

The Dead are Sleeping

by Paul Westwood

Copyright 2017 Paul Westwood

Smashwords Edition

September 18th – late afternoon

Thomas Jacobs sat inside of his office, leaning back in his chair. He was busy studying a summer final exam paper, wondering why this student bothered to show up for the test. Valley University, where he worked, wasn't exactly Harvard but tuition, even for a school of this size, wasn't inexpensive. It wasn't his place to consider the financial repercussions of a student's choices, but he still felt guilty as his red pen went to work.

His small office on the third floor of the science building was crammed with papers, geology magazines, a desktop computer, different sized rocks and fossils displayed on shelves, and an assortment of dirty coffee cups bought from different locations around the country. It was a collection of clutter, each layer known only to the owner. Thomas was a man nearing middle-age with brown hair but with a touch of gray on his temples. Thanks to a strict regimen at the university gym he looked fit for his years, though the stomach, which seemed to have a mind of its own, was always a place of battle.

There was a knock at the open door. Thomas didn't turn his head to look. Instead he finished writing a negative comment on the page. Once he was done, he looked up to see his next door office neighbor, who taught astronomy. William Meyers had a short stocky build that last saw the gym several decades ago, a bald egg-shaped head, and clothes that looked slept in. His rather frumpy exterior was broken by an engaging grin.

"Tom, are you going to keep burning the midnight oil?"

"Hey, Will. I just have a few more papers to grade and I'll be done. Maybe I'm getting old but these students seem to be getting dumber by the year."

The bald man laughed. "You're just getting old. Can't you remember when you were young? I mean who could concentrate on studying when all these young women are around? It isn't like we live in a monastery."

Tom laughed at his friend. "You're incorrigible! A man your age shouldn't be chasing the fairer sex. Why you're old enough to be their grandfather."

Will frowned. "Grandfather? I may be old but I'm still young where it counts." He tapped the side of his head. "You're still planning to go on the field trip tonight, aren't you? It's supposed to be the biggest meteor shower that history has ever recorded. It will be unlike anything we've seen before."

"I'm sure it will be," Tom said skeptically. "Remind me again why I should bother."

His expression turning serious, Will replied, "Because we are teachers and our students expect us to guide them. How often do our chosen professions intersect? I can describe, with beautiful detail, the heavenly origin of the meteorite while you can bore them with the more mundane, like what the little rocks are made out of. How many times can a geologist teacher actually be listened to? Anyway there will be some lovely specimens of co-eds there. I'm sure one of them would take a shine to you."

"I'm a married man," Tom reminded his friend.

"Why yes you are. I sometimes forget that," he said slyly. "By the way how is Anne doing these days?"

"As good as always. Why do you ask?"

William replied with a grin. "The faculty scuttlebutt machine got to work in overtime when you married to her last year. I mean what made a confirmed bachelor like you finally give in to the female trap? Personally I think you broke a lot of hearts here at school, especially the entire social science department, including the men." William's hatred of the soft science was well-known. He was the type of individual who preferred to see the world in black and white; like a complex mathematical equation that only be solved by someone as smart as he was. It was a flaw that kept him, unlike Tom, perpetually lonely since no woman could stand his self-inflated ego for long.

"I had no idea I was the topic of idle gossip."

His friend shrugged. "I'm sure it's just jealousy. You know how it goes, some people are only happy when others aren't. Now speaking of happiness, are you still planning on going to the meteor show tonight? You said you would."

Tom didn't really want to go since his life had been too stressful lately with work and the recent reorganization of his world which revolved around the sun called Anne. He would like a quiet night at home with her, a chance to play some music, and drink some red wine. The two of them could talk all night about anything under the sun. There had been too little of this lately since the both of them had been coming home exhausted from work. Anne's job as a legal assistant was always a rollercoaster of the unknown.

He finally replied, "Of course I'll go tonight. I mean what could be more fun than hearing you blather on while the students are sneaking drinks from a whiskey bottle?"

"That's the spirit!" Will exclaimed. "We're meeting in the parking lot at eight o'clock. I expect you to ferry a few students in that old Subaru of yours. We'll be taking some back roads so that would help."

"I'll be there," Tom said glumly.

The astronomy professor didn't notice this resistance. Instead he gave a friendly wave and sauntered off, leaving the office door open.

Tom sighed. He put the pen down, stood up and stretched. He checked the time on his phone and decided it was time to go home. He locked up, and left. Outside it was still hot. This part of summer always was but the nights were becoming cooler, a subtle sign that the season was coming to an end.

August 15th – Evening

Tom pulled into the driveway of his ranch house. It was a small place without much yard. The neighborhood was, at one time, predominantly working class. Its proximity to the university had seen an increase in property values, and the slow exodus of the original inhabitants, who gladly took the money and ran to Florida. The new residents took to a flurry of additions, and even more extreme tear downs and rebuilds. The entire area was now always busy with construction workers and heavy trucks.

He parked, locked his car, and then went inside through the side door.

"Is that you, Tom?" a woman's voice called out from the kitchen.

"Of course it is," he answered back. "Were you expecting someone else?"

His wife was standing at the countertop, slicing some vegetables for a nearby salad bowl. Tom thought she looked as beautiful as ever. He always felt a little nervous around her as if the marriage was just a dream and he was about to wake up to find himself alone.

Anne Tyler was of medium height with a sharply defined face, large brown eyes, and auburn hair. She was wearing a black skirt that fell to the knees, stocking with no shoes, and a dark green sleeveless top. Her movements were graceful like a dancer, as if carefully thought out before executed. It added an ethereal quality that kept Tom mesmerized. He had met her at a dull university art exhibit, one that he only attended because of the free wine. A few glasses later and he found himself arm in arm with a woman who had caught his eyes. Together they made snide comments at the exhibits. It didn't take long for numbers to be exchanged and for a more formal date to happen. It was then that he had discovered that Anne was a kindred spirit: unconventional and not afraid to say what's on her mind. Marriage was only a few months later.

The speed of the whole relationship had been a shock to Tom. He had never expected or wanted to be married, but Anne had changed all of that. They were happy together, but there was still this feeling of uneasiness, like a temporary truce as they both figured each other out.

"Make me a drink, darling?" his wife asked. "And lots of ice. I've got to watch these steaks."

"A gin and tonic is coming right up."

He went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of gin. A trip to the refrigerator and freezer and a pair of tall drinks were ready to go. He brought one to his wife, who took an appreciative sip before tossing the salad.

"How about some music?" she suggested.

"I was just about to suggest the same thing." Carrying his drink in one hand, Tom first kicked off his shoes and then went to the living room where his stereo was. The collection of electronics, speakers, and turntable were his pride and joy. He selected a Chet Baker album and placed it on the record player. Once the arm dropped, music poured out of the speakers. He stood back a few feet and listened to the sound of the trumpet. Once he was satisfied that everything was okay, he returned to the kitchen.

"You heard about the meteor shower?" she asked. "It's been all over the news. They're saying it will be an amazing show. Everyone will be out to watch it."

"Yeah I did. William wants me to go out with his astronomy class to watch it from some undoubtedly muddy field. You can come along if you want to."

Anne made a face. "Oh. I was hoping to watch from our backyard. I do hate your friend Will when gets in one of his moods. He's such a know-it-all professor at times. It reminds me of the bad parts of college."

"I'm a professor too."

"But you're not a know-it-all. It gets tiresome."

"So you don't want to go?"

She shook her head. "I'm not fond of students fumbling with each other while that so-called friend of yours drones on about gravity, the planets, and other silly stuff that has no bearing on real life."

Tom snorted. "Now you sound like an anti-intellectual. I suppose my work as a geologist has nothing to do with the real world either."

Anne turned her attention away from the stove to face him. A touch of a smile played on her lips. "You academics are so sensitive. Of course your work is important, my dear. Without geology there wouldn't be mines, or gold for jewelry, or oil. Your profession has uses."

Shaking his head, Tom decided to let the argument drop. He knew that she was just playing with him, a form of blowing off steam after a bad day at work. Her job as a legal assistant to a top-notch defense lawyer was not without its drawbacks. Tom also knew that she appreciated what he brought to the table: a steady income and the ability to match her sharp wits with his own. It was a seemingly vicious game that they played but there were boundaries too. Neither one walked away feeling hurt.

"The steaks are ready," she said. "Sit down and I'll serve them. Do you want another drink?"

He sat down at the dining room table. "I better not. I have to stay sober if I want to be able to drive my car with a load of giggling students."

"I'm sure that experience will be a real burden," she said dryly.

They both laughed in unison, breaking the tension. Tom said, "Maybe you had better come along then to protect my virtue."

"Maybe I should," she shot back, playfully. "You might find someone that you really love."

"A bottle of wine will help to ease any pain you encounter tonight."

"It will take more than a bottle of wine to live through Will's lecturing, but I'll go along just to keep you out of trouble."

"It's agreed then."

They began to eat.
August 15th – Night

It was after ten. The sky, except for the dim light of the city on the western horizon, was inky black and sparkling with stars. Mars was low, just above the reaches of the pine trees that lined the large fallow field. Grasshoppers and tree frogs created a cacophony of noise. A warm breeze rippled through the air, brushing the tops of the weeds and creating an undulating wave that rippled with unknown patterns. In the middle of this field were students sitting on blankets. They were in a loose circle around William, who was standing, and Tom, who was sitting nearby with his wife.

Will was speaking: "Meteors are mostly ice and sand fragments, though so-called dirty ones may also contain rocky fragments. My friend, Dr. Jacob, will fill us in on those geological details when I'm done talking, but needless to say the fragments are usually of a size much smaller than a pebble. Imagine something not much larger than a piece of dust. Because of this size, the meteorite won't be able to get through the Earth's atmosphere. Instead they burn up in a flash, creating the familiar streaking shooting star phenomenon."

A student in the back asked, "Where do the meteors come from, professor?"

William laughed. "If you had read your textbook, Mr. Baker, then you would have known that the tails of comets, as they disintegrate from the heat of the sun, leave tiny fragments behind. There was a recent comet, named Malkowitz-Bader, which passed between Earth and Mars last year. What we are about to see are remnants of this planetary traveler. Though no one expected a show of such magnitude to occur. This will be a rare occurrence."

"And just when are these remnant supposed to arrive?" Baker asked, his voice beginning to crack with anger. He obviously was the type who reacted poorly to criticism.

Will made a show of looking at his watch. He then replied, "Right about now. If you take a look behind you, you will see the beginning of the show."

There was a shifting of bodes and the turning of heads as the assembled students looked at the sky above. A trailing streak had just shot by, a thin razor of light that came and went in a blink of an eye. Tom wasn't very impressed and was about to turn his attention to his wife to tell her so. But the gasp that came out of her made him return his attention to the view above. He saw the heavens light up with innumerable number of meteorites. And as the seconds ticked by, the intensity only grew until the darkness of night disappeared; so bright was the illumination of the objects striking the atmosphere.

"Is this normal?" Tom found himself asking Will. A quick glance and he saw that his friend was watching with a shocked face, slack jaw and wide eyes.

"No," was the stilted reply. "I've never seen anything like this before. Not in all my years."

Tom felt a deep fear well in his stomach and crawl up his throat. It was a primitive fear, animal in nature as if he wanted to get up and flee the coming danger. His logical brain said everything was okay. This was just a natural phenomenon, right?

The angle of the meteorites began to perceptibly change, seemingly closer with the trail of light ending before the horizon. Tom thought it was his imagination but he began to wonder if this little group was in any danger. This feeling multiplied when Anne reached over and clutched his hand. There was a sound of thunder, a rumbling in the distance. But the skies were clear. The gathered students looked back at their professor as if expecting him to offer an explanation.

Will said nothing. He was still standing with an almost imperceptible sway. His mouth was wide open. Tom noted that this was the first time he ever saw his friend speechless.

A single loud boom broke from above. Everyone's attention returned to the sky. There was a brilliant flaming light that shone with a mix of red and orange. Tom could swear he felt the heat from the incoming rock. It flew overhead for only a second before striking the ground just near the edge of the trees. Instead of an explosion there was only a cloud of what looked to be smoke and churned dirt. Tom realized he had been holding his breath. He slowly let the air out of lungs, glad there was no explosion. A large asteroid would have been deadly, like the Tuskagee event that had destroyed miles of forest.

The onlookers let out a sigh of relief and, with curiosity, began to move toward the impact site.

Will held up a hand and announced: "I want everyone to stay here. Tom and I will take a look."

The wind was still blowing, picking up the fine dust that had been blown into the air and spreading it even further. Tom gave his wife's hand a reassuring squeeze before breaking away from the group. He didn't remember ever feeling so scared before.

Together, Tom and Will began a cautious approach.

"What in the hell just happened?" Tom asked one they were out of hearing of the group.

Another meteor flew by, this time far to their right. It disappeared behind a hill, where a solitary farmhouse sat.

This didn't seem to bother Will, who was regaining his composure. He answered excitedly, "This is a major meteor strike, something never seen by human eyes. I mean we are talking real old world, pre-dinosaur days when the young Earth was just volcanic, and the seas hadn't even formed. The tail of this comet must have flown closer to the sun than calculated to create so much debris." He glanced up at the sky. "And the storm appears to be ending."

Tom glanced upward. The number of streaks zipping across the sky had decreased, now becoming just a random occurrence. The natural darkness of night was returning. This normality was comforting.

A thought crossed his mind. He asked his friend another question. "You said that the meteorites burned up in the atmosphere; that they were so tiny that they never made it beyond. These fragments were big enough to survive the journey to the ground, yet there was no explosive impact. What happened here?"

Will enthusiastically replied, "That's what I was hoping you could answer. Whatever the substance is, it must be beyond the strength of ice or rock, and even the mix of iron ore that's common in asteroids." He paused to step around a rut in the field. "If we can identify the composition of the meteorite before anyone else, then it would be an important scientific discovery. Why you and I could be on television!"

"If you say so," Tom commented without enthusiasm. He was still feeling shook up.

They came across the impact site soon enough. There was a scorch mark on the ground where the meteorite had hit. The air was thick with a strange white dust that floated in the air like dandelions. The particles stung their eyes and choked their mouths. Tom had to cough a few times and wave the air in front of his face so he could examine the area better.

"What is this stuff?" William wondered out loud, obviously annoyed.

There was no crater, or even an expected lump of ore. Instead there was a pattern of burn marks on the grass of the fallow field. In the center were fragments of a brown material that reminded Tom of coconut husks – fibrous and organic. He wondered what it was made out of. As his friend watched, Tom reached over and picked a scrap up. It was still warm. A thin layer of white dust covered one side.

"That's no rock," Will dryly commented. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

"No," Tom replied. He put the husk down, feeling at unease. There was something wrong here. "Maybe we should get back to the others."

"That's the best idea I've heard all night."
August 16th – Morning

Tom heard the alarm go off. He turned it off and then rolled out of bed to a sitting position. He felt tired and his eyes itched. Last night had been terrible for sleep. He had replayed the meteorite strike over and over in his mind, as if trying to find some new data from the experience. That was a fruitless exercise without more information.

"Time to get out of bed," he said to Anne, who seemed to still be asleep.

She just groaned and rolled over.

"You said that you've got to get to court at nine," Tom warned her. "That doesn't leave you much time."

She let out another groan. "I don't feel good."

"Sick?"

"I feel like I have the flu. I'm so tired and nauseous." Anne sat up; the motion was apparently too much for her. She slumped back down on the bed to rest again.

Tom said, "You were right, honey, we should have stayed home last night. Do you really have to go to work today?"

"I guess sitting out at night made me sick," she croaked out. "I'm sure Jimmy won't mind if I took one day off." Jim Tremaine was the lawyer she worked for.

"You just stay in bed," Tom said, reached over to feel her forehead. It was burning hot. "I'll call your boss for you, okay?"

"Thanks, honey," his wife managed to say before dropping quickly into an uneasy sleep.

Tom looked at her, his expression creased with worry. After convincing himself that she was going to be okay, he went downstairs to brew some coffee. When that was bubbling along he called Jim Tremaine and told him the bad news. The lawyer took it in stride, wishing his employee the best.

Once the coffee was done, Tom carefully sat on the sofa in the living room and turned the television on. He changed the channels with the remote until a news channel came up. The meteorite event was, understandably, the top news story.

As photos from the around the world were being displayed, the blonde newscaster was speaking: "Leading scientists are saying the sheer size of this meteor shower was unprecedented. And the number of extraterrestrial objects that have survived coming through the atmosphere to strike the Earth is shocking, to say the least. Reports are coming in from all over the world, as near as next door to our broadcasting facilities, New York, Texas, and California, and as far away as New Zealand, China, the even the Samoan Islands. It would be more sensible to ask where these meteorites haven't struck then to ask where."

The narrative paused as some amateur video montage was played, showing lights streaking through both night and daytime skies.

After a minute of this the newscaster continued: "What has been most shocking are the meteorites themselves. To discuss this, we've invited NASA scientist Gary Wu to tell us more."

Tom perked up at this, placing the coffee cup on the table so he could concentrate.

On the television another face-sized screen next to the newscaster opened up. A man with glasses, black hair, and a buttoned up shirt appeared. A backdrop of a perfectly ordinary living room was behind him.

"Good morning, Dr. Wu," the newscaster said. "What can you tell us about these meteorites."

The doctor cleared his throat before speaking. "Hello. There is no reason for people to be alarmed. The astrological and geological history of our world is replete with such events, from an asteroid that killed the dinosaurs to the type of small asteroids that survive their journey in the atmosphere and end up in a museum. Luckily this was nothing like the former example and something closer to the latter." His voice was high pitched and strained with nervousness. Perhaps he wasn't used to being on television.

The newscaster asked, "There have been reports that these meteorites aren't the normal stone or ore one would expect. Can you comment on this?"

Wu blinked a few times before answering, "Mafic intrusive rocks, as we call them, can vary in weight and composition, especially if superheated by our passing through our atmosphere. What people, who aren't trained in such things, are apt to do is to assign invalid properties to things they don't understand."

Tom felt his anger rising. He was enough of a geologist to know when a rock was a rock. What he had seen and touched last night was no mineral-based material.

After a pause, the newscaster asked, "So you discount the stories about the meteorites being organic in nature?"

"At this point I wouldn't rash enough to discount anything, but I would look first at the more likely answers. Too many people are bound to go for fanciful explanations when the simple ones will do. A complete study will be done on these meteorites and the result will be released to the public when the tests are completed. Until then everything is conjecture."

"Conjecture indeed," Tom said out loud as he switched off the television with the remote. Those so-called experts were trying to cover something up. Even a first year geology student could tell that those meteorite fragments weren't made out of any mineral, but were instead organic in nature. But why were these claims being made? Without an answer, Tom went to the kitchen to rinse his coffee cup out. He then returned to the bedroom and checked in on Anne again, who was sleeping fitfully.

Satisfied that his wife way okay, Tom went to the bathroom and showered and shaved. Once he was done, Tom slipped back into the bedroom, staying as quiet as he could as he changed into a pair of jeans, and a polo shirt. After feeling his wife's forehead, he slipped out of the bedroom and left the house. He was worried. He had never seen Anne so sick before. But she was young and strong. Surely the illness would pass soon. If she wasn't feeling better by tonight, he would take her to the emergency room.

Tom went out to the car. He started up the Subaru and began to drive. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the streets seemed deserted. Sure there was some traffic, but not at the normal levels for this time of the day. It seemed rather eerie as if everyone else has decided to go on vacation without telling him. That feeling of unease only increased when he pulled into university campus. Instead of the normal crowd of students, there were only a handful of people on the sidewalks. When he pulled into the staff parking lot, a shiver of fear crossed his back when he saw that only a half-dozen cars were there. What was going on?

When Tom arrived at his office, he noticed that the science building, which was normally busy with students and staff, was also deserted. It took some concentration but soon he was back to grading papers. The work kept his mind busy and he soon forgot the uneasiness that he had felt before.

It was some minutes later when Will's voice broke the spell.

"What are you doing here?" his friend croaked from the doorway.

Tom looked up from the paper he was grading, and was shocked by what he saw. Will was leaning heavily against the door frame. His face was extremely pale and a bead of sweat glistened on that massive dome of a forehead. He looked sick as if the Grim Reaper was about to come visiting.

"My god, Will," Tom blurted out, "I should be asking you that question. You look terrible."

"It's a question of mind over matter. If I think I feel better then I will feel better. But enough of my troubles. You didn't you get the email? Campus is closed today."

"I didn't check," Tom admitted.

"Everyone's sick. Well almost everyone. Are you feeling okay?"

"Sure. No problems at all. Anne isn't feeling very well though."

"That makes you one of the lucky ones."

"You really don't look very good. Have a seat before you fall down."

William shook his head. "If it's contagious I don't want you catching it. But I want you to consider something: this virus or this germ that is causing such widespread sickness had to have come from those meteorites. It's no coincidence."

Tom heard himself snort in derision. "A disease from outer space? You've got to be kidding."

His friend gave him a wan smile. "There's a theory that early life on the Earth actually came from Mars, via an asteroid or a meteorite. Why should it be so strange that history repeats itself? Maybe the human race is due for a replacement."

"I don't know what to think about that, but you should really go home and get to bed."

William nodded slowly, each movement looking slow and painful. "I suppose there are times when the mind must give into the body. And you shouldn't stay here either. There's no work for you here. Go home and be with your wife. We'll meet here again, okay?"

"Sure, Will."
The Diary

I write this diary with fear in my heart; the fear of knowing what had already happened and the fear of the unknown future. But it is my hope that the words that I scribble every night will bring me wisdom. The world has changed so quickly that I cannot make sense of it. The few of us that remain will perhaps need words written on a page – words like mine – to teach the future generation of survivors. Of course maybe there will be no survivors but at least this diary will be a fitting tombstone for the human race. For some reason I get some small comfort out of that idea. It's a reasonable end to a culture that accelerated past good taste and into the realm of constant self-reflection. But who am I fooling? I am moralizing already, trying to find meaning where there is none. The world as I knew it is dying, waiting on the edge of the precipice of finality.

It was August when the first outbreak of the disease started. After the meteorites came a score were reported dead from the illness in just a day. If it had happened off in some far away land it would have been one of those blurbs you would see on some news site on the internet; a nothing in the grand scheme of our life. But this was here. This was now.

The disease became stronger. As the days went by it began to kill more and more. The children and the elderly were the first to go. No person, except for a small handful, was immune. Medical teams were assembled, studies were made, and the world watched in horror as the images of the dead and dying were shared around the globe. The gruesome pictures and video looked to be something out of an old war movie, like the death camps of World War Two. The initial studies showed that the disease was caused by a virus, one of an unknown nature. This tiny infectious agent was apparently light enough to be carried by the wind, making it spread far and wide. The meteorite storm was obviously blamed, giving rise to a slew of stories about alien invasions. Maybe it was. Because of this the virus was given a name: The Solar Flu.

The medical teams died. The doctors died. The nurses died. The scientists died. New theories were put out: some wild but most cautiously optimistic. It was thought that such a fast killing virus – death after contact was usually only a matter of days, if you were lucky – would burn itself out. But it didn't happen.

The European Union declared martial law, restricting the movement of anyone trying to enter its once weakly enforced borders. There were, of course, countless refugees trying to find safety. They were gunned down. Not many people seemed to care. But all the precautions were for naught. The virus moved like the wind and engulfed all of Europe. Not even the island nation of the United Kingdom was safe.

With the blessing of the voters, Congress passed new laws making the president temporary dictator. It was all for the public safety. The army was called out. To handle the increasing number of dead, giant pits were dug near the all the cities and the remains were set on fire. The schools were closed, and people began to hide inside their homes. There was a run on plastic sheeting and tarps to cover windows. The idea was to block off the virus from entering. Of course it was a foolish idea but humanity was now grasping at straws.

Like everyone else I watched these events unfold with unbelieving eyes. It seemed impossible that a cure couldn't be found, especially with all the money and intellects that were thrown at the problem. The virus itself was eventually isolated, and what a hearty little creature it was, seemingly immune to any antibiotic. Even radiation couldn't kill it. The theory – and it was just a theory at the time – that our immune system could not handle a virus created on an alien world.

Michigan, where I lived, was hit like anywhere else. Lots of people packed up and moved on, trying to outrun the contagion. Others stayed huddled in their homes, hoping the grim hand of death would pass them by. Neither method helped. The soldiers, who had been deployed to keep law and order, died one by one. Chaos reigned.

My wife Anna and I stayed at home. She was too sick to be moved. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Together we watched the scenes on television: the deaths, the crowded hospitals, and the fighting over the few resources that remained. Men would kill for a tank of gasoline and they weren't afraid to use guns to get what they wanted. Perhaps these looters were dead before my neighborhood could be ransacked. I didn't know. After a while I didn't care. My wife became sicker, unable to eat or even hold down water. She was wasting away in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do. In another week it was all over.

This is my story.
October 15th - evening

I sat on the back porch steps and looked onto the darkening street. There were no streetlights here since the electricity had gone out five days ago. A few brown leaves scraped along the black asphalt but most were tangled within the deep, overgrown grass. The houses surrounding me looked empty and disused, but still held onto some memory of the past inhabitants that would never return. After a few years they would become homes again, but only to wild creatures and then, as time took its hold, crumble until only the foundations remained. I could see parked cars in the driveways, and a few scraps of trash – mostly plastic bags and paper - that seemed to propagate like rabbits and make more litter every day.

I took a sip of lukewarm beer from the can held in my hand. It tasted sour and stale but I had grown tired of drinking water. I was waiting for nothing in particular and had all the time in the world. I knew I was putting off the inevitable, but my sorrow was deep enough that even moving my legs seemed to take too much energy. I felt tired, dragged out, and left for dead. But I, against all the odds, was still alive. And the dead were all around me, tucked into their beds, buried in makeshift graves, or nothing but ashes after being burned in one of pits that had been dug in the early days of the virus. But the woman who meant most to me was now dead and that was a greater loss than any of the other miseries that fate had foisted upon me.

After swallowing the last of the beer, I threw the can away, using more force than I expected. It came to a stop and sat in the grass. I knew this day was a long time coming, but like all things of this nature, unwanted and impossibly sad, you pray that it comes just one moment later. I got up. I felt dizzy just thinking of what I had to do. Getting up the stairs and through the door took more energy than expected. But I made it inside, feeling unreal as if I was witnessing someone else's life. But this was reality.

The living room was lit up with a few candles. The majority of the floor space was taken up by the big bed I had dragged from the bedroom so my beloved Anne could look out the bay window and watch the world go by. She was there, or perhaps it would be better to say that the body was still there, but the spirit inside had taken flight. I forced myself to look at her. The skin on her face looked like a skull wrapped in skin since the virus had wasted that body away. The skin was impossibly white as if it had been bleached of all the blood and nutrients. No one with the infection could eat and even drinking water was too much. Anne had somehow held on for longer than anyone else I knew. Perhaps it was me – for I seemed to be immune – that had helped her go on further that possible. Maybe I had given her hope that she too could be healthy once again.

I should have been feeling sorrow, but instead I suddenly felt overwhelmed by a guilty sense of relief. At least now Anne no longer had to suffer and be embarrassed by my continued ministrations; she was the type of woman who always wanted to do things for herself. She had hated to see me do the housework and take care of her. I knew from the beginning that she was going to die, and that knowledge somehow made it worse. For I had seen so many others go – friends, co-workers, and neighbors – and was always expecting yet another to be taken away. But instead I somehow soldiered on, my constitution just seemingly ignoring the virus that had claimed so many. This, of course, also brought a large measure of guilt.

I wrapped the blue and white flowered quilt around the gaunt body and lifted Anne from the bed. She felt like a bag of skins and bones that had had all the vitality stripped away. It was easier than expected to carry her out the back slider and into the backyard. I put her gently on the deep grass, took a long-handled shovel that had been leaning against the wall, and began to dig.

The mosquitoes buzzed noisily around my ear and a few got their precious drops of blood. It was a shame that the virus hadn't killed these damn insects. I sweated since I wasn't used to such labor, but only stopped to wipe the perspiration from my brow. By the time that the sun had dipped below the horizon, I had a rough rectangular hole a few feet deep. After taking a few breaths, I put the shovel down, and then gathered the remains of my wife up. I carried her over to the hole and lowered her gently into the soil below. I wondered to myself if she would be warm enough down there and then shook my head, knowing that she would think I was silly for even having that thought. The sky was dark enough now that the quilt, and body it contained, was only a pale lump nearly hidden in the shadowy depth of the makeshift grave. But I still pulled a corner of the quilt back and caressed the bony remains of her face with my hand.

"I'll be with you soon enough," I found myself whispering. For what reason did I have to live? A world all by myself was not something I was looking forward to.

With tears welling in my eyes, I stood and grabbed the shovel. My body was shaking with sorrow, but I still felt disconnected as if this was all just a dream. I began to shovel the dirt over her, working quickly as if to get the deed over with. And then when I was done I let go of the handle and staggered back inside.

I went to the kitchen, reached into the cupboards, and pulled out the last bottle of gin. I few swallows later and the pain inside became numb. I carried the precious bottle over to the kitchen table and drank until the darkness engulfed me. I hoped that I would never awake again.
October 17th - morning

I woke up with a pounding headache. I pulled my head off of the kitchen table and shielded my eyes from the glaring sunlight that was coming through the windows. I knew I had spent the previous day in a continual haze of drunkenness, and for that I had no regrets. What else was someone supposed to do in a new world, one that no longer had the woman that I loved? It made some sense – at least while the booze was available. I had finished the remains of the gin last night and a few cans of beer weren't going to last long. It was time to do something about that. Against my better judgment I decided to stand.

My body had an odd swaying motion, but with enough effort I was able to find my way out of the kitchen and into the dining room. To my right I could see the living room and the bed where Anne had died. I ignored it. Or at least I tried to. Going outside through the sliding glass door, I went over to the rain barrel, removed the cover, and dunked my head into the chilly water. The coldness overcame my grogginess and I was soon awake; sputtering and shivering. The land around me stopped moving by itself. After glancing momentarily at my wife's grave, I went back inside and into the bathroom where I toweled myself off. After relieving my bladder, I went to the bedroom and dressed in jeans, wool socks, clean boxers, a t-shirt, and an old green sweater that should have been thrown away a long time ago. I put on a pair of Doc Martens boots, an old steel-toed standby. I had some work to do.

I left the house and walked wearily over to the neighbors, who lived to the left of us. It was the Dines household. It was an ugly modern mansion style – all tan aluminum siding and a red Italian-style roof that would have looked better in California instead of the dreary climate of Michigan. The front boasted a massive garage that seemed to take up most of the house. Stepping past the newer Toyota truck that was parked outside, I went to the front door and, out of polite habit, knocked. I wasn't exactly surprised when no one answered. I tried the door handle and found it had been locked. It didn't take long to find a rock from the overgrown landscaped yard and smash out one of the windows that framed the doorway. I stuck my hand inside, jiggered the lock, and was soon walking into the interior.

My steps seemed to echo and then fade into the space inside. The blinds had been drawn and in the gloom I could make out the familiar shapes of the living room sofa, a wide and tall television set, and a leather recliner. I had been here before – had it only been last month? – to watch football with Bill, who had been the usual insufferable ass. I never actively hated the man but preferred to spend my time with people who weren't such blowhards. His wife, April, and their two boys, were, however, pleasant to a fault. I hadn't seen any of them for the past week; maybe sometime in early October. I couldn't remember very well; not given all the other troubles I had dealt with. Anyways these days people kept to themselves.

I stopped at the foot of the stairs. There was a familiar odor coming from above. It was the stench of sickness. Nothing could be heard up there. They had to be dead. I stayed where I was. I already knew what to expect if went up there. I had enough of corpses. Frowning, I turned my attention elsewhere. In the kitchen were a few jugs of water, and the cupboards were still sparsely stocked with food. I gathered this minor bounty up into some plastic grocery bags. And then I found what I was really looking for: an extra key for the truck outside. The truck has been Bill's pride and joy, but since he had no use for it now, I thought such a vehicle would be needed for the journey I had in mind.

I ferried the food and water out to the truck, which had a lockable bed cover. I then went back inside the house and into the garage. There was a smell of dust and mustiness here. The sun shone through the brown curtains, giving the atmosphere inside an unreal, almost alien look. I could see April's Honda here along with Bill's tool collection which was apparently more for show than anything else since they were all carefully put away; looking as new as the day they were bought. He was the sort of fellow who liked to talk more than do, a common complaint I have for most people. I packed a few of the more common tools away into a canvas bag, adding an air pump to inflate tires. I also cut a length of garden hose – to be used for siphoning gasoline from other vehicles. There was also a gas can that was half-full. I carried this out with the bag slung over my shoulder.

Once I was outside I caught a faint smell of burning wood. I stopped and scanned the horizon. Above the line of nearby trees, I could see several black trails of smoke. They hadn't been there earlier. They were evenly spaced out and not too far away, maybe a quarter mile or less. That would make the fires at the fringe of the housing development. In my hungover state it took a moment of pondering to realize that the houses a few blocks away were on fire. That meant that either someone had set the fires deliberately, or they were caused by an accident. Either way I had to investigate since my own dwelling would soon be in danger.

After quickly packing the gasoline and tools into the bed of the truck, I ran back to my house. Once I was inside, I went to the bedroom and dug out the little Colt Detective Special that I normally kept under the pillow. I had no real love for guns, nor ever had cause to fire it in anger, but in these uncertain times it was a sort of talisman against the worst of human nature. Like many other people, I had bought it when the troubles had started. I tucked the little pistol into my waistband.

I decided to stay off the streets as much as possible. Instead I ran through the neighbor's backyard, pulled myself over a fence, and then moved stealthily along the wall of a home. Once I saw the street was clear, I dashed across the asphalt and once again cut across the leaf littered lawns. Moving this way from street to street, I saw the smoke ahead getting thicker and thicker; the smell even more pungent than before. By the time I reached the street where the houses were burning, I was in a sweat. I felt out of shape. It was obvious that my body wasn't ready for this unintended exercise.

I tucked myself safely behind a row of scraggly brown bushes that were planted in front of a modest home. From there I crawled slowly forward until I could peer through the branches. I saw a row of houses engulfed in orange flames which were greedily consuming the wood, carpeting, and whatever plastic bits were inside. There was also a half-dozen men standing around to watch the inferno. They were wearing tan biohazard suits with gas masks. From their weapons and boots, they looked to be military. A nearby battle tank, which was idling away with a clanking diesel engine, confirmed that. I was surprised to see other people alive, especially the military which had folded so easily.

One of the men waved his arm and the tank rolled forward, crushing the black asphalt with an unsettling noise that sounded like bones being broken. The hulking machine stopped at the next untouched house and then, from the cannon, let out a jet of flame, probably napalm. The burning liquid stuck the wood sides of the dwelling, splashing angry flame all over the front yard. In seconds the house was on fire.

I sat there watching, wondering why the army was even bothering to dispose of these dwellings in such a fashion; I mean it was obvious that the homes were tainted with the virus and would have corpses that would rot away, but it seemed more reasonable to send a cleanup crew than to burn everything to the ground. But still, it wouldn't be long before these troops made it to my house. I couldn't fight them – not with just a pistol at my disposal and I wasn't about to go out and talk this matter over with them since, at this point of the game, it was safer to assume they would rather shoot me dead then have to deal with any long dead legal quibbles.

I began to extricate myself from the bushes when something caught my eye. From out of the front door of the freshly burning house came a shambling figure. It – I couldn't tell if it was a he or a she – was on fire. The poor thing wasn't even screaming but was instead moving with outstretched arms toward the soldiers, slowly but surely like a marionette with half of the strings broken. This sight seemed to send the soldiers into a panic. Their rifles were quickly unslung and they began firing with full automatic bursts, into the oncoming flaming horror. The hail of lead seemed to do nothing except tear gaping holes into the blackened flesh. And then, as the creature neared the closest soldier, a bullet pierced the skull. It took one more step and then fell face forward onto the driveway.

I felt sick. I shook my head at the insanity of it all but decided not to stick around to watch any further. Instead I gently slid out of the bushes and made my way back home, being even more cautious than before. After seeing how quickly those soldiers began firing on such a poor creature I certainly had no urge to talk to them now.
October 17th – afternoon

In a panic I began to pack the truck with everything that I could squeeze inside – a sleeping bag, cans of food, the remaining beer, a few gallons of water, and some changes of clothing – along with my tools, a tent, a few books, oil, and other odds and ends. Outside, as I moved the goods, I could see the line of smoke getting denser and nearer. This only made me move faster. As soon as I was finished, I took one long glance at my house, let out a sigh, and climbed inside the truck. I was relieved when the key turned and the engine started. I backed out into the road.

I felt as if I was letting my wife down; leaving her alone in that makeshift grave. But there was nothing I could so against the soldiers that were coming this way. Anyway, I feared I would wind up a drunk if I just stayed here. There was a need to move on, to escape the coming winter of Michigan, and find a new place to call home. I had nowhere particular in mind but knew that I was heading south – toward warm weather and sandy beaches. My mind was set on the coast of South Carolina for no reason other than I had been there as a child for spring vacation. It was better idea than doing nothing at all. There I could decide if I wanted to live or end my own existence. At least it was something to do.

I dropped the gear selector into drive and was about to press the gas pedal down when I saw a vehicle moving up ahead. It was a Hummer that was a few hundred feet away, barreling down the street toward me. I've already seen what they had done to that burning civilian so I had no intention of sticking around and being target practice. Instead I jammed the transmission back into reverse and hit the gas hard, spinning the truck around with a screech of tires until I was facing the other direction. With the gear back in drive I punched it, letting the torque of the big V8 engine do its thing.

In the rearview mirror I could see the tan grill of the Humvee getting closer and closer until my speed was enough that the Toyota began to pull away. Lost in the shadow of the windshield was a person whose expression was hidden by a biohazard suit. The military vehicle wasn't built for straight-out speed and my truck gained a few lengths by the time I had to turn. The rubber of the tires squealed as jammed on the brakes and I cranked the wheel to the right. I was heading toward the burning houses now, away from direction I wanted to go. I had to get where the highway interchange was located but this maze of suburbia only had a few outlets. Luckily I knew the area better than these soldiers.

