moan and the other gurgled like it was choking on its own blood. Lurching down the hall, they kept their hungry eyes locked on their targets. Wayne and John fired at the same time, dropping the walkers.

"Let's get moving before the rest of the town comes in here," John said, heading toward the exit.

John opened the outer door, but he immediately shut it. "They're coming this way. Damn! They must think there's someone in here."

"Well, they'd be right, wouldn't they?" Pamela asked.

John looked around, ignoring her, then dragged a desk over to the door. "Gimme a hand!"

Wayne pushed the desk from the other end until it blocked the door.

"Those things shouldn't be able to get through that," John said with a final shove on the desk, then stared at the ceiling. "If we get on top of this desk, we could get into the ceiling. Those panels are easy to take off, and we could sit on the cross beams."

Wayne nodded. "We had better do something. What do you need me to do?"

"Hoist me up."

John climbed onto the desk first, and Wayne followed, then lifted John into the rafters.

"Grab my hand. I'll pull you up," John said, reaching down toward Wayne.

"Pam and Dina go first." Wayne helped Pamela and Nadene onto the desk and into the ceiling space, then climbed up last. Once seated on the beam, Wayne held out his open hand toward John. "Here, I'll slide the panel back into place."

Leaving a slight opening between the panels, Wayne dusted off his hands. John pulled out his flashlight and shined it around the ceiling cavity. Nadene squinted when the beam of light hit a particularly unusual shape in the corner of the crawl space, then tapped John on the shoulder and pointed. "You see that? In that corner?"

"It looks like some boxes and stuff," John said, then made his way down the first beam to another girder that ran all the way to the boxes. He inched closer toward them.

"That's close enough," a voice said.

Nadene heard a click that sounded like the hammer of a pistol being pulled back. Her pulse raced, and her palms grew sweaty. She closed her eyes, unwilling to witness John getting shot.

John must have heard it because he froze in place. "Don't shoot. We're just trying to find a safe place." He put his hands out in the air at his sides.

"Nowhere's safe. Those bastards are everywhere."

"Farley?" John asked, and Nadene opened her eyes.

"Who are you?" the voice asked.

"Polaski."

"Goddammit, John... I would've thought you'd go back to Mobile for Steph."

He sighed and stared downward. "Couldn't. Tried, but I couldn't get through."

"Sorry to hear that, brother. That's a damned shame."

"Yeah." John wiped his nose, and Nadene could have sworn she saw a tear in his eye. "Well, we're trying to get somewhere safe. You heard anything?"

"Nope, no safe place in all of Seven Hills, except for my little spot here. Not since those damned things showed up, anyway. I got what I could, you see. I got this stuff here, and I got in this corner where they can't get me. I may be the only one left in this whole town that's still alive. Except for you, maybe. You look alive to me, and I found out that the walkers out there aren't much for conversation."

"What happened here?" John asked, resting himself on the rafter beneath him.
Chapter 7

The man gulped, and said, "I guess you haven't been payin' attention to the radios and the TV. Some kind of virus. It got all of 'em. Now, they're out there walkin' around all messed up."

"Why didn't you try to get out when you had a chance?" John asked.

"It happened too fast. One minute, we were sitting in the room below, the next, shit hit the fan. Everybody on the north end—as far as I know—is dead, John." Farley heaved a sigh. "The bastards aren't smart enough to climb up here, so I'm just going to wait until this blows over." Farley switched on his battery-powered lamp. Despite how hot the ceiling space was, he was piled under a few blankets and had enough supplies for at least a couple of weeks.

"What will you do when you run out of food?" John asked.

"Well, this whole thing should be over by then. If not, I'll try to move out from here and get as far as I can."

"We're trying to get to Texas, but our car broke down," Pamela said, interrupting the conversation. "They said something about an evacuation on the radio. The fire station? Is anyone still there?"

Farley laughed uncontrollably. "Fire station? The radio said for everybody to go there? Oh, yeah, they're there all right. Don't think you'll want to meet them, though. It was a death trap. The people started coming from all over. The more that came, the more that got eaten. It was a disaster. I was looking out that roof vent down there," he pointed across the space, "when a couple of buses pulled up. Everybody got off and everybody got killed by the things."

"They sent the people there on purpose?" Pamela asked.

"Nah," Farley replied. "I just think the radio and TV station people didn't know any better. They were just goin' by what the government said."

"Where's this vent?" John asked.

"Straight down the beam you're on now."

John walked along the girder toward the far wall. Reaching the end of the support, he pushed open the slots of the vent, and Nadene and the others joined him. He took a quick look outside, then moved over enough for Nadene to see out.

Across the parking lot, she saw several zombies wandering around the parked cars. Some were trapped in their vehicles by the seat belts they had worn in life, just like the one John had encountered in the police car outside. They must not have the sense to unbuckle and join the others, she thought. Several large buses were parked at random around the fire department, some with windows completely covered in blood or shattered.

Past the parking lot sat the fire station. The walls, vehicles, and asphalt were stained with bloody hand prints. The doors swung back and forth on their hinges, and the walkers wandered aimlessly through the open bays.

"We have to come up with a better plan," John said. "What do we know and how can we apply it?"

"Well, we know that they don't talk," Wayne said. "They just moan and groan and chase after you."

"We also know that if they bite you, you'll turn into one of 'em," John said, then shook his head. "I can't believe this shit is actually happening."

"The bites, are you sure that's how it's transmitted?" Pamela asked. "Maybe she was somewhere one of the missiles went off."

"No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"We know because that woman, who had no throat and probably no blood left in her body, was working in a gas station when she was attacked. The nearest missile strike was Atlanta, so she would've had to drive from Atlanta—with all of that traffic—and get to work four hours away. It doesn't add up. Something else happened."

"What do you think causes it, though?" Nadene asked. Blood in your mouth? She didn't want to say it. She had tasted the zombie's blood, and she couldn't decide if revealing that secret would help anyone. If I tell them, will they try to kill me? Will they wait to see what happens? Will I change into one of those... creatures?

John put his hand on Nadene's shoulder. "FEMA talked briefly about the missiles using a mist delivery system. If the virus isn't airborne, it must require fluid transfer. Blood, saliva—"

Blood... She fought to control her breathing. I can't say anything. I'm infected... I'm going to become... Turning away, she stared through the vent at the walkers in the parking lot. Better to try to help them get to safety. I'll take my chances. See how long I last.

"Right." Wayne nodded. "Now, what about the explanation? The reason why they've come back to life?"

John shook his head. "If there is one, I doubt we'll be able to guess it. Better to focus on what we know and what we can do to survive."

Wayne nodded. "You're probably right. What next then?"

"Right now, we need to survive and get the hell out of here. Whatever it takes." John held his gun tightly in both hands and raised it up. "This is the law now. It's all a matter of the caliber."

"We can't behave like that." Pamela folded her arms. "We're not animals. We have to hold on to what makes us us."

"Yeah, with the living who don't want to kill us," Wayne said, smiling at Pam. "Let's just relax and try to think of things to help. Okay, John?"

John sighed, then nodded and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Loud noises attract them," Nadene said. "And they know who hasn't been infected. They don't attack their own."

"That's true," John said. "So, we can assume they can see, hear, and smell. What else?"

"They're pretty damned strong," Farley said. "I had to fight one when I got out of my car. They turn fast, too. One of 'em came up, bit another guy on the neck, and he died. I tried to grab my gun to shoot it, but the other one was already waking back up. I didn't want to fight two at once, so I just ran." Farley shifted in his pile of supplies. Nadene figured that the steel rafters couldn't have been comfortable for his aging frame.

Pamela stared into the darkness. "And you shoot 'em in the head."

"One hundred percent correct," Farley said. He made a hand gesture of a gun and pointed at his temple. "Bang! In the head."

"...but they come toward loud noises," Nadene said.

"We can walk faster than them, though. They just kinda stumble around," Wayne said. "We shoot the ones we have to shoot to survive, and we move faster than the ones we don't have to kill."

John nodded. "So, we need to consider what to do now. We know we want to go west, but we need a vehicle of some kind. It needs to be sturdy. Something that will give some measure of safety." He gestured at the vent. "One of those buses might be good if the door can be reinforced. We need more weapons and ammo, too, and if it's going to take a couple of days—which it probably will—we'll need food and some basic medical supplies."

"I saw a small market on the way into town," Pamela said. "We could get food there and maybe some first aid stuff."

Wayne rubbed his eyebrows. "We have enough guns, but we need ammo. I saw a gun store back a ways. It might be hard to get into with all the bars on the windows, but it's worth a shot."

John turned toward the vent overlooking the fire department. "Now, it's just a matter of getting a sturdy vehicle."

"There must be dozens of them out there." Pamela shook her head. "There's too many for us to fight."

"Keep your voice down, Pam. We wouldn't want them to hear," Wayne said, touching Pamela on the shoulder. "They might figure out a way to get up here if they think something tasty's hiding here."

Nadene closed her eyes, her skin tingling and her stomach turning. John went and crouched down on the rafter where they had come up and slowly lifted a panel.

"Shh, listen," John whispered.

* * *

A beam of light shone across John's eyes as he looked through the small opening he had made. A zombie was rummaging around the desks. It looked confused, as if trying to locate something it couldn't find. John gazed over his shoulder at the others and put his index finger over his mouth. After removing the panel, he firmly gripped his flashlight.

John slowly lowered himself onto the desk, landing as quietly as possible behind the walker. The zombie was clad in a gray uniform with an American flag on one shoulder and postal service markings on the other. His pale face reflected the glow of the emergency lighting in the room. His cloudy pale eyes stared into oblivion, and he sniffed at the air. Turning slowly, the creature bared his teeth, and he made a gurgling, growling sound. With arms stretched out, the corpse started toward John, eyes wide and mouth open.

John grabbed the monster's uniform and tried to hold him in place. He swung the flashlight as hard as he could. The first strike had no effect, but John kept swinging. The zombie's cold hands around his neck, John struggled to breath. Damned thing's got the strength of three men!

Driven by the thought of being eaten alive by a dead postman, John kept swinging. He lost count of how many times he'd hit the walker's skull. When the creature relaxed his grip, John breathed a sigh of relief. He shoved the body away as hard as he could.

Blood and gray matter drained from a split in the corpse's head and onto the floor. John collected himself and looked around the room for any other threats. He heard the ones outside faintly slapping against the outer door, but only one must have gotten inside. If any more had been in here, they would've come when they heard the fighting. John got on the desk, reached up to Wayne, and climbed back into the ceiling space.

"You know, we might be able to use something to make a distraction," John said climbing to the rafter. "Something to draw those things away from that fire station. Something loud that the whole town can hear."

"Ya'know, one of those police cars would do the trick. Turn the siren on and leave it across town. You could hear that for miles, probably," Wayne said.

Farley piped up again. "Across town? Fine. But you better make sure that police car is away from here before you do that! If you bring them all here, it'll be a serious problem for me!"

"So you're just going to sit here? For what?" Pamela asked.

"I'm not goin' back out there, missy. I'm not goin' nowhere. I'm going to sit right here and hole up, and if you people had any sense, you wouldn't be goin' out there again to get yourselves eat up by those damned things."

"We've got to get out of here. We have to try," Wayne said.

"You people are fuckin' crazy," Farley said. "If you go back out there, don't come askin' for my help when you get in trouble."

John made eye contact with each of them, then gestured at the panel. He lowered himself, then helped the others down. When everyone was down, he said, "All right, first, we clear our way to the police car. The keys were still in it, so all we need to do is pull that dead guy out, take the car across town, and turn on the siren. We wait until those things start coming out, then we move back across town. We can collect supplies from whatever stores we find on the way back."

"Well, what about when we start going back? They'll come toward the cop car with the siren going, so won't they chase us as we're trying to get away?" Wayne asked.

John wiped his face. "If we head away from the car toward the edge of town, we may be able to circle around the biggest groups of them. Then we wait off to the side for a while and make our way back to the fire station when it clears up."

Wayne nodded, then looked at Pamela and Nadene. Pamela bobbed her head in agreement.

"All right," John said, pulling on the desk. "When we open this door, the whole town could be waiting out there. So, we're going to open up just a little bit and take a look first."

Wayne grabbed the other side, and they dragged the desk back a few inches from the door. John turned the handle, and the door flew open, stopping only when it struck the desk. Desiccated fingers reached through the crack.

"Oh, my god..." John said, looking out into the street. "Hundreds of them. We'll have to find another way out."

John's muscles ached as he pushed, the veins in his neck tense under his skin. Wayne and Pamela joined in, and as the door shut, a few zombie fingers—detached from their previous owners—fell to the floor. Sick, he thought, watching the fingers twitch around on the floor. Once he could lock the door, he reinforced it with the heavy desk and deadbolted it.

"That ought to keep them for a little while." He turned and gestured at the hallway across from them. "Maybe there's another car in the back. We need to make our way through the building." He drew his pistol.

Nadene fell into line behind Pamela, and Wayne and John took the front, their weapons pointed at the darkness.

"Keep an eye behind us, please," John said, looking at Nadene.

She nodded, her shotgun in her hands. They moved slowly through the dimly-lit hallways toward the back of the complex.

When he reached a corridor that branched off both left and right, John said, "Communications," and pointed at the door. "Let's see what's in the dispatch room." His hand on the handle, he leaned forward and put his ear to the door. "It's quiet inside."

He turned the knob, but it was locked. "Why won't it open?"

Wayne pointed out a keycard slider on the side. "It's locked."

"The doors are supposed to be deactivated—oh, damn."

"What?" Pamela asked.

"Dispatch runs on a generator. It's the only room in the building that has power. I'll be right back," John said, starting down the hall.

"Wait a minute," Wayne said. "Do you think it's a good idea to go off by yourself?"

"We already cleared the way behind us. Besides, if they had gotten in, we would've heard something. That's a heavy door they'd have to break down."

"All right." Wayne shook his head. "I still don't think it's a good idea, but you're probably right."

Wayne and Pamela raised their weapons at either hallway, and John jogged back to the storage room. He searched the heavyset zombie's pockets, located an ID card, and went back to the dispatch door. He slid the keycard in the slider, and the door let out a beep. He opened it with his rifle at the ready.

"Oh, God! Don't shoot!" yelled a voice from inside the room.

John shook off his surprise. Wayne opened the door the rest of the way, and John peered into the room. It was like looking into a house at night from the outside. He shielded his eyes until he had a chance to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"Twenty-three?" the woman asked.

"Susan?"

"You know this woman?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, she's one of our dispatchers," John said. "Used to be at the main office, but she moved up here. Isn't that right?"

Susan nodded. "Yeah, I decided to switch to the north end. Quieter up here."

"Not anymore." John looked at the computer screens. "You still have the Internet?"

"Yeah," Susan said, stepping out of the way for them to enter.

"What about the TV?"

"Yes, of course. We're linked up by satellite. We had TV, too, but it's stuck on the emergency broadcast message."

Pamela followed John into the room and looked at the screen. "What are the people on the Internet saying?"

"Oh, all kinds of things. They have every theory and conspiracy you can think of about how it all started, and some have posted videos of the ones who've turned. Not a whole lot is useful, though. I've been in the chat rooms talking about what's going on all over the country, and it's sickening. Some are even saying that we deserved all of this. We deserve it. What could we have possibly done to deserve this?"

"Don't worry about it," John said. "It's the Internet; there's more negative than positive on there. It's always been that way."

"Yeah, true." Susan sat in her chair. "What's it like out there?"

"You mean you don't know?" John asked.

"I know what I've seen and heard on the phones, but I was too scared to go outside."

"We don't have time to explain right now." John gestured at the door. "Do you want to come with us?"

"It's better than sitting in here and waiting to starve to death." Susan sighed. "The 911 lines stopped ringing a couple of hours ago. The county and state radio channels still have some people talking, but there's nothing I can do for them. I'm just a dispatcher, and there's no one left to dispatch."

"We have a plan to get out of here," John said. "Do you know where we can find a patrol car?"

Susan nodded, then ran her keycard through a slider on the opposite side of the room and opened the door. Nadene let the door close behind her, and John and the others followed Susan down a hallway to the vehicle bay.

"The keys to that one are in the maintenance desk over here," Susan said, pulling the keys out of a drawer.

John took the keys and went to the car, and Susan followed him. He opened the driver side door, got in, then started it, and the engine hummed. "Heard anything about the grocery store up the road?"

"What about it?" Susan asked.

"Anything left?"

"Maybe. When the chaos started, I got a lot of calls from there about the looting and violence, but it may still have something."

John nodded. "We need to put this car across town, then make our way back around to the fire station and gather supplies along the way."

"I think I can handle that," Susan replied, patting the police car. "I assume you know how to handle one of these?"

"I think I can figure it out." John grinned sarcastically, and he gestured at the roll-up door. "You know how to open this?"

Susan hit a red button on the wall, and the automatic door opened. "How else?"

John shook his head. "The power's off. How the—"

"They wired it to the generator last month when the power went out. The officers got tired of walking around to the front all the time."

Chuckling, John got in the driver's seat. Nadene climbed in the back with her mother and Susan, and Wayne joined John in the front.

When he slowly backed out of the sallyport and onto the side street, he heard a roar in the air, something that sounded like fingernails against a chalkboard amplified a hundred times. He searched the alley, turning in his seat. "What the..."

Nadene scratched her arms and held her head. "Hungry..."
Chapter 8

John glared at the walkers coming from the end of the alley, their voices joined in a terrible war cry. "They heard the door!"