The truck zoomed past parked cars, swirling trash, and overgrown lawns. A few turns later and I was in the midst of a wave of heat and smoke. I choked and sputtered as I tried to breathe. With watering eyes I fought to keep the wheel straight. And then I saw a figure in the middle of the road. It was a soldier. The assault rifle in his hands was pointed toward me. He opened up. The windshield became holed with spider web fractures. I buried the pedal to the floor and ducked down as far as I could while still peering over the dash. The truck bumper brushed against the man, sending him flying off to the side. I didn't have to time to check to see if he was still alive.

I peered through the cracked windshield and this time I wanted to scream since right in front of me was the tank. The metal hulk had the barrel of the main gun pointed at me. It belched out a stream of napalm. Without even thinking I jerked the steering wheel hard to the right. The jetting flames went to my left. The truck was now bumping roughly through a yard, then over a driveway, and past a parked car. I fought the rising panic constricting my heart. I managed to steer a course toward the road again. Looking in the rearview mirror, the tank was soon lost in the dense smoke of the burning homes.

My heard thudded in my chest. I wanted to laugh as I felt the adrenaline course through my body. I felt invincible. I felt as if nothing could stop me. I kept my eyes open for more danger but I didn't see anything. A few miles later I was driving down one of the main roads heading toward the highway. But I didn't take the onramp. Instead I pulled into a gas station and parked the truck behind the low building. Once the engine was shut off, I opened the door and rolled out of the seat. I sat on the ground. I felt waves of nausea roll through my stomach and a sweat broke out on my brow even with the chill of the air. It had been a near thing. I was lucky to be alive. It was a few moments later before I could take in my surroundings.

The back door of the gas station was open. The black asphalt was littered with paper, smashed glass, and food wrappers. There was an older model Chevy sedan here with soft-looking tires. Beyond was a ribbon of highway, weeds, and leafless trees. The sky above was turning gray and looked to be threatening rain. Pulling myself up off the ground, I dizzily staggered into the building to see if there was anything worth taking.

When the plague first broke out there wasn't any place to hide. It would hit cities both big and small, and even the little pockets of the countryside. This randomness, however, did not deter the panicked population from picking up and moving to new locations that were deemed safe. This only caused more chaos as the both the sick and the healthy took to the roads. Soon chaos broke out – fighting and looting – as the travelers ran out of food and fuel. I had watched all of this unravel on the new channels. We – my wife and I – were spared from this violence by hunkering down in our home and taping up the windows with plastic film with some silly idea of blocking the airborne disease. In the end it was all for nothing, except I was still alive. Now such a pardon seemed more like a curse.

The gas station had been ransacked many times before. The floor was littered with trash – empty bottles and candy wrappers – and even crushed packs of cigarettes that had been taken from behind the counter. I kicked my foot through the trash, hoping that something of interest had been missed, but the looters had been thorough. Even though I had enough supplies in the truck I wondered how long they would last – a few weeks at most. Perhaps it would have been better to die from the sickness instead of having to starve to death.

In the remaining days of television, the pundits – the few that still remained – talked endlessly of why a select few seemed to be immune. Experts were brought in and the theory was that some minor mutation – a genetic defect – made some people resistant to the virus. Research was done to try and isolate this DNA difference and find a cure but I never heard if anything was ever found. The plague just burned through the population too quickly, killing indiscriminately. It didn't matter if one was rich or poor, from a large country or a small one, or where you lived – people just died.

I went back outside. My head felt clearer and my hands were no longer shaking. I took a quick walk around the truck, looking for damage from the barrage of bullets, the man I had most likely killed, and the near miss from the tank. The windshield was peppered with holes but luckily the safety glass had stopped the whole thing from shattering. One of the headlights was neatly drilled with a bullet and the plastic bumper had been holed but there weren't any precious liquids dripping from under the engine. There was a splash of blood on the bumper that I ignored. I liked to believe that the soldier I had hit was still alive.

A drop of water splashed against my cheek. I got inside the truck just as the rain began to sluice down. Starting the engine up, I turned onto the road and then took the highway heading south.
October 18th – morning

Except for some abandoned cars on the shoulder, the highway heading south was empty. I drove until I could go further. When I could no longer keeps my eyes opened I pulled off at a small town somewhere past the Ohio border. It was just after midnight. I wasn't exactly sure where I was. I drove aimlessly through the littered streets but did not see anyone or any signs of life. The virus not only killed people, but any mammal it came in contact with. It was a strange world without dogs and cats, not to mention the cows and pigs that kept us fed. After going down a small dirt road, I backed the truck into a group of pine trees, using the single remaining headlight to guide me. After shutting of the engine I sat and listened to the rain pelting the top of the roof where it made a metallic thrumming noise. Water dripped through the holes of the windshield, making it feel as if I was sitting inside of a damp cave.

I was so tired that it would seem that sleep should instantly carry me away. Instead I thought of what had happened today, remembering the fear with stabs of anxiety that once again got my stomach churning. It was some time later – hours? minutes? – that I passed out from pure exhaustion. I don't remember a gentle easing into a slumber, but more of a sudden darkness. I dreamt of nothing and felt nothing.

I woke up with a jolt. I thought I heard something like a small explosion but didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was just thunder. A look at the clock showed that it was just after nine in the morning. The sun was still refusing to come out. Through the boughs of the pine trees was a grey leaden sky but the rain had stopped. Feeling confused I looked around to see where I was. There was another short and sharp intensive sound that sounded close. Someone was firing a gun. I looked around but could not see where the shots were coming from.

Opening the truck door as quietly as I could, I slipped outside. In the gloom and rain of last night I hadn't noticed that I had found a location that was near a low sprawling building. It appeared to be a school made of brown brick. Between me and the back of the school was a fence, an overgrown football field filled with dead leaves, and a parking lot that contained a few vehicles including an ambulance. A chain link fence, that looked to have been hastily built, was wrapped around the entire building. The fence was no longer intact. From the various news reports I had seen, this appeared to be a rescue center: a place to get food, shelter, and even medical treatment. Of course they turned out to be death traps as those inside were robbed, killed, and – if the rumors were true – even eaten. Of course nobody really believed such wild stories; that was until the electricity was cut, the stores ran out of food, and people were willing to kill for a can of food.

Another shot rang out. From around the corner of the school came a rather petite figure. It looked to be a girl – thin and with dirty brown hair - who was just wearing a pink t-shirt and exercise pants. She was running as fast as she could, headed straight for the football field and then the freedom beyond the fence. I stood there, unsure what to do. She soon caught sight of me, gave a cry, and turned to away to head down the length of the field. She was scared alright. And I could see why since from my position I could now see a half-dozen men in pursuit. They were a scraggly lot with long hair and beards. One – the man in the lead \- was carrying a rifle.

He pointed the gun in the direction of the girl and fired. Luckily the shot went wide, sending a tuft of heavy sod into the air. The men laughed but she paid them no attention. Instead she kept on running scared.

These men were so intent on their prey that they did not see me slink back into the cover of the pine trees. I jumped into the truck, started the engine, slid the transmission into reverse and stabbed the gas pedal down. I would either look really foolish, or, if things went according to plan, a hero. The rear bumper made contact with the low chain link fence and the whole truck only stopped momentarily before plowing through. When I was clear, I then put the gear into drive and headed toward the girl, who was still running blindly down the field. She was so terrified that she didn't even notice me. I blew the horn to attract her attention but that only seemed to scare her even more. All I got was a glance of wild crazed eyes half-hidden by streaming hair. Perhaps she thought I was trying to run her down.

A bullet smacked against the driver's door. I didn't know if the lead penetrated inside the cabin but that was only a momentary thought. I had to keep the truck between the girl and that rifleman. Pulling abreast with her I honked the horn again. This time she looked at me. Using the door switch, I rolled down the window on the passenger side.

"Get inside!" I shouted.

I jerked the truck to a stop, the tires sliding on the wet grass. And then the passenger door was opened and she was inside. Another bullet hit, this time shattering the back glass and making yet another hole in the windshield. I punched the gas pedal and for a moment I thought we were stuck, but soon the truck got traction and pulled us out. In a few seconds we were clear of the football field, bouncing over a curb, and then onto the road. I gave the engine everything it had until we were clear. No other bullets found their mark.

The girl was breathing hard and she didn't make eye contact with me. I would place her age at twelve, or maybe thirteen. She had dirty blonde hair that could do with a wash, grimy cheeks, and her clothes looked if they had been worn for several days in a row. There was a smell of body odor. Of course these days none of us were exactly at our best when it came to cleanliness.

"My name is Tom," I said pleasantly as I could as I steered the truck past houses and through intersections.

She glanced at me with green eyes. "Sarah," she managed to blurt out with a voice that was still captive with fear.

"What happened back there?"

Sarah swallowed a few times before answering, "My dad. My dad is back there. We were holed up in that school because there was still some food there. But those men came this morning. They began to beat up my dad. They shot him. And then they began to chase and taunt me. I got scared."

"Your dad – is he still alive back there?"

She nodded her head as if trying to dispel an evil memory. "He was shot in the stomach. I mean I think he was. That's when I ran for it since I thought I was going to be next."

I could only imagine what those animals had in store for her. "Try to remember for a second. Where was your father shot? Was he bleeding or moving afterward?"

Sarah became silent with her eyes scrunched up in thought. "I was so frightened. The guy with the gun was waving it around and laughing. My dad was pleading for him to leave us alone. That only seemed to make the gang angrier. Then the man with the gun pointed it at my dad and pulled the trigger. There was blood on the stomach of my dad's shirt. I was so scared I went running."

"So you think your father is dead?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Sarah began to cry. The past few minutes had been too much for her. She was scared and now alone. It was against my better judgment but I would have to do something about it.

I waited until the tears had paused. I said encouragingly, "Look, Sarah, let's wait until night comes. Then I'll go see if your dad is okay. In the meantime let's get you something to eat and something warmer to wear."

This idea seemed to cheer her up just a little bit. I turned down a random residential street, made a few more zigzags so we would be harder to find. There was a good chance that this gang could be angry enough to come searching for us. There was no reason I should make their job any easier.

I stopped at a house that had a red VW Beetle in the driveway. The whole block looked neglected with overgrown grass and darkened windows. It would only be a few years before all of these structures fell apart and became part of the dirt. All civilizations are doomed to die, but this one was just doomed to die faster than any ever had before.

With the engine shut off and the keys in my hand, I got out of the truck, motioning for Sarah to stay in place. The revolver tucked inside my waistband gave me a little more confidence. I went up to the front door of this modest ranch home and knocked. There was no answer. I tried the knob but it was locked. Someone was hoping to come back. There was no reason to go and try all the doors, so instead I used the butt of the pistol and shattered one of the vertical windows near the entrance. I reached inside, unlocked the door, and opened it. My nose was greeted by the smell of mustiness.

"Hello?" I shouted down the empty hallway.

There was no reply. I looked at the truck and saw Sarah through the windshield watching me with wide eyes. I motioned her to come over. She gingerly stepped out of the truck and joined me inside. I shut the door and relocked it as a temporary measure if anyone found us here. It would only stop them for a few seconds but it was something.

"Let's take a look around," I suggested.

She nodded, sticking close to me as I went from room to room. The entrance had pictures of family, one being a teenage daughter. The living room was all sofa and had a big screen television. The kitchen had open cupboards – mostly empty. Someone had packed and left in a hurry. Next was a dining room with a set of four chairs and a wooden table. A light fixture, that would probably never work again, hung from the ceiling. After that we went down a long hallway with a bathroom and three bedrooms. One of them was definitely the domain of a teenager girl with clothes littering the floor, a bed with pink flowered sheets, and boy band posters plastered to the wall.

"There you go," I said. "I'll find you a bag and try to find you a coat in the front closet. Your job is to pick out some clothes."

"But these will be too big," she said as she looked over the debris of clothing. But it was obvious that she was excited looking over such a treasure.

I left her there. I went back to the entrance, looking out of the windows to make sure we hadn't been followed here. There was nothing. Searching the closet, I found a thick wool jacket that should fit Sarah, and a canvas bag containing a pair of roller-skates. This brought home that this place was once lived in by real people. I felt a little sad as I dumped the skates on the floor.

After this, I went to the kitchen and looked through what was left. There were a few cans left – the sort of food that rarely gets consumed, like string beans and sauerkraut. I took what I could and stuffed them inside the bag. After that, I returned to the bedroom where I had left Sarah, making sure to call out her name before poking my head into the open door. There was no reason to scare her or make her unduly nervous of me. We were, after all, just introduced. It would take a while to build some trust.

"Come in," Sarah said. "It's cool."

She had changed into a thick blue wool sweater and a pair of jeans that were slightly too large for her, but a belt and rolled-up legs corrected that. She had also selected a pile of clothing that was on the bed. Too my surprise they looked sensible. I had been expecting a whole bunch of silliness instead of practicality.

I said, "I found a jacket for you. And here is a bag to pack that clothing. I want to get back in the truck and find a better hiding spot. We're out in the open if any of those thugs comes rolling by."

"Okay."

I asked, "After we find a place I was going to make something to eat. Are you hungry?"

"Famished."

"Okay, then let's get going. I'm not much of a cook but I can heat something up for us."

For the first time I saw her smile – faint though it was.
October 18th – late afternoon

We sat inside an auto repair office and ate the canned beef stew that I had cooked on the camp stove. It was simple fare but, after the excitement of the early morning, much needed. The truck was outside, parked behind the building where it was trying to inconspicuously fit in with some other vehicles that would forever wait to be fixed. A light rain pattered on the metal roof above, making me feel drowsy as if I was on a camping trip, tucked safely away inside of a tent.

"Thanks for the food," Sarah said shyly. She had finished all of the food and, without any trace of embarrassment, ran her fingers along the inside of the bowl to collect whatever gravy was left.

"What were you eating at that school?"

She made a face. "There is a stash of something that my dad called MREs. Some type of military food?"

I nodded. "They last a long time but aren't known to taste that good. I've heard the vegetarian options actually are the best. I hope I don't have to find out."

"At that point we didn't care. Out on the road we were running low on food."

"What's your father's name?"

"Ben. I'm his daughter, Sarah Carson."

"Any other family around?" I asked, knowing the answer wouldn't be good.

A shadow of despair passed that young face. "My mother is dead. And so is my younger brother."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I lost my wife, Anne."

She nodded with a grim expression that looked too practiced for a girl of her age. "What was she like?"

I gave her a frown since the memory was still painful. "Anne was my best friend and my much better half. She was kind and never complained, not even when she dying. In fact Anne seemed more embarrassed by the whole thing than anything else. Maybe she didn't like me caring for her since she was always busy taking care of me."

"It sounds like she was very nice. Did you ever have any kids?"

"No. We weren't married that long. I guess we were too busy to even think about children."

"That's too bad."

"What were your mother and brother like?" I asked.

She laughed. "She always worried about everything and still thought I was a little kid. Mom always asked me if my homework was done, or why my hair was so long. She should have paid more attention to Mike, my brother, since he was always getting into trouble." She looked as if she was going to start crying again.

I quickly asked, "Tell me, how did you get here? Whatever this town is called."

"It's called Pemberville," she replied with that smart-aleck tone that only a teenager could muster. I half-expected an eye roll to come next but I was thankfully spared. "We were from Washington, DC. After my mom and brother died, dad decided to head toward New Orleans. He never told me why but he seemed determined to get there. But the car broke down on the highway and then we walked here into town. We were running low on food but were able to find some in the school. Dad wanted to rest up for another day or two before we found another car to continue the drive. That's when that gang came." She made an uneasy smile. "I forgot to thank you for saving me."

"It was no problem."

Sarah then gave me a real wide smile. "Tom, do you think you'll be able to save my dad?"

I replied honestly, "I'll try if he's still alive. But I really won't know that until I get there."

The smile gave away to a look of disappointment. There was no reason to get her hopes up. Both of us should have learned that by now.

"Can I go with you?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't think so."

"Please?"

"This is going to be very dangerous." I touched the butt of the pistol stuck in my waistband. "I know they have a rifle and possibly some more guns. All I have is this pistol. That means I will have to move in there nice and quiet. It will be easier if it is just me doing the sneaking."

"I can be quiet too."

"I bet you can. But you'll stay here until I return."

"But what if you don't come back? I'm scared of being alone. It has become too quiet without someone else around." Sarah nervously eyed the walls as if expecting an attack from some unknown creature.

I shrugged. "My death is always a possibility. You've seen enough already to know that. I'll leave the clothing you got along with enough food to last you a week. If I don't return by midnight, find a car that runs, get out of here, and head south. Do you know how to drive?"

"A little. My dad showed me some."

"Well it's a good time to start learning. And at least these days you can't get arrested and no one is going to care if you bash the car up a little. So find some keys here and a car to drive. Stick to the side roads since the highways are guaranteed to draw the crazies."

"Okay," Sarah said sullenly.

It was obvious that she still wanted to go but I wasn't about to let her. She was, after all, only a little girl. I didn't feel too sure of myself doing this rescue mission and didn't want her to see me in such a situation – shaking with fear with the idea of risking my skin for a complete stranger.

I went outside. After selecting an assortment of cans from the truck, I brought the food in along with her bag of clothing and a flashlight. With a wave of my hand, I turned to leave.

"Be careful," she said as I opened the door.

Over my shoulder I said with as much confidence as I could muster: "I will. The sun is about to set. Don't turn on the flashlight unless you have to." I hoped I sounded braver than I felt.

"Okay."

I walked over to the truck, started the engine, and idled gently out of the parking lot. There was no reason to rush ahead since it would be another half an hour before it was dark enough for me to make an approach to the school. In the meanwhile, to waste time, I drove around the town, circling closer and closer to my destination. It was quiet out, the gang apparently have decided to not to search for us. I drove the Toyota to a street next to the school, parking next to the curb where several other silent cars were.

The grey sky above was turning black. I shut the engine off. From there I went on foot, heading toward the fence I had plowed over by the football field. It was colder outside than expected. It was too bad that I had left my jacket in the truck but I was depending on my green sweater and dark jeans to help me blend into the background. It felt strange to be out here surrounded by homes and all the signs of humanity but to know that I was really by myself, alone against this gang of killers. The façade of civilization certainly was a thin one, apparently only one incident away from oblivion. The world had turned into a jungle where only the strong, or those able to hide, survived. And it could only get worse from here.

I paused at the broken fence. I briefly marveled at the damage the truck had done. Fence posts had been uprooted, leaving clumps of concrete pulled violently from the soil. The edges of the metal chain-link fence sagged while the center laid flat against the long grass. I trod on this destruction, moving slowly and carefully toward the back of the school. The building was dark. I wondered if eyes were watching me, waiting for that perfect moment to squeeze the trigger. But there was nothing but the far off sounds of a late fall night: the wind, the creaking of the trees, and the sound of leaves skittering along the sidewalk ahead.

After stepping over a length of destroyed fence I got to the school. The back door, made out of steel, was locked. The windows at the entrance had chicken wire meshed into the glass. I decide to try entering another way. I went along the back wall. Here there were banks of high windows but the lower part of the glass was framed and hinged, allowing those inside to get some fresh air on a hot summer day. There was no wire embedded here. I studied this for a moment, wondering if breaking in was worth the risk. It was. Unless someone was in the room, they wouldn't hear the glass shatter. With my back against the frame, I jerked my elbow into the lower pane of glass. It broke as a jolt of pain traveled the length of my arm. This looked easier on television. I listened. There was no alarm or outcry. After carefully removing the remaining shards embedded in the frame, I slid into the room head first.

In the gloom I could see that I was in a classroom. There was a heavy table, a chalkboard, and rows of smaller desks. A smell of mustiness pervaded the atmosphere. It had been a long time since anyone had been in here. I moved stealthily toward the door. The only sound I could hear was my own breathing and the scrape of soles sliding along the tiled floor.

I gently opened the door and then held my breath. There was a muffled sound in the distance. It was someone talking. And then someone else laughed, the sound echoing along the confines on the tight hallway. I slipped out of the room, keeping close to the wall and went toward the noise. Turning the corner, I saw a faint orange light. A few dozen feet ahead there were shadows bouncing against the painted concrete wall. As I got closer I saw a bonfire and two figures, nothing but black cutouts against the orange flames.

I was close enough to hear their voices distinctly.

A rough voice, that sounded as if a thousand cigarettes had passed the man's lips, spoke. He said, "We got anymore whiskey, Jack?"

The man who answered has a thick European accent that was almost unrecognizable as English. He replied, "You drink too much, boss. We're all out of whiskey."

"Shit," the first man spat out. "That fool I shot still alive?"

"I reckon so," was the reply. "I haven't heard otherwise. Ol' Billy is watching him now. It would be better if we just finish the poor bastard off."

"He's not worth a bullet. Anyway he'll give us some fun if he makes it through the night. No reason we can't have our fun, right? But it's too bad that girl got away. We could have had ourselves a real good time with her." He laughed and it broke into a horrific cough that took nearly a minute to settle down.

His words made me shake with anger. I crept closer, staying close to the wall and down low. I came to a doorway and ducked in before peering along the edge. This time I could see the first man. He was wearing a leather motorcycle vest with a large back patch, blue jeans, and black boots. A hunting rifle was hung over his shoulder. He was puffing on a cigarette and staring into the flames. The bonfire had been built in the middle of a hallway intersection. Above the fire was a broken skylight. A plume of white smoke escaped into the night sky. Next to him was grizzled old man who held a beer in his hand. He was wearing a tattered winter jacket and black pants tucked into a pair of snow boots. He was jerking his head side to side as if expecting trouble at any moment. He was obviously the paranoid type. I would have to be careful around him.

They must have been holding the girl's father, Ben, in one of these rooms. I stood and looked over my shoulder. The door behind me had a small glass window. It was dark inside this room. But across the hallway was another door. Coming from the window was a faint light that I hadn't noticed before. I peeked around the corner of the doorway toward the bonfire. The two men were still there, each silent. I took this moment and darted across the hallway, hoping not to be seen. My luck held out. No one seemed to notice I was here. They were feeling safe in numbers.

I looked through the window. It was a classroom. There was a collection of desks pushed to the side. On the floor was a camping lantern that ran off of batteries. Next to it was a man who looked to be in much pain. The cause of this pain was obvious. It was a gang member, probably the one named Billy, who was standing over the wounded man and thrusting his boot into the poor soul's stomach, which was drenched with blood. I felt my own stomach contract with anxiety. This was one hell of a position to be in. I had no experience in street fighting and I'm sure these thugs could have torn me to pieces in seconds. But there was still a trace of civilization in me, one that I may lose in the future, but for now was still part of me. It was wrong to hurt a wounded man like that. I had to do something about it.

I pulled the gun out of my waistband. My other hand went to the doorknob. Ever so slowly, I turned it until I felt the latch release with the quietest of clicks. Once the door was open wide enough, I slid inside and rushed Billy. He must have felt my presence or heard my footsteps for he turned just as I struck him in the head with the butt of the pistol. With a dazed look, he fell backward, cracking the back of his skull against the edge of a desk. I didn't give him a chance to recover but instead delivered a few hard kicks aimed at the side of his head. He let out a single moan, low and not too loud. And then he shut his eyes and passed out.

Only then did I give him a real look over. This scruffy specimen was tall, extremely thin, and had a sparse beard that was a slightly different shade than his scraggly hair. He was wearing holed blue jeans and an army field jacket that was spattered with mud. The boots were smeared with blood. Too bad he was still breathing. I quelled the urge to beat this bastard to death.

Instead I turned my attention to the other man. He was watching me carefully as if expecting yet another round of torture. I found it odd to see that he was wearing a business suit. It seemed out of place in this new world. I could see the blossom of blood on his once-white shirt. He looked pale. A lifetime ago he could have been an accountant or insurance salesman. Now he was a wretched creature on the verge of death.

I bent over him. I asked, "Are you Ben?"

He nodded. Each movement looked painful, his jaw tightening under that sallow skin.

"I'm Tom. I want you to know that your daughter is safe. I came here to rescue you. Do you think you can walk?"

"I can try," he croaked out, the voice as fragile as glass.
October 18th – evening

I felt foolish for risking my life for a dying man but the thought of Sarah waiting for our return kept me going. With my help Ben made it back through the school hallways. It took a lot of work to get him out of the classroom window I had broken into. He groaned and moaned all along but was a real trooper since he didn't let out a scream. I know I would have. We were soon lying together on the damp grass, both panting with exhaustion. When my lungs weren't screaming for air, I helped him stand. Like drunks we both staggered across the football field, headed toward the fence. I was expecting an outcry and wasn't too surprised to hear the roar of motorcycle engines coming from the front of the school. The hunt was on.

The problem was that Ben was moving slower and slower. The rough ground was making it difficult for him to walk. But he kept on going inch by feeble inch. Soon we were past the broken fence and into the woods. I could see the street and the truck beyond.

"Come on!" I demanded.

"I'm trying as hard I can," he grunted painfully in reply,

We reached the sidewalk. Once Ben's feet hit the concrete he let out a sigh that was heavy with agony. He was shaking now as the muscles rebelled against the work.. Even with my support the poor man could barely stand. I stopped to look him over, letting him sit. The gloom did little to hide the dark stain spreading along the torso. He had lost a lot of blood. I felt helpless. I certainly wasn't a doctor but I knew a belly shot like that meant only a little time was left for him unless we could find some medical treatment. The chances of that were remote.

"Let me rest here for a moment," he pleaded with a voice that sounder weaker than before.

I could hear the sound of a motorcycle engine. It was close by – perhaps a street or two over. "You stay here and I'll get the truck," I suggested.

"Okay," Ben replied through ragged breaths. He blinked a few times; the eyelids moving slower each time. And then he slumped on his side with his body lying across the sidewalk.

Taking off in a run, I charged down the street, heading straight toward the truck. It was a good deal farther than I remembered. By the time I got to the vehicle I was sweating. With keys in hand I hopped inside, started the engine, and jerked the transmission into drive. I sped forward, quickly making up the distance that I had just run. As the truck neared Ben, I saw a flash of oncoming light. It was a motorcycle rounding the corner.

It was heading straight toward me. I didn't even have a chance to swerve, nor did I want to. Instead the driver of the motorcycle, who, in the glare, was just a shadow sitting on the seat, tried to steer out the way. It was too late. There was a terrific crash as the front bumper of the truck collided and then the tires rolled over what was left of the twisted wreckage of man and machine. I jammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to a stop.

As I opened the door, a feeling of queasiness passed through the entire length of my body. I remembered what I had done to that soldier. This seemed to be worse. I could have tried to stop or turn out of the path of the motorcycle but had made the conscious decision to kill the rider. But I decided not to dwell on it for now. I had to get Ben somewhere safe and see what I could for him. There would be time for guilt later.
October 19th – morning

I was at the back of a motel, the sort of place I would have gladly driven by in the past. It was a low one story building with a dozen units, a battered and empty pop machine, an ice maker, and the manager's office. Last night I had picked up Sarah and driven her here along with her bloodied father. After securing a set of keys, I had dragged Ben into the closest unit and put him into bed. I did what I could for his wound, staunching the flow of blood with some clean towels. His daughter, understandably, was distraught to see him so close to death. So I had left the two of them there to have some final time together. I had then driven the truck to the rear where it couldn't be seen from the road, and found a room for myself. I went asleep – not very deeply and filled with nightmares.

After sunrise, I had dragged myself out of bed. The land here outside of town was sparse with only a gas station across the way and a farmhouse in the distance. It was quiet and cold. I walked to the back to the truck. I examined the poor thing. Beyond the bullet holes it had plenty of damage with a crunched bumper stained with blood, a grille that had been crushed in, and a corner of the hood with a sizeable dent the size of a grapefruit. It was most likely caused by the impact of the motorcyclist's helmet. Once again I felt ill with the thought that I had really killed someone. But in this new world I would have to make decisions that would inevitably harm others. There wasn't any other choice if I wanted to stay alive.

I dug into the gear, pulling out the camping stove, a pot, some spoons and bowls, and a can of corned hash. Before checking in on the others, I returned to my room and put the items down. I wondered if Ben was still alive. It was going to be a tough day dealing with another death.

I knocked on their door, announcing myself as I turned the handle. "Good morning."

Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed next to her father. She held his hand tightly. Ben blinked a few times and gave me a crooked grin. It was a miracle that he was still alive given the waxy pallor of his face. I had a bad feeling he wouldn't be around for much longer.

"How is he doing?" I asked.

"Okay," she replied, obviously lying to herself. I could see tracks where tears had run down that grimy face.

"Good," I said with a voice that rang hollow.

"Let me talk to Tom here for a moment, dear," Ben croaked to his daughter. His voice was a mere whisper. "Go outside and get some air, honey."

"Okay, daddy," Sarah said as she slowly let her hand fall away from his. By the whiteness of the skin I could tell she had been gripping hard as if trying to keep him alive by sheer willpower. And maybe that was all that was keeping him alive.

She edged past me and went outside. I had only caught a glimpse of her expression but I could tell she was scared.

"Come closer," Ben said with a weak voice. He didn't move his arms, which were lying motionless by his sides.

I did as he suggested, sitting on the edge of the bed. There I could see that the towels that I had packed tightly against his stomach were now drenched were blood. He must be in agony.

"I don't know who you are," Ben started. "But you seem like a good guy. Will you look after my daughter for me?"

"Of course I will."

"What did you do before all this bad shit went down?"

"I taught geology – you know the sort of thing – a bunch of students not paying attention as I tried to teach them about rocks. It all seems like a bad joke now."

"You don't look like a professor. I worked in Washington DC." His eyes shifted from side to side as if checking if we were being overheard. "Top secret sort of stuff."

"FBI? CIA?"

"Something like that, though those kids weren't worth shining our shoes. We did the real hush-hush stuff that didn't exactly get congressional oversight. We were our own little government within the government; stopping the bad guys before they even had a chance to do anything. We could stage a car accident, let's say, to take out a foreign nuclear physicist working on a bomb project. Or even help overthrow a government that was less than friendly to ours. That sort of thing. It involved a lot of worked with the military."

I didn't know exactly what to say. "I see," I finally mumbled out. I wasn't sure what to believe.

He gave me a weak grin. "I bet you're wondering how a super spy like me ended up with no gun and a slug in the belly. You see I wasn't directly involved in the nasty work. I handled inventory. You know someone has to keep track of the planes, guns, and all the poisons. It also gave me access to plenty of information."

"What do you mean?"

"I had to track the movement of inventory from one city to another. That would let me know that something big was about to go down. It was one of these tidbits of information that let me tie a whole bunch of threads together. That's why my daughter and I were on this trip."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." And I didn't.

"You will. This goes against all of my training but I have to tell someone. I know I won't be around for very much longer so you'll have to do." He motioned toward the water bottle sitting on the bed stand.

I handed it to him. "You're in bad condition," I said. "I was hoping to find a pharmacy. There I can get antibiotics and painkillers. There's a chance that you could pull through."

Ben painfully swallowed some water and then handed the bottle back to me. "I know better than that. It would take a surgeon and a skilled medical team to save me now. I've been shot in the intestines. The infection will carry me away soon enough. That's why I have to tell you what I know."

"Go ahead," I said, knowing that he was right. At this point nothing could save him short of a miracle.

He nodded slowly. "Our agency had a special division that specialized in germ warfare and poisons. Their job was to come up with ingenious ways to kill a single man or even a whole group of people and make it look like an accident." He stopped to see the look of distaste on my face. "I know it is nasty work and it isn't something that I exactly approve of. But if you kill a few dozen people to stop the murder of a few thousand, then it has to be worth it, right?"

"I don't know," I replied, not exactly wanting to get into this philosophical debate.

He gave me a blank look before continuing on. "There is a research facility – codenamed Zeta – that began ordering a bunch of medical supplies, including equipment to handle quarantines. I'm talking about full biohazard suits, breathing apparatuses, oxygen tanks, plastic sheeting, and who knows what else. This was all ordered and delivered a week before those meteorites came down."

I made a few mental connections. My jaw dropped with shock. I then was able to say, quite angrily, "You mean that someone knew this virus – the one that has killed billions of people – was going coming to Earth?"

Ben grimaced as if in deep pain. He didn't look as if he could remain conscious for very much longer, not with his quick and shallow breathing. But he blinked a few times and took a deep breath as if marshalling his energy for one last push.

"It gets worse than that. I think there is a chance that this was no accident and the virus was deliberately released."

I was even more enraged than before. I stood up and began to angrily pace the floor. "This is monstrous! Who did this? Why?"

Ben continued, "It's just a guess. I still have no definite proof and my supervisors didn't want to hear about it either. Of course at that time everyone was dying so they may have been too distracted to hear what sounds like a conspiracy theory. I tried to call down there but I had no luck making any contact. After my wife and son died, I decided to go down to New Orleans and find out for myself. I had to know."

"It doesn't sound like you thought this trip out very well," I commented angrily.

He gave me a sour look, one part borne of his coming death and the other of annoyance. "I will admit that I didn't think my plan very well through. I just wanted to get down and find out what really happened. I needed to know who killed my wife and son. And why."

I thought of my own wife. Revenge was a good enough reason for me. "I can see why you would want to go there. We all thought this virus was extraterrestrial in origin, an alien menace that found itself here by accident. If your information is right, then there is something even more monstrous going on than I expected."
October 21st – afternoon

It took all day and the part of the next for Ben to die. At first he lost consciousness, only to come around again, and then he slipped away without saying another word. The last communication I saw was his staring and slow blinking at Sarah, who stayed dutifully at his side. I felt as if I was intruding so I had left the two of them alone. Instead I went scrounging around the area, searched the rooms – only finding a few stray items of interest – and then went to bed. In the middle of the night I heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance. I wondered if that gang was still on the lookout for us. I quickly fell back to sleep, almost not caring if they found us. I was too tired to fight back.

It was the next morning when I heard a gentle tap at the door. I groggily pulled myself out of the cocoon of blankets and walked over to open the door. It was Sarah.

"He's dead!" she blurted out before collapsing in my arms. She sobbed and whimpered. I felt acutely uncomfortable as I patted her on the back. The words felt hollow as I offered my feeble condolences.

With Sarah's help, I buried Ben, wrapped in a hotel sheet, in the woods behind the hotel. After I was done shoveling the dirt back into the hole, I stood there and watched the clouds drift on by. Sarah sniffled a few times but nothing more. The grief had already been drained out of the both of us. We had already seen enough death to last a lifetime. One more burial hurt but nothing like it should have.

"Are you ready to go?" I suggested.

"I think so," she said quietly.

"I'll go pack the truck," I said. "If you want you can spend some time here with your father. I'll blow the horn to tell you when I'm ready to go."

Sarah shook her head. "I'll help."

It was a half hour later when we drove away. This time I stayed off the highway and stuck to the back roads. I was still heading toward South Carolina, but my mind kept returning to what Ben had told me. Was it worth the trip to New Orleans to check out that story of his? I rolled the idea around in my head unsure what to do.

After a quiet lunch, the afternoon slipped by into a maze of side roads, small towns, and the gloom of the unending desolation. The gleaming white bones of cattle could be seen in the overgrown fields. If it wasn't for the sight of an occasional bird, one would think that the whole world had gone and died. The CD of classical music in the stereo droned along through the speakers. It sounded like a funeral. After a while I turned it off. Sarah said nothing but only let out a tortured sigh with every other breath. I was amazed how well she was holding up.

After a few hours she finally asked, "Why do we live? I mean what's the point if we are going to be so sad all of the time?"

"That's a question that philosophers and religion has been asking for a very long time. I don't have a good answer for you. But I will say that life isn't enjoyed by looking inward. Instead it's about making others happy. Only then will you find happiness for yourself."

Sarah gave me a skeptical eyebrow raise.

"Or maybe I read that in a fortune cookie," I added with a wink.

"You're no help," she said glumly. But there was a faint smile there.

When the sky was beginning to get dark, I found an old farmhouse that was set off from the road. I pulled into the driveway, past two parked cars that had seen better days, and pulled behind the home so the truck would be hidden from view from anyone going by. Rolling the window down, I shut the engine off and just listened. There was nothing to here but a nearby grackle making a fuss over something.

"Are we staying here?" Sarah asked with a soft voice tinged with anxiety. She appeared to still be a little uncertain of me which made sense since we were practically strangers.

"Better than sleeping in the truck," I said.

"At least the truck isn't haunted. This house looks haunted."

"It's just an old place," I said with false confidence. Maybe she did have a point. The house had silvered paint and was in a state of disrepair that spoke of years beyond the time of the plague. The windows looked grimy while the concrete steps leading to the back door were cracked. But the nearby barn, made of wood and painted a picturesque red with white trim, was in good shape.

"Anyways there are no such things as ghosts," I added.

"If you say so." She didn't seem to believe me.

"Stay here," I said as I took the flashlight out of the glovebox and handed it to her.

I got out with my pistol at the ready. I carefully scouted the land around the house. Other than my own there were no fresh footprints or tire marks. When I was sure that we were alone, I motioned for Sarah to get out of the truck. She did so silently, careful not to slam the door shut. She moved quietly as if fearing to wake the dead. I tried the front door. It was locked. A judicious tap with the butt of my shotgun I broke the glass and was able to reach inside and release the deadbolt. By now I was feeling like a practiced criminal. I stepped inside. Sarah followed, eyes wide like a frightened bird.

There was enough outside light to see. We found ourselves in a living room with outdated furniture, an antique floor lamp, gaudy floral wallpaper, and wooden floors covered by a large brown rug. The television was an old tube type set in a large cabinet. On top of this a collection of records was stacked next to a cheap turntable and receiver. Dust was everywhere. Some time ago, an enterprising spider had built a huge web across the entryway into the kitchen. A flight of dark stairs went up to the second story. A closet was open with a jumble of coats and mittens strewn on the floor. Next to this was an open door leading to the basement.

"Is anyone here?" I called out. I paused to listen. Nothing.

With no answer, I brushed the web aside and proceeded to the kitchen. Sarah followed closely behind, clutching the flashlight like a talisman. The floor here was white tile. The cupboards were also painted white and the countertop was laminated with a pale yellow color. A glass slider led to a small back patio. There was a faint but rank smell of rotting food in the air. A quick search and I found nothing to eat. Even the bottle of catsup in the refrigerator was empty. I had a vision of some hungry soul using the last remnants to make some vile soup.

Sarah stayed near. She looked scared but not quite ready to take flight.

I went to the stairs heading down and peered into the gloom below. There was nothing to see but darkness. "Hand me the flashlight."

After a moment of hesitation Sarah surrendered the flashlight.

I turned it on and played the beam on the dusty stairs.

"Stay here," I suggested.

She nodded, stepping back so she could be closer to front door, as if wanting to run away.

I took the stairs slowly. When I got to the bottom I saw the journey was hardly worth the effort. There was a washing machine, dryer, and a pile of clothes on the concrete floor. Further in the recesses of the basement were a water heater, duct work in the rafters, pipes, and an old-fashioned gas heater. A workbench was shoved into the back wall. I played the beam of light along the tools hung up on the wall. I didn't see anything we needed so I headed back upstairs.

Sarah looked relieved to see me.

I gave her a smile. "Nothing down there. I'm going upstairs. Do you want to come with me or stay here?"

She licked her lips. "I think I'll stay here. Just don't be gone long."

"Don't worry."

Heading upwards, the steps squeaked under my feet. I clung to the bannister, using it to guide me. Reaching the top, I found myself on the landing that led to a small hallway with three closed doors. A runner rug spanned the short distance.

The first door led to a modest bathroom with a toilet and a clawfoot tub. Searching through the medicine cabinet, I found a still sealed bottle of aspirin that I stuffed into my pocket. There was also a motley assortment of worthless items: used toothbrushes, a rolled up tube of toothpaste, and two safety razors.

The next room was a small bedroom, unoccupied. There was a queen bed here squeezed up against the wall, a window that overlooked the back yard, and a small nightstand with a brass table lamp. The floor here was made with wood planks that were uneven. I opened the drawer of the nightstand and found an odd collection of memorabilia including old photographs with faded colors, a few postcards from tourist traps, and a snow globe of Mount Rushmore.

I slowly opened the door of the last room. This was occupied, but not by anyone alive. On the bed were two figures resting as still as stone. In the darkness my imagination expected these bodies to rise like the undead, but from the odor I could tell they were long expired. Taking a step closer, I could see the remains were beginning to mummify. A stain of blood, now dark brown with age, was on the pillowcases. A shiver went up my spine when I saw the little revolver clutched in the man's hand. He had presumably shot his wife and then had taken his own life. I went over to free the pistol from the corpse's grip. A feeling of sadness almost stopped me. Instead I took a deep breath and pulled it free from his hand. It was a sickening experience but I soon had a little twenty-two caliber Browning in my hand. I checked the loads. There were four shots left. It wasn't much of a gun but it could be useful. I stuffed it in my front pocket, the butt sticking out from the denim.

I returned to the ground floor. Once again Sarah looked relieved to see me.

"Is there anyone up there?" she asked.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should shield Sarah from the truth that we were essentially disturbing a tomb. But I decided that I couldn't shield her from reality. She would have to learn, if she hadn't already, that we were living in a new world. "There are two people upstairs in one of the bedrooms. They've been dead for a long time. They won't be bothering us."

She only slowly nodded as she digested that information. "I'll go get the blankets from the truck," she finally said.

"And then we'll have to decide what we want to eat for dinner."

I watched her go outside and thought to myself that she was going to be alright. She was tougher than she looked.

**October 22** nd **\- Morning**

Sarah had slept on the sofa, gently snoring through the night. I had taken the overstuffed chair, which was way more uncomfortable than it looked. I suffered from insomnia even during the best of times, and the worn out springs of this chair did little to help my sleeplessness. Instead I had suffered through the night: the settling of the house making strange noises, the information I had learned about the virus, and my brain feeling overloaded with the responsibility of taking care of this girl. Sometime in the middle of the night I managed to pass out from exhaustion. When I finally did awake, I felt as if my head was caught tight in a vice. I would need some aspirin to get through the day.

Sarah was already up, busy trying to figure out how the camping stove worked. I took that as a good sign; volunteering to make breakfast. I helped. Soon we had some canned hash to eat – I was getting sick of this greasy stuff but a meal is a meal. Afterward she cleaned up the dishes while I got busy packing our belongings back into the truck. We were soon on the road.

I thought we were in Kentucky now, at least based on the rolling hills and the license plates of the parked cars. The roads were clear until we were some ten miles away from the farmhouse. I was lumbering along at an easy pace, keeping a look out for that motorcycle gang. We were going down a two-lane country road, surrounded by overgrown fields, little farmhouses, and white fences. A few dead horses – now all scraps of flesh and bones – dotted the ground. The sun was shining above and it looked pleasant enough even though winter was coming. Ignoring the CD collection, Sarah was fiddling with the radio fruitlessly trying to find a station. There was only static.

In the rear-view mirror, I noticed a cop car coming from behind. It was a Dodge Charger that moving fast. It was painted black and had the yellow markings. The red and blue lights began to flash.

Sarah stared at me with big eyes. She asked, "What are you going to do?"

In normal days I would have dutifully pulled over and found out what I was doing wrong. At worst I would have gotten a ticket. But these weren't normal times. Now I could be killed on a whim or robbed for my truck or gasoline. Without a word of explanation to the girl, I put the gas pedal down and started to edge away from the pursuer. I knew that moment wouldn't last for long since even the powerful eight-cylinder engine in the truck was no match for this pursuit vehicle meant to intercept lawbreakers.

The Dodge quickly closed the gap. It got so close to the rear bumper that the front hood disappeared in the rearview mirror. I could easily make out the driver. It was a police officer, or at least someone dressed as one. He had a blonde mustache and a wide nose. Sitting next to him was another man; this one was balding and dressed in a flannel shirt. Neither was smiling.

I could feel a rush of adrenaline course through my veins, strong enough to make my hands shake. These bastards were a little too sure of themselves. It was time to make the odds in my favor.

"Hold on!" I shouted as I slammed hard on the brakes. I felt the car behind me slide under the rear bumper of my truck with a metallic crumple. I reached down and jerked the lever up on the transfer case, moving the power to both the front and rear axles. I then spun the steering wheel to the right and went straight into the ditch on the side of the road. Sarah screamed. As the Toyota dipped alarmingly down, the nose just kissed the leading edge of the dirt. And then we were up and over, crashing through a wooden fence, and then running along a weed-choked field, bouncing over the many ruts.

Laughing like a crazed man, I turned and looked through the dust behind us. I saw that the driver of the Dodge, in the heat of the moment, had tried to follow. But a car that's made for speed on the road doesn't have the ground clearance of a true off-road vehicle. He had apparently gotten stuck in the ditch. For my vantage point all I could see was the rear of the car pointing up in the air. I could only imagine the damage to the front bumper. It would take them some time to get clear of that.

I came to the edge of the field where it met a gulley thick with tired trees. During the spring a seasonal stream must run through here. There was also a rough track that ran parallel to this and led straight away from the road. I didn't know where it went, but it had to be better than where we had been. So I added a little more speed and we were soon out of sight of our pursuers.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked Sarah.

She gave me a lopsided grin. "I'll never say a bad word about this truck again."

I patted the dash. "She may not be a racecar, but she gets there in the end. However we aren't out of the woods yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well they know what direction we went and that Dodge, once freed of the ditch, can still go faster than we can. With two men working at it, it won't take them long to push that car out. So we have to outsmart them."

"But how?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll think of something. They can either find a way to follow us down this two-track, or they can try to intercept us on the next main road ahead. My guess is they will do the latter, unless they are angry enough to take some risks with their vehicle. Either way, we won't be able to outrun them in the end."

The two-track went by an old barn that had seen better days. With all the holes, sagging roof, and silvered wood, the entire structure looked as if a single puff of wind would blow it all over. The foundation was surrounded with scrubby bushes, indicating that this building had been abandoned long ago. In days past it would have looked positively quaint, but now it just reminded me that all things must eventually succumb to decay. I stopped next to the ancient structure and put the truck into reverse, trying to pushing the back bumper deep into the decaying vegetation.

When I got as far as I could I jerked the transmission into park. "Get out," I said to Sarah.

She opened the door and was out of the truck. I pulled the recently acquired Browning pistol out, killed the engine, and exited.

"Where are we going?" Sarah asked.

"Hold on," I replied. "Have you ever fired a gun before?"

She shook her head. "My parents said they were bad."

I nodded. "They were right, but these days they're a necessity." I showed her the pistol resting in my hand. "This here is the safety. And this here is the trigger. You're going to hide over there in the woods while I stay hidden in the barn. If those men come here, I want you to turn the safety off and then fire a round into the air. Do you think you could do that?"

Sarah looked at me, her eyes wide, but she looked intrigued by the idea of carrying a pistol. She eagerly stuck her hand out to take the weapon.

"Now I want you to be careful," I warned her. "Just fire the one shot and then turn the safety back on. Don't play with the gun and especially don't point it at me or yourself. I want you to only fire it again if those men come and try to hurt you. There are only four rounds so if you have to do that, shoot to kill. Do you understand?"

She slowly nodded, eyes filled with doubt. "Yes, Tom," she finally replied.

I placed the Browning in her hand. She held it gingerly as if the hunk of metal could bite her. Perhaps that was the best way for her to treat a loaded gun.

I pointed to a group of pine trees. "Get yourself in a good position over there. Stay low and out of sight. Shoot the gun in the air when they stop and are completely out of the car. Got it?"

"Yes," she said, her voice edged with excitement.

"Now get going, we don't have much time."

"But what are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about me, but I'll make sure we get out of here in one piece, okay?"

"Okay, Tom," Sarah replied. "You're not going to hurt them are you?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Good." She then took off running and soon disappeared into the thick pine trees.

I called out, "Can you see me from where you are?"

"Yes!" she replied with a shout.

"Okay, just do what I said. And remember, stay hidden!" I then turned and looked the barn over. The main sliding door on the side had fallen off its tracks and was leaning at an angle. There was just enough room for someone to squeeze through. I went this route, stepping cautiously over the debris since this would be a bad time to step on a rusty nail. I ducked under the decrepit door, getting a face full of cobwebs in the process. Inside it was a wreck. In the corner was an old car with a dented bumper, smashed out windows, and flat tires. It looked as tired as I felt. A few rusty farm implements hung on the walls which had enough gaps that I could see much of the outside. The floor was covered with dust, mouse droppings, and bits of straw that had turned gray with time.

Resting on my haunches, I waited, keeping an eye on the rutted track outside. As I sat there I thought of Sarah and how much trouble this all was. But I had to admit that I liked having the girl around. Even though I was naturally a loner, I did occasionally enjoy the company of others. I would do anything I could to make sure she stayed alive, even taking risks like this.

My thoughts were broken by the sound of an approaching car. Of course it was our pursuers. It hadn't taken them that long to push the car out of the ditch. I saw the Dodge was going slowly over the rutted road, the suspension occasionally bottoming out. The front bumper was a broken mess of plastic and the hood was crumpled like an accordion. As the car approached the barn, it slowed. I was hoping against all possibilities that they wouldn't notice the truck hidden amongst the bushes and trees. At first I had thought I had gotten lucky since the car started to move on, but then it stopped and was thrown into reverse. The driver backed up and then stopped in front of the road leading to the barn. Perhaps he thought the car was blocking some getaway point but with the clearance of the truck I could have driven right around it.

The doors of the car opened in unison and I could see two men get out. They both wore pistols on the hips and had pump shotguns held at the ready. The man wearing the flannel was tall and had the looks of an experienced hunter; his eyes scanning the ruined area. The driver was wearing dark sunglasses and was of medium build. He looked like a hick deputy out of central casting. I could hear them talking.

"Look what we've got here. Do you see any sign of them?" the police officer asked.

"No, but that's the truck alright," the other one replied with a slow drawl. "They have to be somewhere close by."

I waited tensely, expecting to hear the report of the Browning pistol. It then dawned on me that Sarah couldn't see them because the barn was in her line of vision. She would probably wait until she was completely sure that the two men had left the car.

"I don't like it," the officer said.

"What can one guy and a kid do?" the other said with a laugh.

The reply was tinged with anger. "Yeah, you're right, but he managed to make me wreck my car. We were lucky to get it out of that ditch."

The man with the uneasy eyes laughed. It was an annoying high-pitched sound. "I know you're pissed. But don't worry you can beat it out on him when we see him. But first let's see if they left anything for us in the truck."

The other man said, "Just be careful, it could be a trap."

I could see them moving now, their figures appearing and disappearing from view through the broken slats of the barn. As soon as they rounded the corner, I heard the distant report of a pistol firing. It was Sarah doing her job.

The two men froze, their shotguns now held even higher.

"That sounded like a pistol," the policeman said.

"But he wasn't shooting at us or else he's the worst shot in the world," his friend replied with an uneasy laugh.

The men strode forward. I watched for a moment before making my move. I felt my heart in my mouth as I quietly made my way under the barn door. The seconds ticked by, feeling like hours. I walked on the balls of my feet, trying not to stir up any debris. Their backs were to me, not even suspecting that I was behind them. I never counted on the police for having much in the brains department.

When I was ten feet away from them, I cocked my pistol. That was enough of a sound to make them jump. "Don't move," I managed to choke out. "If you do, I'll blow you away."

I could see them tense up as if ready to turn around and try to open fire before I had a chance to gun them down. Only a real fool would try something so impossible.

The officer was a fool. He swung around with the shotgun. I fired, aiming for his head since there was a possibility he was wearing body armor. The shot missed my intended target but was still a hit. He staggered back a step, pulling his trigger at the same time. The shotgun went off, spraying buckshot far to my right and hitting the barn beyond. He then dropped the gun, clutched the top of his shoulder, and let out a howl of pain. The red underneath his shirt indicated I had hit him, the bullet piercing the top of his arm. He fell to his knees.

I didn't give his friend a chance to react. I told him, "If you want to die, go ahead and give me an excuse to pull the trigger. Now put those weapons on the ground. Slowly."

The hunter gently put his shotgun down. The belt with the pistol slid off his hips to rest in the dirt.

"Join your cop buddy," I told him. "Pull his gun out of that holster and put it gently on the ground. Don't try anything stupid." My voice sounded far away and high-pitched. I was running on adrenaline now.

The hunter did so, crouching next to his friend. He took his partner's pistol out of the holster and placed it gently a few feet away.

I said, "I'm sure you said this plenty of times to others, but now you get a chance to try it yourself. Put your hands over your head. But first take that belt off."

"I'm hurt," the cop whined. "I can't lift my arm up."

"Give it a try," I suggested, waving my pistol at him.

The policeman wasn't hurt that badly. With his good hand he unhitched his belt. And with some minor difficulty he was able to put his hands up. He managed to stand. Together they shuffled off to the side.

Once they had moved away, I went over to the belt and retrieved a pair of handcuffs. I waved my pistol at the hunter, "Now I want you to take these handcuffs and put one on your partner. And then put the other cuff on yourself." I threw the pair of the handcuffs near his feet.

"Look, mister," he protested, "you can't do this to us."

"And why not? There is no law left in this county and a pair of losers like you are done giving orders to people. So unless you want a belly full of lead, I suggest you take those handcuffs and slap them on your partner's wrist. Don't worry, if you do as I say, I'll make sure you'll live."

"Okay, okay," he said hastily. He put the one of manacles on his partner and only cinched it tight when I ordered him to do so. Then the other cuff went on his right wrist.

'Now both of you, down on the ground and on your stomachs."

Once they were both resting face forward in the dirt, I went over and put a knee into the back of the police officer. I then rested the end of the barrel of the pistol on the back of his neck. With my free hand, I cinched the metal bands even tighter. I then searched the both of them, removing the handcuff key that the officer carried. I stood up and let my breath go. I felt ill as the moment of fear washed away.

"Sarah!" I shouted. "You can come out now."

In moments she broke out from the pine trees, the Browning hanging from her hand. She looked scared but had enough pluck to practically skip over to stand next me.

She said, "He's bleeding. I saw you shoot him!"

"I had to. Now let's get out of here."

"Sure," Sarah said without much conviction. She headed toward the truck, glancing in my direction several times.

The cop began to bluster. "You can't leave us here! I'm wounded and need help."

"I think I can. You can walk back to wherever you come from."

"We have to help them!" Sarah added.

"No we don't," I shot back. "Get in the truck."

With a scowl she went to stand by the passenger door.

"You bastard!" the policeman yelled. "You're going to die if you keep going. It isn't safe around here."

"What do you mean?" I asked, wondering what kind of trick he was playing at.

"You haven't seen those creatures? They are everywhere now."

I shook my head. "You're talking crazy."

His friend said, "Just shut up, Dan. There's nothing we can do to convince him. He won't believe us until he sees those things with his own eyes. Just let him go. He'll get what he deserves."

I couldn't figure out what kind of game they were playing. So instead of saying anything else I scooped up their guns, handing the Beretta pistols over to Sarah. I held the two Mossberg shotguns over my shoulder. I could get some real use out of these. Going over to the truck, I placed the shotguns gently inside of the bed. I waited until Sarah was safely in the truck before I entered. I started up the engine and drove slowly past the two men. By now they had rolled over on their backsides and were sitting up. They both gave me a baleful stare.

I drove past the parked car, and reached the two-track. Stopping the truck, I put it into park. I said, "Hold on, Sarah, I'm going to make sure they won't follow us, or bother anyone else with that car."

Hopping out of the truck, I took one of the shotguns out from the back of the bed. I walked over to the Dodge, keeping a small distance from myself and the mean-looking machine. I looked down the sights and fired into the body of the car. The glass on the driver's side window shattered, the lead shot tearing into the metal. I fired another round into the inside the car hoping to damage whatever electronics I could. Next I took out the radiator and headlights with two shots. After I was done, I reached inside the car and popped the hood. I then went to work in the engine compartment, tearing off wires and hoses by hand. I put the one final shell to good use by shooting the large fuse boxes and control units located inside. That shotgun was out of ammo now so I threw it on the ground.

This car was going nowhere unless it was on the back of a tow truck.
**October 22** nd **– Evening**

The sun was starting its journey below the horizon, sending orange rays shooting along the sky like an array of spotlights. It wouldn't take long before darkness came. Sarah was in a shocked daze, her eyes watching the rolling landscape as if under hypnosis. It was time to find a place to hole up so we could get some sleep. I saw the sign that we were approaching a little town called Speers. I drove on, looking for a suitable house.

As we neared the outskirts of the town, I could see several patches of black smoke against the horizon. Parts of the city looked to be on fire. We passed homes and businesses with open doors and shattered windows. Litter was strewn on the front lawns. I drove carefully, letting the truck slow to an idle.

"Sarah," I said. "Keep your eyes open."

She gave me a glance and still looked a little frightened. Seeing the way I had dealt with those two men and that car had made her a little wary of me. She finally replied, "I will, Tom."

"We may run into some more bad men."

"Those two didn't seem to stop you." Her tone was accusing, almost as if she expected me to turn the other cheek when confronted with the violence of others.

I cleared my throat. "We were lucky, Sarah. Lucky to have a truck that could go off-road. And we were fortunate that so-called cop and his friend fell into my trap. If you had a better way of getting out of that situation, you could have told me."

"You didn't have to shoot that policeman," she said coldly.

"Yes I did. I will do anything to make sure nothing happens to you. Understand?"

Pouting, she turned her attention to look at the destroyed buildings passing by her window. After a moment of this, she finally said, "I just got scared, Tom."

"You have to realize that times have changed. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, Sarah."

She flashed me a smile and any animosity between us was broken. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

I was about to say something in response but instead had to slam on the brakes. In front of us was a line of blackened and burnt cars stretched across the road. The corpses of a half-dozen men and woman were scattered around this blockade. A horde of black flies were taking whatever sustenance they could from the decaying bodies. In the low sun, glinting all along the blacktop I could see the brass glimmer of shell casings. It appeared that some sort of firefight had erupted here, leaving the defenders worse off in the engagement.

Sarah was staring at these new horrors; her face was pale with shock.

"Don't look at them," I growled.

I then nosed the truck forward through a narrow opening in the cars. I could see by the condition of the corpses that this had happened only a few days ago. My first inclination was to turn back and find another route, but the state of my gas tank – getting lower by the mile - and my own curiosity made me move forward.

The road widened out to two-lanes on each side. I rolled down the windows and listened. All I could hear was the gentle tick of my engine and the hush of rubber on asphalt. The homes and small business dotted along the side were burned out, the blackened wood of the windows staring at us like accusing eyes. Up ahead was a large grocery store, the lot empty. A car had been driven through the front doors. I idled past, waiting for the worst to happen. But there was nothing moving but garbage being blown by the wind.

We came to another line of cars across the road. This time the line of defense was smaller and appeared to have been hastily put together. Sprawled on the nearby embankment were two corpses, staring up at the sky with empty eye sockets. The looked as if they had been gnawed on by flies, leaving only skulls and bones.

The downtown would normally have been a teeming area of coffee shops, antique stores, and ice cream shops that catered to the tourist trade. Instead of tidy businesses and shiny cars, the road was choked with garbage and the stores had been burnt to empty brick shells. Here and there was a corpse, the skin turning black and leathery. The noise of my truck echoed balefully against the walls, the only sound other than the wind and the trash skittering along the ground. It felt like a graveyard here; the end of the old world.

In the center of town was a large park. At one time the grass would have been green and full, but now it was nothing but patches of brown dirt and sickly weeds. The once white gazebo was smashed beyond recognition. I mention these parts first because the other objects here were gruesome beyond description. I took my right hand and covered Sarah's eyes since I did not want her to see the line of decaying corpses that had been crucified on rough wooden crosses. The insects had been busy here, leaving the faces eyeless and with white teeth glinting through lipless mouths.

"What is it?" Sarah said as she tried to free my hand from her face.

"Close your eyes," I demanded.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

"Okay," she whimpered.

I pulled my hand away and gave the gas pedal a hard push. I could feel my teeth grinding together, wondering how men could do such things to each other. Once we were out of sight of those horrors, I slowed down again. I took a couple of deep breaths and swallowed the ball of phlegm that had collected in the back of my throat.

"What was it?" Sarah asked carefully, our delicate truce now broken again.

"Never mind," I replied flatly. I thought it was a shame that someone so young had to experience such a violent world. Sarah would see so many terrible things in the days to come, but there was no reason she had to see it all now. She had already seen more than enough.

I took the next road heading south. This area appeared to be where the rich lived with gated entrances, wrought iron fences, and large lawns. Some of the houses were still smoldering, the last remnants burning like a dull ember. There were cars here too, lifeless and abandoned. I saw something that piqued my interest. I took the chance and decided to pull over. I shut the engine off but left the keys in the ignition.

"Stay here," I told Sarah. "If I don't make it back to the truck, I want you to get out of here as fast as you can. Do you think you can do that?"

She nodded, looking warily over our surroundings. "I'll try."

I went to the back of the truck and removed a plastic gas can, a length of tubing, a manual pump, a screwdriver, and the shotgun, which I cradled in my arm. With a quick jog, I headed to an intact house – more like a white mansion with a large columned porch – where I had seen a BMW that looked to be in good condition. The reason I had picked this vehicle was the open driveway gate. Either someone had already been this way or they had left in haste.

The sun was gone now, leaving only a trace of light in the sky. I walked down the curving road, looking carefully over the ground for any sign of life. There were a number of footprints – more like imprints - in the gravel but I wasn't a good enough tracker to tell how old they were.

I stopped at the car. The BMW was a newer model, black with a convertible top. The paint was dusty and the tires still pumped up. I looked around but didn't see anyone. The empty windows of the house, however, seemed to be staring at me. I began to work as quickly as I could. Using the screwdriver I forced the locked gas door open, unscrewed the cap, and fit the tubing down the neck of the tank. I then hooked up the pump and began working it. Within a few seconds I had gasoline flowing into the can. I had been lucky. This rich person has been able to afford the ever increasing cost of fuel. I kept going until the gas can was full.

Night had come. Thanks to the light of the moon I could still see enough to get by.

As I closed the cap on the can and rolled up the tubing, I was beginning to feel proud of myself. But those thoughts of self-congratulation quickly disappeared when I heard a sound coming from the house. The front door, which was some twenty-five yards away, was opening. I stood up with the shotgun ready, a round chambered. Out of the entrance burst a figure – gaunt and white enough that the skin practically shone in the darkness. It – I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman – came straight toward me, screeching with an unnatural voice that I found unsettling.

"Stay back!" I shouted.

My warning was in vain. I could see this person better now. My mind flashed a few details – a woman with only a ripped skirt on, small breasts, wild black hair, and dark, shadowed eyes. She wasn't stopping. She was only a few yards away now – hands outstretched. There was something wrong – an instinct told me that I was in danger. And this same instinct of self-preservation was strong enough that I pulled the trigger without thinking. There was a boom as the gun fired, breaking the silence of the night.

The force of the lead shot tore into her body with savage force. The white skin of her chest turned black with the color of blood in the moonlight. That massive damage would have stopped anyone but it was only a temporary setback for this creature. She only faltered one step before coming on again. It seemed impossible. I chambered another shell and fired without aiming. There was no time to do anything else.

She was so close. The load of buckshot hit her square in the head, smashing the skull open with a sickening sound that reminded me of a pumpkin being broken against the curb. The remnant of humanity fell backward, taking a few steps like a broken marionette before falling into a heap. A wave of guilt, stronger than my other killings, washed over me. My knees began to buckle. Bile rose in my throat. Turning my head I threw up. I wondered what kind of monster I had become.

I didn't have a chance to finish that thought. A chorus of screeches and screams began to grow louder and louder. The sound was coming from the house. I looked that way and at that moment a whole mob of pale skinned creatures burst out of the open door. There were at least two or three dozen of them, all heading toward me. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body. I left the gas can and pump on the ground. Turning, I began to run toward the truck, going as fast as I could.

"Sarah! Start the truck! Sarah!" I heard myself shouting, my voice gripped with panic.

I got to the street. The footsteps of my pursuers were growing louder in my ears. There was the truck. The single headlight was on, throwing a beam of light on the street. There was the sound of the engine revving and then the truck lurched backward hard enough that the tires chirped on the asphalt. The movement stopped. Sarah was trying to drive! I headed for the passenger door, opened it, and jumped inside. As I shut the door, I turned and saw the hands of my pursuers against the glass window.

"Go!" I shouted.

Sarah was in the driver's seat, her body close to the steering wheel as her short legs barely reached the pedals. She was screaming in frustration. The hands of those creatures – ghastly white – were now pounding against the metal and glass of the truck, surrounding us. Their screeching and wailing was reaching a fevered pitch. Reaching over, I blindly pulled the transmission lever all the way down. I snaked my left foot over and jammed the gas pedal down, crushing Sarah's foot at the same time. The truck leapt forward, bogged as the cursed traction control came on, and then shot ahead. I managed to jerk the steering wheel in time to miss the parked car in front of us. And then we were clear, accelerating hard.

I glanced behind us and saw the pale mob still chasing us, going as fast as they could to try and keep up. In another few seconds the truck was over a hill and the creatures were out of sight.

Sarah was sobbing, her eyes glistening with tears from the light of the dashboard.
**October 22** nd **\- Night**

Sarah pulled over so I could take over driving. As we switched positions, I heard the terror in her voice as she spoke.

"What were those things?" she asked.

I shook my head as I put the truck into gear and drove forward. "I don't know. I really don't. All I know is that we have to put as much space as we can between them and us."

We were still somewhere in the middle of the town. I wondered how many more of those creatures – whatever they are – were out there. Was it just that house or was this entire area filled with them? I remembered the cryptic warning those two men had told us. At the time I didn't believe a word they had to say. Now I felt like a fool for not listening to them.

In the weak glow of the single headlight I saw another figure on the left side of the road. The neck of this thin man turned toward us and he immediately gave chase, having enough time to try and grab at the front fender. He missed but kept on coming after us. And then I saw another one, this was a woman with gray hair and a stained nightgown, who was on the other side of the road. She also gave chase. I began to speed up. This new development was unnerving.

"They're everywhere!" Sarah exclaimed.

"I know, I know," I grumbled as I picked up the speed. They wouldn't be an issue in singles or even a small group, but in a large mob these things could overwhelm us. We had to get out of here as soon as possible.

Our luck held out. Except for getting temporarily lost near a row of factories and having to run down one of the pale creatures, we soon broke free of the city and got back into the country. Here there were no signs of them but I still didn't feel any safer. Were these things just here at this city or everywhere? I didn't know. But my larger worry was the state of the gas tank. The truck was nearly out; the gas warning light had been on for the past few miles. This truck had a thirsty mill and perhaps wasn't the best choice for this type of long journey. But at least it could carry a lot of gear. And when you had to scavenge to live, that was important.

Eventually I found a place to park the truck. I pulled in behind a rural gas station with smashed out windows, a few battered cars, and a dense line of pine trees in the back.

"Stay here," I said to Sarah. "I want to take a look around before we commit to staying here." Glancing at the gas gauge, I added. "Though we're not going to have much choice since we can't go on much further on the fuel we have left." I turned the engine off and got out of the truck. The shotgun was held at the ready. No one was here so I cradled the shotgun in the crook of my arm and turned on the flashlight. I went toward the back entrance of the gas station.

I stopped midstride. I suddenly remembered what I had seen at my neighborhood: the figure rushing out of the burning house that was gunned down by the soldiers. That automatic gunfire had done nothing to that person until a headshot had taken it out. Was it related? If it was then it meant these creatures were not a local phenomenon. They could be all over the place. Was the virus the cause of all of this? But that was impossible. Anne was dead. My friends and family were dead. That was an indisputable fact. I heard the last breaths of my wife – I knew she was dead. The thought of her coming back to life and trying to claw out of that grave would drive me to madness.

The backdoor of the gas station was unlocked. I went inside, running the beam of the flashlight along the walls and floor. This store, like so many others, had been thoroughly looted, but there was a door that led to a back office. The door could be locked from the inside and there was even a brown, cigarette burned sofa here, along with the scratched desk, chair, and a metal filing cabinet. The carpet was threadbare and the padding was thin enough that I could feel the concrete underneath. It would have to do for now.

I returned to the back door and waved the flashlight at the truck. I saw Sarah come out, and then run toward me, going as fast as she could.

"Are you alright?" I asked when she finally joined me.

"I'm just a little scared," she admitted. She was breathing fast, her eyes looking all around. "I keep expecting one of those things to pop out of those trees and get me."

"You're not the only one. I think this place is safe. Now take this flashlight and head toward the office. It's behind the counter there, okay? I'll get the stuff from the truck."

It took two trips but I was able to ferry the sleeping bags, the camping stove, bowls, spoons, bottled water, and a can of soup from the back of the truck. When we were settled in behind a locked door, I began to cook. I had Sarah turn off the flashlight to save batteries. The only source of light was the low blue glow of the stove fire which only added to the dark atmosphere.

"Tell me, Sarah, was your dad really a spy? I mean did he really work for a secret organization?" I started.

"I suppose so," she answered easily enough. "Of course it sounds fantastic to anyone who lives outside of Washington, but the whole city is filled with spooks since the FBI, CIA, NSA, and who knows who else work there. I mean it isn't anything special in that town."

That reply sounded a bit too practiced as if she had memorized it. And perhaps her father had told her that. I said, "I guess I wouldn't know. What kind of work did your father do?"

"Nothing dangerous. Or at least that's what he said. I don't think my mom would have approved. As far as I know he just did travel arrangements, and managed planes and cars for agents. He really didn't talk about it much. Why are you asking me all of this? Does it matter now?"

I stirred the soup with a spoon. It was chicken and rice, if it matters. "Your father, Ben, told me a strange story about a research facility with the codename of Zeta. In light of what we saw today – those creatures that attacked us – I'm beginning to think there is a connection to this place, which had stocked up with medical research supplies. I was planning on going to South Carolina but now I'm having second thoughts."

"I wondered where we were going," she commented. "I was just going along for the ride."

I shrugged. "I suppose I should have been more straightforward with you, but I never figured on having a travel companion. But now that I have one, I don't mind the company. I'll tell you my plans now. I've thought this through and have decided to change our destination. We're going to head to New Orleans, where this Zeta laboratory is located. I want to see if your father's story is true."

"Of course it is," she said, eyes narrowing. The memory of her father was too fresh for her to expect anything less than perfection from him.

I gave her an apologetic smile. "I believe it now. Let's eat and then we will have to make our plans. We will need some gas for the truck and even more food. It's going to be a long trip by road, and if those creatures are everywhere, very dangerous."

"We'll make it," she stated with finality.

I hoped she was right.

When we were done eating, Sarah took the sofa while I took the floor. When she was finally asleep – all snores and gurgles – I left the office with the shotgun. I went out to behind the counter where I could watch through the broken windows. I was wound up enough that I couldn't sleep. I felt exhausted but the idea of being caught in that room without a way out was too much for my nerves. I stood there, looking over the debris and watched the road. My ears were busy listening too. I was there for an hour or so, feeling annoyed with myself for being so paranoid.

But my wait was not in vain. Walking along the road was a figure with such pale skin that it practically glowed in the night. I crouched down low enough that only my eyes could see above the counter. It wasn't shambling or lurching along like a zombie, but there was an unnatural gait to the poor creature, like the forward motion was being pushed along by some unseen animal force. The head swerved from side to side as if looking for fresh prey. I half-expected it to get down on the ground and start sniffing for signs of us. But it moved on, unaware that I was there. Soon it was gone from view.

That encounter did little to steady my nerves. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought we could be safe hidden away here. We just had to stay quiet and out of the way. The locked door should be enough of a warning if one of them tried to gain entry. The only fear was to be discovered by a whole mob of them, where my limited firepower wouldn't be enough to overcome their numbers. Out here in the country it was a gamble I was willing to take.

I stayed there for another thirty minutes, fighting off the urge to sleep. I soon gave in to my body and returned to the office. Sarah was still snoring away. I stretched out on the floor and fell into a deep sleep, the shotgun only a foot away from my right hand.
**October 23** rd **\- Morning**

I woke up feeling rotten. My eyelids were crusty and I had a headache that was centered around my temples. I looked around from my spot on the ground. The office door was open. The sofa was empty. Sarah was nowhere to be seen. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I scrambled up from the floor, and grabbed the shotgun.

"Sarah!" I shouted as I went out the door.

"I'm in here," was her reply coming from the main part of the store.

She was on the floor, sorting through the debris. There was a little pile of wrapped junk food near her. The sun was up and a small breeze was blowing, sending paper and plastic into the air.

I angrily said, "You scared the hell out of me. I don't want you leaving my side, got it?"

"Why? There's no one around us."

I frowned. "After you fell asleep, I came out here to watch. I saw another one of those creatures last night. Luckily it didn't know we were here."

"There hasn't been anyone," she said in her defense. Like a teenager, she was beginning to get angry with me for daring to question her decisions.

Shaking my head I walked outside. I stepped past the broken glass, kicked a plastic bag out of the way, and went through the open door. There was nobody around, human or otherwise. The clouds were rolling of in the distance, the grass was tall and yellowing, and everything looked peaceful in the morning sun. I sighed, rubbed my temples, and wished the headache away. I was glad that nothing bad had happened to Sarah. I returned inside.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," I said to Sarah.

She looked shyly at me, half hiding her eyes with that wild, long hair. "It is okay, Tom."

"I was going to start the stove up. Is there anything you want to eat?"

Sarah blushed. She made a face and stuck her tongue out. "I'm not very hungry." She pointed to the pile of food by her feet. "I've already had enough candy."

"We're all going to have rotten teeth soon," I warned her. "I'll make something for myself. But I want you to put away the rest of that food you found. Once I get some gasoline, we'll be hitting the road."

"Okay."

I went back into the office and rummaged through the cans until I found some deviled ham. I ate it cold without anything else, had a few swallows of water along with some aspirin, and then went behind the counter. There I searched around behind the cash register, opening drawers and cabinets until I found a ring of several keys behind a stack of cigarette cartons. Perhaps it was hidden here on purpose. I grabbed the shotgun and motioned for Sarah to stay where she was.

I went to the gas pumps. There were already three cars parked here, the owners probably pushing the vehicles in once their fuel ran out, only to discover that the pump didn't work if the electricity was out. But I wondered if anyone had hit the main station tanks. Closer to the curb, and near a payphone – a rarity in this age – I saw four big iron covers that went over the underground storage tanks. Each cover was flush to the ground, but there was also an inset with a lock to stop any unauthorized tampering. Getting down on my knees, I began trying the keys until I found one that fit. With a grunt I was able to pry the cover off. A whiff of gasoline met my nostrils.

A feeling of triumph washed over me. Resting the urge to whoop with joy, I tried to peer down the neck of the tank. I couldn't see anything but darkness. But the smell of gasoline was strong. There had to be some fuel still down there. My hands scrambled over the asphalt until I found a small pebble. I dropped it into the neck of the tank and heard it hit bottom with a hard metallic clank and an even fainter liquid sound. That didn't sound very promising.

I rushed back and grabbed the flashlight. Sarah was busy packing up the sleeping bags and camping stove.

"Did you find any gas?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "But I want you to look through the trash here and see if you can find a good length of string, a pen, and a plastic cup."

She gave me a quizzical look but didn't ask any questions.

I returned to the opening of the tank and shined the flashlight inside. Now I could see the bottom, which was a good ten feet below me. The bottom was still barely wet with just the faintest layer of gasoline. Given the length and height of the tank there were maybe a few gallons down there. It would be worth the work to get it. I turned my attention to the three other covers, unlocking all of them. Two others held gasoline – different grades – while the last one had diesel, which was useless to me. All of them were nearly dry, but if I combined all of the gasoline, I may have enough here to just fill the Toyota.

Sarah came out and joined me. She was holding a wound up rope made of twisted blue and white nylon, a ballpoint pen, and a red plastic cup that would look at place in a fraternity party. She handed the items over to me.

"Here you go. What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Go fishing for gasoline." I crouched on the ground to do my work. I took the ballpoint pen and pierced the cup two times near the rim, lining the holes across from each other. I then took the rope and began to unwind the blue part of the nylon until I had a thin but long enough strand to use. I cut this length with my pocket knife. A shorter length with knots on the end created a handle for my mini-plastic bucket. The longer part of the string was tied to this.

"What we need to do," I explained to Sarah, "is to scrape the bottom of the tank for the gasoline. We may not get much on every pass, but if we work at it long enough, we should get enough fuel to get the truck a little further down the road. Understand?" I handed the line and cup to her.

She nodded.

"I'm going to get an empty gas can out of the truck. You start. "

Holding the other side of the string, Sarah dropped the cup inside of the first tank. I could hear the plastic hit the bottom and then scrape along the metal. I went to the truck and got a gas can out of the locked bed. When I returned, I saw that she already had the cup pulled up. There was only a tablespoon of fuel inside. She poured that into the open gas can.