"They're coming from behind, too," Wayne said, twisting around to get a better look.

John threw the car into drive, then punched the gas. When the car hit the first zombie, the monster exploded in a shower of gore all over the windshield. He glanced in the rear view at Nadene, Susan, and Pamela. The girl was still clutching her head and growling, and Pamela was trying to comfort her. He could tell that Susan wanted to scream, but she was keeping herself from doing it. He flicked on the windshield wipers and tried to see through the smears of blood.

He gripped the steering wheel as they neared the tightly packed group of walkers at the end of the alley. He floored the gas. I'll need as much speed as possible. If we get stuck, we die. Clenching his teeth, he plowed through the front line of them. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a few of the ghouls flying past the window.

The car slowed, and John hit the steering wheel. "Come on, damn you!" He lifted his foot, then hit the gas pedal again, but the car refused to accelerate.

"What's happening?" Pamela asked through the grate of the cage.

Wayne turned to look at her. "It's getting bogged down. Maybe if you back up—"

"We can't go back," John said, glimpsing the crowd behind them. "If we can't push through the few remaining, there's no way reverse will get us through all those."

The window next to Wayne shattered. Shrieking, he shielded his eyes and leaned away from the hands reaching for his throat. John pulled his pistol, pointed it toward the window, and emptied the magazine. It wasn't enough to dissuade the creatures because more and more hands grabbed Wayne's collar and sleeves.

"Dammit!" John turned the pistol sideways to see the slide locked open, then dropped it in Wayne's lap. One hand on the wheel, he grabbed an extra mag from his belt and dropped it next to the pistol. "Reload and use it!"

John could see the fear in the old man's eyes. The bloody hands groping him like a lamb for the slaughter, Wayne popped the mag into the Glock and closed the slide. Pushing the pistol through a tangle of arms and hands, Wayne fired. He bared his teeth and let out a primordial growl, pulling the trigger again and again.

Hell yeah, old fella. Give it to those bastards. Never go down without a fight. Reaching the mouth of the alley, John cut the wheel hard, sweeping across the boulevard and smashing a handful of walkers under the tires. Accelerating, he gazed into the rear view. The zombies were growing smaller in the reflection, and Nadene seemed to have calmed. Wayne, his breathing fast and hard, handed the empty pistol back to John.

"She all right?" John asked, making quick eye contact with Pamela in the back seat.

"She's fine."

"What's the deal with her?"

"She's just scared, I think," Pamela said, rubbing her daughter on the back.

Susan stuck her fingers through the grate and leaned forward. "How about the bank on the northwest end? That would be a good spot to leave this thing."

John nodded. He eyed the few creatures they passed, but they seemed to ignore the car's passing. Arriving in front of the bank, he parked and opened his door. "Come on. No need to waste time."

"You're going to leave it running?" Wayne asked.

Turning, John's jaw dropped. He hadn't noticed all the blood on Wayne's shirt during the chaos. He tried to hide his shock by quickly reloading his sidearm. "Doesn't matter. We can leave the car here and turn on the siren."

At John's gesturing, everyone climbed out and assembled at the front of the car.

When he had their attention, John nodded. "Let's go over the plan one more time. We turn on the siren and we take off that way." He pointed at the tree line about a hundred yards from the bank. "Don't shoot at any of 'em unless I start shootin'. Any questions?"

Wayne picked up a rock, then tossed it in the air and caught it. "How about that window over there?"

"The bank?"

Wayne nodded.

"If you like. The bigger the distraction, the better."

John walked around the car, opened the door, and leaned inside. He gave Wayne the signal, then turned on the police car's siren. Wayne threw the stone, shattering the window. In the distance, John heard the scream of the undead on the breeze, a shriek that sounded like the mouth of hell itself had expelled a hateful breath.

Following Wayne and the others, John jogged toward the trees, shepherding the group as he went. "Keep low and quiet." Once hidden amongst the pines, he sneaked along at the lead, and he noticed walkers shambling toward the bank. He smiled. "They're buying it."

* * *

John led them quietly through the streets until they reached an alley. "Where is this grocery store?"

"At end of the alley. We're on the wrong side of the block."

He nodded, following Susan and the others to a red brick building. Stopping, Susan pointed at a metal door. "This is it."

John tried the door; it was unlocked. "We can get some supplies here before moving out, but we have to be quiet. No telling what's in there."

John drew his pistol, opened the door, and took a step into the darkness.

"You don't want to use that?" Wayne asked, tapping the rifle slung over John's shoulder.

"Pistols are better for close quarters."

Pamela pulled out her revolver and checked the ammo. She smiled at Nadene. "We'll be okay, honey. As long as we're together, we'll be fine."

Shaking off thoughts of his fiancé somewhere in Mobile, John pulled out his flashlight and held it beside the pistol, scanning left and right as he walked. He glanced back when he heard a click, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Wayne closing the door. With the door closed, he couldn't hear the bank alarm or the siren.

"If anyone—anything—was in here, they might not have heard the alarms. We better be careful," he whispered. He started between the huge racks at either side, but he stopped because the boxes on the shelves were obscuring his view. "We're going to be too vulnerable going in here. Too many shelves and places we can't see. We need a wall at our backs."

John backed toward the metal door through which they'd entered, the others matching his every move. He shined his flashlight down the wall and noticed that the shelves didn't run all the way to the wall. Life has its little blessings after all. Putting his back against the brick, he sighed.

"It's okay, John. We're all here with you. Whatever we face, we face together," Wayne said. "We're just as scared as you are."

Susan nodded, taking a deep breath.

"More scared," Nadene whispered.

John grinned, trying to hide his nervousness, and led the way forward. He followed the wall to the corner, then to the next, stopping just before what appeared to be double doors, their outlines glowing from whatever was illuminating the next room.

John cracked the door open, his pistol at the ready. He observed a short hallway with a door to the left and a freezer to the right. Noticing blood out of the corner of his eye, he looked at the wall at his left. He turned his pistol and pointed at the streak of blood going all the way to the floor. He panicked. His hand shook, the end of his weapon bobbing in time with his pulse. A few feet away lay a corpse, its dead stare locked on John, but the head didn't move.

"It's okay. He's all-the-way dead," Wayne said. John hadn't even noticed Wayne come up alongside him.

Wayne stepped into the room, then scanned back and forth with his rifle. "The head isn't connected to anything." He looked away. "It's clear up to here."

John, followed by the others, entered behind Wayne. The decapitated body of a butcher was resting on a meat-cutting saw that had been placed against the back wall. His left arm, soaked with blood, was hanging at his side, and John noticed a nasty bite above the wrist.

"Oh my God," Pamela said. "It must have fallen on the saw." Nadene took her mother's hand.

"Suicide," Wayne said, gazing at the body.

Susan stepped between John and Wayne to see. "What?"

Wayne pointed at the corpse's legs. "His foot was taped to the pedal—to make sure the machine finished the job. He killed himself," he gestured at the bite on its arm, "probably because he got infected."

Pamela shook her head and stepped backward, covering her face, and sat next to the freezer. Nadene stood alone and stared at the gore. John turned when she grabbed her stomach and put her hand on the wall.

"I—" Nadene tried to speak but apparently couldn't get the words out. She stretched her fingers toward the storeroom and shook uncontrollably.

John peered into the darkness, but he couldn't see anything. He winced and raised his pistol. He saw two small reflections of light near the door. What the hell is that? What the—"Shit!" His jaw dropped open. He reached out for Pamela, but he was too far to grab hold of her.

A fat male zombie jumped out from the darkness, landing on Pamela. Susan grabbed the back of its shirt—what was left of it—but it tore away, and she fell into the storehouse.

Unfazed by losing its shirt, the zombie gnashed its teeth and clawed at Pamela. She let out a scream, the monster's teeth tearing flesh from her neck. A stream of blood sprayed the wall and hit Nadene in the face. John pushed past Wayne and fired his pistol. The walker rolled over and onto the floor, its blood flowing like a river between the grooves of the tile and chasing the slope of the floor toward the drain.

Pamela pushed the corpse away from her and reached out toward Wayne. The fear in her eyes was unlike anything John had seen before, and he'd seen a lot and in more than one variety. She pressed her other hand on the wound, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. John knelt beside her and held his open palm to Wayne. "Get that towel over there!"

John glanced at Nadene, staring wide-eyed at her mother, then snatched the towel from Wayne when he offered it. "Dammit!" He pressed the towel over the wound. The towel soaked up the blood like a sponge and turned dark red. "Get another one!"

"Let me," Susan said, kneeling. "I used to be a medic. Hold this."

Pamela's eyes were locked on his, and she had a death grip on the deputy patch on his shoulder. When she tried to speak, John said, "Shh... easy now... shh..."

Wayne bent down and put a new towel over the old one, but the blood kept coming. John put as much pressure as he could on her neck, and his eyes widened when the bleeding seemed to stop. "It's... it's working!" He smiled, staring at the towels.

"No, it's not," Susan said, sighing.

John shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

Susan wiped her nose with a clean spot on her arm. "Look."

Glancing at Pamela's dead stare, John pulled the towels away, then flung them at the freezer door. "Fuck!" He stood and walked away from her body.

* * *

Nadene stared at John's face as he passed, then gazed at her mother's body. "Mom?" She approached, falling to her knees at Pamela's side. "Mom... Mom!" She took her mother's hand in hers and squeezed, but there was no response. A fountain of tears streamed down her cheeks. She gasped for air and screamed.

Hearing footsteps going away, Nadene turned to see Wayne walking into the darkness.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"I'm going to close that damned door," Wayne replied, a well of tears in his eyes.

Nadene turned back to her mother's body, trying to speak through the tears. "It didn't come through the door."

"Where, then?" Wayne walked over. "Where did it come from?"

"The dark. In the store room." She shook her head and dragged her sleeve across her eyes. Then, she felt pressure on her hand. She's not dead after all. Her mother's hand squeezed hers, and Nadene smiled. "She's going to be all right."

"What?" John asked, approaching. "What are you talking about?"

"She's not dead. She's squeezing my hand, see?"

Susan stood and took a few steps backward.

"Get away from her." John waved his hand and raised his pistol. "Get back!"

Wayne grabbed Nadene by the shoulders, but she fought him. "You're not going to shoot her! No!"

John pointed at Wayne with his free hand. "Hold her back."

"Don't shoot my mom, asshole!" She clawed at Wayne's hand, but the old man kept his grip. Susan came over and helped restrain her.

Outmatched and overpowered, Nadene stopped struggling and watched as her mother rolled over and put her hands on the floor. Then, Nadene clutched her stomach. No... not my mom... She cried out. She's one of them.

John pointed his gun at Pamela. "Pam?"

Turning her head, Pamela stared at John and hissed, then rose to her knees. John closed his eyes and shook his head, then walked over and fired.

Wayne and Susan let go, and Nadene walked over to her mother's body again. Kneeling beside her, she wiped away the blood on her mother's forehead and kissed her. "I love you." She took her mother's hand.

I wish we could've gone back to the lake, Mom, she thought, staring into her mother's eyes. I wish we could've spent that weekend together that we talked about. You know, the day the school caught fire? You were so worried about your little girl. She rocked back and forth. I was always more worried about you. What am I going to do now? "What am I going to do... what..." She buried her face in her mother's belly, unable to control her sobbing. Why did this have to happen? Why did God take you away from me? Why did He let any of this happen?
Chapter 9

Nadene looked up when John finally spoke.

"We..." John cleared his throat. "We need to get moving."

"We can't just leave her here like this," Wayne said.

"What do you suppose we do? We don't have the time to arrange a funeral for her, and we can't take her with us. There's no time, Wayne."

"I'm not suggesting that. I just can't walk away knowing that those bastards will come in here and feast on her. We can't just leave her here like this," Wayne replied. "We owe her more than this." He pointed at Pamela's body.

Wayne walked past Nadene to the freezer, opened the door, and peered inside. Nadene glimpsed a few sides of beef hanging from hooks, and she felt a cool breeze rush out. John approached and put her hand on Nadene's shoulder, and she stood.

Wayne and John lifted Pamela's body and placed it on a shelf inside the cooler. Once John had exited, Wayne took the padlock that had been left and secured the door.

Leaning against the freezer, Wayne shook his head and sighed. Without a word, Susan picked up the hunting rifle and put her arm around Nadene.

"I saw it in the darkness," Nadene said. "I saw it there."

"Don't blame yourself... girl... what's your name?" Susan asked.

"Nadene." She shrugged. "Dina. I saw it there before it attacked, but I couldn't say anything."

Susan folded her arms. "There's no way you could have seen that thing in there, Dina."

"I saw it..."

"What do you mean you 'saw it,' Dina?" Wayne asked.

Nadene turned toward him. "Not the same way I see you now, but I saw it. Not the same way you see me or anything else. It's a way of seeing. A way of seeing them. A way of seeing through their eyes."

Wayne shook his head. "Don't worry about all that right now. We can talk about it all later, okay? Right now, we need to focus and be quiet. Okay?"

Nadene nodded. They probably think I'm crazy. Who cares? If they won't listen, I can't help them. "Okay." She followed them into the public part of the grocery store, the aisles extending into the darkness.

John turned and gestured at the shelves. "Non-perishables and ready-to-eat are going to be the best options. Anything we don't have to keep cool. Cooking is out of the question, too." He wiped his hands with a cloth to clean away the blood. "Let's get started. No one stray too far away from anyone else. Keep your eyes on each other at all times."

Nadene walked the rows and collected canned and dried goods, packing the items into backpacks, handbags, grocery bags, and whatever containers she could find in the store. She gazed back over her shoulder at the meat department every once in a while. She had seen her mother die. She knew that she had, but it seemed unreal. She had gone her whole life believing that bad things happened to other people, not her mother, and most certainly not her. Then her parents had started fighting. The divorce came. Her mother died, and she was alone in the world. I guess bad things are happening to everybody. All over the country... all over the world. She would've cried again if she'd had any tears left. No time for crying. I have to be strong. I have to be strong to survive.

Nadene met up with the others in the middle of the store after gathering up her supplies.

John seemed to avoid direct eye contact with her when she returned. After inspecting what the others had gathered, he said, "Good. Looks like we've got more than enough to get to Texas, or even further if we need to."

"We still need to find more ammo," Wayne said. "We can't throw cans of tomato soup at the zombies."

The levity in Wayne's tone lightened Nadene's mood a little and made her wonder, Has my mother left me in the arms of a guardian angel? This old man?

"True. Is that gun store still open?" John asked, looking at Susan.

"No, not anymore," Susan replied. "It shut its doors a few months ago, so everybody has to go to Grand Bay or Mobile now."

"Well, that's just perfect," John said. He had a blank look on his face as he turned back toward the meat department. He sighed and shook his head. "I should've been quicker. It's my fault that she died."

"It's not your fault, John. The government—maybe. That African warlord bastard—probably. Whoever created this bad-ass virus—sure. But you? No way. You've helped us. We might not have even gotten this far without you. We could have gotten eaten up back at that gas station. It's not your fault," Wayne said, patting John on the shoulder.

John stared at the floor. He took a deep breath, nodded at Wayne, and started toward the storefront. He scanned back and forth with his pistol, then holstered it and unslung his rifle near the front door.

"Coast's clear," John said, motioning for them to follow.

John slowly led them down the street. To Nadene, the town seemed eerily quiet; it seemed that the diversion had worked; the walkers must have gone toward the noise. Not wanting to take any chances, she kept her guard up, keeping the shotgun high enough to fire without wasting time.

She looked down both streets when they came upon an ominous street corner with no signs or signals; the vehicles wrecked on the sidewalks must have knocked down the light poles. The trails of blood leading away from the mangled metal, the broken glass, and the torn-open suitcases filled her heart with a sense of danger. She imagined the chaos, the vehicles flying through the intersection, and the ones that weren't lucky enough to dodge the others.

"You know where we're at?" John asked, turning to Susan.

"Yeah, we're two streets over from the fire station. That's where you said you wanted to go, right?"

"Yeah, I want to get one of those buses and get us out of this town."

Susan pointed. "Then we need to take a left here."

John observed the street to the left and wiped the sweat from his forehead. After giving the others a severe look, he started up the road. Nadene remembered how many zombies had gathered at the fire station, and she hoped that the siren and the bank's alarm—neither of which she could hear anymore—had drawn them away. Nonetheless, she kept a tight grip on her shotgun and tried to prepare herself for the possibility of an army of monsters at their destination.

As they approached the next intersection, she saw the fire station across the way from the EOC building. "Maybe we should ask that man in the roof if he wants to come now that the things are gone."

John nodded, but she could tell he wasn't thrilled with the idea. "All right, I'll go see if I can get him—"

"No way, John," Wayne said. "We're not splitting up now. We all go together, or we stay put."

"I'm just going to pop up and ask—"

"No! No one's going alone—"

John grabbed Wayne by the arm. "Quiet down, old fella. You'll draw those things in if you're yelling at the top of your lungs. We'll go together."

Wayne took a deep breath, and Nadene walked over and took his hand. His brow furrowed, Wayne stared into her eyes. He seemed surprised by her gesture, and he had every reason to be. Ever since they had met, Nadene had acted apprehensive or cold toward him, but she decided to drop it. Mom trusted him, and so should I.

"We're all trying to deal with losing her, Wayne," John said. "It's not easy. It was a terrible thing, but we have to try to survive. We have to keep our heads, brother."