We spent the rest of the morning dipping and slowly filling the gas can. Each time it was filled, I took it to the truck and put the fuel into truck's tank. During this time I noticed that no one was around. I kept expecting one of those creatures to show up, but it remained quiet. What was keeping their attention? After a while, like a bad dream, I began to forget about them.

"I think that's the last of it," Sarah said after pulling the cup up from the last storage tank.

"We got maybe twelve gallons there," I said. "It's pretty dirty but the fuel filter should be able to handle it."

"I'm getting pretty hungry, Tom."

We both smelled of gasoline. It wasn't very pleasant. I said, "I'll go put this last bit into the truck and then we'll try to clean up. After that we'll have some lunch and hit the road, ok?"

She looked up at me, and gave me a bright smile that showed the whites of her teeth. "Thanks for letting me help out, Tom. I really want to do my part."

"Don't worry, you are. Now put that last cup of gas into the can and I'll go fill the truck."

Soon I was tipping the gas can upward, letting the very last drops into the tank. The shotgun was propped against the fender. Sarah was next to me, waiting impatiently. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move. I dropped the gas can, letting it hit the ground. A voice stopped me before I could grab the gun.

"Don't move, mister," a gravelly male voice spat out. "I've got my rifle pointed right at you."

I put my hands up and slowly turned around. I found myself looking at a rather short man with a very long rifle. It was one of those fancy things that looked scarier than it was; black high impact plastic and a large scope. The butt of the gun was resting against his hip as if he was bracing himself for shooting a cannon. He had shaggy hair that touched his slouched shoulders, a patchy beard, gray eyes, a black t-shirt with a long-departed rock band logo, and blue jeans that were more holes than denim. He didn't look particularly sure of himself, constantly licking his lips.

Standing next to him was a woman who was considerably more handsome. She was of medium height, long black hair, and a skin tone that said Latino. She was wearing a black skirt that went to the knees, a scruffy white shirt with an embroidered flower design, and was carrying a red leather purse. Her hands – the fingers were busy with silver rings – were empty. Her brown eyes betrayed how scared she was.

I could hear Sarah breathing hard. She reached instinctively for my hand, which I took.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. I also kept my eye on the barrel of that rifle. The way he was handling it, he didn't look to be very familiar with guns. If necessary I thought I could dodge being shot, and get in close enough to sock this fellow in the eye.

"I want your truck," he said. "Nothing personal, but my girlfriend and I aim to get out of here."

"That's not happening," I said as I eyed the shotgun leaning close by my knee.

"Allison, go get that gun," he said to the woman.

She looked hesitantly over at her partner and then walked cautiously toward us, keeping her focus on me. When she got closer, I could how scared she was. She was either frightened of me, or, more likely, scared of this man. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. The woman named Allison reached over to grab the shotgun. I waited until she had picked it up and then turned to join her partner. I dropped Sarah's hand. I took the chance that this man wouldn't shoot his girlfriend, and gave the woman a hard shove in the back. She went sprawling into him. At the same time I pushed Sarah off to the side with one arm and then headed straight for the man.

He hadn't fallen but was busy trying to draw a bead on me while pushing his girlfriend to the side. He had bad trigger control. The gun fired, the bullet going somewhere high in the sky. Before he had a chance to fire again, I had the barrel in my hands. I twisted hard. There was an audible crunch of cartilage, along with an accompanying scream as his finger was yanked free of the trigger guard. He fell to his knees, gripping his right hand. His face looked up at me. The eyes were filled with tears.

"I think you broke my finger," he whined.

I was angry. Having a gun pointed at you did that. I gave him a kick in the head, hard enough that he went over on his side. His head cracked on the pavement and he was dazed, unable to do anything. I angrily grabbed the shotgun from Allison, who was also on the ground. She looked a little mussed up but nothing a few band-aids on the knee couldn't fix. She didn't say anything but instead slowly blinked at me. She was in shock. Turning my attention to Sarah, I saw that she was okay; just giving me an evil eye for the skinned palms I had given her when she had fallen.

"Get in the truck," I told her, my voice low.

Without speaking Sarah went to the passenger side and got inside.

I began to edge backward toward the truck, the rifle slung over my shoulder, and the shotgun at the ready. "We're leaving now," I said. "Don't try anything."

Allison was standing now, her expression overcome with panic. "No!" she exclaimed. "Don't leave me here with him!"

"What?"

She explained, "No matter what he says, he's not my boyfriend. His name is Joel. I met him only four days ago. We're just survivors from the town of Speer. I can't stand to be around him any longer."

I nodded toward the truck. "Get in the seat behind Sarah. Push some of the supplies out of the way."

"Thank you," Allison said, breathing out a sigh of relief. She went around me, and got into the extended cab portion of the truck.

After putting the gas cap on and stowing the gas, I went to get into the driver's side. But the man named Joel called out before I could shut the door.

He was sitting up now. "What about me?" he managed to ask, the sound of his petulant voice gripped with panic.

"I don't give a shit what you do," I replied. I shut the door and started the engine up. I began to pull forward, steering the truck toward the road.

Joel ran up and began shouting at me, his voice barely distinct over the rumble of the engine. Ignoring him, I began to pull away.

"Stop," I heard Allison say.

"Please do," Sara joined in. "We can't leave him here to die."

Against my better judgment I stopped the truck.
**October 23** rd **\- Afternoon**

"My name is Tom," I said as I drove. "I'm from Michigan. Sarah here is from Washington, DC. What's your story?" I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that both Joel and Allison were paying attention. I had all the guns up front with me, the pistols still unknown to them. I didn't trust either one of them; especially Joel, who was nursing his bruised cheek where my foot had met his head. He was also holding his right hand at an awkward angle. Allison was shoved in the corner of the backseat, putting as much space as she could from her companion. It looked as if she was having second thoughts for having let him come with us. I knew I was.

"I'm Joel White. I was the manager at an oil change place." He didn't seem to be proud of this fact.

"Allison Juarez. I worked as bank teller." She kept her voice neutral and careful.

"Can you tell me what the hell happened here? I mean we've been travelling. I haven't run into any of these creatures until I came here." I wasn't about to tell them about my earlier experience near my house since that was an unknown.

"You mean the vampires?" Allison said.

"Vampires? Why do you call them that?" I asked, wondering if the world had gotten even crazier.

"Because they only come out at night," Joel answered. "And they like to drink blood. At least that's what I saw."

"Vampires," I stated out loud as I thought of everything I knew about these mythical creatures of the night. "Are they afraid of garlic and can they only be killed with a stake in the heart?"

"I don't think so," Allison said.

Joel added, "Yeah, it's just a name, mister. This ain't no Dracula from the grave bullshit. They'll die if you shoot them in the head, and will eventually bleed out if you shoot them in the belly. I've killed enough of those bastards to know that."

Sarah let out a nervous laugh. She seemed to be upset by some of the raw language choices.

I said, "Tell me what happened in town. When I drove in I saw a few burned out cars, dead bodies, and shell casings."

Allison, thankfully, took over the narrative. Her voice was soft. "I'm sure it was the same for you. All those people dying. I lost my husband, my little boy, my two brothers, and my mother." She began to choke up but the grief that we all carried was becoming an everyday burden. "Most of the town was dead. In the end there were only twenty-six of us left alive. Like you, we scavenged for canned food, while stockpiling up gasoline and ammunition. We weren't expecting any kind of trouble – at least nothing like this – but were more worried about some roaming gang coming along and trying to take everything we had worked so hard to collect. We – even Joel here – had the idea of rebuilding Speer into something new. There was a man named Russell who had this grand vision of the future. He was our leader."

"He was a righteous prick," Joel commented.

Allison ignored this and continued. "We were going to go back to farming - growing crops. Soon we would have been self-sufficient. We wouldn't need canned food after a few years. Families could be raised, homes rebuilt, and a new, better civilization built from the ashes of this one."

"It sounds like a nice idea," I said. I looked down at the gas gauge and saw that we had enough to last for a good while. What happened after that would have to depend on fate. I was also heading more southwest now, trying to zigzag toward New Orleans. I would tell these two of my plan at a later time.

"It was," Allison continued. "We started by going house to house in groups, collecting whatever food and weapons we could find. There was also a burial detail, moving any found dead bodies to be burned in a pit that had been dug in the middle of town. It started off well until the vampires came." Her voice trailed off.

After a moment of silence, Joel took over the story. "I was in one of apartments that had been picked out for a group of us to sleep in. We had taken the entire building to hole up in. With two guards at the entrance it seemed safe enough. I was woken in the middle of the night by a terrible scream coming down from the lobby. And then there were three gunshots. I thought we were being attacked so I rushed down with my gun - the very same rifle that you took away from me. I was the first one to make it there. One of those creatures – a vampire, as we eventually called them – was on top of Mike, gnawing at his throat. The other guard, I forgot his name, was dead too. There were two vampires on top of him, busy fighting over the poor man's body. At the time I thought those things were people – just crazy cannibals.

"A bunch of our people rushed in to help. We opened fire on the creatures and mowed down the lot of them. It seemed to take a lot of bullets to put them down, but no one really thought it was out of the ordinary until later. By then it was too late. The next night we were hit again, but this time we had more guards. We only lost one man, who, once again, was killed by a bite to the neck. It was decided by Russell, that we should all move to a new location, something easier to enforce. So we found a small warehouse, barricaded the cargo doors and welded them shut. That only left two locked entrances with steel doors, which we lit up with spotlights run off of a generator. That next night was quiet. We thought the trouble had passed and the cannibals had moved on."

"But that didn't turn out to be true," Allison said, pulling herself out of silence. "We found where some of them were hiding. The next day I was working on one of the scavenging teams. We were working through a big Victorian house in an older part of the city. There wasn't anything very valuable there. I went down to the basement with another woman, named Beth. It was pitch black down there so we had to use flashlights. There was a room with a heavy door. It would have been a good place to store food – cool and out of the sunlight. I opened the door.

She paused and gave a slight shudder before continuing. "Lying on the floor were dozens of those creatures, crammed into the room so there wasn't a square inch left. They were sleeping like the dead. Not one of the vampires noticed that Beth and I were there. That's when I noticed that I recognized one of them. It was the bank manager, Nancy, who was my friend. Beth and I didn't take any chances. We ran out there, but some others came with gasoline and burned out the whole lot out of the room. That, of course, started the whole building on fire. And that, we thought was the end of the problem."

"But it wasn't?"

In the rearview mirror I could see Allison frown with a memory. "Of course not. The vampires were everywhere, and only grew stronger in numbers with every passing day. Instead of spending our time preparing to farm, we were going house to house, looking for any signs of them. Wherever they were, that building was set on fire. Our new residence was under attack every night. In order to keep them away we tried to draw them out at night – they seem to be attracted to sound and light– by shooting guns into the air and setting up barricades in the streets. There we would massacre them by the hundreds. Russell even had the idea of hanging up a few of the bodies in the park, to acts as some sort of warning. It was an insane idea and didn't change a thing. As the days went by we quickly burned through our ammunition and even our people. Russell died. Soon there were only five of us left." She gave Joel a sneering look of disdain. "Any sense of group was lost. We decided to split apart and head our separate ways. Joel here followed me."

"I didn't think it right for a woman to be out here all alone," he explained. "And I've always taken a fancy to Allison here. She's really pretty, ain't she?"

"Yeah," I replied, fighting the urge to stop the truck and punch him in the nose.

He said, "The two of us paired together and started heading out into the country. We were in an old Ford truck that had seen better days. It broke down only a few miles out of town, so we had to hole up in a house. There are fewer vampires out here in the country, but a whole lot less food too. We stayed out of sight and didn't run into any trouble. This morning we set out on foot, looking for a car. I saw you gassing up this here truck. And – this was a mistake, mind you – decided to take it for my own. I just wanted to apologize for being so rash. But we were scared, mister, real scared. You can't think straight when your mind isn't right. I wasn't going to hurt you."

"Luckily for you that you didn't try so hard," I said sarcastically. I looked over to Sarah and give her a wink. She grinned at me in return.

"Where are we going?" Allison asked.

"It took you long enough to ask that," I replied. "We're heading south right now, trying to get to New Orleans."

"New Orleans?" Joel said. "What in the hell is down there?"

"Probably a whole bunch of trouble. You see Sarah's father worked for a spy agency in DC. He had information that the research facility down there was aware of this virus before it started killing people. I plan to go down there and find out if that is the truth."

"Where is this girl's father?" Allison asked.

"He's dead," Sarah said without emotion.

There was a silence in the cab of the truck. No one spoke for a few seconds. I could tell my idea wasn't selling well with these strangers.

"Why in the hell would you want to go down there?" Joel repeated himself.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I can't think of anything better to do, can you? I mean we can stay here, find some house to hide in, and hope these vampires don't want to stop by for a bite of dinner. That's not the kind of life I want, hiding at night and slowly starving to death as we run out of food."

"It beats getting killed," he retorted. "We'll also run out of food or gas before we get there."

"Maybe it we will, but if there is just the slightest chance that there is some way of stopping these vampires, or if there is even a cure, then it will be worth it. And if there isn't, well maybe I can personally choke the life out of the person who didn't warn the rest of us. If you don't want to go, I'll gladly drop you off on the side of the road."

"I'm going with you," Allison stated.

"Of course I'm staying with you," Sarah added, even though I knew she wouldn't leave my side.

"Well hell!" Joel spat out. "I suppose I've got nothing better to do. It'll be the death of all of us, but it beats sitting around and being by myself. We will have to stick together if we want to survive."
October 24th - Morning

We spent the night in a little rural used car lot that was near the highway and just outside of a town. I raided the office for the keys. Sarah and I took a SUV, while Joel and Allison split up, each selecting a sedan. The battery in our vehicle was dead so the locks had to be manually closed. Sarah took the back bench while I stretched out in the front seat, wishing for a good hotel bed. Even though I was exhausted I was too keyed up to fall asleep right away. I was worried that Joel was going to try something, possibly stealing the truck or physically harming me. With that in mind I kept the guns with me, along with the keys to my truck. Sleep finally did come, even though I tried to fight against it.

When I woke up, I found that my door was open. I rolled out, holding the shotgun in the crook of my arm.

Sarah, Joel, and Allison were at the hood of a nearby car, huddled together and talking together in low tones.

"Good morning," I said warily. "What's this little meeting about?"

"You," Sarah said. "You're taking on too many responsibilities. You're doing all of the driving and are also the only one with access to the guns. If one of those vampires took you out, the rest of us would be dead too."

"You're saying I should give up the spare truck key and give someone the rifle or the shotgun?" I eyed Joel. "I don't see that happening."

He said, "I know you don't trust me and I don't blame you one bit. That will take some time. But we were thinking of Allison here, at least, could have the extra car key."

I looked at her. Allison was a lovely woman, one that many men would love to be with. That made me suspicious, or perhaps I was feeling guilty over my wife. I wasn't ready to let someone like Allison into my life; at least not yet. But they did have a point. If I was killed with my keys, then their chance of surviving was greatly reduced. However the idea of her stealing - along with the help of Joel - the truck from me, leaving Sarah and I stranded was an idea that left me cold. "What about the gun?" I finally asked, pushing that decision off.

"I was thinking that I would like to have my rife back," Joel suggested. "I'm a good shot, provided the target is a few hundred yards out. As you saw, I'm not so good working close up."

"That's not happening."

Sarah said, "We thought of a compromise. Joel can have his gun back but I'll hold onto the bullets. That way he can't shoot anything unless I let him."

Her eyes were pleading for me to give in. I wondered whose idea this was. But I was feeling tired – tired of the responsibility and having to do all the work. Just letting someone else drive would let me get some badly needed rest. As for Joel and that rifle of his, I would have to keep my pistol close by. "Okay," I finally said. "But I want it understood that I'm the leader here and this is not a democracy. If we run into trouble, I'm giving the orders."

I dug the keys out of my pocket and pulled the extra truck key off of the ring. I handed it to Allison, who tucked the key into her front pocket. I went to the truck, removed the clip from the rifle, and removed the four cartridges inside. I also removed the one still in the chamber. I then went back and handed the gun to Joel, feeling that I was making the wrong decision. He seemed happy enough though, and looked through the scope while aiming the rifle off at some unknown target in the distance.

"There is something else that we have to consider," I said. "With four of us in the group now, that's two more mouths to feed. We have enough supplies to last maybe three or four days. At the speeds we're taking along these side roads, and if we always stop before nightfall, that means we are going to burn through the food before we get to New Orleans. We have to find a store, or come along a cache of food, and the sooner the better. I would also like to get some more shells for the shotguns, and even ammunition for the rifle and Sarah's pistol. That means a hardware or a sporting goods store. Add in finding extra fuel, we're talking at least a medium-sized town that we can scavenge. According to the map, which I studied yesterday, there is a nearby town called Lone Oaks. It doesn't look too big and it's not near a main highway."

"Why does that matter?" Joel asked.

"Maybe not much at all," I explained. "But if my thinking is right, then it could mean that the stores are still relatively untouched. Any of the big cities have highways going through them. That means more travelers going through and more looting."

"I see," Joel said, not sounding very convinced.

"It is only an hour from here. It's not too far out of our way."

After breakfast, which Sarah cooked on the little camp stove, we all loaded back into the truck. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds that were heavy with rain. It was warmer here down south. The trees still had some leaves and the grass was thick. The roads were getting overgrown now with the weeds nearly choking out the shoulder. In a few years the pavement would crack and become impassable. After that the trees would start to take over.

We reached Lone Oaks just before noon. A quiet rain was pelting the windshield. This was a small place: older homes grouped around a main thoroughfare that consisted of tiny tourist trap shops, restaurants, and a post office. There was a grocery store and a hardware store located right next to each other, sharing the same small parking lot. There were only two cars here, both with flat tires. Their windshields were intact. In fact the entire town looked to be in remarkably good condition. Except for the overgrown grass, one would think that everyone had gone to sleep for the afternoon. The small population here must have died quick.

I pulled into the parking lot and shut the engine off.

"Let's try the hardware store first," I said.

"We could move quicker if we split up," Joel suggested. "Sarah and I could take the hardware while you and Allison take the grocery store."

The idea of Joel finding a cache of guns and ammunition was not something that I wanted to think of. Or he could attack Sarah and take the cartridges she was holding in her pocket. "I think we should stick together," I said firmly.

"You're the boss," Joel said with a smile that I did not find endearing.

I got out of the truck with the shotgun and the flashlight. The rest followed me to the entrance.

The front doors of the hardware store were unlocked. I motioned for the others to stay outside while I looked around. Once inside, I saw that everything was dusty. But there were a number of footprints visible on the floor. It was hard to tell how long it has been since someone had been here. The shelves weren't particularly well-stocked, like everywhere else there has been a run on batteries, tools, and plastic sheeting. I turned the flashlight on and played the beam along the aisles. It wasn't a very large place. In the very back I could see a sign that indicated where the firearms were sold. I headed that way, going slow enough that I couldn't be caught by surprise.

I reached the counter without seeing anyone. There wasn't anything underneath the glass, just empty space with tags that indicated the make and model of the gun. But behind the counter were a few boxes of shotgun shells, and rifle and pistol ammunition. It looked picked over but I was able to find a box of shotgun shells. The other ammunition was the wrong size for my pistol. Perhaps Joel could find something for that rifle of his.

I went back to the front door and opened it. "Come on it. Get anything you need but nothing more than you can fit in a single grocery bag. "Joel, there is ammunition in the back. If any of it will work with that rifle of yours, I'll want to know. But for now, hand me your gun."

He stared hard at me and then, after a shrug, shot me another loopy grin. He handed the rifle over and walked to the back of the store.

I turned my attention to the other two. "Sarah, keep an eye on him," I said as I slung the rifle over my back. "I'm going to look for more stove fuel. Allison, I want you to look for a pair of sleeping bags, batteries, and water purifying tables. Also four canteens and maybe even a tent."

"Are we planning to camp out?"

"I hope not, but you never know where we are going to end up at night. I would hate to sleep all four of us in that truck. None of us will get any rest if it comes to that."

After a hurried rush, we had moved out what we needed to the truck. Joel found one full box of ammunition. I counted the rounds to make sure none were missing. There were no batteries, but the rest of the camping supplies had been found. By the time we were done the bed of the truck was beginning to look like a gypsy caravan.

I looked up at the sky. The clouds were even thicker now. A bolt of lightning traced across the sky. It was close. It only took a count of two and there was a rumble of thunder. The rain, which had been light, suddenly came sluicing down. We ran to the grocery store. Without electricity the doors didn't respond. A push didn't open them either. I was getting soaked to the skin so I took the butt of the shotgun and shattered the glass. A few blows later and we were stepping inside the building.

Like next door, the store had been thoroughly picked over. The shelves were mostly empty. There was a rank smell of rotting food with an undertone of melting freezer. We split up, each going down the aisles with a grocery cart to find whatever we could. I went by the freezer section, which was a moldy mess. I had better luck in the little wine department, pulling several bottles of merlot. The bread, of course, was all moldy – the packages that hadn't been eaten through by mice that is. I did manage to score several sealed containers of nuts, which would last a long time. I could hear Sarah and Allison laughing. That was a good sign. When I returned to the front of the store, it wasn't a long wait before I had a chance to look over the finds of my companions.

Sarah, who was smiling ear-to-ear, had a cart filled with candy and cookies. Allison had been more pragmatic and had managed to score a large sealed burlap bag of Indian brown rice; not very appetizing but a good base for canned food. She also found some dried beans, the type that needed to be soaked. Joel, to his credit, had gone straight for the canned foods. His cart was stacked full of items, but none of them looked particularly appetizing. There were, of course, the too many cans of green beans and creamed corn, along with some fruit cocktail, canned tamales, and an assortment of beans, Chinese vegetables, and burrito sauce. It was going to be an interesting to see what meals came out of this motley collection of food.

I said, "Let's load up and get out of here. There is still time to put some miles on the road."

We headed toward the entrance, each pushing our separate cart. But the sound of an engine, getting closer every second, stopped us. Someone was coming our way.
October 24th - Afternoon

I motioned for my companions to stay back while I investigated. Leaving the shopping cart behind, I went to the row of windows, which were plastered with advertising. Peering through the paper, I saw a rain drenched Hummer parked next to the truck. Out of this new vehicle spilled four soldiers – at least they were dressed as such – carrying assault rifles. They were wearing city camouflage uniforms, helmets, and tan boots, but also had breathing respirators with a plastic tube that ran to a little metallic air tank hanging on the waist. I took it these soldiers were not naturally immune. But those tanks were small, which would give these men a very small range of operation unless they were able to refill or carried extras.

They were busy now, two looking through the windows of the truck while the others stood guard. It wouldn't take them long to figure out where we had gone. We could try to fight it out, but we were outgunned. The other option, running for it, would mean we would lose everything we had scavenged. I had to come up with something more cunning than that.

I returned to the others. "There are soldiers out there. They have heavy weapons and can easily take us down. I'm going to go out and talk to them."

"Don't!" Sarah shouted, eyes wide with fear.

"Yeah the girl is right," Joel said. "They'll kill you."

I was surprised by his sudden concern. I said, "We can't run. They'll just hunt us down. Joel, get ready to use that rifle of yours. Sarah, give him the bullets. If I run into trouble, I want you to take them out."

I didn't have any chance to explain further. Nor did I like trusting Joel but I didn't have much choice. I just hoped that he wouldn't put a bullet in my back. I turned on my heel and started for the doors. Before going out, I took the pistol out of the front of my waistband, where it was covered by my shirt, and tucked it in the back, where it pressed heavily against the lower part of the spine. After carefully stepping past the broken glass of the door, I went out slowly with the shotgun held over my head. I was soon drenched with rain.

The soldiers quickly saw my movement. I had four rifles pointed in my direction.

"Put the gun on the ground!" the lead soldier shouted. His voice was muffled, sounding almost alien, by the restriction of the air mask.

I did as he suggested, moving slowly since I didn't want anyone with an itchy trigger finger to get startled by a sudden movement. The shotgun was soon lying by my feet.

The four of them edged closer, their guns pointed at me.

"What are you doing here, civilian?" the same soldier asked. "This town here is protected by the Southern Army Command. We're here to keep looters out."

"Just trying to get some food," I replied. I kept my expression as neutral as I could. "What is the Southern Command?"

"I'll ask the questions here," he shot back.

They were only a few feet away now, stopped and keeping their distance.

"Look at him, sergeant," another soldier said. "He doesn't look sick."

"Are you infected?" the sergeant asked.

I now recognized the three tan stripes on his shoulder. He was obviously the one in charge. Shaking my head, I replied, "No I am not infected, just hungry and almost out of gas. I'm not looking for any trouble."

"Are there any others?"

I noticed that the barrel of their rifles had dropped a tad. They weren't quite ready to accept my story yet but they were a little more at ease. I replied, "No. I haven't seen anyone since I've left Michigan."

"That's a long trip. You mean you haven't been attacked at night by the pale people?"

There was no reason to tell them anything. I just wanted them to move on without any trouble. That plan, however, wasn't to be.

"Sergeant," the other soldier said, "our air tanks are getting low and we only have the one backup left. We have to get back to base. You remember Captain Lucas gave us orders to pick up anyone who wasn't sick."

Damn, I thought to myself.

"Thanks for reminding me, soldier," the sergeant said. "Get in with us, civilian, and we'll drive you back to the base for questioning."

"What about all my stuff," I said, pointing to the truck.

"One of my men will drive it," the sergeant suggested. "Now move it!"

The barrels of their guns went up again, pointed right at my chest. I didn't have much choice but to follow them. In a second they would discover the pistol, take it away, and then force me into the Humvee. I took a step back, putting my hands together to plead my case. But I never got the chance. There was the sound of a shot from behind me and at the same time the sergeant's face blossomed into a red flower of blood and bone. There was a momentary pause of shock by everyone as his body slid to the ground. It took a second for me to register that it was Joel, shooting that rifle of his. And then all hell broke loose. I rolled to the ground and to my right as the assault rifles opened up. The bullets struck the ground next to me, sending splinters of asphalt right into the skin of my thigh. I didn't take the time to examine the wound. My heart was beating fast with fear. Those rifles weren't so good at close range, not if I could keep moving and especially if I could duck behind some cover.

Another shot rang out from behind me. There was a pause in the shooting. I didn't take the time to see if Joel's shot was on target. Instead I pulled the pistol out from the back of my waistband. I pulled myself up and ran to the side of the truck. A few more assault rifle shots were fired but it didn't seem to be coming toward my direction. And then the firing stopped. I poked my head over the bed of the truck. I saw two of the soldiers dragging a third away, who had a bloodied shoulder. They were headed toward the Humvee. I couldn't see their faces through the respirators but they were acting scared.

I couldn't let them go. They could have a radio inside their vehicle which would call in reinforcements. I didn't know what kind of reserves they would have back at base, nor did I want to find out. I steadied my arms using the side of the truck, aiming down the sights of the pistol. They were only a twenty steps away. When I had the shot lined up I squeezed the trigger. There was a crack of the bullet and one of the upright soldiers went down, clutching his chest with a jerk of pain. His remaining friend didn't stick around to see what happened next. He dropped his rifle and ran for the Humvee. I snapped off another shot but it missed. Joel joined in, firing another shot that ended up striking the front fender with a metallic clang.

The soldier was inside the Humvee now. The diesel clattered alive. It was quickly put into gear and began moving backwards. I opened up with the pistol, fruitlessly nicking a few chunks out of the vehicle body, and one bullet spider webbing the windshield. The heavy truck then began moving forward, steering out of the parking lot and making it to the road. Joel managed to fire one more time, the bullet striking the rear glass with no effect. Soon the Humvee was out of sight.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. I realized that I was shaking. It had been a near thing.

The others spilled out from the store, Sarah taking the lead.

"Tom, are you okay?" she asked, looking at my bloodied thigh.

I looked down at my leg and saw where the asphalt fragments had pierced the jeans. There was a line of blood there. "Nothing serious," I said in reply. "I'll bandage it up and then we will have to pack the truck up and get the hell out of here. We don't know what kind of help that escaped soldier is going to bring back."

"What about the wounded soldiers here?" Allison asked with concern.

I had forgotten about them. The one I had shot was looking sickly green, while the one that Joel had wounded was trying to crawl away. The dead sergeant wasn't going anywhere. He was a sickening sight.

"We have to leave them here," I said.

"We can't do that," Allison angrily said. "They will die if we don't do something for them."

"No," Joel said. "He's right. We can't help them. There isn't any time."

This was the first time that Joel and I had agreed with anything. He had also saved my life. I would have to reconsider my position on him later. Right now wasn't the time.

"Joel is right. There is also the matter of that bottled air. We don't have any for them. Once they breathe without a respirator, they'll be dead soon enough. Maybe their friends will come back in time to save them. It's all we can do."

That seemed to placate Allison. We packed the food into the truck as quickly as we could. When we were finished, I hopped behind the wheel and started up the engine. Joel got in behind me. I saw Allison and Sarah briefly stopping at their doors, looking at the blood on the pavement. They looked a little sick. I was feeling the same way, the shock of the moment melting away into an uneasy queasiness. I would never get hardened to killing.
October 24th - Evening

I continued south. It was an hour later when I saw a helicopter fly in the distance, skimming the top of the trees. Luckily these same trees kept us out of sight, but I still pulled over and waited until it was gone. It looked to be an old Huey, not the latest Blackhawk, which meant this Southern Army Command was using old National Guard equipment. This helicopter should lack the latest infrared optics so we would only have to stay hidden, or wait until dark. The latter option, of course, would mean the vampires would be out. This wasn't a particular threat, at least while we stayed inside the moving truck, but I still couldn't stay awake forever.

Turning the engine off, I said, "Allison, I want you to take over driving. Joel can read the map for you. We're heading to the town of Desmond, which may have some gasoline. But if I'm asleep I don't want you driving straight into town, not while it is dark out. The sheer number of vampires, if they are there, could overwhelm us."

"Okay," Allison readily agreed.

"One last thing, I want you to keep the headlights off."

"That will make driving difficult," she said, peering over my shoulder onto the road ahead.

"Give it a try. I would rather not been seen by that helicopter, even if it means we have to crawl along."

I got out of the truck and walked past her. Our bodies brushed past each other. I caught the slightest whiff of perfume mixed with female sweat. I wondered when the last time she showered. But I also thought of my wife, Anne, and the forgotten touch of a woman. It made my tired heart yearn for the past. Allison was one hell of a woman. I saw her reflection in the side view mirror. She smiled briefly at me before starting the truck. I could feel my heart skip a beat. When I got inside, I saw that Sarah, who was now sitting next to me, was giving me an odd look.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked as the truck began going down the road.

"Just a little tired," I reassured her.

She looked at me suspiciously but didn't ask any more questions. I looked at the rearview mirror and saw Allison studying me. She gave me a wink and then returned her attention to driving. I didn't know what to make of that. I was too tired to think clearly, so instead I tried to ignore the noise of the truck, the sound of Joel crinkling the map, and Sarah making small talk.

The evening came full on, turning the road into a dark, empty strip. The trees faded into a black wall, forbidding and quiet. I began to doze off but I was never completely asleep. My brain was too keyed up, busy trying to take make sense of the day. I wondered about the soldiers we had run into. Who had organized them? More importantly, how did that person know that the virus was airborne and a separate oxygen supply would be needed? I also remembered the soldiers in Michigan who were similarly clad. Was there a Northern Command too? And a West and an East? How powerful was this military organization and how many soldiers did they have? Was this all somehow related to the Zeta base in New Orleans?

These, and many other questions, whirled around my brain. But exhaustion finally won over. I went to sleep with my head resting against the side of the door. I had a few dreams but nothing memorable. And then I felt my shoulder being shaken.

A voice called out, "Wake up, Tom!" It took a moment to recognize Sarah's voice.

"What is it?" I asked groggily, trying to get my brain working again.

Next Joel spoke: "Take a look for yourself."

I blinked a few times and sat forward to look over Allison's shoulder. The truck was parked but the engine was running. We were on the shoulder of the road, on top of a hill. The road led to a lit up city, maybe a good five hundred yards or more away. I could see motion on the very outside of a tall chain link fence that seemed to wrap around the entire town. There were spotlights shining on the grass and figures – hundreds of vampires – trying to scale the barrier. Once a creature got too close to the top, the echoing sound of a rifle shot could be heard. Dozens of bodies littered the ground. Whoever was inside the city was putting up a good defense.

"More survivors!" Sarah hopefully exclaimed.

"Or more soldiers," Allison said cynically.

"What do you want to do?" Joel asked.

I studied the scene a little more carefully. There didn't appear to be any military vehicles nearby which could mean this was a band of civilians. I also looked at the fence, which ran all the way around the buildings and ended, at least on this side, at a wide stretch of water. This river, if I had studied the map correctly, was the Ohio which eventually joined the Mississippi. With their back to the water, this town would be easy to defend, provided the vampires couldn't swim.

I finally said, "We will have to wait until morning. The town seems to be holding out okay, and if we give them any assistance, we'll probably be putting ourselves in greater danger. I would have to come this far only to be shot by someone with an itchy trigger finger. For now we'll just sit here and wait.

No one offered an alternative so we waited. Allison shut the motor off. It was a slow-motion massacre, the vampires not caring for their own lives, but only trying to get inside the town. The guns continued to fire, killing any creature that made it too high up the fence. I wondered why the defenders just didn't kill all of them; perhaps they were conserving ammunition. The attack went on and on with a seemingly impossibly fury, but, as the sky in the east lightened, I noticed the vampires effort began to slacken. Soon, one by one, they began to move away from the fence and headed toward some point further south. There were still hundreds of them, streaming away from the battle. By the time the sun came over the horizon, only their many fallen remained.

I tapped Allison on the shoulder. "Let's head on down."

She started the engine and put the truck into gear. She drove cautiously. As we neared the fence, I could see more detail. The fence was some ten feet tall, topped with a roll of barbed wire. Bodies clumped around the outside base of the fence. Those not dead were writhing in agony, as if trying to block the sunlight from hitting them. On the inside was a motley collection of parked buses and semi-trailers, more of the latter. On top of these vehicle platforms were several people with rifles, who had stopped to watch us approach. The road we were on lead to a gate that had no barrier behind it. It was here that the vampires had attacked the most, leaving the highest number of dead behind. Allison was trying to be careful not to drive over the bodies, but soon we reached a point where she had to stop the truck since there was a wide pile of corpses that could not be easily passed.

The gate was rolled back. From inside came a woman, tall with brown hair. She was carrying a shotgun over the shoulder. She approached us slowly. I looked at the fence and noticed a number of guns pointed our way. This was no place to get into a firefight.

Allison rolled down the window.

"Who's the leader here?" the woman asked.

"I guess I am," I said as I opened my door and got out.

Feeling self-conscious with a dozen rifles pointed at me, I took a step away from the truck and faced this stranger. "My name is Tom. We're traveling, more like surviving."

"Who isn't?"

She was middle-aged, thin, and had a mouth that was framed by lines. Her blue eyes, however, betrayed someone who was more used to laughing than taking the world seriously. I supposed that recent events had changed that outlook. She was wearing a light brown sweatshirt with a hood and a pair of dark corduroy pants. The boots on her feet looked new, shiny and dark brown. On the other hand, the shotgun on her shoulders looked well-used.

I said, "I have a young girl and two adults with me. We have food and are willing to trade for gasoline."

She looked over the truck before returning her gaze at me. She wasn't the type that blinked very often. "It looks like you've seen some trouble. We've had plenty of our own trouble here. We could use some help if you are willing to stay; provided you are reasonable people."

I let out a pent-up laugh. "It's been trouble all the way down the road: bikers, vampires, and soldiers. Not exactly a nice Sunday drive in the country. As for helping, we will have to see. I have a destination in mind."

She gave me a small tight-lipped smile. "My name is Carrie. I run this town."

"This is Desmond, right?"

"That's the name."

"How many of you are here?"

"Enough," she replied evasively. "Enough to take care of the likes of you."

I pointed toward the town. "Who put this all together? I mean the fence and the defenses."

Carrie let out a sigh, letting her shoulders slump. She looked tired. "When the plague broke out, there was looting and killing. We – meaning the people who lived in Desmond – thought it would be worth the effort to protect what we own. One of our factories here turns out fencing for prisons and military bases so there were miles of the stuff available. Luckily most of the work was done before people started getting sick and dying. At first there weren't enough survivors to man the fences. But that changed. Others started coming in from all over the state, and even a little beyond. They came here looking for food and security. I offered both of that."

"And what do they have to do in return to stay?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not a dictator. I just run things. You just have to work, if you are able. And then we all vote together on major decisions."

I nodded. "Those creatures – we call them vampires – how long have they been bothering you?"

"Vampires? I suppose that is a fitting term. We call them Runners, since once they get your scent, they keep coming after you until they are killed. The trouble with them started five days ago when they first started trying to get in. Luckily we have a number of sentries posted along the wall. We killed the first batch. But they've come here every night since then. The Runners seem to be getting stronger in numbers, even though we've killed hundreds of them."

"Where do they come from?"

"We don't exactly know." She was being cagey again.

"You don't exactly know? I mean what's out there besides the woods?"

"There is a large coal mining operation. Or at least there used to be, the company went out of business years ago because the coal was too dirty for the government."

I digested this information before replying, "Those vampires are never out in the day. They must be hiding in the mines. Have you gone down there to burn them out?"

She shook her head, sending strands of hair flying. "That coal mine has been around for decades. There are miles of tunnels down there. Finding volunteers to go down there with only flashlights hasn't exactly been a popular idea. I'm in no position to force people to do things against their will. As I said..."

I finished her sentence. "You're no dictator."

"Exactly. My thinking is their numbers will dwindle after a few more nights of this."

"You do know that these vampires were once alive." I was getting a confused look. "I mean anyone who expired from the plague didn't really die. They went into a coma or something like that. When they woke up again, they were changed into the creatures we see today. That means anyone who wasn't buried or burned will come back to hunt us."

There was a knock on the glass of the truck. I turned to see Sarah. She was getting fidgety. I mouthed the words: "One minute."

"I had no idea," Carrie said, talking to herself.

"You haven't had any vampires inside the fence?" I asked. "People from your town?"

"No. Anyone who died was immediately burned in one of the pits we had dug. At the time it was considered the best way to stop the disease from spreading further."

"That's what everyone else thought. But in your case it turned out to be the best decision. Two of my other travel companions, Allison and Joel, saw their city overrun. Their group hadn't cleared out all of the dead bodies. They tried but it was too late. I think you and I have some talking to do. There may be a chance that this terrible virus wasn't caused by the meteorites. The army, or what remains of it, also knows this. We had some trouble with them. They can cause trouble for a place like this."

She looked at me, blinking slowly as she thought over this new information I had given her. She finally said, "I think you had better come inside."
October 25th - Morning

The truck was parked outside of a house. It was a modern three bedroom residence in the middle of a suburban strip of land. Driving here I had seen a few people on the street – normal looking citizens doing normal everyday things. They had looked at us with only a little curiosity, like new neighbors moving in. The house, which was unlocked, was furnished with vintage Danish furniture, had hardwood floors, and surrealistic paintings on the wall. There was running water, which was plenty cold, but no electricity. Carrie told us that was a future project, bringing in solar panels to provide power.

She had then left us there, telling me she would return in a few hours. She still had to walk the length of fence to look for damage, check ammunition stores, and make sure no one was hurt during the attack.

My group settled in. I took one of the bedrooms, as did Sarah and Allison. Joel was stuck with the sofa in the living room. I opened a window and, with the shotgun still within easy reach, laid down on the bed with my clothes on. The softness of the mattress felt strange compared the floors and truck seats I had suffered through the past nights. Of course it had only been a two days since Sarah and I had left that motel, but now it seemed like another lifetime.

I heard running water. Someone was daring to use the shower, cold water and all. It didn't last very long.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I was still tired but it seemed that the insomnia was only getting worse. Living day after day on the very edge of survival had, unsurprisingly, made me too keyed up to rest. Or perhaps I didn't trust Carrie and her merry band of followers – yet. It was easy to mistrust – especially these days – the ones you don't know. But I was beginning to trust Joel, so maybe there was a chance for the rest of humanity.

I heard the approaching soft padding of feet. There was a timid knock at the door.

"Come in," I said, as I pulled myself up enough so I could rest my back against the headboard.

It was Allison. She was wearing a red silky bathrobe that stopped at the knees. A white towel was wrapped around her head. A shy smile that showed the edges of her teeth was the only other thing she was wearing. She gently shut the door.

"I found this robe in the closet. I thought you would want to shower next," she said, her eyes not quite making contact with mine.

I could feel my heart begin to beat faster. "I'm not sure if I could handle the cold water right now. Maybe in a little bit."

"It's not that bad. It does feel good to be clean again. And you could do with a shave." Her voice, which was usually low and husky, had dropped in even further in volume and pitch.

I rubbed my grizzled chin. I was a bit unkempt. Her approach had also stirred up some old memories. It had been too long since I've played this game. Being married for so long made me forget all the rules. I knew I wanted her but I was afraid of saying something stupid that would ruin the moment. I felt awkward as I said, "I'll give it a try after I get some sleep."

Allison bit the corner of her lip. She nervously blurted out, "I can stay with you, if you want."

"Here?" I said stupidly.

"Where else?" she laughed.

Maybe there were no rules to the game. I patted the open side of the bed. "I don't think I can refuse your offer. No man in his right mind could."

With a shrug of the shoulders, Allison let the robe fall to the floor. I was right: she was wearing nothing underneath. After that came the towel, letting the wet black hair free. She had lovely curves but also a tight definition to her stomach. I saw long legs, breasts, dark brown eyes, full lips, and a beguiling smile that took my breath away. With a giggle, she jumped on the bed and slid under the covers.

She whispered, with her mouth close to my ear, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me out. I would be dead if it weren't for you."

My head swam with desire. Nonetheless I still managed to choke out, "A simple thank you would also work. You don't have to do this unless you want to."

"But I do," she said before nibbling on my ear.

We began to kiss. It had been a long time since I kissed anyone other than my wife. I tried to push my thoughts of her away but I couldn't. I almost got out of bed – Allison could feel my body nervously tighten with hesitation – but I realized how silly my wife would have thought I was being. She would realize that, even though a new chapter in my life was beginning, I would never forget her. I let myself relax, lost in the moment of touching and exploring.

When we were finished, my clothing has been removed; left as litter on the floor. I spooned Allison close to me; feeling her breathe and the sound of her heart match my own. I fell asleep; feeling perfectly relaxed as if it was a normal Sunday afternoon and there were no worries in the world.

I didn't know how long I slept. It could have been an hour or even two, but I still heard the sound of my door opening. I drowsily wondered if Allison was sneaking out until I realized her warm body was still next to me. I blearily opened my eyes and craned my neck up. It was Sarah, who had come barging in without knocking. She was flushed red with embarrassment, eyes wide like saucers as she took in the scene. Apparently she had never barged in on her parents or perhaps they had been more careful than I had been.

"Weren't you ever taught to knock?" I asked roughly as I adjusted the covers to make sure Allison and I was appropriately covered.

"That Carrie woman is downstairs. She wants to talk to you." The tone of Sarah's voice was full of accusations. She was obviously worried, wondering where she fit in my life, knowing that Allison and I were together now.

Allison's body stiffened next to mine. She was awake now, but perhaps feigning sleep until our visitor had left the room.

I told Sarah, "Tell her I'll be downstairs in a minute."

Sarah didn't budge. Instead she continued to glare at me. It was only when I stared right back did she falter and slink off, slamming the door as she went.

"Is she gone?" Allison asked with a weary tone.

"Yes, the little brat is gone," I replied sourly, with only a tinge of humor. I wasn't really angry with Sarah, but she had barged in at an inopportune moment.

I sat up and rooted around on the floor until I had gathered my clothing. Before dressing, I leaned over Allison. She was lying straight on the bed, covers pulled over her breasts. She looked sleepy, but was smiling lackadaisically.

"How are you?" I asked in a low voice.

"Fine."

"No regrets?"

"No regrets." There was a confidence in her voice that showed she was telling the truth.

I kissed her on the cheek. "I have to get going. I'm going to leave the shotgun here. There is a full box of ammo in my bag. If the town comes for you, that means I've been killed or taken prisoner. Don't let them do the same to you."

Allison sat upright with no thoughts of modesty. "Do you think it will come to that, darling?"

I liked being called that. "No I don't. But don't take any chances on my account. You never know what people will do when they are pressed. Carrie and her group look okay, but we don't know that yet."

She kissed me on the mouth, warm and inviting. She tasted good.

I got up and began dressing. "Hold that thought," I said, "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Be careful."

I gave her a lopsided grin and then left, careful to shut the door. If we were going to stay here any longer I would want to buy a lock. I was feeling like a giddy teenager, fresh in love, when I bounded down the stairs. I didn't care what the world threw at me now; just knowing that Allison would be there for me was more than enough compensation for all the trouble I had gone through.

I found Carrie in the living room, sitting on the low sofa that was pushed against the bay window. Joel was nowhere to be seen. The interior decoration here was modern nightmare without any real thought to human comfort. But it certainly did look good provided you didn't actually try to live in it. There was something about blocky armless chairs and couches that left me cold.

Carrie looked even more tired than before; all bloodshot eyes and a pale face that wouldn't look out of place on someone recovering from the flu. But once Carrie saw me, she marshaled some inner strength. "Have a seat, Tom."

I sat down in a chair. Pressing my hands together, I asked, "How are your people holding out?"

"Not bad. Yours?"

I thought of Allison and smiled to myself. "We'll survive. Where are Joel and Sarah?"

She pointed toward the front door. "Outside, checking the town out. I told them that you and I would need some time to talk."

"Then let's talk."

"You said you had information about these Runners, and the virus. Can you tell me more?"

I told her the whole story about Ben: how I had rescued him from that motorcycle gang, and the deathbed story that I hadn't believed at first. And then I described the first run in with the vampires and the connection I made with the burning man coming out of the house in my neighborhood.

After studying me for a minute, she finally said, "Even if this story is true about the research lab, what do you hope to accomplish? Revenge?"

I shook my head. "That was my first thought. But I just want to know the truth. There is a possibility that this virus did not come from the stars. However there is a better reason to go investigate this lab in New Orleans: hope for the future."

"The future?"

"Joel and Allison came from a group that was much like yours. They were survivors, but, unlike that motorcycle gang I ran into, wanted to start the world over again. There were plans to farm, to rebuild, and live a good life again. But they never got the chance because the vampires overran their town. You, on the other hand, have the fence and the good fortune that all of the dead inside the city had been burned. But how much longer can you survive if the vampires come after you night after night?"

She made a face. "Long enough."

"How much ammunition do you have left?"

This time she frowned. "We're running low. Another week and we'll be fighting them hand-to-hand. I'll have to burn them out of that mineshaft before that. Only then can we survive."

"But that won't be the end of it. The vampires will still come again, and will continue to come until humanity is wiped off all over the planet. We'll be stuck living in cellars, just like them, but we'll only be able to come out in the daylight. We will be eventually found, hunted down, and finally killed. But I want to find a way to destroy those creatures forever. That solution – no matter how slim the chance – must be found if we want to survive."

There was no hesitation. "I see that now. What would you have me do?"

"Let me keep Sarah and Allison here for safekeeping. Give me two more men and enough gasoline for my truck so Joel and I can make it to New Orleans. I won't be gone later than a week. If we're lucky then maybe there will be a solution to this vampire problem."

"It's a gamble. If you're gone too long then we will be overrun. We may have to abandon this place."

"It's a gamble you will have to take. Do you have an evacuation plan?"

She explained, "This town is built on the Ohio River. There are two old riverboats, the type used for tourists. Neither are very nice to look at, but I had them fixed up, stocked with a little food, and filled with some diesel. If we get overrun by these vampires, the idea is to fight a retreat back to the river. From there we will take to the water and escape. It's the last ditch plan, one that I'm hoping I will never have to use."

I moved to get up. "Then it's settled. I'll get ready and leave tonight. I have one last question. Have you ever been bothered by a military group called the Southern Army Command?"

She sighed. "Yes, they dropped by here – when was that? – two days ago and told us that we now under their protection, provided we hand over six hostages as insurance and half of our supplies. There were only eight of them, all wearing biohazard suits, traveling in two Humvees. I told them to go to hell."

I nodded. "We ran into a squad of them yesterday. We had a bit of a shootout but one of them got away. They had a helicopter out looking for us."

She shrugged. "I never saw a helicopter. I wouldn't worry about it. They haven't been back here since."

"Okay, I just wanted to warn you."

"I'll get the two men you need. You had better go and say your goodbyes to your people."
October 25th - Afternoon

I was busy unpacking the truck, removing Sarah's luggage, when she came running up. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and her cheeks were flushed from running. A few blocks away, I could see Joel ambling up, taking his own time.

"Tom!" she exclaimed. "You have to come and see the city. They have everything – stores and even a restaurant. Everyone is so friendly here." She eyed the baggage lying on the ground. "Are we staying here forever?"

"You and Allison are," I started, trying to not upset her.

"What do you mean?" she interrupted before I could fully explain.

I shook my head. "I still have to get down to New Orleans to see if I can find a cure, or the cause for this vampirism. " I could see her give me look of incredulity. "The road is no place for a young girl like you. It will be better if you stay here with Allison, safe behind the fence."

Mentioning that name brought back the memory of this morning. "I'm surprised you don't take your little girlfriend with," she snapped back with a voice filled with venom.

"Don't be that way," I said soothingly.

Before I could go on, I heard the _thump-thump_ of a faraway engine. It took me a second to realize it was the sound of an approaching helicopter, coming in fast. Some resident of the town started a siren that punctuated the air with a wail. All hell broke loose as the helicopter swung over the city. I could see it now, low and only a few blocks away, heading parallel to the street I was standing on. A gunner was at the door was firing a heavy machinegun into targets of opportunity below. I reflexively grabbed Sarah and pulled her behind the truck. None of the bullets came our way but there was no reason to stand around and make ourselves an open target.

Joel came running up with his rifle strapped on. He looked as scared as I felt. "What's going on?" he demanded to know as if I had the answer.

"We're being attacked," I said. "Sarah, get inside the house and find Allison. I want both of you to wait, lying on the floor, in the living room. We'll be back soon."

With those words, I took off on foot, heading toward the front gate of the town. Joel followed as best he could. It was then that I realized I was practically unarmed. Allison was inside the house and still had the shotgun. I cursed myself for being so rushed. At least I still had the pistol but that was worthless is a real firefight. It was only a few blocks later when we ran into a large group – maybe a dozen - of armed townspeople, heading in the same direction that we were. The siren was obviously a call to arms. The people, each carrying a rifle or a shotgun , looked determined and ready for a fight. These were survivors who had already fought to stay alive.

I saw Carrie near the front gate. She was standing on top of a school bus, looking through a pair of binoculars. Coming down the road I could see a convoy of vehicles coming our way. They were maybe half a mile distant. In the lead was a battle tank – an Abrahams - if my memory served me correctly – with six Hummers spread out behind in a rough arrow shape. Each one of these lesser vehicles had a top-mounted machinegun. Behind us, the helicopter was buzzing about, the machinegun still firing into the town below.

Using a ladder, Carrie stepped down from the top of the bus. With a loud, commanding voice, she shouted, "This time the enemy is human. We can let them in and they will steal everything we own. They may kill, but they may also demand hostages. They are heavily armed and we only have hunting rifles. Do we fight or do we surrender?"

There was a small group of men and woman who had gathered around to listen. It was only seconds before someone responded, an old man with unruly white hair and a black t-shirt. He said, "I'm going nowhere. I am staying here. I say we fight to protect our friends and family."

"We need to fight!" someone else shouted.

That seemed to end the debate.

"Then find a place with some cover," Carrie commanded. "And when they get close give them everything we have. Don't try to save your ammunition, but shoot to kill."

The people scurried off, some taking positions on top of buses and trailers, while others hid down low, or inside of nearby buildings.

Carrie saw me. She beckoned Joel and me over.

"Where do you want me?" I asked.

"Off to the side of the gate," she suggested. "Most of their firepower is going to be concentrated there so we have to try and keep out of their way."

"We don't have much chance, do we?"

"Probably not," she admitted. "But we've all suffered too long to give in so easily."

I nodded at her. She gave me a salute and then took off, running over to the left side of the gate. There she crouched underneath a trailer. I didn't spend any more time looking after her. Instead I went a few yards to the right with Joel, and joined a small knot of men who were sheltered behind an old church bus. No one spoke. Instead they busily checked their weapons while having a thousand yard stare that silently spoke of the fear we each felt.

A second later there was a tremendous explosion. I felt the flash of heat striking the side of my head. I turned and saw the front gate, along with a trailer, had been torn apart. It had to be the work of the tank which must had fired an explosive shell. The chatter of enemy machine guns opened up, sending streams of hot lead into our positions. Carrie and her people were going to take a terrible beating. I could only hope that it was worth the number of dead that we were about to have on our hands.

With the gate gone, the faster Humvees rushed past the tank and into the town. The manned turrets swung to the left and right, spitting out death. It was there that we opened up into their flanks. I fruitlessly fired my pistol, hoping to strike something other than sheet metal. Several of the machine guns fell silent, the gunners struck by our rifle fire. But that didn't stop the soldiers inside the Humvees from firing through the open windows. We were more exposed but further spread out; the mounting wounded and dead on our side turned this battle into a bloody slugfest. Whoever broke and ran first would lose.

I was prone on the ground now, trying to make myself as small as a target as I could. I was out of bullets for my gun. Joel was next to me, sighting down the scope of his rifle. He was shooting fast and wild. Most of the men near me were dead. Things weren't looking good for us until one of the Hummers careened off to the left, the driver obviously out of control. We let out a ragged cheer and continued to pump fire into the enemy, who had slowed to engage us. I really thought we could have won until the clattering of the approaching tank treads stopped. There was another explosion. This one was a powerful burst of orange and red that made my ears ring. In that moment the left flank of the gate was obliterated, leaving fragments of a trailer and bloodied ragdoll corpses. In that second our resolve broke. People left their positions and began to run. In the confusion I didn't see what happened to Carrie.

I was on my feet. "Come on!" I yelled at Joel as I pulled him up by the arm.

He didn't argue. Instead we ran down the street, heading back the way we had come. We weren't the only ones. There was a ragged pack of us trying to get away from the enemy. The remaining Hummers were really moving now. I could hear their diesel engines coming up from behind. Joel grabbed my shoulder and pushed me toward a stretch of lawn between two houses. We ran between the buildings, clambering over fences, and keeping under cover as much as possible. Gunfire was going on all around us, from the sharp crack of assault rifles to the staccato bursts of heavy machine gun fire. The soldiers appeared to be hunting the defenders down.

I felt a sense of relief when I saw that the truck was still where I had left it. The helicopter was still flying above, but no longer firing. Perhaps the gunner was conserving his remaining ammo for a good target. I told Joel to get inside the truck while I went into the house. I found Allison and Sarah inside, wisely hugging the floor. They looked scared. I was feeling scared too, moving more by instinct than logic. The adrenaline was flowing freely now, making everything unreal.

"Move it!" I barked out with more venom than I expected.

Sarah sprinted by. Allison handed me the shotgun before following her. I took a quick look at this house, wondering if I would ever see it again. Even though we had only spent a few hours here, it had already become a special place, thanks to Allison. With a frown, I turned and went outside.

Sarah was busy throwing her personal items from the yard into the back of the truck. Allison was lending a hand while Joel was busy scanning the sky, his rifle held tightly in his hands. I couldn't see the helicopter now but I could certainly hear it.

I opened the driver side door. "Forget that stuff," I told Sarah. "Just get in the truck. There isn't any time to do anything else."

Sarah grabbed one more plastic bag – I could see candy – and jumped inside the cab. Joel and Allison followed suit. I started the engine and backed out onto the street. With the windows down I could hear the raging battles all around us. For now we were lucky to be clear. I put the transmission into drive and headed away from the sound. A few houses had people – usually old or painfully young – who were milling around. They stared at us with fear, perhaps thinking we were part of the invading force. I drove down a few streets until I found a close grouping of trees standing on a small empty lot. An abandoned house, all weeds, was on the right and fence surrounding an electric substation was on the right. The rear was closed in by a long bricked wall of a building, probably a warehouse. I slowly pulled the truck up over the curb and got as close as I could to the trees. I hoped they would provide some cover from the wandering helicopter.

We sat there, each of us breathing deeply and trying to make sense of the sonic carnage in the distance. It was at least a minute before someone broke the silence.

"What's going on, Tom?" Allison asked. Her voice was unsteady.

"The town is under attack by soldiers," Joel answered before I could. "Things don't look good for our team."

I said "I bet it's that army we ran into yesterday. They have a tank and some Humvees. I don't think Carrie and the people here stood a chance against that kind of firepower. The enemy has already taken down the gate. We couldn't defend it any further."

"Why aren't we helping?" Sarah chimed in.

"It's too late," I said, feeling like a coward. My first concern was saving Sarah and Allison, not to go on some suicide run. "We have to wait here and try to find a way out. There is only one way in and out of this town, and that's the gate where most of the fighting took place."

My words were punctuated by a rising and falling crescendo of rifles and automatic fire. And then there was another gigantic explosion that I could feel through the tires of the truck. The near silence afterward was eerie. Only the blades of the helicopter above could be heard now. I had a bad feeling that the fight was over. I put the transmission back into gear and eased the car out of the lot. We had to make it through that gate.

I drove quickly, knowing we could easily outrun any Humvee who tried to give chase. But they would have radios and could have setup a roadblock at the gate. So we had to move fast and get there before they knew we were even on the move. I took the turns as fast as I could. The tires screeched and moaned. In a few moments I saw that the gate was up ahead. The tank was there, blocking anyone from leaving. Sarah screamed.

"Everyone down!" I shouted. I slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel, trying to slide the truck hard to the left. The damned traction control kicked in, slowing our forward movement. The machine gun on the tank opened up.

The glass on the right side shattered and I could hear the lead projectiles puncturing the steel body of the truck. Sarah screamed again. With gritted teeth I shoved the gas pedal all the way down, praying no bullet would find me. We accelerated away. I could feel that there was something wrong with the steering but as long as we could keep moving forward, I would worry about it later.

"Is everyone okay?" I shouted, my eyes on the road ahead.

There was a low groan from behind me.

"It's Joel," Allison screamed. "He's been shot."

I was too busy trying to keep the truck straight to look for myself. "Do what you can for him," I barked out.

"Where are we going?" Sarah asked, clutching my arm tightly enough that her fingernails dug into my skin.

"To the river. Carrie told me that there were boats there. It's our only way out."
October 25th – Late Afternoon

It was getting harder to keep the truck straight. The way the steering was behaving strangely – unresponsive and loose. I was afraid a front wheel had gone flat. But there was no time to get out and check. Instead I began heading northwest, taking a road that would hopefully lead to the river. If I couldn't drive out of this town, then an alternate way would have to be found. The street we were on wasn't deserted. I could see people on the sidewalk, fleeing in the same direction we were headed. There didn't seem to be anymore fighting; instead a sort of defeated air hovered over the city. The survivors just wanted to escape whatever fate was left for those trapped inside.

A few blocks later and we reached the downtown.

"Which way to the boats?" I asked Sarah.

She pointed to a nearby street sign with a large white arrow pointing straight it ahead. It had the words _Riverboat Gambling_ imprinted with an old-fashioned font that reminded me of the Old West. The truck limped past a few deserted tourist shops – candles, fake antiques, and candy – before running into the end of the street. Here an avenue went along the edge of a river, which was bordered by a wooden boardwalk. Tied up against this were two large riverboats that could have come out of a Tom Sawyer movie. One of the boats had been heavily peppered by gunfire, probably by the helicopter, and was already settled half-way into the water. The other one stilled looked intact enough to float. It was here that a handful of survivors, each carrying whatever they could, were busily boarding the ship.

I jammed the brakes and shut the engine off. "Grab whatever you can!" I shouted to the others as I slid out of the truck door. I grabbed the shotgun, slung it over my shoulder, and went to help Joel out. The truck on this side had been torn open by a stream of bullets. The front tire was flat. With difficulty I opened the back door to found a mess of blood. Allison was busy trying to knot a tourniquet over Joel's shoulder; the lower right arm a bloody mess of gore, barely held on by the remaining scraps of skin. Joel's face was pale, the lips bloodless. But he still managed to look at me and give a crooked grin.

"It isn't that bad," he choked out.

"Can you walk?" I asked with concern, wondering if we had to leave him behind. There wasn't much time.

He grimaced before replying, "I think so. With a little help."

"I can help him," Allison said.

"Okay, I'll start unloading what I can. Get him onto the ship."

I headed toward the back of the truck, where I opened the locked bed. I took my duffel bag of clothes, a sleeping bag, and a box filled with canned food. I handed Sarah her bag and some food. Juggling these items in my arms, I waddled up the gangplank with her following behind.

"Hurry up!" a man on board shouted at me. He had a gray beard, piercing blue eyes, and skin that that was tanned permanently brown from being out in the sun for years. He was wearing a blue one-piece coverall that was stained with grease.

I dumped the contents I was holding on the deck and returned to help Allison, who was holding Joel by the arm as he limped up the gangway. Allison had Joel's rifle slung over her shoulder. It bumped clumsily against her hip. As I went to help, I could see an approaching Hummer coming up the street toward us.

"We got to go!" I shouted at Allison and Joel. I lifted the latter up by the legs and strung him over my shoulder. With Allison following, I huffed and puffed up the gangway, my feet hitting the deck just as the diesels fired up. The man in the coveralls was gone now. With a lurch the paddle wheels started up and we began to slowly pull away from the dock. I let Joel gently down on the floor and turned to watch the approaching vehicle. It was coming fast, the top-mounted turret pointed at us.

"Everyone down!" I warned. I hit the deck, pulling Allison with me. Sarah was standing a few feet away, gawking toward our attackers. I couldn't reach her. The machine gun opened fire as I continued to star at her. Luckily she soon understood what was happening and tried to find shelter by crouching near the pile of luggage we had brought up from the truck. The bullets started whizzing around us, blowing chunks out of the wooden frame. An older woman – gray hair and a blue dress – was hit, sending a spray of blood into the air. I could hear Allison whimpering next to me. That sound washed away as panic gripped my beating heart. We were sitting ducks here. We were going to die.

There was a pause in the firing. The gunner must be changing belts. My hearing rushed back. The big diesels roared to maximum speed, briefly overcoming the fresh chattering of the machine gun. The paddle wheels churned up a cascade of water – white mixed with a muddy brown. The bullets continued to pepper the deck, but the angle was getting worse for our attackers with most of the lead hitting the back of the boat. It seemed like an eternity – maybe only thirty seconds – when the firing stopped. I took that moment to pull my head up and peer through the rails that ran around this lower deck of the boat. The Hummer was still there at the dock but was getting smaller by every passing moment.

"Stay here," I cautioned Allison. She nodded at me with eyes as big as saucers. I got up and sprinted toward the helm, having to jump over the woman who had been shot. She was dead. Her glassy eyes were staring straight up at the sky. I clambered up a flight of stairs and found a door with a sign that indicated this was for employees only. Opening it, I found myself in the bridge. It looked more modern than the fake antique exterior led me to believe. The man in the coveralls was here, working the wheel and backing off the throttle. Ahead of us was the river with trees dotting the banks on both sides.

He turned to me with a grin plastered on that wizened face. "Well we made it. I don't know how long she'll float but we made it."

"I'm Tom." I offered my hand.

He looked at it, wiped his own hand on the leg of his pants, and then we shook. "I'm called Trevor, or Trev, if you're in a hurry."

"Are you the captain of this ship?"

He ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I suppose you could call me that. I used to be the mechanic on these old ships. They never went out very far in the river and the owner was a real cheapskate who never wanted to pay for anything."

"You're saying the engines won't last long?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. I've been spending the last few weeks fixing up both the boats. Carrie thought of them as the escape hatch. Too bad she didn't make it."

"Yeah," I said in reply. I couldn't think of anything else to say for a while. I finally said, "Where are we going?"

He shook his head. "Nowhere special. For now I'm heading downriver. If we go long enough we'll hit the Mississippi River. If we go even longer we'll end up in the sea." He patted the wheel. "But this old boat won't do so well out in the big waves."

"Just keep her on course." I was about to explain taking the boat down to New Orleans would be my preferred course but the sound of an approaching helicopter stopped me from saying anything else. I could hear the screams of the passengers.

"Keep the boat moving," I told Trevor. "I'll see what's happening." I went out of the door and onto the top deck.

I could see the helicopter hovering above the ship, maybe forty or fifty feet up in the air. The door gunner had his machine gun pointed down at us. With a free hand he was waving toward the nearest shore, indicating that we should steer the boat over and surrender.

I gave him my reply. I pulled the shotgun off of my back, lifted it to my shoulder, and fired. The buckshot hit the bottom of the Huey, making a brief shower of sparks on the painted metal. It was enough of a lead blow to make the pilot nervous. He veered off to the side. The gunner opened fire, sending a wild spray of bullets my way. I dove to the side, turned, and landed on my arm with a painful jab that was almost paralyzing. Next to me the wood planking was punctured by a smattering of lead.

In this awkward position I chambered another round and fired again, this time aiming for the rear rotor. It was a long shot – maybe fifty yards – and had little chance of bringing the helicopter down. The buckshot didn't seem to do any damage, but some pellet must have hit hard enough to make the pilot nervous. This time the Huey veered further out of range, and also put the gunner at an angle that he couldn't continue firing at us. I took this chance to run back toward the stairs, where I quickly took the steps down to another deck. I could feel myself shaking, the world in slow motion. I slumped against a wall and lowered my haunches until I could stretch my legs on the floor. The air in my lungs seemed to depart. I panted, wondering what could be done next.

The sound of the chopper grew loud again. It sounded like they were right over the boat. I didn't know what to do. Feeling helpless, I put my head in my hands. I felt like crying with frustration. There was a hand on my shoulder. Looking up I saw Allison. She was holding the rifle in her hand, looking more determined than I had ever seen before.

"Get up," she spat out.

I managed to stand, feeling dizzy after the process. I swallowed a few times. My tongue felt thick and dry.

"You have to help me," Allison stated. She looked pale.

"What do you want me to do?" I managed to choke out.

"Distract that helicopter. I'll take care of the rest." She looked determined.

I clambered up the stairs, all the while trying to steady my nerves. I had experienced too much too soon. I felt like a broken man. From a vantage point a few steps down, I could see the helicopter hovering steadily over the boat. The gunner was looking for a target. I gave him one. I fired the shotgun at him. I didn't check to see if I hit anything. Instead I ran straight across the deck, heading for the stern. The machine gun opened fire, splintering the wood next to my feet. I was about ready to jump into the water when I heard the crack of a bullet that was just loud enough that it could be heard over the machine gun. Over my shoulder I saw Allison crouched inside the stairwell. She was pointing the rifle toward the helicopter. I turned my attention back to running, forcing myself to go into a zigzag pattern. But there was no reason. The spray of bullets coming my way suddenly stopped. The whine of the helicopter engine increased.

Stopping in my tracks, I turned in time to see the helicopter dip to the right. The rotors were spinning madly. The Huey kept on going, accelerating hard into the muddy brown water. There was a massive whump sound and the rotor blades struck the water. And then the helicopter seemed to shatter into a million parts.

I looked over to Allison. She looked shocked by what she had done. Dropping the rifle, she rushed over to my waiting arms.

I held her tight.

"I shot the pilot," she said between crying gasps.
October 25th – Night

The boat was anchored in the middle of the river. The partial moon above reflected on the water. I could see it through the windows. As far as the shore was concerned, it could be a million miles away. The survivors were all gathered together on the bottom deck, sheltered inside from the cold evening air. This area of the ship had once been a restaurant with fancy tables and chairs taking up most of the space. A small kitchen and bar – unstocked - was off to the side. The diesels were off, leaving us in the dark.

I shone the flashlight on the upturned faces, counting how many people had made it out of the town. It was all old people and three adolescents. When I reached the end of the group, I found that there were twenty-three of us, not including the dead woman who still needed a burial. She was wrapped in a tarp down in the engine rooms.

Allison was sitting in a chair, looking a little lost. It was obvious that she was still thinking of the men in the helicopter she had killed. Sarah was next to her, staring at me expectantly as if I had all the answers in the world. As for Joel, he looked pale and sickly. He was resting on the ground with his back against a wall. His eyes were looking at nothing; jaw clenched tightly with pain. His arm had been bandaged by Sarah but the blood was soaking through the gauze. Trevor was leaning against the door closest to the bridge. Like an experienced sailor he was listening to the sounds of the boat. The others were either gray haired or too young to be of little use in a fighting capacity. We were low on food, only had a few weapons, and were stuck on a boat with only a half tank of diesel fuel left. At least out here the vampires couldn't get to us – unless they could swim in this kind of current.

Holding the flashlight loosely in my hand I looked over the assembled group. After clearing my throat I said, "You don't know me. My name is Tom. My group came to your town the same day it was attacked by that group of soldiers. I wasn't planning to stay at your town long. With Carrie's permission and help I was going to head on to New Orleans, where I have some information on this terrible virus. I still plan to make this journey."

There was some disgruntled mumblings from my audience.

I continued on, "My friend Joel is wounded in the arm. Is there anyone with some kind of medical experience?"

There was a brief pause before an old lady, with her silver hair tied back, raised a hand. She wore a black dress and had plain leather shoes. She said, with a voice that had seen much use, "I used to be a nurse but it was a long time ago. I've been retired for years."

"It's still better than anyone else. What's your name?"

"Elizabeth. I was a nun, working St. Vincent's hospital in Lexington."

"Well, Sister, see what you can do for Joel over there. There's a first aid kit available. Trevor will show you where it is."

With great difficulty she stood up, gave me a grandmotherly smile, and then tottered off with the helping hand of Trevor. I prayed that she made it back without breaking a hip.

"As I was saying," I said, returning my attention to the remaining audience, "I'm heading down to New Orleans. Like it or not, you'll be accompanying me at least part of the way. I'm going to have Trevor take this boat as far as it will go. Before I get to New Orleans I'll find a place for all of you, somewhere safe to hide until I get back. I'm making this journey to find a cure, maybe even something to stop the vampires forever." I spread my hands out. "I won't always be able to stop the real live humans that have been after us, but I've been pretty lucky so far. I will see that you are fed and we'll try to make your stay on the boat as comfortable as possible. Anyone have any problems with this?"

There were a few murmurs but no one said anything in dissent. I think they were too shell-shocked to disagree; happy to be alive and, at least for now, had little thought for the immediate future.

Elizabeth came back in and began to see to Joel, unwrapping the bandage from his arm.

I said one last thing to everyone, "There are sofas on the deck above. Find a place to sleep. In the morning we'll find some more blankets and food. And that includes you too Sarah. I'll keep watch."

They shuffled off. Sarah followed them, giving me a grumpy look.

I went over to Joel, who was now flat on his back with a grimace pasted on that worn face. Elizabeth was busy poking and prodding at his damaged skin, removing bits of dirt using some fiendish-looking forceps.

"How are you doing?" I asked him.

"I'll live," he managed to gasp out. "Though I won't be putting the butt of that rifle against my shoulder anytime soon. I don't think I could take that."

I clasped his good arm. "Just hang in there, okay?" I looked over at Elizabeth, who was doing best to ignore us. I could tell by the tightlipped expression that she was worried. I would have to ask her later what the problem was. It had to be bad news. "I'm heading outside," I told Joel. "Try to get some rest."

He nodded, shutting his eyes.

I glanced at Allison, who still seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. I decided to give her the space that she needed. When she was ready to talk she could find me.

I went to the rear of the ship, a back deck with built-in benches. Outside the wind had a biting quality that was perhaps enhanced by the water running by. The sliver of the moon glinted along the surface with a silvery glow. In the darkness – no city lights now - the stars looked bigger than I had ever seen them. Maybe I just had never paid attention before. I shook my head at my own silliness. I had plans to make. There was no time for deep thoughts of my own mortality.

The back door opened. Turning I saw it was Allison. She rushed over and flung her arms around my neck. I kissed her on the cheek, hugging her tightly.

"Oh, Tom," she said with a voice bordering on breaking down. "I feel so terrible."

"It's okay," I hushed her.

"But I killed two men today. I didn't really mean to do it. I was just scared. I've never killed anyone before. I can't stop thinking about it."

Gently tracing the edge of her spine, I said, "I can't take the pain away but I can tell you that you did the right thing. If it wasn't for you, I would be dead. And there's a good chance that everyone else on board would either be dead or captured by those soldiers."

She nodded, the motion making her chin rub against my chest. "I know what I did was right but it still doesn't feel that way."

"I know how you feel. I had to run over a soldier with the truck. And then later I had to kill a gang member by doing the same thing. I did those things to save my own life. But when I had to shoot someone, well that somehow made it even more personal. I felt conflicted. It's hard to give up the trappings of civilization. You and I, we don't want to kill. It's not in our nature. I mean I was just a nobody in the world, just someone trying to live my life. Now I find myself with even more responsibilities. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you and Sarah alive. That's the only thing that matters now."

Allison pulled away from me, not in abrupt manner, but slowly. Her eyes, glittering with tears, looked lovely in the moonlight. "I think I understand. I'll get used to it – in time."

I smiled. "I don't think there is much of a choice."

"Can I ask what you plan to do next?"

"You mean other than get no sleep tonight? We'll have to find some food first. And that means the boat will have to be docked somewhere at another town. We also need supplies – medical and personal. If we're lucky I wouldn't mind getting some more guns, ideally something that has some real punch in case we run into some more helicopters."

"You're worried those soldiers will come for us?"

"My answer is yes. We were lucky to make it out of that town. We were outgunned and that cost lives. If it wasn't for you, we could have been captured or killed. Tell me, where did you learn to shoot like that?"

She looked positively embarrassed. "My dad was an unapologetic gun nut. Other girls got dolls and sleepovers at friends, I got a twenty-two caliber rifle and gun shows. He taught me to shoot competitively. I hated every second of it, and, by the time I got out of high school, I didn't want anything to do with guns. Instead I found myself a man, got married, and had a son, Louis, who got to play with all the toys that I always wanted." She said the last words wistfully.

I felt a tinge of unexpected jealousy when I asked, "What was your husband like?" My voice sounded steady enough.

"Nothing like you and nothing like my father."

"I don't know what to say."

Allison let out a little laugh. "I mean Raul was just a real nobody. He never went to college, or wanted much out of life. He provided for Louis and I, liked to watch soccer and have a few beers with his friends. His pride and joy was his car, which he washed every day. He worked at the same factory from high school until the day he died."

I didn't say anything. The world is filled with ordinary people who would never make it to the history books. I was one too.

She asked, "What about your wife? What was she like?"

"Anne? She wanted to be an artist but ended up being a legal assistant. But you could always tell that her heart was somewhere else – I mean she loved me, but not working for such a soulless place. She always wanted to travel, see the world, and have some adventure. I, to her regret, was more interested in staying around the home and living my own life. If only she could see me now."

"She would be proud of you."

"You may be right."

I motioned to one of the chairs. "Why don't you have a seat? I'm going to stay awake as long as I can and watch for helicopters. I wouldn't mind the company."

She sat down. "You don't expect any more trouble, do you?" She stared out into the darkness. "You really don't think those soldiers can find us out here in the dark?"

I grabbed another chair and pulled it next to her. I sat down. "I don't know what capacity they have. But I do know that night vision goggles are a lot more common than they used to be. They know what direction we've gone in. If they have another helicopter it wouldn't take them very long to find us."

She leaned over, resting her head against my shoulder. "You think too much."

"Yeah."
October 26th – Afternoon

The first sensation I had was one of pain. My back hurt. I realized I was sitting upright in a chair. The sun was shining on my closed eyes. I peeled my eyelids open and found that I was alone on the back deck. The boat was moving forward, the low thrum of the diesels the only sound I could hear. I had fallen asleep last night without even remembering it. A voice from the door startled me even further awake.

"Allison told me to check on you."

I turned and saw it was Sarah. She looked disheveled with uncombed hair and grungy clothes. Of course these days none of us were in the best condition of grooming. Clearing my throat, I replied, "I'm feeling okay. How about you?"

"I didn't like sleeping in the same room with all of those old people; they get up too much in the middle of the night to go pee and most of them snore. At least I had a sofa to myself. Those old ladies were busy clucking over me like a lost grandchild, making sure I was comfortable."

"I can't say I was very comfortable out here," I said.