Wayne nodded, choking back the tears. Nadene knew that her mother had shown him kindness, but there seemed to be more to the story than just that. She just couldn't put her finger on it. Now's not the time to ask, though. If we both make it out alive, I'll ask him about it.

John and Wayne approached the door of the EOC building. John reached out for the door handle and nodded at Wayne. Wayne readied his weapon. With John giving the knob a slow, quiet turn and a quick pull, the door swung open. The two men stepped into the doorway, leaving it open. John leaned outside and said, "You stay here and keep an eye out."

* * *

John exchanged his rifle for his pistol, took out his flashlight, and scanned the area for any new threats. Not seeing anything, he closed his eyes and listened. Silent as the grave. He put his gun back in its holster, then climbed up into the ceiling as he had before. Shining the light at the corner, he couldn't tell if Farley was still in the pile of clothes.

"Farley!" John searched for any sign of movement. "Farley, you up here?"

"What... you know my name?" Farley asked.

"It's me, John. You want to get out of here? We have those things following a siren across town, but it won't last forever."

Farley laughed hysterically. "You want me to leave?" He continued to laugh like a madman.

"We don't have time for this. You can still come with us." John reached out toward Farley, but Farley produced a pistol and pointed it at him.

"Fine! You don't want to make it through this. Just sit there, then!"

Farley pulled the hammer back on the revolver and giggled. That son-of-a-bitch has gone crazy. A gunshot echoed throughout the building, and John's ears rang. He let go and dropped to the desk next to Wayne. Landing on his back, he took a deep breath and searched his body for holes or traces of blood.

Wayne held his hand out, his weapon trained on the opening in the ceiling. "You okay?"

"To hell with him. He doesn't want to get out of here, he wants to shoot at me!" John took Wayne's hand and jumped down from the desk, then made his way to the door. "I hope you get eaten, you bastard!"

"Shh," Wayne hissed.

John shook his head and sighed. "All right. Let's get going before the siren dies and the walkers start finding their way back to this side of town."

Wayne and John led the rest down the road, crossing the street at the fire department. As he approached, John saw half-eaten bodies strewn in the street near the buses, and blood trails led to the bay doors of the fire station. He couldn't tell if the bloody streaks along the asphalt were from people being dragged into the fire station or from zombies dragging their feet through the puddles, but the question was low on his list of priorities; all he really cared about was getting a bus and getting his new friends out of the town.

John looked over at Wayne when he heard panicked breaths. Bodies of every type of person, of every age group, of every gender had been scattered across the parking lot like confetti at a New Year's party. Suitcases and clothing were torn asunder, children's toys were covered in blood, and everything not made of flesh had been discarded by the passing horde. To John, it was clear that the monsters didn't discriminate in their victims: flesh was flesh, and it would be theirs.

John guided the group to the door of the first bus and sighed with relief when he saw that there was little blood on the windows. He pulled the MP5 machine gun up to eye level, moving the weapon as he moved his head. He stepped onto the first step and scanned the bus. "It looks like most everyone was off this one when they attacked. Maybe they hadn't loaded anyone on here yet. The driver... what's left of the driver's still in here."

He couldn't find the head in the mess of parts and blood, but he could make out a number of bite marks and rips where the flesh had been torn away. "I don't think this one will be a problem; his head's gone. They can't function without a head." He unbuckled the driver's seat belt and pulled the corpse out of the bus. When the remains of the driver landed on the pavement, they made a squishing sound that turned his stomach.

Stepping over the gore, John climbed into the bus again. He slowly walked the aisle, checking each seat. Upon reaching the last row, he turned around and called out to the others. "All clear."

Nadene took Wayne's hand and climbed aboard the bus. Wayne discarded the seat cover that was on the driver's seat. With one of the towels Pamela had packed, he cleaned off the remaining bits while Nadene and the others picked seats. Wayne closed the door and secured it with a block of wood that had been left in the floor board.

John returned to the front. "Good work, Wayne. That ought to keep 'em out of here, at least long enough to give us a chance."

Wayne nodded. "There was a lot of blood on the seat, but I've gotten most of the... chunks cleaned off," Wayne said, hesitating. He rummaged through some of the items in the overhead bins and found a blanket and some pillow cases, then made a makeshift seat cover.

"It has a GPS, electronic fuel gauge, a civilian-band radio, and all the other bells and whistles," Wayne said, pointing out all of the gadgets on the dashboard and instrument panel. "It shouldn't be a problem driving to Texas in this thing."

"Yeah, if it's still there," John replied. "Let's get rolling. West is our only chance at this point. It's just a matter of how far we'll have to go."

Wayne turned the key and the diesel engine roared. He smiled at the push-button transmission, then put it in reverse. The bus lurched backward until he switched it to drive. John jumped when she heard an awful noise under the bus. It sounded like someone banging a hammer against metal.

"Take her easy, buddy." John pointed at Wayne. "You have to put these things in neutral before you switch gears."

Wayne rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I haven't driven a Greyhound in a while."

"Get snippy if you want, but you'll be the one pushing if it breaks down."

"All right, all right." Wayne pushed the gas, and the bus rolled onto the street.

"We have a slight problem, chief," Wayne said, slowing at the first intersection.

"Chief?" John shook his head. "What's the problem?"

Wayne shrugged. "Well, we better fuel up before too long. It's got a quarter-tank left. That says it'll carry us a hundred miles." He pointed at the electronic fuel gauge.

John turned around in his seat. "Susan, have you heard of any gas stations left around here that have diesel?"

"Probably not... wait. What about the one the sheriff's department bought last year?"

"It's worth a shot." John smiled. "Straight down that way. Hang your next left."
Chapter 10

John bent down and eyed the gas station as they approached it. He turned when he heard Nadene grunt and mumble, and he said, "Looks like she's waking back up."

"Mo—Mom ?" Nadene sat up when Wayne pulled the bus into the gas station. She took a look around, then fell back in her chair. Wayne glanced over his shoulder at her before stopping the bus near the diesel pumps on the street side of the parking lot.

Some abandoned cars remained and still had gas spigots in their tanks. One car had a pool of liquid underneath, probably gas that had overflowed. It was eerily quiet, which put her even more on edge. Her bad experience at the last gas station left a lingering dread in her mind.

"We're going to fuel up real fast, and we'll be out of here. Leave it running and keep a look out in all directions," John said, stepping off the bus with his MP5 at the ready.

Nadene exited after Susan, her shotgun slung over her shoulder.

John picked up the fuel handle from the gas pump and stuck it into the port on the bus, but nothing happened. "Looks like I'll have to go in the store and turn it on."

Wayne stood. "I'll come with you—"

"No, you stay here. You may have to drive this thing out of here in a hurry." John gestured. "Susan, you're with me. Dina, will you get back on the bus and wait for us there?"

Nadene nodded and climbed the stairs. Susan took the hunting rifle off of her shoulder and said, "Let's do it."

John and Susan approached the front of the store. With the MP5 out front, John pushed the glass door open. The store was well-lit, and the blood was highlighted by the fluorescent light.

"There aren't any bodies," John whispered, searching for the pump controls. He gestured at Susan to get her to watch the store, and she nodded. He eased himself over the counter and examined the register. The buttons chirped and beeped as he pressed them. If they didn't know we were here, they do now. John authorized the diesel pump for a thousand dollars, then slipped back over the counter just as he heard some shuffling from behind a door in the back of the store. John motioned for Susan to back up and go out the door.

He backed away and tried to control his breathing. Just as he was letting the door close, a walker turned the corner near the front counter. He stared at her through the blood-stained glass and prayed that she didn't notice him.

The female zombie was probably once a customer of the place, some soccer mom who had stopped there to gas up before getting out of town. She still had someone else's arm in her hand, taking bites out of it. She turned, her dead eyes locked on John. So much for that prayer. She dropped the arm and let out a hissing growl, gurgling on the gore still stuck in her teeth and throat. John scanned in all directions as he heard more movement inside and outside the store. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

John and Susan ran across the parking lot to the bus.

"It's been filling since you turned it on," Wayne said. "What the hell's wrong with you two?"

"They know we're here. We're going to hold 'em off. You let me know as soon as this thing's ready to go!" John adjusted his MP5 and heaved a breath.

The female zombie slowly pushed open the glass door and staggered out of the store. The door's hydraulic arm yanked it shut, striking a male zombie behind her in the face. He reeled from the impact and wailed with anger. He lunged into the door and forced it open, striking the female in the back and sending her to the ground.

"Here they come!" John switched the selector on the side of the MP5 to single-fire mode. He took aim on the male, who appeared to be dressed in a navy blue mechanic's uniform, blood mixing with the old oil stains.

Tag the forehead. He fired a shot, but he missed his mark. He took a deep breath, took aim again, and fired. "Bullseye."

Susan fired at the female. The rifle's report echoed into the night, and the bullet punched through the zombie's chest. It did little more than decorate the nearby wall with blood.

John steadied his sights on the female zombie. She clambered to her feet, then started toward John.

"That's right, come here, bitch," he whispered, tracking her with the weapon.

As soon as she cleared the gas pumps, John took his shot. The bullet passed through the walker's eye, taking half of her head with it. She stood there for a moment, then fell lifelessly to the ground.

"Nice shot," Susan said.

John nodded and smiled.

"Halfway there," Wayne said around the side of the bus, then he pointed toward the town. "More coming up the street!"

"You stay here," John said to Susan. "Don't let anything get on that bus." He joined Wayne on the other side.

A small parade of monsters varieties was shambling down the street toward them. John counted, then said, "Twenty, damn! How much longer?"

"We're almost topped off. Another minute or two," Wayne replied. "Why don't we just load up and drive off when it gets full?"

"Nah, gas will go everywhere. We'll hold 'em off!" John stepped into the street and checked his weapon, then pointed it at the advancing drove. He switched the selector to three-shot burst mode. He fired into them, doing his best to recover his aim after each shot. It may not kill 'em, but it'll slow 'em down. He swept the weapon back and forth from the hip as he fired, and some of the creatures fell in the street after being hit. "Let me know when we can go, dammit!"

"Almost there! Almost!" Wayne shouted back.

John switched to full auto and emptied the magazine. Several of the creatures fell and had trouble getting back up, but more had joined them. He scanned the street and noticed walkers climbing through windows, breaking down fences, and walking out of houses all around. "Damn!" He ran back to Wayne and slapped him on the shoulder. "That's it, we gotta go now! We gotta go now!"

Wayne pulled the spigot from the tank and threw it to the ground, then followed John onto the bus, threw it in reverse, and hit the gas as hard as he could. He turned the wheel several times to run over the zombies stumbling up the road. A few thuds later, Wayne hit the drive button and punched the gas again. The bus took off down the road and out of Seven Hills, Alabama, an army of zombies pursuing in vain.

John eased himself down into the seat across from Nadene. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before he felt eyes watching him. He turned toward Nadene, and she peered back at him with a blank stare.

"You okay?" John asked, but it came out more as a groan than anything else.

"No one seems to be listening to me," she replied.

"You don't have to ask for permission to speak," John said with a grin. "What's on your mind?"

She frowned. "My mom would still be alive if I had said something."

"No one could have stopped that, Nadene. It's not your fault, honey," Susan said over her seat.

"What do you mean, you could have stopped it? With the shotgun?" John asked, eyeing her.

"No. You're still not listening." Nadene shook her head. "I saw him, that monster in the warehouse."

Susan waved her hands. "It was pitch black in there. There's no way —"

"I saw him anyway. It's hard to explain."

"Try to explain, Nadene," John said, crossing the aisle to sit beside her. "We've got a long trip in front of us, and as long as Wayne can drive this thing right, we should be okay."

Wayne glared at him in the rear view. "Don't worry about my driving. I've been driving since before you were in diapers, Sonny."

John rolled his eyes at Wayne. "Go ahead, Nadene—Dina. Explain it to me the best you can."

"It's hard to explain, but I'll try. Do you ever get a feeling inside you, in your stomach, that something bad's going to happen?"

John nodded his head. "Yeah, when I see walkers, it makes me feel uneasy. Is that what you mean?"

"No, not exactly. I see things before they happen. I feel bad feelings before bad things happen." She rolled her shoulders, sighed, and fell back in her seat. "I've always had it, but it's gotten worse since—"

Since what? John's eye twitched when she paused abruptly. He had spent a number of years with the sheriff's department, and he could tell when someone was lying or when they weren't telling the whole story. The way she just stopped mid-sentence. What's she hiding?

"It's probably just a woman's intuition, Dina," Susan said.

"No, it's not that. When I see the things, I see them like I'm there, like I'm walking around, and it's so real. I had the bad feeling, and I saw him—the one who got Mom—standing in the dark in the warehouse, almost like I was him, looking in at all of us from the darkness. I see things before they happen, but sometimes I just get this bad feeling in my stomach."

John scratched his chin and stared at the girl. "You were about to say something before. What was that?"

Nadene stared back, her mouth closed tight.

"You can tell us."

"I can't say."

"Why?" Susan asked.

Nadene folded her arms. "It's... I just can't tell you."

"Can't?" John leaned forward, staring into her eyes. "Or won't?"

She sighed. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to hurt me."

"Why would we, Dina?"

"You have to promise."

John backed away a little. "Okay. I promise."

"All right." She licked her lips and swallowed. "At the gas station... when I shot that man, some of his blood got in my mouth."

He couldn't summon the words. He glanced at the rear view mirror and saw Wayne's wide eyes. She hasn't changed? How is that possible? "Looks like that walker's blood did something to you. Maybe you're..."

Nadene raised an eyebrow. "What?"

John gently took hold of her arm. "What if you're immune to the disease, Dina?"

"Holy shit..." Wayne's eyes widened. "You think it's possible?"

"Well, if she hasn't changed, she might be. If she is, we have to get her out of here. To someone who might be able to find a cure."

"One thing at a time," Susan said. "Go on, Dina."

Nadene continued, "After that, the feelings came more frequent, and they were much more intense. My skin feels like it's on fire, and I get sick to my stomach."

"It's been hours since we were at the gas station, but you're still normal," John said. "How can that be?"

She shook her head. "Don't know, but that's what happened. Are you going to..." Gulping, she grabbed her chest. "Shoot me?"

"No. We'll have to keep an eye on you, but we only kill to defend ourselves."

She nodded.

John palmed his cheek and leaned on his arm. "Can you tell me anything else about your feelings? Do you have any control over it?"

"I can't control it. It just happens to me from time to time. I just have to wait to see or feel something."

"So, you see things in the future, like a psychic?"

"Yeah, but Mom always said that those people were fakes. You know, the ones on TV that say they can tell the future or the ones at the fair or the circus." She sighed. "I didn't like talking about it. Not to Mom, not to Sally, not to anyone."

"Well, if you can really see these things, it's not fake, at least not in your case," John said. "When was the first time you felt these things?"

"There were a few times in the past, but the strongest feeling was when I was in school a couple of days ago. Right before all this started. I felt it when the school caught on fire. I didn't see it that time, but I felt really bad when it happened. The first time I actually saw anything was in the grocery store. I saw him standing there. I couldn't say anything. I was so scared." A tear ran down her cheek. "Now, Mom's gone. I have nothing left."

John found a pack of tissues left behind in the overhead bin and handed her one. "You have us, Dina."

She wiped her face, took a deep breath, and stared at the floor.

"You don't believe me?" John asked.

"It's not the same."

"It will never be exactly the same, but things can get better than this." John patted her on the arm. "Wayne, Susan, you, and me, we might as well be family now."

Nadene nodded.

"If you see something else or have one of those really bad feelings," John said, standing, "you let me know. If you can't talk, just grab my hand or my shirt really tight, okay?"

Looking away, Nadene dragged the tissue across her cheek again, then nodded slowly.

"Good. I'm going to take a nap for a little while," John crossed over the row to his regular seat. "Wayne, are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I've got my second wind now. Go ahead, get some rest. Can't have our best shooter unable to focus out there," Wayne replied.

John grabbed a pillow from the overhead bin and relaxed. From his head to his toes, every muscle in his body twitched and ached. He knew the feeling well, and he hated it. It was the exhaustion that came from being on shift for too long. Big incidents—tornadoes, hurricanes, the end of the world—made it worse and made him yearn for his weekend off. No more weekends. No more reports. No more captain riding my ass, and no more sheriff's department. No more world... no more everything. He shook his head. I wish Stephanie was here. At least I'd have something left from my life.

Susan handed Nadene a pillow and a blanket. "You'd better get some sleep, too, Dina."

Staring out the window, John watched the pines pass by, counting them until he nodded off.

* * *

Nadene woke to the dawn of the next day, groggy and itchy-eyed. The others were still asleep, except for Wayne at the wheel. She stood, walked to the front of the bus, and asked, "Where are we?"

"We're near Biloxi now, according to the signs. On the Mississippi coast," Wayne replied.

Nadene leaned on the seat next to Wayne, watching the city grow larger as they closed the distance. "Are we on the wrong side of the road?"

"You noticed that, eh?" Wayne smiled. "They must have kept this side clear, or people weren't going this way during the mess. The concrete barrier kept them from crossing over." He pointed to the right at the columns of cars that extended as far as she could see ahead of or behind them. "Something's been bothering me for miles, though."

"What?"

"I've seen some planes way up. Lots of 'em." He pointed at a trail in the morning sky. "And there's a test pattern or something on the radio, too. A series of tones like a slow siren." He cranked the volume just enough to hear, then turned it off.