"I still bet you got more sleep than I did." She frowned a bit, the expression turning from a light mood to something darker. "I was told to get you because there is a problem."

I stood up, feeling every bit of pain from age and the chair I had slept in. "What's going on?"

"It's Joel. That nun woman says she doesn't have the medicine he needs. She's afraid that he is going to die unless he loses the arm."

"Where is he?"

"Joel is still the same place, lying on the floor."

I brushed past Sarah and went into the dining room area. Allison and Elizabeth were huddled over Joel. I went over to join them with a sinking feeling.

"Good morning," I said as I eyed an unconscious Joel. The bandage that was applied last night was still bleeding through. He couldn't live long with that kind of blood loss. "What's the verdict?"

Elizabeth spoke: "That bullet that hit the arm shattered the bone. Without a proper surgeon, there isn't much we can do to save it. The wound is terribly infected. Without antibiotics, the infection will only get worse and kill him."

I thought back to all the books I had read and every war movie I had ever seen. "Gangrene? Can the arm be amputated?"

Elizabeth dropped her gaze. "I suppose it's possible. I don't know how to do it though. I mean it's nothing that I've ever done before. And even then the surgery, if you want to call that kind of butchery, could kill him. We have no surgical equipment or ways to monitor his heart. If it isn't done right, another infection could replace the old one."

"Shit," I said out loud. I looked over at Allison, who merely shook her head. She was out of ideas too. I looked at the location of the wound. It was a few inches below the shoulder muscle, most of the blood clotted around the bicep. Removing the whole arm would be the only solution unless a strong enough antibiotic could be found; something that could keep the infection at bay long enough that the wound could heal. Of course Joel would never have the use of that arm again but it was still better to live with a disability than to lose his life.

"Stay here with Joel," I told the two of them. "I'm going up to see Trevor. Maybe we are close to a city; somewhere with a doctor or the drugs that we need to save his life."

I left. I found Trevor in the bridge, steering the boat down the muddy expanse of the river. One hand rested on the wheel while the other kept the throttle in place.

"Morning," he drawled out once he knew I was there.

"Good morning," I said in response. "Where exactly are we?"

"As the crow flies maybe thirty miles south west of Desmond."

"That's all?" I asked with astonishment. "How long have we been going?"

Trevor glanced at me and broke out into a toothy smirk. "The river ain't a straight highway, mister. She bends and goes whatever direction she wants. Sometimes you can go for hours and feel like you've made real progress, but once you look at a chart, you realize that you're only a few miles down the river. That's just the way it is."

I nodded. "How much longer until we reach another town?"

He glanced at a map resting on the console. "Maybe an hour or two we will hit a place called Leland. I was hoping to fill the tanks with diesel there."

I nodded. "We will have to run some other errands there too. Joel will need antibiotics, or, if things turn worse, some supplies so we can safely amputate that bad arm."

"It's come to that?"

I nodded my head. "I'm afraid so. We also need to get food and some supplies. There isn't much left to eat. How big is Leland?"

"It's no big city, that's for sure, but a few thousand people lived there. I've been to Leland many times before since I used to be sweet on a woman who lived there. They have, if I remember correctly, two grocery stores, a little enclosed mall, and even a small hospital. The hospital is nothing fancy, mind you, but it could have the supplies that Joel would need."

"Provided it wasn't already looted," I commented gloomily.

"Yeah, you never know."

"Okay I'm going to go scrape up something to eat and get ready to hit the shore. I want you to stay here on the boat and wait. You're the only one who knows how to steer this contraption. I'll take Allison with me."

Trevor raised a quizzical eyebrow.

I explained. "She knows how to shoot. If I get trapped out there when night comes, I'll have a better chance with Allison at my side than anyone else on the boat."

"It's your show," he said, not sounding very convinced.

Apparently old Trevor wasn't for woman's rights. I wasn't about to argue, at least not while I needed him to control the boat.

I went to the upper deck. There the survivors were sitting on leather sofas or standing around one of the card tables. There were also some inoperable slot machines here. I was warily examined by the survivors, not exactly an enemy or a friend, but an unknown quantity in their lives. I was, at least for now, the leader of this strange expedition. But I'm sure that position would quickly change if they were given the opportunity. I found the stash of supplies and selected a can of tamales with a pull tab. There weren't many rations left. Carrie had only put enough on board to last a day or two. Our meager additions from the truck weren't enough to make a difference.

I felt someone tugging on my sleeve. Turning I found myself face-to-face with a little old man who, based on the hollowness of his checks, was missing his dentures.

"I need something softer to eat," he managed to mumble out.

"We're stopping at another town real soon." I told him. And then I raised my voice so the rest could hear. "In another hour the boat is going to be stopping at a town called Leland. Allison and I are going to go off for supplies, including more blankets, food, and drugs. While we are gone, I need everyone to stay on the boat. I can't have anyone meandering off or I will not be able to guarantee your safety. If you need anything special, let me know before I leave."

There were a few murmurs, but no one raised any questions. With my can in hand, I headed back down to the lower deck. Allison and Elizabeth were still huddled around Joel, who was now looking worse than before. His forehead was covered with sweat; his skin was even paler, and, even unconscious, let out intermittent low moans.

Once I caught Allison's attention, I went outside to the back deck. Sarah was there watching the frothing trail of water that the churning paddles left behind. Allison joined us, watching as I opened the can of tamales and began to eat. I was hungry enough that I didn't mind.

"What does Trevor have to say?" Allison asked.

"There is a town coming up. It may have the supplies we need, along with some diesel for the boat. At least that's what Trevor said. There is also a hospital there. How much longer do you think Joel can last?"

She shook her head. "He's not doing very well at all. Elizabeth said the infection is spreading quickly. Blood poisoning."

"So he may not last the night."

"I don't know. He's in a lot of pain."

I let out a sigh. "That means we'll have to get to the hospital first. My biggest fear is getting stuck at night with the vampires out and about. We don't know if they're in this town, or if there are hostile people in control of the area. But I want your help."

She paused for a moment before answering. Her voice quavered. "I-I-I think I can do that."

"I know you aren't cut out for this kind of life – none of us are – but you're the only one I trust to bring with me."

"What about me?" Sarah asked, finally deciding to turn her attention away from the river.

"You," I said forcefully, "are going to stay on the boat, which Trevor is going to keep in the middle of the river. If there is any trouble, I'm going to tell him to move on, leaving me and Allison behind."

"That's not fair! I can take care of myself."

"I know that," I said gently, trying not to anger Sarah any further. "That's why I need you to stay on the boat. You're the only one left who can watch out for the others."

I don't know if she believed my lie or not, but it seemed to satisfy her for now. "I'll need a gun," she said, this time less angrily.

"Okay," I agreed. "You can have my pistol. But I want you to keep it hidden from view. Only use it if you're in danger."

Sarah smiled brightly, the idea of having a new responsibility was obviously exciting to her. Little did she know that I was just trying to keep her safe. For now the boat was the best place to be.

My thoughts were interrupted by a terrible grinding noise coming from the hull. And then the boat moved roughly a few times before one gigantic jerk almost threw me off my feet. I stopped Allison from falling, and with my other hand, managed to catch hold of Sarah as she stumbled past.

"What was that?" she asked.

"We're no longer moving," I stated in reply.

The engines had momentarily stopped. And then they began to wind up again, reaching a pitch that sounded as if the pistons were about to come flying out of the blocks.

"Stay here," I cautioned my companions. "I'll go check to see what is happening."

I ran up the stairs toward the helm. There I found Trevor feverishly working the wheel and throttle.

"What happened?" I asked him.

Trevor let go of the throttle and the wheel. He gave me a sheepish grin. "This part of the river is normally dredged. It's always been clear so I didn't give it much second thought. I'm afraid I ran the boat aground on a mud bank. It's going to take some work to free her."

"How long will it take?"

He shrugged. "Maybe ten minutes, or maybe ten hours. I don't know."

"I'm afraid I don't have that kind of time to wait around, not with Joel getting worse. What can I do to help out?"

The old man sighed. "Unless you got a long-ass shovel, there isn't much that anyone can do. Based on how hard we hit, we're sticking in the mud pretty hard. There's no guarantee that we can free ourselves, at least not without some help from another boat with some bigger engines."

"So we're stuck forever?"

"I wouldn't quite say that. I was going to have everyone move to the stern in an attempt to get some weight off of the prow. With any luck I can slowly work the boat off of the bank. Worse comes to worse, we'll have to dump everything off of the boat and move the passengers to shore. It's a question of buoyancy: the less weight onboard, the higher she will float."

"Then I'll have to leave now," I said with exasperation. "You do what you can. Can I borrow one of the lifeboats?"

"Sure. Go ahead and take one on the port side. She's the only one that doesn't leak."
October 26th – Late Afternoon

I pulled on the oars. It was slow going in the rowboat. I thought at least we weren't working again the current, which meandered slowly in the direction we wanted to go. But nonetheless, time was slipping away. Night was coming too soon.

The tree-line shore was forbidding, an impenetrable mass of vegetation that looked as if humanity had never dared to step past its boundaries. Branches trailed in the water, creating little eddies that swirled momentarily before being swept away. A few dead leaves, a reminder that even autumn reached this far south, were pushed aside by the prow of the rowboat. The birds chirped, and a bumblebee, perhaps lost, buzzed by my ear. Allison stared at me but I could tell by her eyes that she was deep in thought, her mind wandering along with some old memory.

I kept my own concentration on the river, fearing I would hit some submersed object and end up sinking us. That would mean the loss of the boat, and, on the floor, the canvas bag that held the rifle, shotgun, ammunition, and a few other supplies to see us through this planned jaunt through Leland.

The silence was getting unbearable. I finally asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Allison gave me a wry smile. "I thought the woman was supposed to ask the man that question."

"I'm not that old-fashioned."

She laughed. On the water the sound seemed to travel a long way, echoing into the trees. "Just because you say it that doesn't make it true. You're the most old-fashioned man I've ever met."

I let that comment slide by.

"But if you really want to know, I was thinking about my husband."

I felt a twinge of jealousy, another ghost of a past that I thought would never come back. "Why?" I asked.

"He liked to fish with my son. I wondered if the two of them would have liked to try casting here. Did your wife like to fish?"

I shook my head. I said, "In case you missed it that was a definite no. My wife was more of a hotel-type. The outdoors was something to be seen from a distance not actually enjoyed in person."

"You seem to know your way around the woods."

"Not really. I mean I don't hunt. I just had an old-fashioned Tom Sawyer childhood, spending my time playing around in the woods with my friends. But as I got older I didn't have much time for that kind of thing. I became more civilized."

She pointed vaguely toward the shore. "It's never going to be the same again, is it? I mean civilization isn't going to spring back from the dead."

I gave her a small shrug. "I don't really know. I doubt it. The only thing we can do is try to make a new life for ourselves. Of course these vampires are the first concern but I think they're a threat that we can deal with. Right now I'm more concerned about the soldiers. They're the ones with the guns. I would like to know what they are up to and why they attacked us."

"It's obvious to me," Allison said.

"Is it?" I asked in surprise. I let the oars dip into the water and stay there.

She explained: "The soldiers that you dealt with at the store – they could have killed you right away but they didn't. And the ones that attacked Desmond, they could have massacred everyone. Instead they only killed anyone holding a gun."

I continued her train of thought, "Those soldiers wanted to take me back to their camp. And the gunner on the helicopter could have lit up the entire boat but didn't." I had a revelation. "They were trying to capture us. But why?"

"I think it is because we're immune and those soldiers are not. They would have facilities for testing us survivors and trying to find a cure for themselves. We're the supply of guinea pigs."

"If you're right I would like to know where everyone is being taken."

"It's probably not a very nice place. I think we're better off not knowing."

"We may have to find out anyway. As long as a cure isn't found those soldiers are threats to us."

Allison was about to say something in return but she saw that made her stare past me. I turned to look. There was a white house ahead, nestled in the trees and high on a hill. It looked as if civilization – or what remained of it - was just around the corner. We drifted past the home. From the distance it still looked beautiful: tall columns, wide wood siding, a broad deck, and black shutters. One would never guess that it was just a few years from beginning to rot away, and then crumbling into the ground.

I steered us around a wide bend. Breaking through the mass of trees was the town of Leland. The sun was low in the sky now. From my perch I could see a few tall buildings, rows of houses, overgrown grass, and cars parked along the streets. It looked quiet. I saw a length of docks along with a handful of small boats. I rowed toward them.

"Keep a watch out," I suggested to Allison, who had a better view as I worked the oars.

No one jumped out to surprise us but I still felt uneasy as I tied the boat to the dock. I got out first. After Allison handed the canvas bag over, I helped her out. We went quickly from the wooden planks of the dock to a restaurant named _The Wharf_. The windows had all been smashed out and the door was ajar. I went in, dropping the bag on the dusty floor. Fishing out the shotgun for myself, I handed the rifle over to my companion.

I looked over the large room. There were a number of covered tables with chairs stacked on top. The ceiling was gilded with fake gold while the walls were cluttered with photographs and nautical paintings. If the dust wasn't present, it would look as if the restaurant has closed for the day. A pair of swinging doors led to the kitchen. There was a faint smell of rotting food; any of the refrigerated or fresh food had long gone bad. But there was still a chance that some dry goods and cans still existed. This would be a good place to search once the paddleboat reached us.

"Care to take a seat, my dear?" I asked Allison with a broad sweep of an arm. "I've been assured that the food here is absolutely fabulous."

"Only the best people come here," she added with a sarcastic, snobby voice.

After I pulled a pair of chairs down, I went over to the front counter and found a telephone book that was several years old. Inside I found a page that had a map of the city. The hospital was marked as a point of interest. It was five blocks away from the address of this restaurant. I tore out the map and brought it over to Allison. We sat down to study it.

Tracing the outline of a route, I said, "We can take this street for two blocks and then we turn right. If this map is correct, then it's only a quarter mile or so to the hospital."

"It sounds simple enough."

"It should be."

"Then why do you look so worried?" she asked, resting a hand over mine.

I gave her a wan smile. "It seems that every time I come to a town there is trouble. I'm not expecting anything different here. If we run into any live ones, follow my lead. With Joel's injury I'm not about to take the time to explain it to any strangers that we run across. But if there is a big group of them, we run back here to regroup. If we get separated, we also meet here. The rowboat isn't exactly a quick getaway so, if possible, try not to be seen boarding it if it comes to that."

She nodded.

"Let's get going." I looked out through the empty space where the windows once were. "We only have another half an hour or so before the sun goes down. I prefer not to be here when that happens."

"Then we had better stop talking and start walking," Allison said.

We left the restaurant and headed down the street, keeping close to walls of the buildings. I still had an uneasy feeling that we were being watched. The empty windows stared at us like vacant eyes. A pair of mannequins wearing dresses startled me for a moment. I laughed at my own paranoia. Allison only rolled her eyes at me. I checked the map. We had to turn at this intersection.

The road here was crowded with cars and pickup trucks. Doors hung open and human remains, plus ragged clothing and shoes, rested on the ground. A few bullet holes had punctured the sheet metal. An old battle had taken place here, but who had been the victor?

"Come on," Allison said, grabbing my arm.

The next stretch of street was clear. The downtown shops soon gave away to houses and strip malls. In the distance I could see a three story building made of brown brick and tall glass windows. That had to be the hospital. We quickened our pace.

The front of the hospital was crowded with vehicles. A pickup truck had crashed through the front doors. High up on the tangled grass an ambulance was tipped over on its side. Several windows on the ground floor had been broken. I could imagine the desperation as people panicked, trying to find any chance of a cure. They would have done anything to get inside, looting whatever drugs were available. I could only hope that something useful was left. It didn't look very likely.

"Come on," I said to Allison as we brushed past the truck and entered the hospital.

There was a faint odor in the air: excrement, urine, and sweat. The lobby was a mess of overturned chairs and loose papers. A pair of doors with glass insets led off to a dark corridor. Motioning Allison to get behind me, I pulled the shotgun off of my shoulder and approached the doors. I peered through the glass. There was nothing inside but more chaos. I pushed one of the doors open, letting my companion slide through first.

I dug a flashlight out of the bag and handed it to her. "Search the rooms on the right. I'll take the left. Look for bandages, and any medicine on that list that Elizabeth gave us. Just scream if you run into any trouble."

"And if you scream?"

I took out my own flashlight and flicked the light on, pointing the beam at her face. "Then you will know that we're really in trouble."

She pushed the flashlight away so the beam fell away from her eyes. "Just get to work," she said in exasperation.

Fifteen minutes later and I had gone through a half-dozen examination rooms without much luck. I found a box of surgical gloves and a roll of gauze bandages. I took both of them. I met Allison at the end of the corridor near an elevator shaft. A sign indicated a flight of stairs.

"I didn't find a thing but this fresh syringe," she said. She held it up. The needle still had a plastic cap.

"Put it in the bag. Let's head up another floor and see what's there."

The stairs were lit by windows. Outside I could see that the sun was beginning to set. We only had a few minutes of daylight left.

The next floor had several corridors, rows of doors, and, closest to us, a nurse station. The floor had a number of footprints. The fading light beaming in from the single window by the stairs added an eerie element to the view.

"Same routine as before," I suggested. "And be careful. It looks as if someone else has been here."

"Yes, sir," she replied with a sneer.

"And hurry. We have to get back to the boat soon."

She gave me a salute and then took the first door to the right. I took the left.

There was an unpleasant smell here. The beam of the flashlight played on the bed. There was a corpse, covered up with a sheet so only a desiccated head could be seen. The empty eye sockets seemed to be staring at me. Ignoring this horrific sight, I began to search the room. There wasn't anything work keeping but a fresh IV bag of saline including tubing and needle. I put this prize in the canvas bag.

I went back out into the hallway. Allison came out of a door at the same time.

"We're getting nowhere," she said, displaying empty hands.

"We have to find the pharmacy. It has to be somewhere on this floor. The nurses would need quick access to the medicine."

We ignored the remaining doors and ventured further down the hallway. An intersection was ahead. A sign above indicated that the pharmacy was down this other corridor. It was darker here. There was a queer smell – the same one that was down in the lobby but now even stronger. With the beam of my flashlight I saw that all of the doors here were closed tight. I thought this was odd. I motioned for Allison to hold still. I tied the nearest door handle. It opened easily enough. The odor hit my face with a wave that almost made me wretch. Inside I could see vampires massed together in a heap, sleeping like primitive beasts.
October 26th – Evening

A scream tried to fight its way out of my throat. Instead I turned the flashlight off and took a step back. Allison let out a little yelp and grabbed my hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Shit," I said in a hoarse whisper.

"They're using the hospital to hide away," Allison said as if reading my mind. "They could be all around us."

"We only have another minute of light left," I warned as I tugged her along the corridor.

There was the pharmacy. There was a closed heavy metal gate over the wooden door. A heavy padlock hung on a thick clasp. The area around the lock had been battered by some past looter, but they had been unsuccessful. But what could we do in the short time left to us?

"We need to find the key," Allison hissed.

"There isn't time to look for a damn key," I whispered back. "We have to get out of here before those creatures wake up. We've got to go now!"

"We can't let Joel die!" she exclaimed, perhaps a little louder than she intended. She covered her mouth.

"We'll look for just one more minute. If we don't find anything, we leave. Okay?"

Allison nodded. She quickly turned and headed for a nurse station behind us. I began to look along the littered floor, finally turning on my flashlight so I could see. A few doors down there were a dark clump. I shone the beam on it. There was a pile of clothes – or I should say a collection of bones wrapped inside a ripped shirt. And then there was another set of remains. And another. The end of the hall here was packed with death. The vampires had captured some prey, and, after consuming the flesh, had left the inedible scraps behind.

"Over here!" Allison called out, barely able to contain her excitement.

I rushed over. In her hand was a large ring heavy with keys

"It was hidden away in the bottom drawer," she said. "I guess the nurses would want them on hand for quick access to the drugs."

I didn't tell her about the remains just a few feet away from us. Instead I grabbed the ring and rushed over to the pharmacy door. With the flashlight tucked in my armpit, I began to fumble through the keys, trying one at time and hoping I could find a fit. The seconds seemed to fly by. The keys jangled together, sounding loud to my ears. I wondered how much longer the vampires would stay asleep. I was about to give up when one of the keys slid all the way into the lock. There was a satisfying click when I turned the key. I swung open the gate. It screeched with a metal on metal grinding noise. I tried the door handle. It opened easily enough.

I rushed inside the dark room. On the shelves were collections of bottles containing liquids and pills. It looked as if the stocks were low but at least there was something here. Without even looking at the labels, I began to stuff the canvas bag with whatever I could get my hands on. Allison stayed at the door, shining her flashlight down the corridor in the direction we had come.

"Hurry," she breathed out. "I think I can hear something moving."

I plucked one last bottle off of the shelf and crammed it into the bag. There was no more room. It was time to go. I zipped up the bag and put my left arm through the straps, leveraging the weight over my back. With the shotgun in my other hand, I clumsily held the flashlight with the other. I pushed Allison ahead and we began to run down the hallway, heading toward the stairway. I took the lead, feeling the weight of the bag slowing me down.

We didn't get very far.

A door opened right in front of us and out popped one of those creatures. It wasn't expecting us, so I used the butt of the shotgun and struck the vampire in the head with all the force I could muster. There was a bone crushing crack and it went down. It was only a short respite. Behind us came a strange noise – a high pitched screech that reminded me of a bat on the hunt. Turning my head, I saw a half-dozen vampires coming down the hallway, giving chase. They were moving fast. Too fast. They would be on us before we could get to the stairs.

I pivoted on the ball of my foot, letting Allison run past. I brought the shotgun up to my shoulder and fired at the lead creature. In the confined space the blast was deafening. The buckshot tore through the target's chest, spraying the walls with black blood. I pumped another shell into the chamber and fired again, hitting two more of the vampires. If the creatures weren't awake before they certainly would be now. With my ears ringing, I turned and fled.

Allison was ahead. She turned at the intersection, and disappeared down the hallway in the direction of the stairs. I was only a few feet away from taking the same corner. I heard the crack of the rifle that she was carrying. When I made the turn, I saw her standing still, aiming down the barrel. At the head of the staircase was a dead vampire. I soon caught up to her. Grabbing a hand I pulled her along and took the lead once again. When we got to the staircase my worst fear was realized: the sound of many scuffling feet was coming from below. That bat-like call was coming from behind and from down the stairs. We couldn't go down and we couldn't go back. That meant we would have to go up into the unknown.

"This way" I shouted, louder than I meant because of the ringing in my ears. I could barely hear myself.

We ran up the stairs. My heart was beating relentless in my head. The third floor was a large office, the glass windows wrapping all around the open floor space. It was no wonder that the vampires had looked elsewhere in the hospital to stay away from the rays of the sun. There were a multitude of desks and chairs, computers, and phones. Pinned on the cubicle walls were family reminders - pictures of the wife, husband, or kids – or favorite hobbies. The floor was covered with low-pile carpet installed in easy to replace squares.

"What do we do now?" Allison asked, her eyes busy roaming the space for some escape.

"I don't know," I answered. "The stairs stop here. There has to be another way to the rooftop; maintenance would want to get up there to work on the air-conditioning."

The sound of running footsteps grew louder by the second. I realized that the extra ammunition I had brought with was still in the canvas bag with the medicine. I didn't have time to dig it out. The three remaining shotgun shells would have to do.

"Over there," I suggested, pointing with the beam of the flashlight to a large office in a far corner. It had a separate door and was enclosed in windows with closed blinds. At worst it would be a brief respite until we were killed; at best a place of hiding.

We ran. My lungs felt as if they were going to explode. Ducking and weaving through the cubicles, I reached for the door handle to the enclosed office. I caught a glimpse of a plaque on the door: vice president of human resources. After turning off our flashlights, we ducked inside just as I saw a vampire at the stairway. I gently closed the door, hoping that infernal creature didn't see the movement. From the dim twilight coming through the windows I could make out some small detail. The room was a dozen feet wide and equally as long. There was a wide desk, a big office chair, a coffee table, and a black leather sofa. Allison ran to the nearest window.

I stayed by the door, peering through the blinds. I could make out more and more vampires coming up the stairs. Their clothes were rags and their skin ghostly white. They seemed to shine with an unnatural light, the faint glimmers of the moon outside unnaturally amplified. There were a lot of them, fanning out to find us. It wouldn't take them long to figure out where we had gone.

"Tom!" Allison said, motioning me to join her.

"Quiet," I responded in a low voice as I made my way over to her. She pointed outside. I saw dark streets, gaunt trees, and then, as my eyes adjusted, hundreds of creatures heading toward the hospital like a crashing wave. Even if we managed to escape this building alive we were still looking at a desperate journey back to the rowboat.

"No, not there, below!" she breathed heavily into my ear. I looked down and saw the rear parking lot with a handful of cars. And directly below us was what appeared to be some sort of loading dock. A semi-truck and trailer had been backed in here. A dangerous idea immediately formed in my head, but it was still better than getting overwhelmed in the tight quarters of this room.

"Stand back," I said, pulling Allison back from the window. I brought up the shotgun, placed the end of the barrel close to the window, and fired. With a crash the glass shattered. That would bring the pursuers to us so the next step had to be done quickly. I used the butt of the shotgun and began to dislodge large fragments of the remaining glass. It only took a few seconds to make a hole big enough for one of us to get through. I took the bag and threw it down on top of the trailer, where it slid a foot or two before coming to a rest.

"You're next," I told Allison.

She looked scared but any apprehension of the distance was removed by the pounding at the locked door. The interior glass broke and a vampire rushed us. While Allison jumped, I turned and fired, killing the creature with a blast of lead. Another one took its place, running at me like a rabid animal. I heard Allison hit the top of the trailer. I fired again but didn't take the time to see the damage I had inflicted. I was out of ammo and out of time. Turning I grabbed the edges of the window ledge, saw that my companion had scrambled away to give me room, and then jumped.

Landing feet first was a mistake. The jar on the bottom of my shoes was so hard that I bit my tongue. I could taste blood. I fell to my knees and half-rolled to my side, banging the shotgun butt against the thin aluminum roof of the trailer. It didn't feel like anything was broken but both of my legs were in a lot of pain. A rifle shot snapped me out of my panicked thoughts. Lifting my head up I saw Allison on her knees, pointing the rifle up at the window we had just jumped out of. She fired again. I scrambled away in time just as a dying vampire struck the roof, just where I had been lying.

From there it was a mad scramble. I grabbed the bag, and nudged Allison on. She was looking as scared as I felt. We slid on to the truck roof and from there the hood; finally falling to the pavement. With a limp, I ran toward the street. Allison was next to me, breathing hard. There were houses here, little ranches squashed tightly together. I picked one at random, a brick house with a pickup truck parked in the driveway. The grass was long and tangled. The front door was closed and the windows were still intact. I headed toward the backyard, pushed a gate open and let Allison past. I was past the point of thought; instead I reacted by instinct as I busted out a back window with the butt of the shotgun. I cleared out the broken glass and then boosted my companion up so she could slither inside.

"It's okay," she said. "No one is here."

I was glad that she thought so but I didn't care either way. I just wanted to find somewhere safe until the vampires went back to sleep. Hoisting my body inside, I saw that we were inside of a narrow bathroom. Allison was already at the door, peering through the opening. I sat on the closed toilet seat and began to feel the exhaustion really hit me. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving me feeling lethargic. I could only give myself a few seconds rest. I didn't know if we had been seen going to this house. If we had, then the vampires would surely lay siege. The shotgun needed reloading and defenses would need to be prepared. Stifling a groan, I stood up and began to get ready.
October 26th – Night

"Get to the front window," I said to Allison. "Be on the lookout. Shoot anything that tries to get in."

With a curt nod, she took off down the hallway. I dropped to my knees, turned on the flashlight, and began to rummage through the canvas bag. It didn't take too long to find the box of shotgun shells. I quickly reloaded. Afterward I shoved some extra ammunition in my pockets. I stepped into the hallway. I shut the bathroom door, turned the flashlight off, and waited for a few seconds to regain my night vision.

It was dim enough that I could only make out grays and that nighttime blue that was nearly black. As far as I could tell this was a simple house with carpeted floors and a few picture frames on the walls. Doors were to the right while on the left the hallway opened up to a room. I went that direction. A few steps later and I found myself in a kitchen and dining area. This led to a living room with a front door, a couch against one wall, a large flat-panel television, a coffee table, and a stuffed chair. Allison was at the front window, peering through a sliver of an opening through the curtains. She gave me a sidelong glance before returning her attention to the view outside.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"There are hundreds of them outside," she replied in a low, shaky voice.

"Shit."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Are they coming here?"

She shook her head. The movement was barely noticeable in the darkness. "Not yet. It looks like they know we are in the area. They are searching house to house." That unnatural bat-like chirp echoed against the big pane of glass. "It won't be long before they discover us," she added.

"Load up that rifle, but continue to keep watch. I'll be back in a moment."

She gave me another glance. "Don't be gone long. I'm scared as hell."

"So am I, but we'll find a way through." It sounded like a hollow promise; one that I didn't believe myself. But I wasn't going to go down without a fight, not when I had Allison to protect, and with Joel and Sarah waiting for us back at the boat.

I went back to the kitchen and left the shotgun on the table. There wasn't enough room to swing it around where I wanted to go. I found a doorway that led to the basement, and cautiously took the stairs down. It was pitch black down here. I turned the flashlight on again, shielding the beam with a hand so it would be harder to see outside through the high foundation windows. This area was used for storage – boxed holiday ornaments, a freezer that stunk, an old rocking chair, and a table with a sewing machine. But my eyes were drawn to the back area past the heater. Whoever lived here before was an amateur carpenter. There was a long workbench crammed with useless power tools but pegged on the wall were hand tools, including a pair of hammers. I took these last two tools down and crammed the handles into my waistband. I found a jar of nails. On the floor were several lengths of wood. I grabbed as many of the boards as I could handle, tucked them under an arm, and managed to clamber up the stairs, making too much noise as I went.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Allison said, meeting me at the top of the staircase.

"Here," I said in reply as I turned the flashlight off. "Take these hammers and nails from me. Bring them to the living room. We're going to fortify the house as best as we can. But we have to hurry."

"Won't they hear us hammering away?" she asked skeptically.

I explained: "Of course they will. But if we move quickly, we can get up some basic defenses. We'll make up the rest as we go along."

"You're insane," she muttered before walking away with the tools in hand. She didn't sound too cross though.

I carefully placed the lumber on the living room floor, returned to the basement, and used the flashlight to navigate my way to the rest of the lumber. This time I was able to take a much larger load. I brought this wood upstairs and repeated the trip one more time. After all the wood had been brought upstairs, I sat on the floor and began to sort through them. In a few minutes I had the longest boards separated into their own pile.

"You had better hurry," Allison hissed at me. "There is a large group crossing the street and heading straight for us."

"Grab a hammer and some nails," I suggested. "We're going to cover that front window first."

I lifted and held a long board in place over the window. Allison quickly hammered it into place, using two nails in each side. By the time I had the second piece of wood in my hand, there was a pounding at the door as the creatures tried to find a way in. That strange sound of theirs, like a hunting cry, grew louder as others joined the chorus.

"Hurry!" Allison shouted, holding the hammer in hand like a weapon.

I pushed the wood against the window frame. Allison went to work. As she began to pound in the second nail, the glass shattered. A multitude of hands reached through the broken fragments, trying to push their way into the room. The extremities of the creatures streamed with black blood from the cuts. I leaned against the board while Allison ran to the other side and began hammering away. We had two boards up, but it wasn't enough. I grabbed a third piece of wood and, as I pulled away from the clutching hands, watched as she stood on her tip-toes, and nailed it into place.

Letting out a breath, I said, "That should hold in place for a few minutes. Let's get to work on some of the smaller windows before those damn creatures decide to find another way in."

I scooped up a hammer, took a pocketful of nails, and tucked some boards under my arm. I ran to the bathroom, and began boarding up the window we had smashed to gain entry. I could hear Allison's hammer going in another room, echoing my own labors. I was about done when I heard a scream.

"Tom!" Allison shouted before letting out another panicked cry for help.

I immediately stopped what I was doing and ran in the direction of her cries. They were coming from the nearest bedroom. Wishing I hadn't left the shotgun in the kitchen, I charged in with the hammer held high and ready to strike. The window had been broken through and the vampires were crawling through. Allison was on the floor, held down by one, who was about to bite her on the neck.

I took one step and swung the hammer at the creature's head. Like a ripe watermelon there was an unhealthy sounding thunk, and then a splatter of black blood as he fell sideways. Allison scrambled to the side, rolling and clawing her way to the doorway. I stood my ground so she could make her escape. The horde took no time but instead rushed toward me. They moved as one: a swirling mass of pale, clutching hands and cold eyes that were devoid of any humanity.

I swung the hammer at the closest creature. It fell with a silent scream as the blunt iron struck the side of the neck. The next one leapt toward me. A quick blow to the top of the head and it slumped forward. These early casualties meant nothing to the attacking mass; they merely stepped on and over their downed comrades to continue to make their assault. There were too many of them. I stepped back, swinging the hammer at anything that got close. With too many targets I couldn't keep up. One grabbed me by the foot and tried to take a bite. I gave it a kick but the motion made me unbalanced. I fell backwards, the back of my head hitting the edge of the open door. I saw stars and nearly blacked out. I felt hands clawing at my pant legs, pulling me into the horde where I would be eaten alive.

A loud blast woke me up from my daze. The hands that were clawing at me stopped. I felt something warm cover my legs. I blinked my eyes open. From my vantage point I could see Allison at the doorway, shotgun in hand. She racked another shell and fired over me. The sound was deafening. I looked where she was firing. In that small space the buckshot had done terrible damage, leaving a mess of black blood and crippled creatures. But the fight hadn't left the vampires: the wounded crawled toward me while the undamaged ones in back climbed over the dead to continue the attack.

Allison shouted, "Move it, Tom!"

I managed to scramble to my knees and crawl past her. She shut the door, clutched the doorknob, and pulled; trying to stop the horde from coming through. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. When I had enough strength to stand, I turned, and placed my hands over hers.

"I'll take it from here. Just find a way out."

With a nod, she let go of the doorknob. I immediately felt the pressure as the creatures on the other side tried to open it. But they were apparently massed against the door, making it hard to open as the press of bodies became more of an obstacle. The wood of the frame creaked and groaned from their combined weight. I wondered how much longer the door would last before it was broken down.

"Tom!" Allison shouted from only a few steps away. She was inside a closet, looking upward. "There's away up into the attic here."

I let go of the knob. The door did not burst open due to the number of creatures crammed together on the other side, but it wouldn't take them long to get through. Running over to her I fished the flashlight out of my pocket and shined the beam up to the ceiling. Past the shelves and winter coats there was a wood trapdoor large enough for a person to squeeze through. Without saying anything, I got on my knees and cradled my fingers together. Allison stepped into my hands. I boosted her up so she could reach the trapdoor. With a push, she opened it and clambered inside, the shotgun clattering against the wood.

I shut the closet door and, with flashlight in mouth, began to use the shelves to climb. Allison's arm shot out from the dark opening above. I grabbed it. She gave a grunt as I used her helping hand. And then I managed to find the very edge of the open trapdoor. With my remaining strength I clambered into the attic. While I lay on a hard wooden floor, I heard Allison place the trapdoor back into place.

"Now what?" she whispered.

"We wait. I left that damn bag filled with medicine down in the living room. We can't very well leave without it."

"The rifle is in the living room," she added.

I took the flashlight – now in my hand – and shone it around the attic. There was nothing here but a low roof, piles of insulation, and few boards to make up the rough floor. No windows. "Unless we want to brave another fight, we'll just have to stick it out here."

"I guess we're trapped."

The sound from below grew raucous as the vampires began to tear through the house, searching for us. I could hear doors being torn open, glass smashed, and their eerie hunting wail only became louder. I took the shotgun back from my companion and reloaded it. Then I shut the flashlight off and waited. There was nothing else to do.

Allison spoke the words going around in my head: "I hope Joel makes it through the night."

"Me too," I said without hope.
October 27th – Morning

I awoke and felt an uncomfortable lump resting on my thigh. I was hunched over in a sitting position with a painful kink in my back. Opening my eyes it took a moment to realize where I was: sitting on the floor of this dusty attic with Allison's head resting on my lap. I was supposed to have been standing guard while she slept but I had joined her in a deep slumber. Luckily we had not been disturbed.

Glancing around, I wondered where the source of dim light was coming from. There, in the center of the peak of the roof was a small opening for ventilation. Indirect sunlight shone through the slats, giving the room an eerie look. Allison was giving a gentle snore, looking so much at peace that I didn't want to disturb her. But I had Joel to consider. The minutes were ticking by and he must be in considerable pain. I gave her a gentle shake.

Those lovely eyelids fluttered open. She gave me a smile that just creased the edges of her mouth. "Hello," she said in a low voice.

"Good morning."

"The world outside still shot to hell?"

"I'm afraid so."

"At least we're still alive."

"Yeah."

She got up and stretched, her hands brushing the top of the ceiling. I pried open the trapdoor, flicked on the flashlight, and shone the beam into the closet space below. There was nothing but jackets strewn on the floor. I lowered myself down, slowly opened the door, and looked down the hallway. From my position it looked as if the house had been trashed in the vampire's frustrated search for us. I helped Allison down.

"Are we alone?" she asked.

"It's daylight now, so those creatures went back to their hiding spot in the hospital. Or else they're sleeping down in this basement."

Allison grimaced. "I sure hope not. Well I have to take a pee. I'll be right back."

"You're not the only one, but ladies first. I'll see if the rest of our stuff is still around."

She headed toward the bathroom, though anyplace would have done since there was no running water. I supposed it was habit. With the shotgun cradled in my arm, I went to the living room. There I saw the boards we had put up had been ripped away, the chair overturned, and the sofa cushions removed and torn open. But there was the canvas bag full of medicine, looking as if it had been battered around before coming to rest in the corner, away from the damage. I pulled it away to a clear spot and opened it. The medicine and other supplies were still inside, looking none the worse for wear. The rifle was on the floor, and still looked serviceable. I felt a sense of relief.

Allison and I left the house, going out through the front door. Except for a few sparrows chirping in the trees, the street was quiet. We walked toward the docks, going quickly, but not fast enough to walk into any sort of trap. At this point I didn't fear the vampires, but any uninfected survivors desperate enough to see what we were carrying. But there was no one. The only movement I saw was a plastic bag being blown along by the wind. No matter how many times I ventured out in the deserted cities, I knew I would never lose the feeling that I was being watched by some malevolent force. I was glad to have Allison at my side even though she seemed as unnerved as I was. Last night had been a near thing; we both owed each other our lives.

I had a fear that the rowboat would be missing. But when we got to the waterfront, not only was it there, but the paddleboat was waiting out in the middle of the river. The white paint seemed to shine in the morning sun.

Allison let out a cry of triumph and began to run toward the rowboat. I followed behind, keeping a wary eye out for an ambush. My paranoia was unfounded. Soon we were loaded up and I was rowing toward the paddleboat. I could see figures on the deck. Sarah and Trevor were near the bridge, waving at us. Allison waved back, her mouth wide with a smile.

When I was close enough to the rear deck of the paddleboat, Trevor threw a line toward us. In a few minutes, Allison scrambled up the side using the iron rungs attached to the hull. Once the oars were put away, I went aboard. While Allison disappeared inside, I helped Trevor winch the rowboat up the deck and then stowed it away. Only then did we start to talk.

"I see you got the boat off the sandbar," I commented.

"It was a tough job," he said quietly, his eyes not meeting mine. He was hiding something.

"What aren't you telling me?" I asked.

He looked at me for a second as if trying to gauge my reaction beforehand. He finally said, "It's Joel. He didn't make it through the night."

"I see," I managed to say, feeling empty inside. All that danger at the city had been for nothing. The sun seemed to grow colder and I wondered if this journey of mine to New Orleans was fruitless. So far it seems to have brought nothing but misery for all involved.

"Don't take it too hard," Trevor said. "You did everything you could for him."

"But it still wasn't enough. If only those damn vampires hadn't kept us trapped then I could have saved his life."

"You don't know that. He could have died during the operation or any time afterward. There are no certainties in life, especially now."

"You're probably right," I said just to be agreeable. I didn't feel like talking anymore.

But the old sailor couldn't let me go. He said, "I was able to rock the boat free by having the passengers move to the back deck. It took a while but I was able to do it without too much trouble. But by the time I caught up to you, I saw the rowboat was already pulled up at the docks. I took the opportunity to fill up the tanks with some diesel I found there. I also sent out some of the passengers to collect food and blankets. There wasn't much food but it will last us a few more days. And then when night came I went out to the middle of the river and had everyone turn off the lights. I never saw any of those blasted creatures, but I sure did hear them. Something got them all riled up. Was that you?"

"That was us alright. We headed to the hospital but the vampires had taken it to use as a lair. We had to fight our way back to the street, and hole up in the attic of a house, but we still managed to get some medical supplies."

"Well that's something. We might need those ourselves."

"It's not much of a consolation."

"It's still better than nothing."

I felt sick to my stomach as I brushed past Trevor and entered the interior of the lower decks. There I saw Sarah sitting with Allison. Both of them were crying. A wrapped sheet, covering the corpse of Joel, was resting nearby on the floor. I went over and lifted the sheet so I could look at the man, feeling self-conscious at my lack of tears. I had grown to like him, even though his first introduction had not been good. But he had learned to be a better man by helping those in need. I thought about my previous idea of giving up the quest to reach New Orleans, but with Joel's death I realized it was more important than ever. He should not have died in vain.

I grabbed a chair and dragged it over so I could sit next to Allison. She looked at me, her eyes heavy with tears.

"I feel like such a fool," she tried to explain. "I mean I wanted nothing more than to get away from him." She swept a hand toward Joel. "I thought he was a creep. But he ended up being an okay guy. I suppose I feel guilty for never telling him that he was a good person."

"It's okay, Allison," Sarah piped in.

I grabbed Allison's hand and gave it a gently squeeze. "I think I understand. I'm feeling the same way. Perhaps it is because we've all lost too many people so far. The death of Joel is just one more, but he wasn't killed by some disease, but by the hand of an enemy. It makes his passing seem so real, so direct, that it just wasn't the hand of fate."

"What are we going to do with him?" Allison asked.

"I'll have Trevor anchor the boat somewhere. We'll go ashore and bury him."

October 27th – Evening

We buried Joel and the woman who had died during our escape from Desmond. It was in a spot near the river bank. There was a low hill behind us, along with a thick grove of trees. It was a beautiful place far from any road and would only get prettier after winter came and passed. Allison and Sarah snuffled through the few words I said. Trevor, who had helped me transport the bodies and dig the holes, merely stood to the side while leaning on a shovel handle. When I was done, we made a quiet retreat back to the boat. The burial had eaten up a few hours of daylight but I felt better.

Once Trevor had started up the engines, I found a quiet corner on the lower deck and tried to catch up on some sleep. I never truly slipped away, but instead inhabited a nether region of reality and dreams. When I got up later, I really didn't feel rested, but had enough strength to handle whatever life would throw at me next. I went to the upper deck, where I found the other passengers busily eating a stew for dinner. I grabbed a bowl of myself, dipping a large spoon into the very bottom of a large pot that had been taken from the kitchen. It was heated by an electric fryer powered by the boat generator.

The stew had a strange and salty taste. Picking through the gravy, I decided that several cans of soup had been thrown together. It wasn't exactly bad, and it would provide nourishment. I choked the food down while studying the remaining survivors. They were looking more comfortable with our situation. At least they weren't being shot at and the boat gave them safety from the vampires. I now had the job of being their protector, but I wondered what I would do with them when I reached New Orleans. I would have to find a spot before we reached the city; some place safe enough for them to stay while I went on ahead. It would also be better if Allison and Sarah stayed with them. There was no reason to risk any more lives.

After I was done eating, I put the bowl into a bin with some other dishes. I wasn't sure who was doing the washing up but this group had taken upon themselves to divide the labor among themselves. As I left, I gave some friendly nods to the assembled eaters, and even got some in return. They were becoming more accepting of me.

Out on the deck I saw the sun was beginning to set. Night came on fast this time of year. I headed toward the bridge, where I found Trevor steering the ship. Sarah was sitting nearby, gazing out the window to watch the river.

"Hello," I said as I shut the door behind me.

"Good evening, Tom," Trevor said. He only giving me a glance since his concentration was on the water ahead. He looked tired.

"I can take over if you need to get some rest," I suggested.

"Nah, it's only another hour or so before we lose enough light to travel by. I'll set anchor and get some sleep after that."

"Okay, it's your choice. I just don't want you to get too tired. You've been pushing yourself pretty hard."

He grunted in response. That was apparently the end of that.

I went and stood by Sarah. We both looked out the window, watching the sun fade way into a palette of orange and purple. The stars began to wink on. Mars was low on the horizon, just rising above the sweep of trees. Everything looked peaceful. Far up ahead I could just make out a long arch that spanned the width of the river. It was an extensive bridge, probably for the heavy highway traffic.

"You see that?" I asked Trevor since the last of the sunlight was fading away.

He nodded at me. "That's the Stone Ridge Highway bridge. A few miles after that and we hit Cairo, which is located where the Ohio and Mississippi River meet.

That was good news. Trevor switched on the forward lights and lowered his speed. The beam of light probed ahead, barely making a dent in the increasing inky darkness. I wanted to warn Trevor to stop the boat, but he seemed dead set on gaining a few more miles of distance before setting anchor. Maybe he wanted to make up for lost time, or put some distance between us and Joel's burial spot. I didn't ask, but instead tried to keep a lookout for any hazards.

It was a maybe twenty minutes later when the beam of the spotlight struck the pilings of the bridge, the vast expanse of concrete and metal above disappearing into the gloom.

"Bridge!" I warned Trevor.

He spun the wheel without comment and the prow of the boat edged away from the hazard. The boat began to slide under the bridge when I heard, in the distance, a high keening sound. The vampires were nearby. Blood began to rush in my ears. I was about to warn Trevor to stop when a heavy thud struck the deck behind us. That in itself was not a call for alarm, but the sound repeated itself, and then became a flurry of heavy noises that began to shake the ship like a landslide. The boat dipped and shuddered from the violence. Quickly slipping the shotgun off of my shoulder, I opened the door, and ran outside. In the darkness I could barely see. I could just make out a convoluted mass covering the top deck, with more shadowy figures falling from above. A couple of overhead lights blinked on – Trevor must have turned on the deck lights – and now I saw that the thick mass were pale white bodies littered along the expanse. The vampires had thrown themselves from on top of the bridge down to the boat below, sacrificing many so a few could get at us. My mind reeled in shock as I saw the remaining creatures – the vampires who survived the plummet, cushioned by those who went before – began to pull themselves free of the dead. There were over a dozen of them left alive, more than I could handle with just a shotgun.

I fired two shots, killing one of them, while the other buckshot went wild. I had to warn the others. Reaching back with one hand, I managed to open the door behind me. I hastily stepped inside.

"Stay here," I warned Trevor and Sarah. I could hear my own voice shaking. "The vampires are all over the ship. Lock the door after I leave."

They only gave me open stares of horror.

"Trevor, stop the boat right now! Don't go any further under the bridge. I'm afraid there will be more jumpers waiting for us on the other side."

He nodded, pulled the throttle back and let the engines idle out of gear. There was a splash as the anchor dropped into the river. I gave Sarah a brave smile and then went back outside.

The vampires – the ones still moving – were gone. I heard screams coming from the deck below. I ran to the stairs, and went down to the second deck. I burst through the door and found a scene of chaos. Two corpses were at my feet, both of them old men, who had been torn apart by the attackers. The vampires were busy mauling the remaining passengers, who were screaming more than fighting. I couldn't get a clear shot, not with the wide spread of the buckshot. Instead I took a few steps and smashed one of the creatures in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun. The beast fell forward, the back of his head a bloody pulp.

One vampire came at me, its mouth wide open in a silent scream, the blackened teeth bared like a wild animal. It was a woman, or the remnant of one, dressed in a rag of dress. With outstretched hands that had long nails she leapt for my throat. I brought the barrel of the shotgun up just in time to connect with her body. I fired. The buckshot cratered her chest in an explosion of blood and bone. She collapsed to her knees, a swaying dying thing. The floor was getting slick with gore. I slipped and just caught myself from falling on my face.

I was on my knees. From my position I could see the survivors were quickly getting pared down. I saw Elizabeth on the ground, her dead eyes staring at nothing. A wounded man was next to her, desperately trying to defend against the four attackers on him. I didn't have a chance to help him since a quick bite to the neck finished him off. My concern, however, for the other remaining survivors stopped once I heard a rifle shot from below. It had to be Allison.

I scrambled up, and retreated to the stairs, leaving the others to their fate. They would have to fight on their own until I got back. In hindsight it wasn't a heroic move but Allison was more important to me than anyone else in the world. I had to save her. I rushed down to the next deck, mindful that there were only two shells left in the shotgun. Kicking through the lower deck doors, I managed to see Allison's black hair through the legs of three vampires, who had her pushed into a far corner. She fired the rifle again, the bullet puncturing a hole through the chest of one of the creatures. It went down, turning on its side as it fell to the floor. A few strides later and I was able to grab one of the vampires by the collar and yank it away. It turned its attention on me, the claws raking across my arm as it tried to lunge for my neck.

I swung the butt of the shotgun up, aiming for the creature's face. Or at least I tried to but it was too close. This was a big specimen, skinny from hunger but still built with wide shoulders and muscular arms. He had a black t-shirt and blue jeans on, both tattered and worn. Those pale eyes bored into mine as the big jaw took another snap at my neck. I pushed back, tripped and landed on my rear. The shotgun accidentally went off, or at least I don't remember pulling the trigger, and the buckshot fired upward. The vampire's head was torn away in a mist of dark blood, which splattered on the ceiling above. The creature died right there, and fell into a heap.

I only studied my handiwork for a second before I remembered Allison's plight. With weak knees, I managed to stand again. I saw that she was still on the ground, her back shoved into the corner, screaming while she used a fist to strike the remaining attacker's head. The rifle, now useless, was at her side. The creature was determined to kill her, getting closer to that slim neck of hers. I was over there in a second and, with one hand, tried to drag the vampire off of her. It was clutching at her clothes with an iron grip and would not break free. My move was a mistake. I should have pounded the thing in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun. Allison let out a bloodcurdling scream as the vampire bit her deeply on the side of the neck. The blood gushed out, looking so very red.

I could barely see; my vision blurred with swirling red anger. With all my strength I brought the butt of the shotgun down on the side of the creature's skull, breaking the bite. And, as Allison pulled away, began striking over and over until the head was nothing but bloodied pulp. Only then did I stop, realizing that I was shaking with a flood of adrenaline.

Allison had pulled herself away, whimpering in pain as the blood continued to ooze out of the frightful wound. I let the shotgun fall on the floor and went to her, trying to stem the flow of blood. Her eyes were wide with shock, the flesh on her face turning pale. She was hurt badly.

"It's okay," I whispered into her ear as I tried to get her to sit upright. "I'm here."

Through clenched teeth she managed to say: "It hurts, Tom. It hurts."

"We'll bandage you up, alright? Some antibiotics and a few days rest will have you right again."

She nodded painfully. I couldn't tell if she believed me or not. I didn't know if I even believed my own words.

I pulled her to a chair, took her hand and put it on the wound. "Stay here," I said. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I've got to go help the others."

Allison stared at me, trying to look brave.

I grabbed the shotgun and ran up to kill the remaining vampires. They were going to pay.
October 28th – Morning

The boat stayed underneath the bridge until daylight broke. Before the sun rose I had already killed the remaining vampires using my shotgun and a fire axe. The decks were a now a bloody mess of corpses, the floor smeared red with blood. None of the town survivors, except for Trevor, had lived through the night. Instead they had died at the hands of these infernal creatures; bodies torn apart and dismembered. Sarah and Trevor were still barricaded inside while Allison remained suffering in the lower deck. I had bandaged the wound up and given her a dose of painkillers and antibiotics. She was still awake but in no mood to talk.

When I was done with my primitive doctoring, I went back to the bridge. I knocked on the door and Trevor let me in. He looked exhausted. Sarah was curled up into a ball, asleep on the floor.

"We can move ahead now," I said, looking out the window. The dawn light from behind extended the boat's shadow along the length of the piling. The water shone like a thousand diamonds. I felt tired and unreal.

Trevor grunted, pulled up the anchor with the automatic winch, and started the diesels up. We gently idled out of the vampire's trap. The boat cleared the bridge above with any further incident. When we had traveled a few hundred yards, I spoke.

"Stop here and drop anchor. You have to help me clear the dead off of the decks."

Once again Trevor did not speak. Instead he steered the boat into the middle of the river and let the engines idle. The anchor went down with a splash and the craft drifted a few feet before being stopped by the taut line.

I leaned over and gently shook Sarah awake. She looked deathly pale with black smudges under her eyes.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said. "Are they gone?"

"Everything's okay. I want you to go down and stay with Allison. She's been hurt."

That bit of news woke her up. Sarah nodded, got up, and staggered outside. I followed and watched as she went down the stairs. She looked scared. The mass of dead bodies piled up was horrific and there were even more horrors below. I hoped that it wouldn't have too much of an effect on her. There was no time to consider the state of her emotions. She would have to soldier ahead and help where she could. It was a bad time to be a kid.

The bridge was behind us now. The details of the span were blotted out by the sun. I wondered how the vampires knew to congregate there and attack us. I had thought we were safe here on the boat. I was wrong. But why? I thought the creatures couldn't think beyond their next meal. But somehow they knew to come here and try to take over the boat, even though it meant sacrificing many of their own. That spoke of some ability to communicate even though I had never heard the creatures use words. I thought back to how the vampires had hunted for me and Allison. Perhaps that strange bat-like cry gave some primitive direction to those monsters. I didn't know.

Trevor came out to join me. "Need some help?" he asked with a tired croak.

"I'll grab the arms and you grab the legs. We will dump all the bodies overboard."

"What about our people?" he asked.

"We don't have time to bury them." I said flatly as I grabbed the arms of a painfully thin vampire.

"You had time to bury your friend Joel," he reminded me as he took the feet.

Working together, we dumped the first body over the side. It splashed and then began floating down river, the head and torso bobbing along the current.

Trevor continued. "We're still civilized aren't we? They would have done the same for us. I knew these people. They were friends. We have to do the right thing for them."

About the pick up another vampire, I stopped to look into Trevor's eyes. "I know it is the right thing to do, but it's a matter of time. It will take all day to find a place, dig a hole, and bury them. We have two dozen dead here that would require burial. I don't want to spend any more time out here if we don't have to. I want to get to New Orleans."

"It's still not right."

"Come and help me," I said. Another dead vampire went over the side. Leaning against the railing I took a few breaths. This work was too much. I hadn't slept all night and was beginning to run out of energy. "Look we can compromise. We'll take our dead and wrap them up in tablecloths from the dining room. We will weigh them down and say a few words before letting them sink to the bottom of the river."

Trevor carefully considered my proposal. He narrowed his gaze, looking at nothing in particular. And then his eyes met mine. They showed no hostility. "I will agree to that, provided you say the same kind words you gave that Joel fellow. I'm no good at stuff like that. I get too upset."

"Sure," I said kindly.

We were friends again.

It took us a good hour to clear the top deck, leaving a floating trail of bodies as we went. The second deck, however, was more difficult since it contained the remains of those who were just recently passengers, and should have been under my protection. I felt guilty for letting them die at the hands of the vampires, and leaving them in their hour of need so I could rescue Allison. Trevor and I went to work with tablecloths and rope, gently covering the bodies of our comrades until we had a good dozen shrouds ready for burial in the river. The remains of the vampires were disposed of the same way as their kind.

It was lunchtime when Trevor and I got down to the bottom deck. Allison was resting on a chair with her feet propped up. She appeared to be asleep, her chest moving slowly with slow, rhythmic breaths. Sarah was standing behind her with a wet cloth and was busy dabbing at the fevered forehead. The bandage at the throat was showing blood through the gauze but not too much. She would need stitches but I didn't have the supplies here to do that.

"How is she doing?" I asked.

Sarah looked worried when she answered. "Whatever you gave Allison has knocked her out."

"I thought it best for her to sleep. She got quite a chunk taken out of her."

Trevor took me by the arm and took a few steps away so we could talk privately. He obviously didn't want to worry Sarah. His eyes were narrowed with concern. "She's bit. Any chance she will become a vampire?"

I could only shrug. "I don't think so. This isn't like the movies. At least I don't think it is. I mean getting a bite, especially this deep, is bad enough if done by a human. Allison will need antibiotics pumped into her to stop the infection from spreading further. I would also like it if she had some stitches but I've never done anything like that. I mean the wound could be worse. She was lucky that the artery located on the neck wasn't bitten through."

Trevor slowly nodded. "Well we had better get these bodies here dumped over the side. And then we can take care of our deceased friends. They will need a proper goodbye."

I cast a glance back at Allison. A feeling of dread crossed my heart. I could only hope that she would get better. If she died then any hope I had for the world would die with her.

Trevor and I got back to work. I ignored the hunger pangs and exhaustion that wracked my body. I just wanted to clear the ship before the stench of the dead became overpowering. The remaining vampires were dumped out of the back of the boat. The corpses bobbed away in the current. When we were done, Trevor and I returned to the second deck. From there we wrestled the wrapped bodies of our comrades to the top. We decided to leave Sarah out of this macabre exercise. She had seen enough today.

When Trevor and I finished there was a neat row of bodies laid on the decking. The black blood of the vampires had soaked into the wood, staining it in strange baroque patterns. Trevor stood to the side, his head bowed and hands held together as if he was about to pray. And maybe he was.

Clearing my throat, I wondered what I could say about these people who were mostly strangers. I looked over them and then to the shore. After some faint thoughts were gathered and formed into words I began to speak. "These men and women never expected their lives to take such a strange twist. They were retired or young, looking forward to a normal life. Instead they were thrown into a world gone insane, where the dead have come back to life to prey on the living, and an army, who once protected the country, who drove these innocents from their homes. These people traveled with us, hoping to be protected until some new safe haven could be found. But fate has said otherwise."

I took a breath. I remembered my own wife and all those who had already died. "Now these people will never know pain, starvation, or the fear of the unknown again. Instead they will be free of our pressing earthly concerns. And may they know peace everlasting."

"Amen," Trevor murmured once I had finished.

Working together, the bodies were eased into the water. Each shroud wrapped body splashed into the river, and then drifted gently into the depths below, the white cloth looking like submerged snow. A chill of sorrow passed along the length of my spine.

When we were done, Trevor finally spoke. "Those were some mighty pretty words you said, Tom. You should have been a preacher."

"I'm not exactly the religious type."

He looked at the trees on the shoreline but his gaze seemed to stare past the leafless branches. "Based on what we've seen so far I don't blame you." He then let out a laugh that didn't contain a trace of humor. "I guess the big cosmic joke is on us. Maybe God got tired of his little experiment and decided he was done with this world."

"You could be right," I said wearily.
October 28th – Evening

Trevor went back to the bridge, pulled the anchor up, and started the engines. The boat started moving forward. The thrum of the diesel and the splash of the paddlewheels was a welcome sound. I returned to the lower deck to watch over Allison and help Sarah with her vigil. I staggered down the stairs, feeling exhausted beyond belief. I wanted nothing more than to sleep a thousand years but I had to look after the others first.

Allison was where I had left her, looking more ill than before. Sarah was off to the side pacing the floor. She ran over to me, her mouth pursed in worry.

"It's Allison," she blurted out. "She's getting worse. I mean she's sweating something bad. She's burning up! What are you going to do?"

I glanced back at the patient. "I'm sure it's just shock. I've given her antibiotics. We'll have to wait for the medicine to take effect."

"I wish Elizabeth was still here," Sarah blurted out. "She would know what to do."

"I'm sure she would," I admitted. "I'm certainly no doctor. I don't even know if I'm even giving her the right drugs. I just recognized the pills because I was given the same prescription for a sinus infection."

"So you don't even know what you're doing!" she angrily spat out.

"I'm trying my best." It even sounded weak to my own ears.

"We need another doctor. He would know what to do."

"Maybe," I said with a shake of my head. "As far as we know no one has been bit by a vampire before and lived to tell about it. We don't know what effect the bite will have."

"Are you saying she's going to die?"

"I don't know. I hope not. But I want you to try and get some sleep. I'll watch Allison, okay?"

"Okay," she said glumly.

I watched as Sarah found a chair in the corner, an area free of blood, and curled up into a ball. Her eyes closed. After a few moments, I heard a little snore. She really was tired.

I carefully went over to Allison, walking on my tiptoes to stay quiet. I felt her forehead. It was hot. Too hot. She drowsily opened her eyes, but I could tell she was having a hard time focusing.

"Where are we, darling?" she managed to say with a hoarse whisper.

"On the boat," I said. "We're still headed to New Orleans."

"That's nice. Where's little Louis?"

It took me a moment to realize she was hallucinating, thinking of her family. "He's off on the top deck," I said. "Busy looking around the ship."

"Raul, tell him to be careful!" Her intonation rose with every word as she struggled to get up.

"I will," I said soothingly.

This seemed to calm her down. She closed her eyes again and quickly fell into a fitful sleep. I pulled up a chair next to hers and held her hot hand, wishing she would get better. I didn't know how I would react if she died. There had already been too much loss. It wasn't long before I fell asleep myself, even though my own mind was crowded with worry. Exhaustion had crept up and there was nothing that could stop me from embracing the darkness.

It seemed like only a few minutes, but when I woke up I knew it was much later in the day. Allison's hand was still in mine and it seemed like her temperature had gone down. I looked over and saw that she was sleeping normally now, her mouth slightly open and with a gentle rhythmic breathing. That was a good sign. I stood up, released her hand, and turned to see that Sarah was still asleep. She looked peaceful; far removed from the worries of the world.

I left, slowly taking the stairs all the way to the top deck. The sun was low, maybe an hour or so before it would hit the horizon. The boat was chugging along at a good pace. I went to the bridge. There was Trevor, steering the boat. He looked blearily about. I wondered how much longer he could stay awake.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Tired," he replied gruffly. "I'm used to it though. Back when I was younger I worked a crab boat. There wasn't much time for sleep back then, not when the crew was so busy making money. I'll make it until we can find a place to lay anchor. I'll get some sleep tonight, provided you promise to stay watch."

I nodded. "I can do that. How much longer until we get to Cairo?"

"This evening if we keep on going. How is Allison doing?"

"I don't know. The fever doesn't seem as bad but she still hasn't regained consciousness."

"Maybe she's getting better then. Now if you could take over so I could shut my eyes for a minute. And then I'll go and make us something to eat. We've all been running on nothing but stress. A little food will help us out. A week of sleep would be better, but, as my old shipmates used to say, some grub will have to do until then."

I took the wheel, backed down the throttle a bit, and began to steer the boat down the river. It was a good feeling to have that kind of control over such a large ship. Sure it was no battleship, but it was certainly bigger than a rowboat. After Trevor was sure I could handle the job, he sat in the corner with his knees pulled up. In a few moments he was asleep.
October 29th – Night

Trevor was back at the helm, guiding the boat slowly forward as he used the spotlight to probe ahead in the darkness. It was an eerie view outside, the black water lapping against the prow which broke into white luminescent waves. The shoreline on each side was gone, lost in the murk of night. I had already checked on Allison, who hadn't woken up yet. Sarah, her small face lined with worry, was watching the patient. But still, we were surviving.

The constant thrum of the engine stopped. Before I could say anything, Trevor reached over and cut the power to the spotlight. The glow of the low lights on the control panel was the only thing I could see.

"Tom, do you see that?" Trevor asked as he pointed toward the river ahead. His hand was nothing but a shadow pressed against the blank inkiness.

I went to stand by him. Peering into the darkness I thought I saw a faint orange glow against the horizon. A line of trees outlined this dim light. It was too early in the morning to be the sun and anyways the ship was almost facing due west.

"What's over in that direction?" I asked.

"That should be Cairo," Trevor replied. "We'll find out soon enough." He pushed the throttle forward and turned the spotlight back on. The boat began probing its way through the water. Every passing second the light grew brighter until it the branches of the surrounding trees on the shore shone with an orange glow. The light on the water reflected it back, creating a crazy kaleidoscope of hellish colors. It looked as if the world was on fire.

And it was. Or at least the corner of the earth once called Cairo, Illinois. Once we got close enough it was plain to see that the buildings crammed along the riverside were on fire. Tall columns of flame swept the sky with a brilliant symphony of red and orange. It was hard not to stare at the conflagration since it was horrible and beautiful at the same time. There was a rush of noise, the sound of the surrounding air being consumed by the fire, and the crackling of wood and the falling of brick. Even at this distance the coolness of autumn had been replaced by a dry, unrelenting heat. It was an inferno.

As the boat edged closer, Trevor pulled back on the throttle. We began to drift along with the slow speed of the water. Off to the right I could see the mighty Mississippi, the light of the fires bright enough that I could make out the edge of its farthest shore. I wondered what had happened here. This was no ordinary blaze.

My answer came from above. There was a howling rush and my eyes just caught the blinking light of a fast-moving jet moving over the city. Perhaps it was my imagination but I thought I saw a tumbling cylinder framed against the wall of flame. If a bomb was dropped it didn't seem to add much to the fire, which was already raging out of control. But this sight did snap us out of our horrified spell.

"We've got to get out of here," he said, eyes wide. His expression was set tight with fear.

"Do it!" I said with a voice rising in panic.

He hit the throttles wide open and aimed for where the two rivers met, staying to the right side of the shore where the light didn't reach as far.

My fear was that we had been spotted by the jet, who could easily radio in our position. Or perhaps the pilot would circle around and take a stab at us with some air-to-surface weapon. Either way I didn't want to hang around and find out.

After a few minutes of watching the burning city pass by, I went and grabbed the shotgun, which had been resting against the corner. I said, "I'm going to go check on Sarah and Allison. Keep the speed up and don't stop for anything."

"You've got it, captain," Trevor shot back with sarcasm. But there was also a half-hidden look of pleasure on his face. Perhaps, like any other sailor, he enjoyed wringing the most performance out of his boat, even as something as ponderous as this ship.

Running out of the pilot house, I headed toward the stairs. The shotgun bumped against my back as I went. My race to the steps was cut off by the hard thump of an approaching helicopter. This one was coming in fast, the sound of the rotors breaking the air with a chaotic clatter. I pulled the shotgun off of my back, and pointed the barrel toward the oncoming shape. It wasn't a Huey or even a Blackhawk. It took me a moment to register the name: Apache. This was an armored attack helicopter meant to take out tanks. We wouldn't have a chance to fight this thing off but I still couldn't surrender. We had come too far to be captured.

We were never even given the chance to surrender. There was an orange flash from the stubby wing. My mind said the word missile and then my world disappeared into a terrific crash of breaking glass and splintered wood. My ears were ringing. I felt a sense of weightlessness like I was flying in the air in slow-motion. The shotgun I had been carrying was no longer in my arms. I could see the boat from my temporary perch. It looked like a ship that had been made out of matchsticks and then stepped on by an angry giant. I flipped over and then hit the dark water with a hard splash that almost knocked me out. I went deep, losing my sense of direction in the inky blackness. After swallowing a mouthful of water my instinct took over and I began to swim.

After a few strokes – it seemed like hours of oxygen deprived agony – I broke the surface and gulped in some precious air as I took in the scene in front of me. The boat was now a good hundred feet away, still slowly moving along by momentum. The prow was already starting to settle into the water. What was left of the top deck was burning with little fires. I couldn't see Allison, Trevor, or Sarah. I began to swim, kicking hard and swinging my arms through the water. I had to rescue them. I stopped as I saw the Apache circling overhead. Had they seen me? I knew that helicopter was home to sensitive electronic equipment that would give the pilot or gunner the ability to see in the darkest of night. My own body heat would give me away. I decided to risk it, swimming underwater for several yards before coming up for air.

Looking up again, I saw the Apache speed off. But the receding of its blades gave way to a new sound. There was another helicopter. It was a Blackhawk. It swept over and then hovered above the sinking ship. And then I saw four figures in black rappel down the side and then stand on the broken and burning deck of the ship. From there they quickly broke off into pairs. Even though I had no weapon I began to swim harder, hoping to save my friends from being captured.

Fighting the ragged exhaustion that gripped my limbs, I swam a few minutes until my hand touch the side of the boat. The hull was low enough in the water that I could swing my body onto the lowest deck. It took all of my energy to clamber aboard. The floor here was covered with water and rising fast. Thanks to the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I managed to half-stumble to the closest door and let myself in. This was the casino area where Allison and Sarah should have been. They weren't here. The destruction of the explosion on the far side of the hull was evident by the broken slot machines, furniture, and litter strewn on the soaked carpeting. The far wall had a massive hole that was a chaotic jag of wood. Broken glass was on the floor.

The ship gave a shudder and an unnerving groan. With a heavy burble of water, it listed hard to one side. Water began to rush through the hole. Thrown off balance I lurched toward the stairs and grabbed the banister. Using some last remnant of strength I pulled myself up to the next floor. This was the dining area. The tables had been overturned and chairs had been thrown around like a bar fight had erupted. There wasn't anyone here either. From here the sound of the helicopter above was clearer than before. I kept on going upward.

The Blackhawk was here, just pulling away from the deck. I ran toward it, my fists clenched. No one saw me coming. Before I could get to the helicopter it was out of my reach. I screamed and shouted but my voice couldn't be heard over the sound of the rotors. I didn't know if Sarah or Allison or Trevor was on board. I felt helpless as I watched the receding lights of the helicopter disappear.

I had a sudden realization of cold. I was soaking wet on a sinking ship and I had to get to shore. But there was one more place I had to check. I scrambled over the wreckage to the pilot house. It had taken a lot of damage; the door was ripped from the hinges and the wood wall was torn with shrapnel. With shaking hands I pushed through the destruction. There was Trevor, slumped forward against the wheel. Even in the gloom I could tell he was dead. The large fragment of wood sticking out of his back only added to that conclusion. I still checked, feeling for a pulse on the neck. There was nothing there. The flesh was already turning cold.

Without looking at Trevor's face – the loss of another friend was too much to bear – I scrounged through the remnants of the pilot house as quickly as I could. There were a few snacks and a thermos of coffee. I put these in a plastic bag that had been used to hold trash, and added a thin coat that was hanging on the wall. Before I could look for anything more, the ship gave a violent lurch, and pitched hard to the starboard side. The top of the prow was now all the way underwater. It wouldn't be long before the whole boat went turtle , at best, or just went all the way down. I had to leave.

The old brain wasn't making all of the connections it should have. I blamed the shock and unreality of the moment. It took me a second to remember the rowboat stowed away at the stern. I ran outside and down the length of the deck. There was the row boat. It was still covered and appeared to be undamaged. I removed the cover, threw the bag in, and wrestled the boat over the side. It fell into the water with a splash and, thankfully, remained upright. I then lowered myself into the craft, grabbed the oars, and began rowing toward the shore, away from the boat and the burning city.
October 30th – Morning

The rowboat was pulled against the shore. I had found a small, deserted house. I had broken in and then stumbled into the living room to crash on the sofa. I was too tired to check for vampires. Instead I had fallen into a dreamless sleep. When I woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. The light was flooding through the closed drapes. I sat up, and rubbed my temples. My head hurt.

Once the pain behind my eyes lessened I could finally take in my surroundings. The living room I was sitting in was small and filled with furniture. The walls were cluttered with art, mostly prints and some that looked original but not-quite professional. Lying on the floor was a red oriental rug. I got up, wishing I hadn't, and limped into the kitchen. My joints and muscles hurt. I felt as if I had run a hundred miles while carrying the world over my shoulders.

The kitchen, with smelly dirty dishes stacked on the countertop, had windows that overlooked the river. The city of Cairo was still on fire, but the wall of flame was gone and replaced by trails of black smoke that rose high into the blue sky. I looked at this for a few moments. I thought about what happened last night.

The Apache helicopter attack was without warning which meant that the rest of the military had been alerted of our escape from Desmond. Whoever discovered us was has been ordered to shoot first. But the kidnapping of Allison and Sarah meant they were still rounding up civilians who were immune. When the Blackhawk left the boat, it was heading south, maybe towards New Orleans. But why? I had to go there to rescue my friends, and to find out why. But first I needed to eat, gather some supplies, and find a way to get where I wanted to go. It was time to get to work.

I started by searching the kitchen. There was nothing here. Moving over to the bedrooms, which were thankfully empty of the dead, I found the man who had lived here had a build that was close to mine. I dressed in a pair of blue jeans, some wool socks, a long sleeve shirt, and a plain gray sweater that had a few moth holes. A set of keys was on the nightstand. I returned to the living room, searched fruitlessly around there before going outside. The garage door opened easily enough. Along with the usual gardening tools there was an old Chevy truck here with soft tires. I got inside and searched through the keys until I found one that fit the ignition. The indicator lights came on. With a prayer I turned the key and, after a brief pause, the engine just caught before the battery died. According to the gauge the tank was at the quarter level. Nonetheless I left the truck idling to charge the battery while I left the garage and decided to search the house next door.

This required a short hike through the woods. The fallen leaves, which were a rainbow of colors, scrunched underneath my feet. A wave of loneliness hit me. I wondered if I would ever see Allison or Sarah again. Or would I be alone until the ends of my days, which would either be from starvation or being consumed by the vampires? It wasn't a pleasant thought but it clung to me, unshakeable. These dark thoughts only served to make me work harder. Even if all of the odds were against me, the army and a horde of vampire, it just meant that I had nothing to lose. Even if I did die in a rescue attempt it was still better than the alternatives.

This house was a much larger place: newer construction, overwrought Spanish styling that didn't fit the locale, and a massive garage. Whoever had lived here not only had money to spare but also a lack of taste. The lawn, that had been planted here to replace their part of the woods, was thick and overgrown. Little saplings, seeds fallen from the nearby trees, were already growing. It would only be a few years before the forest reclaimed this land.

The garage doors were open but there weren't vehicles here. Whoever lived here had left in a hurry. Maybe they had left something valuable behind. I went into the garage. Next to a riding lawnmower was a red plastic can of gasoline. It looked to be half-full. It wasn't much but it was a start. I left that there and tried the handle of the side door. It was locked but made of a flimsy enough wood that a few hard kicks took care of that. I went in. This was the kitchen. The cupboard doors were all open but there were a few cans still inside. I found a plastic bag and gathered my loot – pears, corn, chicken soup, and broth cubes. It wasn't much but it looked like a feast. There was also a still-sealed container of whey protein powder, chocolate flavored. Someone must have considered themselves a bodybuilder.

The living room consisted of a brown leather sofa, a bookcase, two lounge chairs, a massive television that took up most of the corner, and, to my surprise, a gun cabinet. I ran up to the dusty glass and found it was locked. But there was a shotgun inside. A hardcover book took care of the glass and I found myself in possession of a vintage Peabody double-barrel shotgun with ornate gold leaves embedded on the stock. It looked pretty and I'm sure it wasn't a piece that was used very often, but it could still kill. That's all that mattered. Inside the cabinet was a box that contained a handful of shells. And that's all. There wasn't a pistol, which was a disappointment but I was happy to be armed again. I loaded the shotgun, and then proceeded to search the rest of the house. I found nothing useful in the bedrooms, which were a mess of clothes lying on the floor. The basement, however, yielded up a sleeping bag among the other items stored away.

With my prizes, I walked back to the truck, which was still running. I dumped the gasoline from the can into the tank, stowed my gear on the passenger seat, and took off down the driveway. The truck seemed to be running pretty good; it was old enough that it just had a simple six-cylinder engine and not a lot of creature comforts. That was fine by me.

I drove a little north, found the highway onramp, and then, after a few miles, took a bridge over the Mississippi River. It was already getting late in the day. I must have slept in later than I thought. By the time the sun was setting, the low gasoline warning light had gone on. I pulled off on the nearest exit, drove into a gas station, and then over the curb and into the bushes behind the building. There I parked the truck, shut off the engine, and just listened. No one came out to see what I was doing there. I opened a can of peaches and ate the contents using my fingers. When I was done, I pulled out the sleeping bag and got inside. I was asleep within minutes, using the bench seat as my bed.