Nadene raised an eyebrow then gazed out toward the horizon. "Any idea what they're doing? Or where the signal is coming from?"

"Never heard anything like it before. No idea."

She sighed, watching the dotted center stripe on the road. She observed the abandoned cars on the sides of the road and the ones that had crashed in the trees, each one a testament to the horrors that went on along the interstate.

"I've been here a couple of times before," Wayne said finally. "We're on I-10 now, and there are a couple of casinos back up, but the area's still damaged from Hurricane Katrina, even this long after." He pointed out a few places and told her what once had stood in its place.

"If I had to bet, the highway's going to be clogged up with cars before too long. We had better get off and take other roads before it's too late," Wayne said, studying the GPS. Applying the brake, he turned the wheel and exited onto a two-lane state highway.

"We can take this to bypass the heavily-populated area. It'll take us close to the city center, but it's a bridge over the swamp that goes around the city."

Before long, the bus rose to the top of a bridge over an island amidst wetlands, then Wayne slowed it to a stop and put it in park.

"Why are we stopping?" Nadene asked.

"I want to stretch my legs. Besides, I found a pair of binoculars in the glove box, and I want to take a look," Wayne replied, unbuckling the seat belt. "We won't get caught by surprise up here. You can see for miles around."

He stepped off, then walked around to the front of the bus and took the lens protectors off of the binoculars. She followed him and shielded her eyes from the morning sun. He looked through the binoculars, scanning the distance toward Biloxi.

"That's weird," he said finally.

"What?"

"There's a bunch of cars parked downtown, and there's about a million walkers going crazy."

"Going crazy?"

"Yeah, reaching into cars, scratching, howling... Something has got those things pissed. I bet it's that damned beeping noise. It seems to be driving those things insane, whatever it is." He squinted. "Those cars must still have a little juice in their batteries for the radios to work."

She nodded. "You think they figured out a tone that draws them?"

"They?"

"The military or whoever."

"Yeah, maybe. We figured out that sirens make them go berserk back in Seven Hills. It isn't a stretch to think someone else could." He smiled. "At least we know that other people are still alive out there."

"But why? Why put off a sound that makes them—"

She jumped at the jet engine overhead. Several planes broke through the clouds and swooped toward the ground.

"Hell, yeah," he said with a satisfied rasp. "Hogs."

"Hogs?"

"A10 Warthogs. Fairchild put together a fine airplane in the Thunderbolt."

Nearing the largest group of zombies, the aircraft dropped dozens of bomblets that floated toward the ground on little parachutes. A few yards above the pavement, the bomblets burst, emitting an amber cloud into the air, then Wayne peered through the binoculars again. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Here, take a look," he said, handing over the lenses.

She held them up and watched the walkers. Reaching the ground, the yellow mist coated the creatures, causing an almost instant reaction. The walkers seemed to vibrate, then contorted until all of them collapsed in a full-blown seizure. She could hear the roar—a scream of anguish—over the breeze even at that distance.

Handing the binoculars back, she shook her head. She saw the aircraft bank to the right, then level when they were headed straight for the bus.

She took a few steps back. "Should we... we should get out of here, shouldn't we?"

"Nah, they're probably just coming in for another run."

Blood hit Nadene in the face as Wayne's head and chest exploded, a cloud of concrete dust and sparks flying. She felt a searing pain in her legs, then fell, landing on her back. Trying to breathe, she stared at the bloody stumps and the pools of liquified flesh that used to be her legs. She turned when she heard bullets ripping through the bus, the holes in the side bigger than her head. She figured that Wayne and she must have been hit by stray rounds.

The planes passed overhead, and she heard the report of the massive chain guns, a buzz thundering through the air. The bus burst into flames, and she could hear the screams of her friends as they burned alive behind the shattered glass and ripped-up steel. Her vision became cloudy as she stared at the bus, then she saw nothing.

* * *

Nadene's eyes shot open.

"Nadene? Dina? Wake up," John said, shaking her by the arm.

She struggled to catch her breath, her whole body drenched in sweat. "It was a dream? No, it was too real!" She sat up. "Where are we?"

"We're in Biloxi now, according to the signs. On the Mississippi—"

"Stop the bus now!" she screamed.

Wayne looked back at John as if unsure what to do.

John nodded. "Go ahead, stop here for a minute."

Nadene heaved a sigh of relief and cupped her head in her hands. Tears streamed down her face and joined the sweat pooling underneath her shirt. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Did you see something?" John asked.

"Yes. It was terrible."

"What did you see, Dina?"

"Wayne was driving, and we stopped on a bridge near Biloxi. The radio had a weird siren noise—constant, like a beacon—and it drove the things insane." She took the towel when Susan offered it, then wiped her face and arms. "The planes came."

"Planes?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A10 Thunderbolts, or so Wayne told me in the dream."

"What happened next?"

"They dropped bombs over the city that put out some kind of mist. It looked like one of those bug bombs, but all over town. The stuff covered the zombies, and they started dying."

"Was that all?"

She shook her head. "The planes turned and came after us. They shot up the bus with the big gun on the front." She closed her eyes, unwilling to relive the horror of the attack.

John tapped his lips with his finger. "We had better stop for a little while and figure out what we're going to do. We need to make sure the things Nadene saw don't come to pass, at least not for us. Wayne, do you know anything about this area?"

"Not really. I've only been through here once or twice," Wayne replied.

Nadene stared at him, her eye twitching. "You've been here many times before. You do know your way around here. Why are you saying you don't know?"

John and Susan looked at Wayne awaiting a reply.

Throwing up his hands, Wayne stood. "I don't know what she's talking about... I've only been through here once or twice—"

"That's a lie!"

"Now, now, there's no need to get aggressive about this. Why do you think Wayne's lying, Nadene?" John asked.

"I don't know why, but I know he is."

"How do you know he's lying, then?"

"In my dream, he was telling me all about the different places around here. I was standing next to him, and he was pointing out everything he knew about this place."

"That was just a dream—"

"It's true," Wayne said slowly, shame in his eyes. "I do know Biloxi."

"Why lie about it?" John asked.

"Bad memories. I was in jail here once, and I didn't know how you would react if I'd mentioned it."

"Well, there's no need to worry about all that now. I'm not a cop anymore, and we're just trying to survive."

"I know, but I didn't want anything to break your trust in me. I didn't want to get left behind."

"Wayne, from here on out, just tell us the truth, okay?" John put his hand on Wayne's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "We're in no position to judge people for the past. We're all just trying to survive this mess."

Wayne nodded, his chin dropping toward his chest. "All right, yes, I do know the area pretty well. I know there's a large national park near here. I doubt those things would think to look in there for us while we make our next plan."

"Fine. Good. Let's go there."

Wayne sat, put it in drive, and turned the bus around in the middle of the interstate.

"Wait..." John climbed into the seats and neared the window. "You hear that?"

Opening the window at his left, Wayne nodded. "Jet engines." He glanced at the rear view, made eye contact with Nadene, then looked away.

"Good work, Dina." John sat next to her. "You saved us."

Nadene simply stared at the seat in front of her. She didn't feel it was praiseworthy; she was just glad to be alive.

* * *

Several miles down the highway, Wayne made a turn off the interstate onto a two-lane highway. He cut the wheel, turning into the state park, and drove along a narrow dirt road that was barely wide enough for the bus for what seemed like an eternity. At the end of the road, Nadene spotted a cabin on a lake.

"I use to take my family here in the summers for vacation. We would rent a side and go out on the lake," Wayne said.

"A side?" John asked.

"Yeah, the cabins are duplex-style. Two units per building, about fifteen buildings surrounding the lake."

"All right, I'm going to check out the cabins. It doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long time, but I'm going to check them all, just to be safe," John said, climbing off the bus.

"We'll go with you. No sense in splitting up now." Wayne put the bus in park and stepped out, and Nadene and Susan joined them on the gravel road.

John pulled out his pistol and held it at eye level as he walked toward the first door. Both of the cabins used the same porch, and the front doors were a few feet apart.

He pushed the door open and peered inside. Nadene thought that the cabin looked like it hadn't been lived in for at least a month. Dust covered the floors, and she didn't see any footprints. She saw only one other door inside, and the beds had been placed in the room on the left, opposite a kitchenette and dining area. Except for a loft room connected to the ground floor by a ladder, the whole interior was combined into an open plan. Good. The loft is the safest place, and you could see the whole cabin from up there, she thought, folding her arms.

John walked to the only other door in the room, turned the knob, and opened it. He disappeared through it. Suddenly, Nadene heard the other cabin door creak open. She screamed.

"Shh... don't be afraid," John said, coming out of the door. "It's just me."

Nadene crossed her arms and glared at him. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry." He came back out to the porch.

Clutching her chest, she asked, "Anything?"

"Looks all clear to me. It's the same exact layout," John said. "I normally wouldn't advise splitting up, but we can deadbolt the front doors and use the adjoining door. Women on the left, men on the right?"

"Sounds good," Susan said, gathering up all of her possessions. She helped Nadene collect her things, and she led the way to the left cabin. John and Wayne picked up their belongings and headed off to the right.

* * *

"There might be electricity still running," Wayne said, pointing to a power line that ran across to the cabin from an electrical pole. He went around the side of the cabin and switched on the power main at the breaker box. Hearing the hum of electricity coursing through the wires, he grinned, then joined John on the porch.

"We better not get used to having power. Something tells me that it won't be long until electricity is nothing more than a memory."

Following John inside, Wayne pointed at the far corner near the kitchenette. "Looks like I better get this place up to standards." He grabbed a broom and stared on the floor.

John nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll get the beds made. As a matter of fact," John eyed the loft, "I'm moving our beds up there. It'll be easier to defend if it comes to that."

"Harder to escape, though."

"The loft has windows if we need to run. It's better than fighting at ground level."

"You need any help with those?" Wayne asked, watching John fight with the mattresses.

"Nah, they're not heavy. I'll just roll them up and toss 'em."

Wayne nodded, sweeping. "You really believe the girl?"

"What do you mean?"

"About her dreams. That she really sees all of this stuff."

"She caught you in a lie, didn't she?" John asked, chuckling. "Everything she's said has come true so far. Do we have any reason to doubt her?"

Wayne shook his head. The front door creaked open behind Wayne.

John snatched his pistol from his holster, then sighed. "You guys need to knock or say something."

"Sorry, cowboy," Susan said as she entered, Nadene following, then put her hand on her hip. "Mine needs it next."

"Ha ha, very funny." John shook his head. "Does this look like a maid service?"

"All things considered—"

John waved his hand and put his pistol in his holster. "Don't answer that."

"So, we're east of Biloxi, and for all we know, the Air Force has just set off the biggest bug bomb in history. Are we safe here or what?"

"Should be," Wayne said.

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Wind's blowing south, toward the sea. That's where the stuff will go."

"Do we need to get a hold of a map, then? There may be another way to Texas."

"Who says we need to get to Texas?" Wayne shrugged. "I think we'd be better off just staying here. We can just scavenge for supplies. Who's to say that Texas is any better off than we are here?"

"We can't just sit out here and rot," John said, putting the broom in the corner. "It's a nice spot, but I don't plan on spending the rest of my life in fear of those things finding us. We've got to find other people who have their shit together. If not Texas, then somewhere. Anywhere but here with a few million walkers wandering around."

Nadene walked over and stood in the middle of them. "I have a say, too, don't I? My life's on the line in all this, you know."

John nodded. "Sure, Dina. What do you think we should do?"

"I think we should wait here for a while, come up with a real plan, then head out."

Susan took a deep breath. "So, we have three who will, at some point, want to leave this place. Wayne, do you plan to stay here or are you going to come with us when we go?"

Wayne sat on a chair at the little dining table. "I can't sit out here by myself. When y'all go, I'll come with you."

"Good," John said. "Everybody think about a plan, and we'll talk about this more tomorrow. For now, I'm going to get some supper started." He emptied his backpack on the counter and picked out two cans. "Looks like it's going to be... soup and potted meat."

* * *

Despite the fact that it was soup and a nondescript potted meat substance for supper, she was glad to have a hot meal. Nadene's mind drifted to the last real meal she had eaten at Sally's house in Grand Bay. She wondered what happened to the Nelsons, to Nick and to her classmates and teachers, and she tried to think of a fate other than being slowly devoured by the monsters roaming the landscape. I'll see if I can charge my phone in a little while. Maybe the towers are still working. She tried to eat, but she couldn't keep her mind off of how happy she once was—a happiness that had disintegrated over long days and nights—and the terror lurking behind every tree.

She pushed the plate away. "May I be excused?"

"You've barely touched your food," Susan replied.

Nadene gave her a sickened look, and Susan must have gotten the message because she said, "Sure, honey. I'll go back to the cabin with you. Can you handle these dishes, boys?"

"Of course. Go right ahead, we'll take care of it," Wayne said.

Susan got up and followed Nadene out the door, back across the way to their cabin. "What's wrong, Dina?"

"I just don't feel so well. Don't worry, it's not one of those feelings. I just miss my friends and family so much that it makes it hard to eat."

"I know what you mean, hon. I keep thinking of my last day in the dispatch room."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Sure, I'll tell you when we get back and settled."

They walked through the adjoining door, and Susan closed the door behind them. "I'd better leave it unlocked in case anything happens and the guys need to get in here."

Nadene climbed the ladder up to the loft. Thankfully, the cabins had been stocked with mattresses and bed clothes. Susan boiled some water and made tea, which she poured into a pair of plastic cups, then ascended the ladder. Nadene rummaged through her backpack, pulled out her phone charger, and plugged it into the wall.

"It started off as a relatively normal day," Susan said, climbing onto the mattress. "I came in to work in the morning, and we answered the usual calls: someone reported their credit card stolen from a local diner, another person said someone was harassing them on the phone, and officers patrolled the county, making their traffic stops and keeping an eye on the suspicious stuff." She took a sip of her tea, and her eyes drifted back and forth.

"Then, Deputy Farley—the crazy one in the ceiling—came in and turned on the news. The battle in Africa, the missiles... it wasn't long before he left. I wondered where he'd gone, but it didn't surprise me when I found out he was hiding after you and your friends came to get me." She sighed. "I always wondered if he had what it took to be a cop."

Nadene shook her head. "He was a lunatic. He nearly shot John."

"I know. Absolutely insane." She bobbed her head then set her tea on the night stand and stared at her hands. "I stayed in the dispatch room, and I told my partner to go home to her family. I don't have any family left, at least not around these parts. Never married, no kids.

"After that, I got on the Internet and tried to find out some information. The whole web was flooded with theories. Armageddon specialists, nay-sayers, and silliness. It was hard to get any real information. All of the major news websites were clogged, and their servers probably crashed within the first couple of hours. So, we were left to try to figure it out without any real facts."

She paused to take another sip of tea. She stirred her cup and dropped another sugar cube into it. "All of a sudden, the first calls started coming in. People from all over the place were coming to Mobile County because they were trying to escape the east. That's where the missiles hit, after all, and I couldn't blame them. The only problem was that the infrastructure in the southeast isn't set up to accommodate that kind of evacuation. The roads filled with all that new traffic. Pretty soon, there were too many wrecks to deal with, and we didn't have enough deputies to send to them. Most of the time, they got stuck before they even got to the highway. We couldn't contact the sheriff, so the road deputies took matters into their own hands. It was martial law out there."

"Martial law?" Nadene asked.

"That's where the authorities enforce the law harshly. It bypasses the arrest and court model and replaces it with the strict enforcement of law. Basically, people were getting shot by the officers for looting and fighting. Everything was spinning out of control. By the evening, most of our cops weren't responding to the radio.

"Early in the evening, people stopped calling 911. I guess they just gave up, and my telling them that nothing could be done probably didn't give them much hope or confidence. I didn't have any deputies or firefighters left. They either abandoned their posts or we lost contact with them. To be perfectly honest, I was afraid to even leave the dispatch room. I had stayed for so long that places next door were calling 911, so I figured that, eventually, whatever was causing all this chaos would get inside to me. That's when I heard gunshots in the hallways. I thought it was my time to die. Then, you all came and took me out of there. I thanked God for that little blessing. And, you know the rest of the story."

"I'm glad we got you out of there, too," Nadene said with a smile.

"Dina, I'm sorry about everything that happened. We didn't talk much in the grocery store, but we have time to talk now." Susan put her cup of tea on the floor next to the shotgun and lay back in the bed. "Do you want to tell me about your mom? About what happened before... you know?"

Nadene relaxed in the bed and took a deep breath.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Mom's name was Pamela Schafer Kent. She was a waitress in Harvey's Diner in Grand Bay."

"Harvey's? Oh, yeah. I thought she looked a little familiar."

Nadene nodded. "She had to find a job after Dad left us. Mr. Harvey gave her work when most people wouldn't. It didn't pay much, but nobody else was hiring. We would've had to move if the court hadn't ordered alimony and child support." She sighed. "Mom had long hours, so I had to stay with Sally at her house sometimes."

Susan nodded and lay down on her side facing Nadene.

"It wasn't easy, but with the money from my... dad," she looked down, the word bitter to her tongue, "she made enough money to give us a better life. She had dreams of taking us away from Grand Bay and starting a new life somewhere else. She always talked about our 'grand escape' from the hard times."

Nadene took a sip of her tea and thought about her mother. "I have her eyes, you know. They're the same color as Mom's eyes, and people say I have her nose, too."

Susan nodded in agreement."Yes, and they're very beautiful, too."

Nadene let out a shy smile. "Then all of this happened, all this war. The bombs fell, and the people went crazy. She was the strong one. She could pull us through anything. Now, she's gone."

"Maybe not."

"Maybe not, what?"

Susan picked up her tea and took another sip. "Maybe you were the strong one. Maybe Pam was strong because you were her source of strength. That's what I think, anyway."

"You really think so?"

"Of course I do. I really mean that." Susan swatted Nadene's hand. "You saved our lives outside Biloxi, and you know it. You're strong and smart."

Nadene shied away.

"Well, we better get some sleep." Susan sat up and stared at the door to the mens' quarters. "Lights are still on, so they must still be up. They'd better get some rest, too. Long days ahead. Goodnight, Nadene."

"Goodnight, Miss Susan," Nadene replied.

"You can call me Susan, Dina. Just Susan."

"All right, Susan," Nadene said hesitantly. She usually added either 'Miss' or 'Mister' before first names when speaking to adults, but she felt more comfortable and more excited about being considered one of them—an adult, a real equal in the group.

Nadene lay awake for a while, but she couldn't resist the bedtime lullaby sung by the crickets, frogs, and the creaking of the trees in the wind outside. She watched Susan roll over and fall asleep but shot up when she heard a scratching noise against the wood floor.

She put her hand on the shotgun, and she heard it again. She sighed, turning to her phone. It had turned back on, and receiving new text messages had caused it to vibrate. Eager to see what she had gotten, she snatched the phone up, nearly pulling the charger out of the plug.

She scrolled through the first four text messages, all of them from Sally:

The power went off. Don't know how long the phone will last. Mom shot one trying to get into the house earlier, but they keep coming.

I wish we had left with you. No word from Dad. Dozens of zombies in our yard just wandering around.

They keep trying to get in. We've boarded up the windows. Don't know how long we can last. Wish I was with you, my friend. Be careful out there.

I don't know if you are getting these, but I just wanted to say how much our friendship has meant to me. I don't know how long we will last, but I love you.

She sighed, then texted: If I can find a way, I'm coming for you. I can't say how long it'll take, but I'll find you, Sal. I love you, too.

Holding her finger over the send button, she hesitated. Can I send it? I don't want to give her any false hope. Who knows if I can get back to her? She pressed the button. I have to find a way to convince them to go back, but how?

She checked the last message. Reading the name, her eyes widened. Nick? She checked the date and time, and she was surprised that he had sent the message—or it had gone through the network—only an hour ago.

Dina, sorry about everything. Maybe I was coming on too strong. We're going to California. If you make it out, maybe we'll see each other again. –Nick

She replied, No, you didn't do anything wrong. I had fun on our date, and I hope I can see you again, too. We made it out, and we're going west. That's all I know for now.

* * *

The dishes done, John joined Wayne in the loft. Wayne appeared to have fallen asleep. Old beggar's probably sleeping better than he has in weeks. He shook his head. "I wish I could sleep like that."

"I'm not sleeping. Not yet."

"Could've fooled me, old fella." John unbuttoned his uniform shirt, then pulled off his duty belt. When he pulled off his vest and undershirt, he heard a gasp from behind.

"They're old. They barely bother me anymore."

"Damn, son!" Wayne sat up from his mattress. "I've heard of war wounds, but I've never seen anyone come back with ones that bad."

John glanced at the scars on his chest, the five entry wounds from the bank job he'd stumbled upon his first year on the road. The exit wounds on his back were worse, or so he had been told. "Something like that will teach you to wear your vest, that's for sure. I was a fucking idiot."

"What?"

"A rookie cop. Invincible, you know? Taking chances when I shouldn't have. In the summer time, wearing a uniform, a vest, and a shirt under all that... you get hot. I took comfort over safety, and I nearly paid for it with my life."

"Look," Wayne shuffled in his sheets and cleared his throat, "I'm sorry about those things I said. I didn't know—"

"Doesn't matter. It takes a lot more than that to get under my skin, and besides, new people take getting used to." He lay on the mattress, wiped his face, then turned toward Wayne. "What's that you got there?"

"What, this?" Wayne held up two metal disks attached by to a simple chain about his neck, then read the writing stamped into them. "Scarborough, Wayne R. Five-seven-three-four-four-five-one, O Positive. USMC L. Baptist."

"Dog tags?"

"Yep."

"USMC... L?"

"Large."

John raised an eyebrow. "Large?"

"For my gas mask."

"You still carry them?"

Wayne nodded. "Those and a couple more. I promised to bring them to their folks, but I never got around to it. When I got back to the world, I found my lady and that was that."

"You were married?"

"Oh, yeah, but that was a long time ago." Wayne smiled, then adjusted his pillows. "What about you? Ever married?"

Searching through his uniform pocket, John pulled out a velvet box and tossed it over to Wayne. "Almost."

Wayne opened the box and stared at the diamond ring. "Wow, that's a nice one. Where's she now?"

"Dead."

Shaking his head, Wayne closed the box. "Oh, God, I'm sorry... how'd it happen?"

"I don't know. I don't want to know, to be honest. She was in Mobile when all this started, and I couldn't make it back. Hell, you know the rest of the story."

"There's a chance, though, right? She might have made it out."

"I can't think like that. If I start thinking like that, I put us in danger. Have to have a clear head, you know?"

"I know, but still."

John propped his head up on his palm. "So, what did you do after the war?"

"Some years went by. I lost Betty, and everything went downhill from there. I loved her so much." Wayne choked back his tears. "I tried to replace her with my drink, but I was a fool. I should've known that bourbon couldn't take the place of the love of my life. Things got worse until I lost everything.

"I'd sleep under bridges or back alleys, whatever I could find. It wasn't until I met Harvey—he owned that little diner on Maple Street—and I got a fresh start."

"You were homeless?"

Wayne nodded. "Yeah, and you probably couldn't tell it now. Miss Pam let me take a shower at her house before we went to that gas station where you and I met. I hadn't felt the warmth and coziness of a nice, hot shower in years. I took showers, yeah, but none of them were like that. Truck stops and motel rooms when I had the money, but those are different. It was the kind of shower where your mind swims with memories, the haunts from long ago."

John laughed. "You must really like showers."

"Hey, don't make fun of it, young man. I was glad to have had it. Might never get one like that again so long as I live. Way things are going, I might not get one at all."

"True, but I'll settle for a good night's sleep. See you in the morning." John reached for the lantern to extinguish it.

"Here you go," Wayne said, tossing the box with the engagement ring. "Nite."

* * *

The next morning, Nadene awoke, then blinked at an empty mattress next to her. Susan was gone. "Susan?" She climbed out of bed and crept toward the ladder. "Susan?"

Receiving no reply, she searched for her clothing. She looked under the bed, through the sheets, and around the floor, but she couldn't find it. "Susan?" She heard nothing inside the cabin. Then, the door slowly creaked open. The zombie outbreak. She snatched up the shotgun almost out of reflex.

The door opened the rest of the way, and in walked Susan carrying a pile of clothing.

"Susan!" She lowered the shotgun.

"Good morning, Dina. I found some luggage in the undercarriage of the bus, and some of it may fit us. I took our other clothes down to the lake and washed them the best that I could. I've got our clothes hanging between the cabins on a line to dry out."

Nadene climbed down the loft ladder as Susan set the clothes down on the couch.

"The boys have made some breakfast if you want some."

"I'm a little hungry. I didn't eat much of my food last night."

"I know. They've come up with something a bit more tasty than that mess," she said, pulling out some clothes. "Go ahead and get some breakfast. Here's a t-shirt and some shorts that should fit you."

Susan handed Nadene the clothes, and Nadene slipped into them before heading out the door. She walked onto the porch and heard the roar of a distant engine. Glancing at the sky, she saw a plane flying from east to west above them.

She pointed. "Look! An airplane!"

Susan came onto the porch and gazed upward. John grabbed a pair of binoculars from inside the cabin door and searched the sky. He handed them over to Wayne, and he did the same.

"Looks like a military plane to me, probably a C-130 or something similar," Wayne said.

"I agree, definitely military," John said, nodding.

Susan put her hands on her hips. "Maybe they're here to see if the Biloxi bombing worked?"

Nadene closed her eyes, a sick nervousness filling her stomach. "They're afraid. Two men in the cockpit, and some of those things are in the back of the plane. They've locked themselves in the front of it to get away." She turned her nose skyward. "Banging. On the door. Hungry for blood."

"They decided to fly the plane away when more came. They feel hopeless. They're flying west until they don't see those things anymore. They're low on fuel. They don't think they're going to survive." She slowly opened her eyes. "Poor men."

John walked over to her. "You saw all that?"

"I told you. I see things." She violently rubbed her hands together, then scratched her arms and collar. "Lately, I can see a lot more."
Chapter 11

Nadene sat at the table and took a helping of some hash browns and powdered eggs. The taste was wonderful compared to what the men had concocted the previous night. With an ample amount of seasonings and some tender loving care, the breakfast wasn't half bad. Given another option, it wouldn't be half-good, either, but it's an improvement. I'll take what I can get.

"I found some seasonings in the cabinet. Probably left by some campers who stayed out here," Wayne said as Nadene happily consumed her morning meal.

John walked in and piled some weapons and ammunition on the table across from Nadene. He was apparently taking inventory of everything that they had left, counting and organizing their remaining supplies.

Reaching for the last box of bullets, John sat. "We have to come up with a plan. If those things attack us here, we won't stand much of a chance."

"Let Nadene finish eating, and we'll talk about planning all of this out," Susan said.

John examined the weapons, and Susan sorted through the clothes she had found. Wayne seemed like he was deep in thought, staring out the kitchenette window.

"What's on your mind, Wayne?" Nadene asked.

Wayne didn't reply. He had a blank stare on his face, and his squinty eyes were bathed in the morning light.

"Wayne?" Nadene called out again, slightly louder.

Wayne turned to look at Nadene. "Yes?"

"What's on your mind?"

"I thought you would already know, considering the things you see," he replied.

"I don't always see everything, and it's not by choice. I see things when they come to me."

"I was just thinking about my family, how I lost them so long ago. I wish they could have been here with me."

"I wish my mom was here, too."

"But, they won't be here ever again," Wayne said with a long sigh, then sat in a kitchen chair and leaned against the table on his arms.

"We all miss our families," John said, "but we can't think about that right now. We need to focus on surviving. If we don't make it, their memory won't carry on. That's all we can do for them."

For the first time, John looked tired. He wasn't the same, vigorous police officer that Nadene had seen in the days prior to reaching the camp site. He seemed discouraged, as if the thoughts of his family and loved ones—and their fates—had finally sunk in.

John wiped his face, obviously trying to sweep away his feelings. "Now, we need to plan this out. No plan's perfect, but if we have a good, strong plan in place, we have a much better chance of surviving this thing."

Susan took a seat next to Nadene. "I agree, we need a solid plan. Nothing too complicated, though."

"First, we need to figure out what each of our skills are," John said. "I'm a police officer, so I know how to shoot, I know how to drive, and I can think fast on my feet. I have some martial arts training, too."

"Good, we could all probably benefit from a little hand-to-hand training," Susan said. "I'm a dispatcher, so my skills probably won't help us a whole lot, but I worked on an ambulance before. I know how to do basic medical treatments, I know what a lot of drugs do, I know how to improvise, and I've seen a lot of bad things already, so I don't scare easily."

"I see things," Nadene said loudly, a little upset that they'd been ignoring her the whole time. "I see things in the future and things going on when I'm awake. I don't know what all I can do, but I know I see things."

They stared at Nadene, and she stared back. "I can save you and show you the way."

"I hope so," John said.

"I'm homeless," Wayne said, then chuckled when they stared blankly at him. "I'm just saying, I've been homeless. I've been to jail. I've been in the military. I know how to survive in harsh environments. I know how to shoot okay."

"What did you do in the military?" John asked.

"I flew helicopters, actually."

John glanced at Susan, then looked back at Wayne. "You know how to fly a helicopter? What about a plane?"

"I could probably figure it out if I had to, but I can't make any promises about the landing. I always flew helicopters."

"A helicopter it is, then."

Susan flailed her hands. "We're going to fly to Texas?"

"Sure, why not?" John asked.

"He probably hasn't flown in years. Is that really safe?"

"I'm sitting right here, ya'know." Wayne said sternly. "Trust me. I can fly that thing. I flew drop-offs and extractions in the war. I can fly it for sure without bullets whizzing by my head."

Susan didn't seem to be any more reassured by this, but she let out a compromising "All right."

"Flying the helicopter isn't going to be the problem, though," Wayne said. "Getting a helicopter's going to be a major problem."

"We can't go to Biloxi," Nadene said.

Susan shrugged. "The attack planes should be gone by now—"

"The poison. What if it's still all over the ground?"

"Surely not," John said.

Wayne leaned forward and nodded. "It's possible, depending on what they used. To kill these things? It's probably something pretty strong. They could've dropped that chemical all along the river, too, so driving wouldn't be the best option." He took a breath. "We've got the wasteland to the west, and we don't really know anywhere else around here that has a helicopter."

John rubbed his chin. "News stations, big police stations, and airports are three places that will probably have one. To go to a big police station would be suicide; they're in big cities, so there'll be a lot of those things around. News stations rich enough to have a helicopter are also in big cities. An airport, though... might not have too many walkers. If it does, it wouldn't be that difficult to get in and shoot on the move."

"An airport? Those usually have lots of people, too," Susan said.

Wayne shook his head. "Not if we go to a smaller airfield, though. Those don't tend to have a lot of people in them."

"Seems like a decent plan so far," John said. "But, an airport would be more likely to have a helicopter than a small airfield."

"I really think we should try the airfields first, though. It's a lot safer, and we might get lucky."

John nodded. "I agree. The risk of going to a bigger airport's too great with the little ammo we have. We'd have to hit a real gun store to stock up on enough ammo to get through probably thousands of those bastards."

Susan folded her arms. "That's supposing we could even make it through thousands of those things. Twenty's more than enough to make us retreat."

"Yeah, we proved that at the last gas station we went to," Wayne said.

"What, are you saying that I can't shoot?" John asked.

Susan put her hand on John's. "No, cowboy, we're just saying that we have to hit these things in the head to put 'em down for good. That's not easy to do to a bunch of them at the same time."

"All right. I'll give you that. Anyone familiar with any airfields around here?"

Nadene nodded. "There's one in Grand Bay—"

"Grand Bay? That's going in the opposite direction," Wayne replied.

"There's a helicopter there," Nadene said.

"You... you see one, in your visions?"

"No... I used to live there. It used to fly over our house a lot. I didn't see it flying around the last day we were in town, so it's probably still there."

"Well, that's probably our best shot, then," John said.

"Wait a minute. We're going back east?" Susan rubbed her hands together. "I don't think that's a good idea. How many walkers will there be by the time we drive back there?"

"Pascagoula was pretty clear when we came through the first time. The eastbound side of I-10 only had a few cars on it. It's a pretty straight shot the whole way to Grand Bay," Wayne said.

"This is madness," Susan said. "Even if Pascagoula's clear still, that's going backward along a road we've already been down."

Wayne patted her on the shoulder. "It's not like we haven't gone off our planned route already. If we hadn't stopped in Seven Hills, we would never have found you, Susie."

"I guess I'm just a guest here, then. I should shut up and be glad to be alive, I suppose."

John sighed. "No, you're not just a guest here. You're one of us, but we have to look at our options. We can't go west since Biloxi was destroyed, and whatever the Air Force dropped might still be all over the ground. We don't know what's north of us. At least we've been east of here. Nadene seems to know where a helicopter is, too."

"It just seems so risky to go back that way," Susan said. "Maybe the threat in Biloxi has died down by now."

"Not a chance," Wayne said. "If you were trying to kill those hard-to-kill assholes, would you put something out that goes away in a few hours? I know I wouldn't. I'd put whatever it took to make sure, and that kind of goo doesn't wash off easy."

Susan ran her fingers through her hair. "All right, it looks like we have to go east."

Nadene lowered her voice. "Maybe we can stop by my friend's house on the way."

"Wait a minute," Wayne said, as if she had yelled her comment, "is this just an excuse to try to rescue someone, Dina?"

"No, it's not," Nadene replied firmly. "If we'll be in the area, I'd like to get her. If she's alive by then, we could bring her with us." She stared at the floor. Please hold on, Sally. Haley, we're coming.

Wayne shook his head. "Going on a rescue mission in the middle of this is a bad move."

"She's saved our lives," John said. "We owe our lives to Nadene, you know."

"Yeah, but I didn't plan on living another day just to die in a blaze of glory," Wayne said.

"How far off the highway is it, Nadene?"

"Not far. It's only a mile or two out of the way, and it runs into the road with the airfield," she replied.

"All right. We'll leave in the morning. We'll drive to Grand Bay, check on your friend, grab that helicopter, and be on the way," John said, counting off each item on his fingers.

Wayne sighed. "I don't like what I'm hearing, but I'm not staying here by myself."

"If it will get us to Texas safer, then I'm game." Susan bobbed her head.

John nodded. "All right, get everything ready. We leave at dawn tomorrow."

Wayne stood up and walked out in front of the cabin. He pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it, leaning against a post on the porch.

"Whatever happens, Wayne has to survive to get to the helicopter," John said when Wayne left the room. "He's the only one who can fly it. He has to make it to the airfield."