When I woke, it was early in the morning. I got out of the truck, stretched, and looked over my surroundings. I still felt as if I was in a daze, completely unable to grasp the reality of my situation. I knew that the further I stayed out here alone, the more likely my sanity would come into doubt. Like a man possessed, I had to rescue Allison and Sarah, or die trying. After eating a quick meal of uncooked chicken soup, I went to the gas station. There was no sign that anyone had recently been here but I still took no chances. I approached as close as I could get from the woods, shotgun at the ready. My precautions were for nothing. The interior, which had been thoroughly looted, was a mess. But I was able to find another empty gas can, a little hand pump to fill the tires, and a candy bar that had been stepped on. The package was still intact though. It would make a good lunch.

Using the same tactics that Sarah and I had used before, I found the keys to the main gas tanks. I opened them, and a few hours later, was able to fill the tank of the truck and even have enough to top off the two gas cans I had. That would be enough fuel to get me to New Orleans, provided the vampires didn't get me first.
October 30th – Afternoon

The rest of the day blurred into the task of driving. I went as fast as I could, but it seemed as if fate was slowing my trip at every turn. The highway was mostly clear, but around towns there was always the chance of car pileups. These weren't necessarily caused by accidents. Instead it looked as if people had just decided to park their cars on the highway and camp out. Maybe they had run out of gasoline, or perhaps, towards the end as the disease had spread everywhere, people had just given up. Driving around these obstacles took time. I would often have to backtrack to the previous highway exit, take the side road through the city and then back on to the highway.

These detours led to an interesting discovery. The towns I saw were all burned out, as if someone had come along and purposefully set all of the buildings on fire. I remembered my own suburb, and then the town of Cairo. The military had done that. Were they systematically reducing the places that the vampires could hide? It seemed like a fool's errand since there wasn't enough gasoline or napalm left in the world to do the job.

I passed the Louisiana state border late in the afternoon. Even though it had been less than two days, I still felt as if I had been alone forever. I missed Allison and her dark, mysterious eyes; I also missed Sarah and her constant chatting. Instead I only had myself, the sound of tires against gravel, and the rushing of the fan that tried to keep the cabin cool. It was hot down here and the trees along the side of the road were lush with leaves and dark Spanish moss. The untrimmed highway felt like a tunnel of green as the sun cast long shadows across the pavement. It felt like a dreamland, one that I had a hard time staying awake in.

This state of mind didn't help. Once I saw a fluttering plastic bag stuck on a tree branch and thought it was a person waving at me. Only when I drew closer did I realize what it was. And one time I saw a small town storefront, which had somehow managed to survive a fire, with a mannequin inside. But I would swear upon my honor that it was a finely dressed woman with dark hair that reminded me too much of Allison. I had to slow the truck down to do a double-take. And then chastised my imagination for running wild. I sped off in disgust.

By the time the sun began to set I was tired beyond belief, but instead of pulling over for the night, I continued to drive. I was so close now, and the last highway sign that I saw indicated I was only twenty-two miles away from New Orleans. I was getting close but I still had no idea exactly where this military base was. I was hoping I would see a helicopter overhead to guide me, but there was nothing up above but the stars. I drove on.

I saw my first vampire. It was a man in a grimy work jacket and blue jeans. He was crossing the highway, heading west. I had to swerve the truck to miss him. He gave chase but disappeared quickly in the gloom. A minute later I saw another one, this time it was a woman wearing nothing but the remnant of a tattered night gown. She was also headed west and only stopped heading that direction to fruitlessly try and catch me. I had an idea. I drove a mile ahead before gently pulling off, pointing the nose of the truck straight down into the ditch. The truck went up and over, crashed through the wire fence, and ended up in a marshy field. Keeping the gas pedal down, the back tires slipped and slid through the weedy mud. Driving past a cypress tree with low branches, I shut off the lights and stopped. I killed the engine.

Sliding sideways on the bench, I opened the door and let myself out. I then gently closed the door and headed west with the shotgun tucked under my arm. I remembered how the vampires gathered around the fence of Desmond. Maybe they were doing the same here with the base. That would explain why the military was trying to burn the vampires out – to relieve the nightly onslaught against their own defenses. In my tired state of mind it made some sort of sense.

The wilderness here seemed to be working against me. I splashed and slid along as unseen branches whipped against my face. After struggling up an embankment, I came to a road. It wasn't much of a road – a peppering of crunching gravel over a dirt rut, but it was roughly heading in the direction that I wanted to go. Aware that I was heading in the same direction as the vampires, I went cautiously, staying close to the embankment. It was only a few minutes before my paranoia paid off. I heard someone approaching; crashing through the underbrush.

I ducked down and stepped gently into the trees to hide myself. Through the branches I could just make out a figure stepping onto the road, and then, like a hunting dog following a scent, plunge back into the forest. I was about to break cover when I heard something else coming through the woods close behind me. I stopped, crouching closer to the ground. The shotgun was up, ready to fire. A twig snapped. Through a branch I could see someone. They had hair hanging long and unkempt. I held my breath, praying the creature would continue on. It did. Like its companion, it was heading mindlessly west. I had to find out where.

Counting to a hundred, I waited. From there I crept slowly through the underbrush, trying to head in the same direction that the vampires were going. Without any light to guide me, it was hard to not get lost. I slipped and stumbled along, swore as quietly as I could, and prayed that I wouldn't walk into a whole group of the creatures. It was only minutes but it seemed like hours when I came to an opening in the trees. I stopped there and crouched down low to crawl on my knees. Under the safety of a large bush I parted the long grass and found myself looking downhill onto a wide field. It was crammed with vampires. There must have been thousands of them down there. A paved road, with unlit lampposts edged along the side, led to a tall chain link fence. On top of the fence were lit spotlights that moved across the mass of the foul creatures. Behind this barrier I could see an army base: rows of buildings, landing pads with helicopters, a half-dozen tanks and Hummers, along with a tall communication tower that blinked with a red light.

As I watched a shot of flame came from behind the fence. It was a flamethrower. The liquid fire fanned across the nearest creatures. A machine gun opened up with a staccato burst, tracers showing the deadly path of lead as it swept through the crowd. But the vampires didn't seem to care if they were being consumed by flame or chopped down. Soon the flamethrower and machine gun stopped, replaced by several intermittent flashes of separate small arms fire. A curious whump noise made me hold my breath. Something exploded in the throng of vampires, sending bodies and body parts flying through the air. Mortars? A few more rounds struck, the explosions making the earth beneath my feet tremble.

In a few minutes, it was all over for the vampires here but their numbers were quickly replenished by a steady stream of arriving replacements. When this next group was large enough, and pressing heavily against the fence, the fireworks started all over again. The mounting dead littered the ground, making high mounds of corpses.

I decided it was time to scout the base out. There had to be some way in, perhaps a break in the fence that I could use early in the day once the vampires had left. I went off to the left, staying under the cover of the woods. The sound of the explosions and gunfire covered whatever noise I made pushing through the thick underbrush. But it also stopped me from detecting if anyone - or anything - was ahead. My luck ran out in only a few minutes.

I stumbled into a small clearing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure moving my way. It was close. I turned with the shotgun ready to fire, but I was too slow. A blow struck me on the side of the head. I brought my arms up to fight off my attacker. He was quick. Another solid punch brought me down. The world spun into complete darkness.
October 31st – Morning

My head ached to such a degree that I feared opening my eyes. When I did, it wasn't as bad as I expected but the motion still hurt. I found myself in a small room – more like a closet – lying face up on a concrete floor. The walls were painted an army green that was covered with scratches. I wasn't the first person who had been here. A single door was the only way out. A bare bulb hanging from a wire connected to the ceiling was on. The light shone with a piercing light that seemed to strike into my eyes to the back of my skull like a dagger. It took me a few moments to collect my thoughts and remember what happened. With a loud grunt I managed to push myself up into a sitting position.

I found that my clothes were missing, replaced with army pants and t-shirt. There was a smell of disinfectant on my skin. The boots I had been wearing were also gone, leaving me with bare feet. Leaning against the wall I took some deep breaths. Rubbing my temples a few times and the pain began subside to the point where I could think clearly again. But there wasn't much time for thinking because I heard the tramp of measured feet coming.

I braced myself against the back wall, ready to launch myself at whoever opened the door. However any thought toward escape was gone once I saw the four armed men through the open door. They were soldiers and they weren't wearing breathing masks, just the normal combat gear you would expect. Behind them was a row of windows, showing a sunny sky and a view of some parked trucks. I noticed the windows had been sealed shut with a thick film of plastic.

"Move it," one of the soldiers said, waving his gun at me.

"Where am I?" I asked, only partially feigning my confusion.

"We ask the questions here," was the menacing reply.

I didn't say anything in return. I was alive, and they apparently had no reason to kill me yet, so why give them one? Instead I walked meekly out of my holding cell and soon found myself in the middle of this soldierly procession. We marched down the hall, made a turn, entered singly through a sealable airlock and into a plastic tunnel that snaked outside, and then through an intersection, and then into another building. We stopped at another airlock and once again went through one at a time. I concluded this was their way of getting safely from building to building without being exposed to the outside air. Each building was also sealed off from one another in case there was a leak somewhere in the system.

A door was opened. I was marched to a conference room, led to a chair that I sat in, and then the soldiers left. Taking in my surroundings, I saw I was sitting at a long table made out of mahogany, or something close enough to fool the eye. The chairs were black leather over a stainless steel frame. A set of plastic encased windows gave me a view of a helicopter sitting on a landing pad. My eyes searched the rest of the room, looking for some kind of weapon I could use. There was nothing but a whiteboard with no markers, thin gray carpeting, and the other chairs. I momentarily froze when I saw the security camera mounted high in the corner. I was being watched.

My feet moved restlessly against the carpet. I wondered if I should make a run for it. Once I was clear of the protective plastic, it would take the soldiers time to kit up and pursue. But it was a long way to run to get to that tree line. I would be cut down by gunfire before I made it. My thoughts in that direction stopped when my foot struck something round, thin and long on the floor. I didn't dare look since the camera was watching. Instead I probed with my bare feet. It was a pen or pencil that had been lodged close to the table leg, apparently out of sight. I couldn't grab it, not while I was being watched. Instead I had to create some kind of diversion.

Pushing the chair back, I stood up and slammed by hands against the table. I shouted shout, "Are you going to leave me here all day? I want to talk to someone!"

I glowered at the camera, and went to sit back down. Purposefully missing the edge of the chair, I fell on my rear. Getting on my hands and knees, I grabbed the pen and tucked it into my front pocket. And then I stood, grabbed the chair, and sat with as much dignity as I could muster. I'm sure it was a rotten performance by any acting measure but hopefully it was good enough to fool whoever was watching.

I didn't have to wait long for someone to arrive. The door opened. In walked a tall man with black hair that was speckled heavily with gray. He was wearing a field uniform in desert camouflage which looked terribly out of place here in the swamps of Louisiana. A pistol was strapped to his waist. Without any words, he sat down across from me and began to study me like a germ under a microscope. I saw a lined face with light blue eyes, bushy gray eyebrows, a long nose, and thin lips that were set in a half-smile.

"Hello, Tom," he finally said. "I'm Colonel Sherwood. I run this place."

"How do you know my name?"

He gave a thin-lipped smile. "That's easy enough to answer since I've already questioned your two companions. Who would have thought that a geology teacher could be so resourceful? You know that you've caused us a whole bunch of trouble."

"I never asked for trouble. Why don't you just let me go?"

The colonel let out an exasperated laugh. "That's not going to happen, Tom. You're trying to get your people back – that little girl Sarah and your girlfriend Allison. But you don't have to worry since they are in safe hands. Allison, you will be happy to hear, is conscious again thanks to the medical treatment she received. Those infected creatures out there are teeming with disease. Several of my men have had to deal with bites and scratches. Lucky for you we had the expertise to heal her."

I felt a sense of relief know that Allison and Sarah were still alive. But I also felt angry. "You mean those infected creatures that you created?" I shot back nastily.

A dark cloud passed over the colonel's face. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Those meteorites. You knew they were coming. You knew they carried the virus. You could only know that if you had created the disease in the first place."

Those pale blue eyes flickered momentarily signifying a brief loss of control. But the smooth voice didn't betray any doubt. "I don't know where you got that information, Tom, but it's all wrong. Who could do that? It's insane. I don't know where this plague started, but I am trying to find a cure. I'm trying to save people's lives. You can be part of it if only you could help me."

"Why would I help you?" I asked in disbelief. "I saw that army of yours cutting down civilians with machine guns. That's how you are saving lives?"

He shrugged. That low reassuring voice of his was beginning to grate on my nerves. "You've killed to survive, haven't you? You've killed quite a few of my soldiers."

"I had to."

"I also have to do bad things to save the entire human race. You and I are not that different. Now I don't want to hurt anyone but the needs of all of us outweigh the loss of a few lives. Those of you who are immune need to be tested to find out why. Maybe there is a cure, some way to make a vaccine. My soldiers need that vaccine so they can live. But we'll never find the solution without test subjects."

I shook my head. "Willing or not?"

"Willing or not," he replied blandly.

"And just how many of these test subjects had to die?" I angrily spat out.

"A few, but I never wanted them to die. It's for the greater good. If you understand that then your time here will be easier."

My anger began to rise. "And Allison and Sarah? Are they going to be test subjects too?"

"Of course, my dear man. And so are you. You are full of questions, aren't you?"

Since he was so obliging I returned to another question. "You said that you didn't know anything about this virus." I pointed to the plastic over the windows. "If that is true then how did this place end up being so prepared for it? I mean you have biohazard suits for all of your soldiers, the necessary equipment to do the testing, and even an oxygen filter and supply for an entire camp. That goes beyond being just well-prepared."

Once again those blue eyes briefly flashed with anger. "You're a little too smart for your own good." The colonel let out a sigh. "If you want to know the truth, this facility has always been making specialized weapons. Much of what we had was already in stock before this unfortunate accident happened."

"Accident? Don't play me for the fool."

Again a bland expression, the colonel said, "I will tell you the truth. It's no secret. Maybe you will be more cooperative if you understand. It was this facility that originally designed the virus." He waved one hand to the side as if indicating it was of no consequence.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I choked out, "The meteorites. I saw them come down with my own eyes. What kind of accident was that?"

Sherwood continued, talking slow and easy. "Many years ago this facility was tasked by Washington to design a weapon that could be delivered anywhere on the globe. This weapon was meant to destroy an entire country, but still leave the infrastructure intact. One could think of it as an improved neutron bomb without all the radioactive mess. We turned to one of the oldest methods of killing - like handing out blankets with smallpox – a biological weapon. A new microbe was constructed by modifying a flu virus using gene splicing. A method was found to encapsulate and protect the virus, allowing it live in suspended animation in outer space. Hundreds of such modules were placed, ready for use, on an orbiting satellite. If you wanted to kill a country, while keeping your own hands clean, it was a simple matter of pressing a button and dropping the payload."

"You're a monster," I managed to say through the bile of hate I felt rising in my throat. "Why did you do release the payload on all of us?"

"I didn't. There was an accident with a Russian satellite. The collision caused the modules to be released. There was nothing that could be done."

"But surely you must have had an antidote. I mean you wouldn't put something so deadly up there without a cure."

Sherwood made a face. "The lab boys here made one mistake. The radiation, or maybe it was the cosmic rays, caused the virus on the satellite to mutate. The inoculation we created, the one that would have been given to our soldiers and civilians, no longer offered any protection. That's why we need survivors like you to help us. It is the immune people like you that will give us the cure."

"Damn your cure! You killed my wife!"

I leapt to my feet, causing the chair I had been sitting on to fall to the ground in a crash. Lunging forward I reached over the table and grabbed Sherwood by the neck and began to squeeze. My reaction must have been expected since there was a hammering of footsteps as men burst into the room. They grappled with me, trying to break my arms free from the colonel's throat. I continued to squeeze even as a fist smashed against the side of my head. A few more blows and I collapsed to the floor, the world turning bright white and then fading away.
October 31st – Afternoon

My body felt as if it had been used as a punching bag. Someone was shaking my left shoulder and speaking some words that I couldn't make out. Their voice seemed like a hundred miles away, as did my consciousness. Against my better judgment I tried to force myself awake. Death seemed like a better option. In a few centuries I flicked my eyes open to find that Sarah was right in my face.

"He's awake!" she shouted with excitement. Her voice only made my headache worse.

Her face was replaced by Allison, who looked like an angel fallen from the heavens above. I wondered if there was something wrong with my head. Or maybe it really was love.

"Tom," she said in a gentle whisper as she cupped my face in her warm hands. "I thought you were dead. I'm so happy to see you." She kissed me.

I could see tears glisten in her beautiful eyes. "Good to see you," I managed to foolishly say. That was enough effort for me. I had to blink a few times before I could speak again. "Where are we?"

"The prison barracks. Two soldiers dragged you here about an hour ago and threw you on a bed. You are a mess, all blood and bruises. I cleaned off what gore I could."

"How did you get here? I mean bring me up to speed."

"Sarah can answer that better than me. I woke up in their hospital connected to a bunch of tubes. After a day of that they let me in here with Sarah and the rest of the prisoners. I'm still a little woozy but feeling better than before."

"Good. I don't plan to stay here for very long. We'll need you to be strong for what I have in mind. Now help me sit up."

With their assistance I managed to sit upright, my body resting on a pillow leaning against the bunk bed frame. Now I could see the rest of the room. We were inside a long room with a dozen bunk beds lined up against the wall. Like the other buildings the windows were covered with a thick film of plastic. We weren't alone. A handful of people – dressed like us - were sitting on cots. They were mostly old, and with a weary look of someone who had given up. I didn't pay them much more attention since they couldn't be counted on for the fight I had in mind. But some of them, if they were lucky, could make their escape.

"What are we going to do?" Allison asked.

"Do you have any sharp objects?" I asked in a whisper.

Sarah, who was leaning close, said, "They don't allow such things." She motioned toward the windows. "They're afraid we're going to break the seal if we try to escape. After meals we are searched before we return to the barracks."

"That isn't good," I said thinking how hard it would be to break out of here with the pen in my front pocket. A knife would be much better to cut through the thick plastic that kept us enclosed.

Sarah motioned her head toward the corner of the room. "And they watch us too."

I glanced in that direction and saw a security camera. It had a light that was blinking red, a visual reminder that this area was under surveillance.

"Are there any microphones?" I asked, feeling I had already said too much.

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know."

"There could be microphones," Allison added, "but I've never seen any evidence of them. I think if the soldiers were recording us, they would have used that information against us already."

"Meaning what?" I asked.

"Sarah and I have been planning to escape ourselves. We've been talking rather freely about it, even trying to get some of our fellow inmates to join us in the attempt. They don't seem too interested. Maybe they feel safe here." She shot a disgusted look at the other prisoners. "But there hasn't been a change in the way the soldiers have been running security."

I nodded. "I'll go with it for now. We're at the point where there is nothing to lose. Tell me of the regular routine here."

Sarah took up the narrative. "They have some scientists. I counted three of them in white coats. They draw a lot of blood from us." She rubbed her inner elbow and made a face. "That happens in the morning. After that we have breakfast. Sometimes they pull a single person out of the room, but mostly they leave us alone until lunch and dinner. Other than that we spend our time cooped up in the barracks."

"What time is it now?" I asked.

"Just after four," Allison said, looking over her shoulder, apparently at a clock that I couldn't see from my position.

"And what time do they serve dinner?"

"We are moved in to the cafeteria at six. We have a half-hour to eat."

I nodded. "And it gets dark by then. Which means the vampires will be coming out just as you return to the barracks. We'll make our escape attempt then since that's when the soldiers are at their busiest."

Allison gave me a thoughtful look and a brief pause before speaking. "Don't we have a duty to stay here?"

"A duty?"

She replied uncertainly, her words slow as if picking her way through a logical minefield. "Sarah and I were talking about escaping but I've given it some further thought. The people here are looking for a cure. If we can help them then aren't we helping humanity? This may be our only chance to stop the virus."

"Did you talk to that Colonel Sherwood?" I asked.

"Yes."

"So did I," Sarah chimed in. "He interviews all of the new prisoners."

I rubbed the side of my head, remembering what that man had said to me. "Did he tell you where the virus came from?"

"No," the both of them said in unison.

"Well he was in a mighty talkative mood when he debriefed me. Sherwood told me that this very facility was the place that the virus originated. It wasn't meteorites or some alien agent that caused the vampires, it was us!" My volume of my voice was rising with every syllable, causing the other prisoners to look my way.

"Why would he tell you this?" Allison asked, looking shocked by this new information.

Shaking my head, I replied. "I don't know. Maybe the guilt is eating him up inside. Or else he's getting scared that a cure will never be found. This virus was meant for warfare but an accident caused the payload to crash onto earth, spreading the pathogen far and wide. The vaccination that was meant to protect our side didn't work so they are stuck using us as test animals. Sherwood told me that radiation up in space may have mutated the virus. They may never find a cure."

"We don't know that," Allison said. "And at least here we are safe from the vampires."

"For now," I said.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

"Their ammunition isn't going to last forever. Last night I saw thousands of vampires trying to get in. It's only a matter of time before those creatures succeed. This place is not as safe as it looks. Will you two come with me tonight?"

"Of course," Sarah said excitedly.

"I don't know," Allison said uncertainly. She couldn't meet my eyes. Instead she looked toward the windows, her expression filled with doubt.
October 31st – Evening

As dinner drew closer I tried to convince Allison to come with me. She didn't agree nor did she disagree. Instead she promised to think about it. That left me in a quandary. I knew that I couldn't live without her, but staying here to be used as a human lab rat was not an option either. Maybe she felt safe behind the protection of the army, or maybe she really did believe they would find a cure. I knew it wouldn't matter either way because the vampires could overrun this camp in a matter of days. A cure, even if it saved the lives of the remaining soldiers here, still wouldn't stop the hordes outside. Our only solution was to flee. Perhaps we could find safety somewhere on an island, or maybe there was a place untouched by these living dead. I didn't know, but it was better than staying here to await our fate.

When dinner came, a group of four soldiers entered the barracks. They weren't wearing protective gear but were carrying assault rifles. Without prompting, the prisoners dutifully lined up near the door. I didn't want to make any trouble so I got in line behind Allison and Sarah. Once everything was organized to our captors' satisfaction, the group marched out through doors and into the airlock. One by one we went through. Through the plastic tunnels we went with two of the soldiers at the head and two at the back.

The dining area looked much like our barracks except the beds had been replaced by long plastic tables. Surrounding the tables were the sort of chairs you would find at a school. On top were paper plates and cups, and a plastic spoon. I followed Allison. She motioned for me to sit between her and Sarah. I did, watching as the other prisoners found their little favored groups to eat with.

Once everyone was seated, an unhappy looking man with a dirty apron pushed out a cart from an adjoining room. Steam came out from the large pots on top. He went from table to table, ladling out some mashed potatoes, gravy, and a thin looking slice of beef. When the meat hit my plate I could tell it was Salisbury steak. Another man came out and began filling our cups with orange drink. It was five star service here at Club Zeta.

As I ate the salty sustenance, I carefully watched our guards. They looked bored but more than a few glances were shot my way. That made sense since I was new to the routine and a known troublemaker.

There was no talking. When I went to say something to Allison, she shook her head and put a forefinger to her lips, indicating that I should remain quiet.

When our thirty minutes was up, the guards began to bark out orders. We were forced back into a line and searched one by one. I had already hidden the ballpoint pen inside the mattress I had been laying on so there was nothing for them to find. When they were satisfied we marched back to the barracks. As we went through the tunnels located outside, I could see the setting sun framed against the horizon. It wouldn't be long before the vampires came.

Once the prisoners were returned to the barracks, the guards retreated to leave us on their own. I looked up at the camera and momentarily watched the blinking red light. I would have to wait. Instead of worrying, I spent my time talking to Sarah and Allison. I gave it all, smiling and laughing. I wanted to give the guards no reason to suspect that we were about to escape.

It was a half-hour later when the first gunfire on the perimeter began. The overhead lights immediately went off. I could see that the security camera was still on but it wouldn't be able to see much in the darkness. I pulled the pen out of the mattress, motioned for Sarah and Allison to stay behind, and went to the window. Through the plastic film I could see the spotlights shining above the nearby buildings.

Taking the pen, I pushed a hole through the plastic. The material was even heavier than it looked. Once the pen had gone all the way through, there was an audible sound of air hissing through the puncture. An alarm went off somewhere nearby. It would only be a matter of time before the guards came storming in. I pulled the pen out and stuck my forefinger into the hole. Once I opened the aperture wide enough, I slid my entire hand inside and began to pull. It took a lot of strength but within a few moments I had opening large enough that I could slide through. There was a window here that I quickly broke by using a nearby bedsheet to protect my hand from the broken glass.

"Come on!" I shouted at Sarah and Allison.

Sarah ran over and I helped her through the opening. She landed on the ground and took off to hide in the shadow of a nearby building,

When I turned to help Allison, I saw that she hadn't moved.

"You're not staying, are you?" I asked.

"Just go," she said through pursed lips.

"You can't stay here. I won't let you."

She ran over and hugged me tightly. When I reached my hand to tilt her chin I felt tears on my skin. I kissed her on the forehead.

I said. "I didn't come all this way to rescue you for nothing. This is not the time to start arguing."

"I already told you my reasons. If there is any hope of saving the human race I'm going to help. Even if it means staying here."

My angry retort was cut off by the sound of the door opening. It was a soldier coming in to check the broken plastic seal. In the gloom I could make out a biohazard suit. A flashlight flicked on and began to play along the walls.

"We have to go now!" I said through gritted teeth.

Allison broke from our embrace and took a step back. She said, "I'll look for you once the cure is found." And then she turned away.

Before I could say anything the light flashed across me.

"Stop right there!" the voice in the suit commanded.

With a twist, I bounded toward the hole and jumped right through it. A shot rang out and struck the window frame. I rolled on the ground and began to run in the same direction that I had seen Sarah go. I felt a sorrow well up inside of me.

"I'm over here!" Sarah breathed out.

I almost bowled her over as I skidded to a stop on the wet grass.

"Where is Allison?" she asked with worry. The expression of her face was unreadable in the darkness.

A loud explosive boom from the perimeter fence momentarily broke off my reply. Once I was able to be heard, I said, "She decided to stay. It's only you and me. Let' go!"

My answer seemed to satisfy her.

Together we ran toward the fence, staying in the shadows as much as possible. I really didn't have any plan in mind other than to find a way through the perimeter. From there we could go back to the truck, and then I could think of way to get Allison back. I could hear Sarah breathing hard when I put my hand on her shoulder. We were too near to the fence to move any closer, and I felt my heart drop in my stomach for what I saw ahead.

From our position it looked as if the entire base was surrounded by a thick mass of zombies, all pushing against the fence. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands of the foul creatures. It was way more crowded than even the night before. There was no way we could sneak past that mass without being torn apart. I had to think of another way through.

It was obvious that the soldiers were being overwhelmed. The lead and flame they poured into the crowd hardly made a dent. Instead the vampires continued to surge forward, causing the chain link fence to bend from the combined weight. It wouldn't be long before the creatures got through. The sound of a massive explosion ripped through the air. It shook the ground. From my position I could see a ball of flame erupting in the middle of the vampires. It didn't seem to matter since they did not care about death. Their numbers were too many even against the massive firepower of this army remnant.

In the shadows I saw Sarah look up at me. She looked scared.

"It'll be okay," I said, more to convince myself since I was feeling the same.

Coming from behind us I heard the sound a helicopter engine starting.

"This way!" I shouted, taking Sarah's hand.

We took off running toward the sound of the whirling blades. Turning a corner we came to a Blackhawk on a pad, about to take off. Sitting in the door was a gunner, who was too busy with the pre-flight checks to see us. Instead of taking that chance I steered Sarah in another direction, still hoping to get on that helicopter. We backtracked and ran down another corridor between buildings. A soldier in biohazard gear stepped out of a doorway, right into my path.

I bowled the man over as he fumbled to bring up his rifle. Together we fell on the ground in a heap. He was young and well-fed. He reacted quickly, let go of his rifle, and grabbed a knife from his belt. The blade glinted wickedly in light. I tried to punch him in the jaw but it was a feeble hit and only glanced off of his respirator. The blade sliced toward me. I managed to hold on his arm, stopping myself from being cut open on the cheek. But he was a strong fellow. The knife inched closer to my face. I used everything I had to stop him but it wasn't going to be enough.

I had forgotten about Sarah. She wasn't just standing by watching this fight. I saw her hands reach down, grab the soldier's respirator and tear it away from his face. He dropped the knife and instead of trying to kill me, struggled to get the mask back on. He tried not to breathe but it was too late. He let out a gasp. He was a dead man walking. I punched him in the face, this time solidly connecting with his nose. He let out a scream and began to sob.

Scrambling up, I placed a knee on his back and began to search him. He struggled to get up, already in a full panic. I quickly found a set of keys and a Beretta pistol. I then let him go. He ran away screaming.

Examining the keys, I saw they were marked with a number and had the shape of fitting into a car ignition. I pocketed them and then grabbed the rifle. I handed the Beretta to Sarah, who was sitting on the ground. She looked shocked by what she had done.

"We have to go. Come on!"

The sound of the nearby helicopter grew louder as the rotors whined away. And then it took off, flying directly over us before heading up. The door gunner got busy, spraying the stream of bullets into the vampires below.

With that avenue of escape closed, I headed toward where I had seen the parked Hummers. Sarah followed behind, running more on instinct than anything else. Maybe I was too. We passed a few buildings, this time staying out in the open. I was more worried about haste than staying hidden. I had a bad feeling that things were getting out of control. It wouldn't be long before that fence collapsed. When that happened, the base would be overrun. Sarah and I had to find somewhere safe before that happened.

There were a line of trucks and other vehicles ahead. We went down the line until I found the one with markings that matched those on the keychain. It was a beefy Hummer with a machine gun mounted on top of a turret. I tried the driver's side door. It was unlocked. I motioned for Sarah to get inside. Once I was behind the wheel, I closed the door and jammed the key into the ignition. It only took one turn for the diesel engine to start. There was a quarter tank left. I gave the engine a few light revs before putting it into gear.

"Where are we going?" Sarah breathlessly asked.

"Back to get Allison," I said.

I gave the gas pedal a jab and the lumbering beast jumped forward. I headed toward the barracks.

October 31st – Night

A few turns later and I was driving along the edge of the fence. Machine gun tracers and flares lit the way. Outside the vampires continued to mass, pushing the fence further and further into the camp. I could see soldiers emptying whole clips from their rifles, while others were working flamethrowers. The effect was like trying to bail out a river with a thimble. No one paid us any attention as we drove through the chaos.

Sarah's eyes were wide open as she took in the sights. She was gripping the pistol like a talisman.

I wasn't very familiar with the area and let out a sigh of relief when I saw the barracks ahead. But my elation was cut short by the fence to my left. Ahead I could see it straining. A soldier was on his knees, firing his M4 rifle into the creatures. He was all alone, one man against many. Even over the clatter of the diesel engines I could hear a grating noise as the posts gave away. I tapped on the brakes. The fence collapsed on top of the soldier and the flood of vampires came rushing in. Cranking the steering wheel I missed the first group, but the next were right in front of the windshield.

The Hummer bucked and kicked as we hit and then rolled over the vampires. Sarah let out a scream. The big tires kept on going. Soon we were surrounded but I didn't let up on the gas. I was driving blind now, trying to keep the vehicle going straight.

"Look out!" Sarah shouted.

We had broken free of the first wave of vampires. In front of us was a wooden wall. There was no time to brake. Instead I pushed the gas pedal even harder. We hit. There was a crash of metal on splintering wood. We had hit the edge of the barracks, burying the nose of the Hummer right into the wall of the building.

"Take the wheel," I said to Sarah, who was busy picking herself up from the floor. "You'll have to drive us out of here."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I've got to find Allison. Keep the doors locked unless you see me coming back."

Sliding into the backseat, I saw the turret opening. I went through and found myself standing in front of a heavy machine gun. I didn't know the model but the belt had some shells that were longer than my fingers. Looking past this, I could see that the Hummer had punched a large hole into the barracks. Behind us there was the sound of continued gunfire, and the strange hunting sound of the vampire. I didn't have much time.

With rifle in hand I slid down the back of the Hummer. From this new position I could see a carpet-like mass of bodies coming our way. They were closing in fast. Running down the side of the Hummer, I came to the bumper, which was dented. I was able to crawl into the opening it had created. I found myself inside the barracks. There was Allison, who was standing apart from the other prisoners, who were huddled together like frightened children.

"The vampires have broken through the fence," I told her. "You have to come with me now."

She only hesitated a moment before joining me.

"Is anyone else coming?" I asked.

None of the remaining prisoners moved. I didn't have time to convince them. Instead I pulled Allison through the hole and we went outside. Sarah was waving frantically at us. I opened the passenger door – it was unlocked now - and pushed Allison inside. She was too shocked to resist. I shut the door.

I had run out of time. A vampire grabbed my arm. I pushed the thing away, where it collided into a much larger group of them. I had to make it inside the Hummer or else I would die. I brought the assault rifle up and began to fire, all the while inching forward. The bullets punched through the creatures, leaving a torn flesh and black blood. There was a click as the hammer hit empty air. The clip was empty.

Throwing the gun at the mass of vampires, who were clambering over their fallen comrades, I grabbed the rear door handle and opened it. I leapt inside. One of the creatures grabbed my leg and bit. It was inside the Hummer with me.

"Go!" I shouted over the pain.

Sarah was ready. With the open door swinging wildly, the Hummer began going backwards. There was a sickening noise as the rear bumper hit the oncoming mass. This sound was in the background of my consciousness since I had other things to worry about. The vampire on my leg wasn't letting go. Instead it began to crawl further up my body, using its fingernails to dig into my flesh. It was going to tear into me, and the finish off my friends unless I did something fast.

"Give me the gun! The gun!" I shouted as I kicked and punched at the creature.

The Hummer came to a sudden stop that made me roll on the seat. Allison was holding the Beretta I had given Sarah. There was a deafening report when it went off. The vampire on top of me was hit in the head, sending a spray of dark liquid on the ceiling of the vehicle. I was able to sit up and kick the dead thing out of the door. After I had disposed of the corpse, I shut the door.

"Just go!" I told Sarah.

"Are you okay?" she asked, shooting a glance toward me.

Through the windshield I could see the swarm of vampires coming our way. We were going to be overwhelmed unless we could get through.

"Don't mind me. Just drive and keep going until we are over the fallen fence. And then head toward the woods. Keep going until we can't go anymore."

She gave me a wicked grin and then returned her attention to the task at hand. With both hands on the wheel, Sarah pushed the gas pedal down. Allison was buckling herself in. We were in for a wild ride.

Ignoring the pain that beat against the flesh of my calf, I stood up through the turret. I grabbed the double handles of the machine gun and began to fire, adjusting my aim as the lead cut a path through the press of flesh. The Hummer jerked and groaned as we rolled over the dead and dying. Vampires hammered against the side of the vehicle, but it was to no avail. As long as we could keep going, we were safe.
South Carolina – May 22nd

From his position on top of the lighthouse, Tom Jacobs scanned the shore across the span of water. There was nothing to see but tangled scrub and the palmetto trees. The bridge leading to Hunting Island had been dynamited by his own hands, leaving the expanse impassible. He hadn't seen a vampire on the island since. And he hadn't seen a vampire on the mainland shore for the past month. He wondered where they had gone.

"Are you still playing guard?" a voice called from below.

"I'm up here," he answered back.

Allison came slowly up the stairs. She looked winded. Her pregnant stomach was showing through the blue overalls she was wearing. A handkerchief kept her long black hair under control. She looked beautiful.

"You shouldn't climb those stairs," Tom said with concern as he ran over to help her.

Allison sat down on the chair that Tom had just vacated. She patted her belly. "I still have a few more weeks, dear. Anyways the exercise will do me some good." She looked across the blue water. "Living in paradise is making me fat and lazy."

"Where is Sarah?"

Allison pointed down. From his standing position Tom could just make out a girlish figure playing along the shoreline.

"She brought the pistol?" Tom asked.

"Of course."

"Good. I had the idea of rowing across and then taking the truck over to Beaufort. We are going to need some supplies, including a crib and hundreds of diapers. I want you and Sarah to stay hidden in the cabin while I am gone."

She shook her head. "You worry too much. There's no one here, Tom. We're safe."

"I know. Now let me help you down. I'll feel better if you hold my hand."

After he had seen Allison safely to the park ranger station they had taken over as a house, Tom went to the beach. The shotgun hung from his shoulder. He saw Sarah playing in the waves. She gave him a friendly wave. Once she saw him pull out the rowboat from its hiding spot underneath a pile of palmetto leaves, she ran over to help.

"Going into town?" Sarah asked as they hauled the boat to the shore. She was tanned brown and her hair had turned a white blonde from all of the sun.

"Yes. Do you need anything?"

"Candy. And some books."

"Your teeth are going to rot and your brain is going to turn to mush reading all that teen fiction. Haven't you had enough of real vampires? Why do you have to read about fake ones?"

She stuck out her tongue. "Just get me the next book in the series, okay? If you can find it."

"Okay."

Tom rowed out on the water. Sarah watched his progress from the island shore. When he got to the other side, he hid the boat underneath a bush. From there he walked another mile, taking his time. There was the truck, parked underneath a moss-covered tree. He got inside, made a small prayer, and was delighted when the engine started. He began to drive toward Beaufort.

The side of the road was choked with weeds. Small businesses and homes dotted the landscape. Except for the birds and the thrum of the tires on the pavement, it was quiet. A few miles later he drove over a long bridge and then into the town. He didn't get very far. Seeing someone lying in the road, Tom hit the brakes. Lying on the asphalt was a vampire – emaciated the point where it was sickly thin like a scarecrow. The pale skin shined in the southern sun, looking even whiter from the glare. The thing was moving with painful spasms as if desperately trying to shield itself from the sun.

Leaving the engine on, Tom got out of the truck. He approached the vampire cautiously with the shotgun at the ready. He kept his distance.

The thing was once a young man. Any clothes had been lost long ago. The creature was painfully thin, reminding Tom of the old movies that showed the horrors of the concentration camps. It didn't seem to notice the Tom. Instead it continued to weakly flail against the bright sun. It was dying. There were no more humans to prey on and hunger had turned to starvation. The vampire was so weak that it had been caught out in the rays of the morning sun. It no longer had the power to drag itself into the safety of the darkness.

Tom took aim and fired. The shotgun boomed and echoed against the walls of the nearby buildings. It was the merciful thing to do.