"What do you mean?" Susan asked.

"I mean that if it is between you and me and him, you save him. Nadene and Wayne must get to the helicopter. She might be the secret to a cure, and he has to fly the thing." John gave her a cold look. "You and me... we're the expendable ones."

Nadene looked out the door at Wayne. Her inner feelings told her that he would die to save the others if necessary, and she had to trust her instincts. "You must tell him. You shouldn't keep it from him. If he's not told, he'll sacrifice himself without a second thought."

John nodded. "I'll tell him tonight before we go to sleep. For now, get ready for tomorrow morning. It'll be here sooner than you think."

* * *

The day passed with little conversation because they all were busy making preparations. Nadene gathered together sets of clothes, took a shower, and made an inventory of the food supplies she had in her bags. Wayne checked the bus and reported that it still had plenty of fuel left, then spent most of his time studying the bus's features and supply manifest. John tried to keep everyone on task while getting the weapons ready for the fights to come, and Susan seemed content to help him.

They met up again for lunch, but few words were said. Susan hardly looked up from the meal that she was barely eating, and John seemed preoccupied with the task at hand, as if he was still planning things out in his mind. Wayne minded his own business and ate his meal, but he was deep in thought. What Wayne was thinking about, though, remained a mystery to Nadene.

"We have about six days worth of food left," Susan said when they started packing the bus.

"That'll be more than plenty for the trip we're taking. We won't need more than a day's worth of food," John said. "Go ahead and pack it all up, but I'm not counting on using any of that stuff once we get across the Mississippi."

Susan walked into the cabin, side-stepping Wayne as he exited with a box full of cooking supplies, some of the spices, and silverware.

"What's wrong with her lately?"

"No idea," John said, but Nadene remembered the conversation they'd had when Wayne had gone out to smoke. She probably didn't like being called 'expendable.'

"Are we about ready?" John asked.

"Yeah, just getting these last few things packed," Susan replied, a sorrow in her eyes.

Wayne climbed the stairs of the bus, sat, then gazed at John. "I'm ready to go."

"Can I talk to you before we go?" Nadene asked, taking John by the hand.

"Sure."

She took him to the corner of the cabin and then paused. With her head slightly tilted downward, she eyed the tree line.

"Something wrong?"

"I just... I don't know. I had a strange feeling, but I can't place it."

"We had better make this quick, then," John said, resting his hand on his pistol.

"I think you should talk to Susan. Encourage her. You can't tell someone that their life is less important—"

"I was just trying to tell her the truth. She knows what—"

"No, she doesn't. She needs to understand that we're all in this together. We won't abandon her."

"But what if you have to? What if you have to lose both of us to survive?"

"We'll worry about that if it happens," she said, sighing.

"I don't think we should fill people with false hope. It's dangerous."

"It's even more dangerous to have someone walking around not believing that they'll make it out. Sometimes believing in it is just enough to make it happen. It makes the impossible possible."

John put his hands on his hips. "You came up with all of that just now?"

"No," Nadene said, turning toward the bus. "My mother believed it. She taught me to believe it. It's what kept her going all those late nights in the diner, the hope—the belief—that life would be better, that we would make it, and everything would be okay."

John nodded. "You're right. You're one-hundred-percent right. I'll talk to her."

Nadene joined Wayne on the bus, and John went to find Susan just inside the cabin. Taking the seat she'd had on the way there, Nadene stuck a box of supplies under her seat. When she and John had finished talking, Susan sat in the row ahead of her and John sat to her left.

Catching something in the corner of her eye, Nadene turned toward the window. "Wait..."

John stood next to her seat and leaned over, placing his hands on the headrests. "What do you see, Dina?"

"There's something behind the cabin looking at us." She pointed toward the lake and the back corner of the building. "There."

"I see it." He squinted. "It's... a child? It looks like a child."

Nadene's eye twitched. Why would a child be standing there looking at us?

"If it isn't chasin' us, maybe it's a kid that got lost out here," Wayne said. "Let's go get 'em and get out of here."

"Wait..." John said, his eyes shifting left and right. "It's a trap! Close the door and get moving!"

"What? Now you're getting paranoid, John," Susan said. "The things chase after people when they see them. That child would've come after us, don't you think?"

"Look," John pointed at the wood line near the cabins, "they're out there. They're waiting for something."

"Oh, my God," Wayne said.

"What?" John asked, rushing to the front of the bus.

Nadene shot up from her chair and followed, then noticed hundreds of the creatures standing on either side of the cabins. They were surrounded.

"Wayne, cut the wheel and punch it. We need to get the hell out of here. Everybody, get your seat belts on and hold on tight!"

John took his seat and buckled up. Nadene bumped into Susan on the way back to her row, then fastened her seat belt. Wayne gripped the wheel tightly and hit the accelerator. The engine let out a roar. Nadene watched the childlike figure as his mouth opened, and he let out a guttural scream that turned her stomach. Even though the windows were sealed and she could barely hear him inside the bus, she grabbed her head and screamed from the pain. She could hear the child's wail inside of her mind.

The creatures came out of the woods from every angle. Wayne aimed the bus straight down the winding road out of the park. Zombies crowded onto the dirt road. Wayne gritted his teeth and punched the gas. Like rag dolls tossed through the air, the walkers scattered when the bus struck them. Wayne turned on the windshield wipers to clear away some of the gore from the front glass. Streaks of black fluid coated the glass, but under Wayne's guidance, the bus rocketed onto the two-lane highway outside the park.

"Hold on!" Wayne shouted, hardly letting off the gas.

As the bus turned, Nadene felt the change in gravity. We're going to flip over! She screamed and grabbed the handle on the seat back in front of her. Wayne yanked the wheel. The bus slammed onto the ground, and all of the contents from the overhead bins spilled onto the floors and seats.

Wayne wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was breathing hard, and Nadene could tell he was rattled from the horde surrounding them. He's not the only one. She felt the urge to vomit, but she clenched her eyes shut and fought the nausea.

"What in the hell was all that back there?" Wayne asked, looking in the rear view mirror.

"Looks like they're getting smarter," John replied.

Nadene opened her eyes and stared at the back of John's head. Smarter... yes, they must be. But how smart?

Susan leaned forward. "They're dead, John. They're walking corpses with eating people on their minds. What do you mean, 'they're getting smarter'?"

"Back in World War II, they were afraid to drop the bomb on the Japanese," Wayne said.

Susan threw her arms in the air. "What's that supposed to mean? Is this really the best time for a history lesson?"

"Well, they were afraid of what it might do," Wayne replied. "See, they were scared of what might happen."

"They were afraid it was going to kill a lot of Japanese?" John asked. "I thought that was the plan."

"No, you don't understand. There were some people who were afraid of what it might do to them. Some people were afraid the radiation might turn them into super soldiers or make them grow ten feet tall," Wayne said. "Maybe the chemicals in those bombs did something to them. Maybe it changed them, made them smarter."

Susan shook her head. "Surely they tested it. They wouldn't have done it without testing it out first, right?"

John sighed. "Maybe they didn't test it well enough. Besides, my faith in the government's a little lacking these days."

"You got that right, brother," Wayne said, glancing over his shoulder.

"I think Wayne may be right. Either that or they're changing for some other reason. The only thing we know for sure is that they set a trap for us, and it was a pretty smart way to do it. If they can think on that level, we need to be extra careful going forward. They can probably figure out tools, weapons, and other stuff."

"Well, we already know they can figure out doors and how to open them. We learned that back in Seven Hills," Wayne said. "The one that got in through the door while we were in the attic."

"You're right, Wayne. There was no one—nothing—else in the room when we went up," John said.

Wayne stared at the open highway ahead. "Maybe they're just getting smarter without any help."

John nodded and rubbed his chin. He walked down the aisle toward the back of the bus, gazed through the back window, then returned to the front. "We're going to have to be more clever about everything we do, then. We have to keep an eye out for traps and ambushes at all times. At least we have range and speed on our side, and we're a lot sharper than they are."
Chapter 12

Just as Wayne had said, the eastbound side of the highway was deserted. Nadene figured that everyone was trying to flee westward when the virus hit, and local law enforcement must have been effective at keeping the cars on the correct side of the interstate. At each off-ramp and on-ramp, she noticed police cars blocking the way.

The bus crossed the Mississippi-Alabama state line in the early evening. Wayne rubbed his tired eyes and yawned.

"You've been driving since dawn, Wayne," John said, standing next to the driver's seat. "Why don't you let me take over for a while. We'll need you well-rested to fly that helicopter."

Wayne nodded and slowed the bus to a stop at the top of the next hill. "Maybe you're right. I'll go back here and nap for a little while."

John sat in the driver's seat and put it in drive. The bus lurched forward, and John kept the speed steady.

Nadene passed the hour with a game of Snake on her cell phone. She normally would have tried to save the battery, but she hadn't gotten a text message in so long that she figured the towers had probably stopped working. Who knows if my messages have even gone out?

Noticing the bus slow down, she peered through the windshield and saw flashing blue and white lights in the distance. Stopping a hundred yards or so from a police blockade, John sat and stared, and Nadene walked to the front.

John raised an eyebrow. "I wonder if there's anyone still alive up there."

Susan joined them and folded her arms. "Do you think they're really the police?"

"There's no way. Did Wayne say anything about this when he was driving last time?" John asked.

Nadene and Susan shook their heads.

"We better ask Wayne before we go any further, but I'd hate to wake him up," John said.

"I'll do it. We have to know." Susan walked over and shook Wayne by the shoulder.

With a grumpy snarl, he awoke and asked, "What do you want, woman?"

"Were there police cars with flashing lights the last time you came through here?"

"Yeah. No one's inside 'em. They're just sitting there running. I'm surprised they're still running, to be honest." He rolled away from her and pulled his blanket up around his shoulders.

"Go ahead and go back to sleep. We just wanted to check," Susan replied.

John pressed the gas, scanning the cars. He increased speed as they approached, gesturing at an opening between two of the vehicle. "It's going to be tight, hold on."

The bus flew through the gap with only an inch or two to spare on either side. Gazing into the interior of the patrol car as she passed, Nadene could tell what had happened to the policemen who were maintaining the road block: limbs were spread out around, blood had sprayed all over the highway and the windows, and there were lifeless human trunks wearing uniforms without heads, arms, or legs.

Susan put her arm around Nadene.

"It's okay, Susan," Nadene said, assuming the gesture was an attempt to comfort her. "I saw a lot worse than that in my dream."

"You had another dream? What was it like?" Susan asked eagerly.

"It was a jail. I don't want to talk about it, though. It's not important, anyway."

"Nothing about us this time?" John asked, glancing at them.

"No, nothing this time. A man fighting for his survival behind bars."

John nodded. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Could you tell where the jail was?"

"No." Nadene returned to her seat. "I hope it's a good thing."

* * *

Stretching, Nadene yawned, then turned her head and read a road sign saying "Mobile—4 miles—Next 5 Exits."

"We're almost there," John said, pointing out the large green highway sign to the others.

"You'll take the first exit we come to." Nadene stood and came alongside John. "That one goes around the big part of the city and out near our house." She pulled out her cell phone, checked the messages, but found nothing. Still nothing from Sally. Maybe she didn't make it. She texted, We're coming for you. Be ready.

John pulled the bus onto the first exit they came to and stopped at the bottom of the off-ramp at a two-lane road.

"Take a left here," Nadene said.

The bus ascended and descended rapidly, winding along the hilly landscape. She caught a glimpse of Grand Bay and Mobile, darkened by the lack of electricity. Some buildings in the skyline had apparently been left to burn. Columns of black smoke rose into the heavens.

"That's my school on the left. We're getting close, now," Nadene said. "Take the next left. That's Sally's subdivision."

John turned the wheel, and the bus crept into the Nelsons' deserted, affluent neighborhood. "Looks like it would have been a nice place to live before all of this mess."

Nadene pointed. "That's their house. Stop here."

John stopped the bus next to the curb in front of Sally's house. It looked nothing like the house she had left only a few days before. The windows were boarded up from the inside with doors, plywood, and even pieces of furniture. She thought about the horrors that must have happened in that house, and she could only assume that Sally wasn't among the living anymore. "Let's go. Nobody could have survived in there."

"Wait a minute, Dina," John said. "We said we would check to see if your friends were still alive, so we're going to check it out."

Nadene stared at the broken windows. "Do you think it's possible that they made it?"

Turning, John's eyes met hers. "You know, someone once told me that believing in it is just as important as anything else. Susan and I will go check it out."

Nadene smiled despite her fears then fell back into her seat.

John walked down the aisle to Wayne and woke him up. "We're going to check out this house, Wayne." He picked up his AR-15, pistol, flashlight, and the shotgun.

Wayne blinked rapidly and stretched. "I'll go with—"

"No, no, you wait here. If we come back runnin', we'll need somebody in the driver's seat ready to go."

Wayne stood, walked to the front, and sat behind the wheel. "Well... all right."

John handed the shotgun to Susan, then headed for the door. Susan followed him off the bus, then halfway down the walk to the front door. Scanning the area for any movement, John kept his rifle at the ready. Nadene found the whole area very still, and although the chaos would have naturally subsided by then, the houses were eerily quiet.

* * *

John approached the front door, the AR-15 tight against his shoulder. He kept the rifle pointed at the most dangerous threat location, the nearest corner of the house. He glanced at Susan, her hands trembling and the end of the shotgun bobbing in the air. At least she isn't flagging me with the muzzle, he thought, eying the business end of the barrel. Reaching the front door, he turned the handle.

"It's open," he whispered, strapping the AR-15 around his back and drawing his pistol. He clicked the flashlight on and pushed the door open slowly.

Just inside the door, furniture was toppled over, there was blood all over the walls, and waste and refuse had been scattered on the floor. Maybe the girl was right. We could be on a rescue mission for dead folks... or worse. Forget about it, John. Keep your head. Stay focused. The door creaked at his pressing until he could get through. Dodging the food and wrappers on the floor, he tiptoed on the clear spots like a man walking a tightrope.

"Someone was alive in here after all this began." He pointed at open cans and boxes on the kitchen counter, then flipped a switch on the wall. He tried it again, but the power obviously wasn't working. It was worth a shot.

Catching something out of the corner of his eye, he turned. He raised his pistol and took aim, then sighed. The blood spray on the wall resembled the outline of a human. He shook his head. Someone—covered in blood—must have leaned against it to make that impression. He moved the flashlight to the rest of the wall, and he noticed hand prints.

"Oh, no," Susan said, looking at the small hand prints.

John held his hand up. "We haven't cleared the house yet. Keep your voice low."

As he passed the counter, the quiet hum of the emergency broadcast station played from a battery-powered radio. More hand prints. Children's prints? He proceeded through a hall past the trash and toppled furniture, through another hall, then stopped when he saw doorways. Must be the bedrooms.

"We need to search these rooms," John whispered. "Could still be someone left alive."

Susan nodded, but he could tell that she was uneasy about the idea.

He glanced into the first bedroom. The door was missing from the hinges and had been nailed to the large window on the opposite side of the room. The mattress had been stripped of its sheets and covers, but it was the cleanest room he had seen in the house thus far. Hearing a thumping sound from down the hall, he held his breath and listened. What is that? He narrowed his eyes and looked at Susan, but her vacant stare only told him that she couldn't figure it out, either. He heard his own heartbeat in his ears, and his palms were slick with sweat.

He stepped past the first bedroom and crept to the second door. Again, the door had been removed and used as a barricade on the window, the mattresses—two of them—were bare and the floors clean. Must have been a girl's room, he thought, noting the pink and floral décor.

The thumping grew louder, and it sounded like someone slapping a door. He glanced at Susan and determined that she was close to panicking. He held position, his sights trained on the darkness in the hall, until her breathing slowed.

He slunk toward the last door, taking short steps. Reaching the corner, he put the gun in his left hand. I hate shooting from the left, but it's better than giving away my position too soon. Holding the pistol against his left side, he put his hand on the wall above his head for support. Time to slice the pie, he thought, taking a deep breath. By the book. Just like I was taught.

The pounding was like a hammer drumming against his nerves. At least I know that the thing couldn't have heard me over its own racket. Inching around the corner, he formed a picture of the room. A king-sized mattress dominated the center, and the sheets were soaked with blood. Master bedroom. Largest bedroom in the house. Probably a few feet bigger than the last bedroom. No doors so far, he thought, halfway finished. It may not have a master bath, but don't discount the possibility, John. This is a big, expensive house... well, it used to be.

He took two more steps and stopped again. Hair. He inched to the left a little more. Bloody shirt. Hands flailing above their head, the palms striking something in time with the banging noise. He extended his pistol through the doorway and put his forehead against the door frame. Looking past his pistol's sights, he observed the figure. Is it a child? Looks like a boy, five or six maybe. The silhouette struck the door again, and John could hear a hissing sound. It's a kid... He fought his hasty breathing. John, get a hold of yourself. It's not a kid anymore.

Stepping out from cover, he shined the flashlight on the zombie. The sudden light must have disturbed it because it turned, revealing his mutilated body. The undead boy was missing his right eye and half of his right arm, and John could easily make out bites and rips all over his body.

John waited until the walker charged, then fired. The bullet passed through the creature's other eye socket and out the back of its head, decorating the wall behind it. The zombie faltered, then fell to the ground face-first into a pile of flesh that the walker must have eaten. John's stomach turned for the first time since the dead had risen, for he realized that the flesh contained half-eaten arms and legs, and the limbs couldn't have belonged to anything other than an infant.

"Oh my God!" he whispered, covering his mouth.

Susan put her hand on John's shoulder, a grimace on her face. "It's okay, John. It's over. It's over now."

Fucking horrible shit! Is there no end? He clenched his eyelids shut, shook his head, and then blinked a few times. Taking a deep breath, he locked his eyes on the door that the zombie had been slapping. "Time to see what's behind door number two."

* * *

Hearing a shot, Wayne turned toward the house.

He started to stand, but Nadene put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "We have to wait. We can't leave the bus."

He shook his head. "They need our help."

"If he was in trouble, we'd hear a lot more than one shot. It'd sound like World War III."

Relaxing on the seat, he nodded. "Good point."

"You think anyone else heard the shots? Walkers?"

"They're coming," Nadene said, closing her eyes. "They heard the shots. They're far away, but they are coming this way." She opened her eyes.

When he looked into her eyes, her irises had changed to a pale blue color, unlike the rich, deep blue they had been before. "Your eyes—" Shaking his head, he laid on the bus horn. I'll ask her about it later. We've got to get out of here. The horn resounded throughout the neighborhood.

"They are coming... they are hungry... They are hungry. We are hungry," Nadene shouted, then fell to her knees in agony.

Glancing at her, then the house, his eyes widened. Were her pupils glowing? What the hell is going on? Come on, people!

* * *

Hearing the horn outside, John moved to the bathroom door and kicked it open, revealing a middle-aged woman and a teenage girl hugging each other on the floor near the tub. John stretched out his hand to them and shouted, "Come on! Come with us!"

They didn't move, and John shouted again, "Come on! Do you want to live?"

The two females sat motionless except for the trembling. John sighed, pulled the teenager off the floor, and handed her off to Susan. He picked up the adult woman and hoisted her over his shoulder. He rushed through the house, and Susan dragged the girl behind her.

John stopped at the front door when he heard leaves rustling. I wonder how many of those bastards are between us and freedom.

Wayne stuck his head out of the bus door and yelled, "Here they come!"

John gritted his teeth and drew his pistol. He fired, striking a walker in the shoulder, spinning him like a top. "Go, dammit! Get her on the bus!"

Wasting no time, Susan, the girl in tow, ran to the bus and pushed her onto the stairs. She cocked the shotgun and fired into a crowd of creatures, knocking most of them down and slowing the others. "Come on, John!" She pulled the handle to load another shell and fired again.

John took off toward the bus. Once he got to the stairs, Wayne and Nadene took hold of the woman and lifted her from his shoulder. He looked at Susan. "Come on."

Susan fired one more shot before getting on the bus, and when Wayne put it in drive, she let out a cry of victory.

Damn, John thought, staring at Susan. Maybe I underestimated her. Maybe Dina was right; all she needed was a little faith.

* * *

"Sally!" Nadene ran down the aisle toward the seat where Sally had been thrown to get a better look at her. Her hair was brown from being unwashed, unlike her typical straight, well-kept blond hair. Her blue eyes stared into nothingness, and her skin was covered with dirt and grime. She was even wearing the same clothes that she had on the day Nadene had left. "Sally? You all right?"

Receiving no reply, Nadene sat beside her and took her hand. "It's okay, Sal. You're safe now. We're getting out of here."

Wayne maneuvered the bus up the street and cut a hard right to get out of the subdivision. A legion of the creatures had gathered in the street. Wayne hit the gas hard and clenched his teeth, plowing through the hundreds of zombies that were wandering mindlessly toward the bus. Wayne zig-zagged across the street, as if trying to hit as many of the things as he could.

John looked over the seat ahead of him. "Just get us out of here, Wayne. Stop playing with those things!"

The bus reached the main highway leading off from the subdivision, and he turned the wheel to take them north. Nadene looked over the seat to the front of the bus, her hand laced with Sally's. "We need to go somewhere we can rest."

"Rest? We're going to go grab that helicopter and get the hell out of this place," Wayne replied.

"We can't go on right now. Sally and Haley won't even talk. They're in no shape to make the trip right now."

"We gotta keep goin'. No stopping."

"Nah, Nadene's right. We need to put up stakes somewhere safe for now," John said.

Susan wiped Haley's face with a wet cloth. "Yeah, there's no way they can make it tonight."

"Fine," Wayne said. "If the damned things get us, it's not my fault. Just let it be known that I don't want to be in the middle of another trap. Where's a safe place, exactly?"

John turned to Nadene. "Do you know of anywhere those things might not be or somewhere we could see 'em coming?"

"I thought you might have an idea..."

"I've been through here once or twice, but this isn't my usual area to work."

She nodded. "There are some storage buildings and warehouses on this side of town. We could go there."

"All right. I trust you," John said.

Nadene showed Wayne where to go according to the GPS, and he drove to the large warehouse lot. A chain link fence surrounded the buildings, and a small guard shack was next to the gate in the front.

"No movement," John said, walking down the aisle and peering through the windows. "I'll get the fence open. Keep me covered."

"I got it," Susan said, as if eager to find a zombie. She stood, grabbed the shotgun, and followed John off the bus.

John walked around the front of the bus to the gate. He followed it to the side of the guard shack and opened the door. "Nobody here." He retrieved a key for the gate, unlocked it, and the opened it. Wayne pulled through, and John hit the button again to close it.

"Looks deserted," John said, climbing up the stairs of the bus.

"Hope it is," Wayne replied.

Driving around the lot, Wayne stopped the bus in front of a huge warehouse on the back of the property. "Better to bring the bus inside with us if we can. We can get the whole thing inside this one."

John stepped off of the bus again and examined the much smaller door on the side of the structure. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, and when he stood there for a while without moving, Nadene and Susan—each armed—descended the stairs and came up behind him.

Nadene could see only a few feet into the room, and it smelled like motor oil and old dust. She tried to listen, but the noise from the bus's engine flooded her ears. John returned to the bus, then went back to the door with his flashlight in hand.

He shined the flashlight through the door, but Nadene figured that he couldn't see anything, either. The flashlight didn't give out much light; a single beam shone into the darkness and was barely enough to penetrate it.

"I'm going to open the garage," he said. "Stay here and cover this exit."

He slowly made his way over to the huge roll-up door. The latch let out a loud screeching sound as John unlocked it. He bent over, pulled the door up, and walked outside. He scanned the distance, rubbed his neck and shoulders, and said, "Looks like they didn't hear that one. Thank God... I don't think I could shoot straight to save my life right now."

Wayne pulled the bus forward into the space. With the headlights illuminating the whole room, Nadene could see the very large, open warehouse interior. It appeared to not be in regular use; there were a few crates inside but not much of anything else. Once the bus was inside, John closed the garage door, and Susan secured the smaller side door.

"How's the fuel looking, Wayne?" John asked when he had reached the front of the bus. Nadene and Susan joined him at the door.

"We're on about a quarter of a tank."

"All right. Let's shut it off. This building may be ventilated," John glanced at the fans in the walls and the open skylights, "but we don't need to take any chances with carbon monoxide or wasting fuel."

"I also found out it has an emergency tank if we need it, but I don't know how much fuel it has," Wayne said, pointing to a switch on the instrument panel.

"Hopefully, we won't need it. You found the airfield on the GPS?" John leaned over the instrument panel when Wayne nodded. "According to this, we're only about half a mile away."

Wayne examined the GPS. "Yeah, give or take."

John sat on the first row behind Wayne. "Better get some rest, Wayne. I'm going to take a nap, too."

Wayne stood up and stretched, then walked toward the rear of the bus. He landed on a seat and pulled a blanket over his head.

Nadene sat next to her friend. "Sally, it's Dina. Talk to me. Please, talk to me."

Beyond her raspy breathing, Sally didn't make a sound. Her eyes were fixed on the seat ahead of her. Her eyes occasionally twitched or blinked, as if she was reliving the events of the last few days in her mind, oblivious to anything going on around her.

Nadene let out a frustrated sigh and walked over to Haley. Haley's stare followed Nadene's shirt up to her face, and they made eye contact. Blinking a few times, Haley had a look in her eyes like she had only just recognized Nadene. Her face contorted with confusion. At least she knows I'm here, Nadene thought, giving her a concerned grin.

"Dina?" Haley asked, her voice hoarse.

Nadene sat beside her. "Yes, it's Dina, Miss Haley."

"My throat hurts."

Nadene pulled a bottle of water from her backpack, opened it, and handed it to Haley. In four swallows, Haley finished the entire thing, then coughed and rubbed her throat and neck.

"I guess I screamed for so long, I lost my voice."

"What happened, Miss Haley?" Nadene asked.

"When you and Pam left, we locked all of the doors. We went to Mobile to find Robbie, but the people... the monsters... they chased us. We got home and boarded up the windows with whatever we could find. We didn't sleep... we couldn't sleep. Those things banged on the windows until they broke. Their moans kept us up all day and all night. It was horrible, Dina."

Haley took a deep breath and shook her head. "We hit their hands and arms, and I shot some of them, but that only brought more. We were out of food, we were out of water. Then, you came, sweet Nadene." She lifted her dirty hand and stroked Nadene on the cheek, smiling widely.

"What about Jared and Robert, Jr.?"

"Jared..." Haley's face turned from a smile to a horrified glare, her eyes welling up with tears. "Jared, my poor baby. He got bit by one when they broke through the window. One grabbed him and bit him. He died, Dina. He died, but he came back!"

"Robert, Jr.?" Nadene asked through tears of her own.

"Yes, he killed my baby!" Haley said, erupting into uncontrollable tears. "The screams... oh, God!"

Nadene leaned in and hugged her tightly. "We're going to make it out of here, Miss Haley. We're going west, and we're going to get out of all this mess."

"Robbie!" Haley called out. "Where's Robbie? We have to wait for him. He's coming for us. We have to wait for my husband!"

Haley tried to resist Nadene's hug and reached out for John's shoulder. "Please, we must wait for my husband, sir. We have to find him!"

"If he was at the hospital, we can't go for him. That's in the middle of town," Nadene said.

Haley broke down, her breaths hitching between sobs. Nadene knew somewhere, deep down that Haley's husband was already dead. How could he have survived the hospital? In the middle of downtown, closed off from the rest of the world?

The last time Nadene had seen them speak on the phone, he was short with her and hung up. Haley hadn't exactly been friendly or loving, either; she had seemed resentful that he was away at the hospital. Haley let go of Nadene and collapsed in her seat, continuing to sob into the cushion.

Nadene returned to Sally and tried to get her attention, but it was futile. She was in some kind of catatonia, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to respond. Nadene sat across the aisle from her and watched her closely, looking for any movement or any sign of life.

* * *

I must have nodded off. Nadene sat up and blinked. She look at Sally again, then her eyes widened when she noticed a tear fall from the edge of Sally's eye and roll down her cheek, a small sign of life or awareness behind her stony glare.

"Sally," Nadene changed seats again to be next to her. Sally's head didn't turn, but her eyes slowly tracked across the seat at which she'd been staring.

"Are you okay, Sally?" Nadene asked.

Sally's expression didn't change. It seemed that she was in a daze or that she didn't recognize Nadene's voice. Her eyes fixed on Nadene's, and her blank gaze gave small hints to the horrors she had experienced in the past few days.

"We should've left with you," Sally whispered. Her voice dripped with bitterness, as if she resented the fact that they had waited. "Now I know how you feel, Dina. I know what it's like to be abandoned."

Nadene hugged Sally. "No, Sally. Your Dad didn't abandon you. He just couldn't get back home."

"He could have come for us, but he didn't. He left us there to die. He let Robert, Jr., and Jared die! Me and Mom nearly died..."

"It's not his fault, baby," Haley said, peeking over Nadene's shoulder. "You saw how many came at our house, and we're not even in the main part of the city."

Sally shook her head. "He was supposed to protect us. Don't make excuses."

Haley put her hand on Nadene's shoulder. "Let's just leave her alone for a while, hon."

"Try to get some rest. As soon as dawn hits in a couple of hours, we're off to the airport," John said. "If we encountered that many walkers in a subdivision, we have to be ready."

Maybe we should have just gone to the airport, Nadene pondered to herself. Maybe we shouldn't have stopped here to rest.

"Dina?" Haley sat beside her and looked around as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Where's Pam?"

"She..." Nadene's chin hit her chest. "She didn't make it."

"I'm so sorry," Haley said, pulling her close in an embrace.

The tears flowing from her eyes, Haley wiped her face with her hand. "Why did this happen?"

"Evil men, Miss Haley. Evil men that hate us, nothing more."

Haley nodded, rejoined Sally in their row, and stared out the window.

The hours crept forward, and Nadene had a hard time sleeping. She worried about her friends, and she could only imagine how hard it would have been to put those images out of her mind had she witnessed it. It's hard enough to take my thoughts off Mom... how she died so horribly.

The stillness of the bus helped to make Nadene's eyelids heavy. She fell asleep.
Chapter 13

Nadene awoke to John walking past her row. Strange, she thought, rubbing her eyes. No dreams at all. Nothing.

Sitting up, she yawned, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep for a few more hours. She was dragging, but she decided not to complain aloud. Everyone else has had less sleep than I have. I have to be strong. I need to be strong for Sally and Haley, and for Mom.

"Time to wake up, people," John called out across the aisles in an authoritative tone. "We need to get moving."

Wayne clambered to his feet, but John put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"I'll drive today," John said. "You worry about everything you need to worry about to get that helicopter goin'."

Wayne nodded. He smiled with appreciation, as if not having to drive was a relief, but his face was riddled with worry.

"What's wrong?" Nadene asked when he neared.

"What if I've forgotten how to fly?" he whispered. "What if I don't know how to fly this particular bird?"

"Are helicopters that different?"

He sighed. "No... maybe I'm worrying for nothing."

She smiled. "Don't worry. I have a good feeling about today."

Wayne nodded and took a seat in the first row, and John took the driver's seat.

"Susan, can you get the door?" John asked, looking over his shoulder. "It's not hard, just slide that latch and pull the handle up."

* * *

"Sure," she said, going down the stairs. She walked behind the bus and took a quick look at the mechanism. Stopping, she felt uneasy. Something wasn't right. She looked around the warehouse that was only dimly lit from the headlights, but she saw nothing.

She pulled the latch and raised the back door. The sunlight blasted her in the eyes, and she averted her gaze. She raised her hand to shield her eyes. On the edge of her vision, she detected someone approaching. She turned and saw a seething male zombie standing behind her. She took a breath to scream, but the walker was on top of her before she could get it out. She grunted when she hit the ground. The back of her head ached from the impact, and the weight of the man squeezed her ribs to the breaking point.

She shoved him away, but he had a death grip on her. He dragged himself on top of her. She pushed as hard as she could on his head to keep his eager teeth from penetrating her flesh. Finally able to breathe, she screamed.

Dressed in a torn and shredded green uniform, the creature must have formerly been a park ranger. His hat had been ripped away, but the leather chin strap and buckle was still embedded in his rotting flesh. The road rash all over his face and body told her that he had been dragged under the bus for quite a while.

Susan scratched and slapped at the zombie, and his damaged skin broke and secreted a black substance that may have been blood at one time. The viscous fluid flowed slowly from his wounds and leaked all over Susan. Her fear, nausea, and disgust heightened. "Help me!"

She felt the walker's malformed teeth rub against her shoulder. Her skin was raw, and she cried at the thought of changing into one of them. The creature's mouth chattered open and closed, as if it had its own memory of the taste of flesh and knew that the kill was close. The dry enamel of the monster's teeth begged to be bathed in blood.

Pushing as hard as she could, Susan shoved the zombie with one last heave, every muscle in her body tightening. Just as she straightened her elbows and locked them into place, a shot rang out. She flicked her head to the side and shut her eyes and mouth to avoid the spray of blood, then pushed the corpse away.

Still lying in a pool of black blood and pieces of the zombie's head on the ground, she screamed and cried. She rolled over, rose to her knees, then stood and stared at the others.

John gazed at the lifeless corpse on the ground, a pool of blood forming around its head and expanding outward. He knelt and examined the injuries. "We must have dragged him all the way from the park."

"How?" Wayne asked, holding up his palms. "No one could hold on that long."

"These things can." John coughed at the sight of the zombie and turned to look under the bus. "No more under there, though. We had better get moving." He returned to the bus and took the driver's seat, and the others followed.

"Come on," Nadene offered her hand to Susan, "let's get you cleaned up."

Susan nodded, took her hand, and walked with her to the bus.

Backing the bus out of the warehouse, he heard a crunch under the front tires. "All right, where's this airfield?"

"You take a right out of here and follow the road for a mile or two. It's on the left," Nadene said, then went to the row behind John where Susan was sitting.

Susan grabbed a t-shirt from her backpack and drenched it with water. She scrubbed her face and chest, scrubbing her skin red to remove the blood, then stared out her window and wept. "Now I know what all those people who called me on 911 felt like while they were being attacked by something they couldn't stop."

John didn't bother to stop and open the gate at the street. The bus plowed straight through it, and the gate flew from its hinges and slid across the road.

* * *

Once the bus was clear of the warehouses, Nadene paced the center aisle until she saw the airfield. It was surrounded by a tall chain link fence, barbed wire coiled along the length at the top. The tarmac was probably just large enough to accommodate some of the bigger jet airliners, but she had never seen one land there. Three catwalks and boarding stations ringed a large, central terminal. On the roof of the terminal sat a helicopter. Vast numbers of zombies—probably several hundred, by her rough estimate—shambled around inside the fences, as if waiting for a meal.

"That's how we're getting in. That boarding gate." John pointed over his shoulder. "There's an emergency escape ladder and a hatch in the roof of the bus. Those bastards will have to break the windows before they'll be able to get us."

"It won't be hard to do," Susan said, knocking on the glass.

"By the time they get in, we'll be well on our way down the catwalk. It doesn't have to hold long."

Wayne stood, walked down the aisle, and pulled the ladder down from the hatch. "All right, I'll get it ready. Can walkers climb?"

"Probably so. Whoever comes up last needs to get rid of the ladder or lock the hatch," John replied. "Whatever it takes."

"Women and children up first," Wayne said, snapping the ladder into position.

"No, old fella, you're going first. Then the women and children can go. If you don't make it up there, nobody stands a chance of getting out of here anyway." John stared at him in the rear view mirror. "I'll come up last. I'm probably in the best shape out of everybody here."

The bus neared the gate, and Nadene sat and buckled her seat belt. She braced against the seat in front of her. John turned the wheel. The bus hit the grass and knocked down the gate and a huge section of fence. Nadene heard a pop and a blast of air. I hope it was one of the back tires.

John tensed up and hit the gas. He drove straight at the terminal, mowing down zombies as he went. John slowly shook his head. "My God..."

Nadene leaned into the aisle to get a better view. An army of walkers stood between the bus and the end of the catwalk, but the real problem was obvious to her: several pieces of airport equipment—luggage carts and mobile staircases—blocked the only place that John could park the bus.

He turned the wheel. "We'll have to pass this one up. Maybe the next one will be accessible."

The weight of the bus shifted to one side, and as it had before, it leaned over, lifting its right side into the air. John turned the wheel to correct the tilt, but he over adjusted. The bus slammed onto its right side, and Nadene heard another tire pop. She felt the bus slow quickly, then lean over to the right. The bus kept going until it crashed onto its side.

Her eyes wide at the sparks, she screamed. She wrapped her arms around the seat in front of her out of fear of falling. Finally, the bus came to a rest. When Nadene looked left, she saw the bottom of the second catwalk. Unbuckle. Get moving. Get moving! She unlatched her seat belt, fell out of her seat, and climbed up the seats to the aisle.

John was walking toward her on the up-facing edges of chairs like stepping stones over a creek. He made his way to Nadene and helped her climb up to where he was standing.

"Let's get out of here," John said, breaking the glass above him with his flashlight. "Come on."

As Wayne stepped up, John lifted, almost launching him through the window.

Glancing at Wayne, John reached toward Susan. "Next up!"

Lifting Nadene through the opening, Nadene heard the back windows of the bus break, and the zombies fell into the bus.

"Dammit!" John shouted.

"What's wrong?" Wayne asked.

"They're coming in! I don't have any of the weapons up yet!" John threw the shotgun up to Wayne, then grabbed one of the assault rifles and tossed it out.

Nadene looked at either side of the bus, seeing twenty or thirty walkers surrounding them and hundreds of others closing. She looked past the sea of arms and hungry mouths at the gate. The door was only a few feet higher than where she was standing.

Wayne helped Susan, Haley, and Sally out, then the end of the hunting rifle came through the window. She heard more glass breaking below.

"Forget the rest of the guns!" Wayne grabbed John's hand, and Susan grabbed his other.

"Get to the gate!" John shot to his feet and took off. "Come on, move!"

John jogged across the top of the bus toward the boarding gate, and Nadene and the others chased after him. A big red lever on the outside had a semi-circle arrow instructing the viewer how to open the door. John turned the latch, forced open the gate, and climbed in, then helped Nadene, Sally, and Haley into the dark tunnel.

Wayne, running full speed, jumped and landed inside the gate, then turned and helped Susan up. Once they all were inside, Wayne closed the gate behind them and secured it. "Hand me something to tie this latch with." He opened his hand toward the others.

Nadene handed Wayne a leather belt from her backpack. Wayne wrapped the belt around the latch and then around the handle. Letting out a grunt, he cinched it tight and nodded.

"Nice driving, ace," Susan said with a sigh. "I really mean it."

John drew his pistol and clicked on his flashlight. "I would've preferred something other than a crash landing. Things got a little tense back there."

"Don't worry about it. We made it," Susan replied, patting John on the arm.

He nodded and scanned the hallway with his weapon out front.

Nadene eyed the few rays of sunlight that entered through the small windows on the corridor, but they weren't letting in enough light to see clearly. Unlike most of the places she'd been, she couldn't find the customary blood sprays on the walls, the half-eaten bodies of victims, or walkers.

"It doesn't look like they've been in here, but we need to be careful," John said at the lead.

They entered an open terminal area where the three boarding gates intersected. Benches, fake plants, and fountains—still from a lack of electricity or water—formed a circle around the terminal, and she could make out airline signs on the walls above booking stations. Blank television screens hung from the ceiling.

Creeping through the terminal, John said, "Anyone have any ideas about how to get to the helicopter?"

"Those doors... we need to find one for the stairs," Wayne said, pointing left and right. "We have to get access to the roof."

Suddenly, Nadene heard a banging noise coming from the corridor behind them. John, his pistol straight out, spun around, and Nadene and the others ducked the business end of the weapon.

"We had better be quick about it," John said. "Split up and search the area, but don't leave the terminal."

They spread out and examining the walls and closed doorways. Finally, Wayne called out from a short hall off to the side, "Here it is."

John glanced at the sign that read "Stairs," then listened to the door. "Nothing." He cracked open the door and peered into the darkness. Stepping through the doorway, he aimed down the stairs, paused, and pointed his weapon upward. "That must be it."

Nadene jumped at the sudden crashing sound that resounded throughout the terminal.

"They must have made it in," Wayne whispered.

"Let's move." John ushered them onto the stairs, then closed and locked the door behind him. He gazed through the narrow window into the terminal as the zombies entered and climbed the stairs. "Come on."

He reached the landing at the top, facing a door marked "Roof Access." He opened it, and a rush of sunlight flooded the stairwell. Nadene was relieved to see the helicopter perched on the roof. Finally, we're getting somewhere.

"Clear," John said, walking out.

Once everyone was through, Susan closed the door behind them. "Help me move these barrels in front of the door."

Wayne tilted a barrel. "These things must weigh a couple hundred pounds."

"You get in there," John took hold of the barrel and pointed at the helicopter, "and get it started. We'll take care of the door." Nadene did her best to help John and Susan move the oil barrels into position.

Wayne jogged across the roof. He opened the pilot's door and got into the seat. He pulled out a plastic binder and read over it. Haley and Sally opened the back sliding door and got inside.

"They've made it to the stairs," John said, hearing glass break inside the stairwell.

They had finished placing six barrels when Nadene heard what sounded like a hand slapping the metal door from the other side. She backed away from the door and ran to the helicopter.

John joined Wayne next to the pilot's seats. "What's that?"

"Start-up checklist," Wayne replied, putting on the headphones and following the checklist with his fingertip. His hands wandering across the panels, he flipped switches, pressed buttons, and turned knobs in the cockpit as if his body remembered everything he'd been taught without thinking about it. The blades on the top of the helicopter started rotating, and John heard the engine revving up.

"Get in!" John gestured at Susan who was still rocking an oil barrel into place in front of the door. She ran to the helicopter, ducked under the spinning propellers, climbed into the back, and closed the sliding door.

"You going to get this thing off the ground or what?" John asked, joining Wayne in the cockpit.

"You gotta let this baby warm up! It's been sitting here for God-knows-how-long."

"You better figure it out quick!" John said, pointing at the door. The barrels grated against the concrete, and a necrotic hand reached through, feeling around the door frame.

"You just better be glad that this thing's a converted Huey," Wayne replied. "At least I know how to fly it."

The helicopter slowly lifted off the roof and into the air just as a group of zombies piled through the door, knocking a few of the barrels over in the process. Gallons of oil covered the roof and dripped over the sides, and some of the walkers slipped and fell. John smiled, then hollered out and slapped the instrument panel. "We did it, boy—"

Wayne shook his head. "Hey, hey, mind the gauges!"

Floating over the parking lot, Nadene peered through the window of the large sliding door. "Look, down there." She saw a dump truck racing across the tarmac toward the terminal. Halfway across the property, the truck turned to follow the helicopter. A woman climbed out of the window, waved her hands, and shouted, but she couldn't hear anything at that distance and over the noise of the engine.

Susan leaned over. "Hey," she tapped Wayne on the shoulder, "there are more people down there!"

John put his forehead on the window to watch. "We can't help them."

"Sure we can. Take it down," Susan said. "They won't last against all of those things."

"If we land, we won't be able to escape," John said. "There's hundreds—if not a thousand—walkers down there."

"We can't leave them to die. Take it down. Wayne?"

John shook his head. "You saw how long it took to get off the roof."

"Wayne?" She leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder. "Wayne?"

Wayne turned away and stared into the sky. "John's right. If we land, we won't take off again." He cleared his throat, and the helicopter—except for the roar of the engine—was silent.

Susan put her hand on the window and watched. When the dump truck was no longer visible, Susan's fingers slid down the glass, and her hand fell in her lap.

This is the world we live in now, Nadene thought, taking Susan's hand. Our group above the needs of others, even if it results in their death. A tear came to her eye thinking about the people below that she was powerless to help, their fate sealed for no other reason than getting to the airport a couple of minutes late.
Chapter 14

Nadene sat in silence for the duration of the helicopter flight. Wayne would give location reports every once in a while, but she sat and gazed through the window at the hordes, some wandering aimlessly and others dead on the ground, coated in the gold liquid that had been dropped in the days before.

Things were so different. Her mother had died, her father was somewhere out there—probably a zombie—and her closest relatives had been in cities far away when the missiles came. She had no one except the people in that helicopter who even knew her name. Her powers had gone from Déjà vu to fully-involved visions of the truth of the future, and she wondered how the zombie's blood would continue to change her.

As they neared the coastline, Wayne pointed at the cityscape below. "We're approaching Biloxi, or what's left of it anyway. I'm going to make a turn to avoid downtown."

As the helicopter turned, Nadene could see the remains of Biloxi. What had once been a bustling city full of life was a wasteland, the streets full of bodies, wrecked cars, and burning debris. Looks like the chemical worked. Nothing left alive.

"The walkers must not have been able to survive," John said, looking out of the window. "I wonder how many normal people died as a result, though."

Wayne shrugged. "Once we get around Biloxi, we can make our way to the Mississippi. I don't want to take this bird anywhere near that stuff."

The helicopter banked to the south, taking them over the Gulf of Mexico. Nadene thought about her father's job at that big oil company. He was always back and forth from the mainland to the rigs, and she figured that she was probably seeing the same view that he had a hundred times. She imagined a place that was untouched by the virus, unblemished and free of the zombies.

The scenery of forested shores and the sea changed into that of marshland and swamp, which Nadene took as a sign that the helicopter had passed over into Louisiana.

"We're getting close to the river," Wayne said. "We're only a few miles out now. After that, we'll be in Texas in no time."

Wayne grabbed his headphones and held them tight against his ears. "I hear something." He flipped a switch on the console, and a voice came over the speakers in the helicopter.

"...yourself. Unknown craft, this is the United States Air Force. Identify yourself," the voice said, static between the words.

Susan sighed. "Thank God. Finally."

"Yes, um, yes! This is..." Wayne said, pausing to flip through a plastic binder. "This is WX-1461. Good to hear a friendly voice!"

"This is Red Four, USAF aircraft on patrol. I'm signaling our base for instructions on where you need to go. Standby," the voice said.

Wayne pointed ahead. "There's the Mississippi. Looks like they're trying to quarantine the east from the west. See all the towers? Looks like a bunch of deer stands, but a lot bigger."

The Air Force pilot came back on the radio. "All right, I have received instructions from base, WX-1461. I'm sorry, but you are not cleared to pass the Mississippi River. Land the helicopter immediately."

"What? I can't land the helicopter over here, walkers are everywhere on this side of the river."

"We can't land here! Explain it to them!" Susan shouted.

John put his finger over his mouth. "Shh! You trying to get us killed?"

"You have your instructions, WX-1461. If you do not deviate from your present course, Command has authorized me to shoot you down."

"Shoot us down?" Susan yelled.

"I'm not going to let that happen," Wayne said. "We're going to make it!"

John shook his head. "Just land it, Wayne. We'll walk it out, and—"

"Oh, no. We haven't come this far just to be stopped now. We're going to make it. Everybody, hold on!"

Wayne flipped a few switches on the console and the helicopter's engine grew louder. He pushed the stick forward, and the helicopter plummeted toward the ground.

"What the hell are you doing, Wayne?" John asked, grabbing his seat.

"Getting us out of here!"

The helicopter dropped into a valley between the trees, and Nadene's stomach nearly went through the floor when it leveled out. The trees rocketed past the windows, the helicopter gaining speed. She looked through the window on the sliding door to see the front of a fighter jet rapidly approaching.

"You must deviate, WX-1461, or we will be forced—"

Wayne clicked off the radio. The fighter tilted upward, gained altitude, and started to turn.

Sweat pouring from his forehead, Wayne's brow wrinkled. "He's on an attack course!"

The front of the fighter jet erupted with flames, and a trail of bullet impacts struck the ground and sent water flying through the air. Wayne threw the stick to the side, making a sudden turn down another branch of the valley.

"Straight ahead! I see the Mississippi!" Wayne shouted. "Troops on the walls!"

Nadene leaned over to see out of the front window. Light flashed from the ends of the soldiers' weapons. Wayne squinted at a side mirror and said, "He's coming back around for another run. The river curves up ahead. When I make this next turn, jump out! Don't ask questions, just do it! Make your way to Texas!"

John shook his head. "We won't go without you!"

Susan slid the door open after the helicopter passed over the soldiers. Bullets shot through the bottom of the cockpit, striking Wayne in the legs.

Wayne hit a button to stop an alarm and tossed his dog tags in John's lap. "Go now! Get out of here, goddammit!"

"Damn!" John pocketed the tags, then wiggled out of his seat and climbed in the back with the others.

* * *

One by one, they jumped. Wayne hit the stick hard left and slammed his foot on the pedal. The helicopter turned almost completely on its side, and he took one last glance at them through the window. His friends hit the water and started toward the far bank. They had crossed the Mississippi, and Wayne smiled. "Good luck, folks." He maneuvered the helicopter, rising from the water and flying above the trees.

He tried to control his breathing and the helicopter. The pain from the bullet holes in his legs made it hard to concentrate. Good, he thought, seeing the stream of blood. They didn't hit the femoral. I'd be out by now if they had.

He reached into his pocket, removed his wallet, and flipped it open. Pulling a folded piece of paper from it, he smiled at the date written across the back. Three years to the day after my baby was born. He unfolded it and stared at the old photograph. Damn, I was so young. So foolish. He stole a look at the fighter plane closing. Maybe not as foolish as I've become. Oh God, Betty... Emily... hold a seat open for me at the table. I'm coming home at long last. He closed his eyes, sucked a deep breath through his nose, and gripped the stick.

"Come on you bastards!" He narrowed his eyes and stared at the incoming jet. "Come and get me!"

* * *

Nadene pulled herself onto the shore and just under the cover of the trees before the jet fighter shot past her. The machine gun report deafening, she covered her ears, falling to the ground. Looking across the water, she watched the helicopter explode into a fireball. The fighter banked hard to the right and flew off into the sky and out of sight.

"Wayne!" Susan collapsed to her knees and covered her face, the tears flowing.

"Thank you, buddy," John said slowly, watching the flames fall to the river. He pulled out the dog tags, rubbing them together between his fingers, and replaced them in his pocket.

Nadene walked over to Susan, helped her to her feet, and turned to John. "He wouldn't have had it any other way. I told you the kind of man he was." She tightened her lips, a tear finding its way down her cheek. Goodbye.

Haley and Sally followed solemnly behind Susan and Nadene as they walked into the woods. Glancing over her shoulder, Nadene watched John wipe his eyes before turning to follow.

As they sloshed through the swamp, Nadene froze when she heard movement in the nearby brush. Soldiers? Oh God... what will they do to me? I'm infected! They'll kill me!

"Y'all look like hell," the voice said, the thrushes parting. A hand came through first, then the end of a shotgun, and finally, a man wearing overalls, tall rubber boots, and a flannel shirt. His brown hair was concealed partially by a red and white baseball cap, and although the man was armed and had discovered them sneaking through the swamp, Nadene was relieved that he wasn't a soldier.

"Ain't ya goin' to say nothin'?" the man asked, raising the shotgun. "Is y'all alive or what?"

John glanced at the ground, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and stared the man in the eyes. "We've been through hell. We slogged up from the bottom and came out on top."

The man nodded and tilted his head to the side to spit out the tobacco juice that had collected in his lower lip. "Well, follow me. I'll take you up to town. We don't got none of them things over here, sorry to disappoint."

They arrived at the small shanty town at a high point in the swamp. Nadene could see several people outside going about their lives, giving the place an atmosphere of village life. She was just glad to see people again—the living kind, the ones who weren't out to eat them.

"So, where do we go from here?" Susan asked.

"Better ask Nadene," John replied. "She's taken us this far."

"First, we rest," Nadene said. "Then, we keep going west. The threat is far from over."
