

Nano Zombie:

Redemption

by Paul Westwood

The Second Book of the Nano Zombie Series

Copyright 2013 Paul Westwood

Published at Smashwords

**Smashwords Edition, License Notes**

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 1

The little generator caught and choked to life, gasping away like a dying man drawing his last breath. The lights overhead flickered and then sprang to life with a yellow glow. I could see that we were in room with concrete walls. There were two little cots, a camping stove and four metal utility shelves filled with dusty canned goods and boxes. We had hit the jackpot.

"Damn, that thing is loud," Peter said, the quaver in his voice betraying the fear we both felt. He was a normally a big man who had been pared down by starvation to nothing but bones wrapped in skin. His hollow eyes were now like brown discs sunk deeply into hollow cheeks. Though now painfully thin, he still managed to find a well of unfaltering strength inside. He was a good companion and had saved my life more times than I could count. Of course I had done the same for him on multiple occasions. It is good to have someone share the burdens when the whole world is against you.

"Don't worry," I replied, trying to sound brave. "The Dark Eyes haven't found this place yet. We're safe here. Anyway, I didn't want to risk lighting a fire down here. We would suffocate."

He slipped off his dust mask. "Whatever you say, Emily," he said with a broad grin that displayed a broken row of gray and yellow teeth. A life without dentists does have side effects. "I just don't like being trapped down here. We'll be sitting ducks if they come around."

I pointed to the food on the shelves. "Yeah, but would you rather starve than eat? Just look at all of this stuff. We're going to eat like kings."

We were inside someone's survival shelter, a concrete bunker that had been sunk under the basement. Peter had discovered it accidentally while we had been searching a burned out home near the town of Mossonee, which was located on the Hudson Bay in the country formerly known as Canada. The town itself had been destroyed long ago, the looters and then the Dark Eyes having stripped everything of value. This once magnificent house was located on a hill overlooking the city. Down in the basement, Peter had stubbed his toe on a metal trap door. In our weakened state it took the both of us to free the hinges that hadn't been used for years.

He made a face. "I suppose you have a point, skinny. What do you want to eat?"

"What don't I want to eat? I'll take anything." Pushing the dust mask off, I went over to the shelves and reached for the first thing I found: a box of candy bars. I grabbed it, removed the cardboard cover and took one out. Tearing open the plastic wrapping, I bit into the chocolate and let out a sigh. It had been days since I had eaten real food. As far as I was concerned, the dead beetles we had found under a rock didn't count. When I had finished that first candy bar, I started in on a second.

"Slow down there," Peter warned. "You'll get sick at this rate. And that's no way to ration the food. This stuff has to last us a long time."

"Don't be silly, there's plenty here. We could eat for months on this stuff."

"And then starve," he snapped back. "We have to be careful. You know that. Now what should we make to eat?"

"Anything you like," I replied sourly. My stomach felt a little queasy and my head was spinning from the sudden rush of sugar. I went and sat down on the nearest cot, sending a puff of fine dust into the air. The damn dust. It was everywhere, clogging the nose and mouth until I wanted to choke. The dust masks helped but I grew tired of smelling my own sweat.

Peter began sorting through the cans. He selected a large one, blew the dust off the top, and then read the label. "How does chicken stew sound?"

"Go ahead," I replied without too much enthusiasm. My stomach was really hurting now.

He went over to the propane stove, gave the tank plunger a few pushes, and, to his apparent surprise, successfully started the burner underneath. Using a pot, he soon had the can open and the stew began to bubble merrily away. It smelled good.

"I wonder what happened to the owners of this place," I asked out loud even though I already knew the answer.

Peter momentarily lifted his gaze from the flickering blue flame of the pot. "They're probably dead," he quietly stated.

"Yeah," I said, thinking of all the terrible things I had experienced in the past years. I had seen my mother and father become Dark Eyes: the relentless infected killing machines that had taken over the world. I had lost Brent, my sort of foster dad and best friend. His fate was unknown, but when I last saw him, he had been trying to stop the Dark Eyes so the survivors in the town of St. Ignace could make their escape. I had ended up throwing my lot in with a bunch of refugees who were traveling north to farm and try to rebuild some semblance of a normal life. It was hoped that Canada would be cool enough to grow crops. Instead we had found nothing but more drought, heat, and death.

I couldn't remember why the Earth had gotten so much hotter, but any thoughts in that direction were needless. There weren't many people left to blame. The heat was a matter of fact and we, the remaining survivors, had to deal with it. So instead of green pastures and wild game, Canada wasn't that much better than America. The infernal dust was everywhere and the relentless sun still baked the soil into a hard packed floor that stopped anything, except dry ragged weeds from growing, no matter how much water you gave the seeds. The land had turned into an inhospitable desert.

From the very beginning the little group I had joined had been harassed by the Dark Eyes, or the Infecteds, as Brent used to call them. They followed us north, attacking without fear. In the early days of their existence they had been nearly mindless with only the desire to spread the Infection further and further. But as time passed, they had regained their intelligence but without any trace of humanity. The Dark Eyes were cruel, alien, and dangerous. One bite could turn a human into one of them, making each loss on our side irrevocable. There was, however, an inoculation available that made those, lucky enough to get it, immune. I was one of the few, as was Peter, who could never be turned into a Dark Eye. Of course we could still die – a bullet, dehydration, or starvation was always an alternative in this dangerous new world.

The source of this miraculous inoculation was Brent, who had discovered the original source of the Infection. It had been the military who unleashed this horror on humanity – a secret weapon designed to overtake a foreign country, turning the population against itself. Of course they invented a drug to stop their own soldiers from getting sick, but the accidental release of specially designed nanobots – robots so small that they could travel through the blood – made such precautions too late. Because of a careless accident, the Infection had spread from America's shores, forever dooming the already frail state of humankind.

So here I was, thin and starving, barely scraping by day after day. My only companion was Peter, who I had known these past five years of hardship. We had become like brother and sister, the bonds of starvation drawing us closer and closer. Of all the refugees from St. Ignace, we were the only ones left. The rest had been hunted down, one by one, until only we remained. Those lucky few who had received the inoculation were killed while the others had been transformed into Dark Eyes, fated to increase the size and power of that infernal horde of monstrosities.

However, the Dark Eyes had forgotten one thing: food. The earth was barren now, with only scraggly yellow weeds barely growing in the dry hard soil. One reminder of the old world were the trees, now leafless and dry; their branches like gaunt hands reaching into the sky above. There were still a few bugs too, feeding of the flesh of the dead. No crops would grow and no livestock could be raised. The only food left had been canned years ago. With no replenishment, soon everyone, including the Dark Eyes, would starve to death.

"The chicken is ready," Peter declared. He fumbled around with some plates, plastic forks, and cups.

I nodded slowly as if coming out of a dream. It wasn't a good idea to think of the past, not when the present required so much attention. We sat at the table and began to eat. Though my sore stomach initially rebelled against the flood of nutrients, my hunger was enough that it didn't care. I didn't say anything until the last drip of gravy on the paper plate had been scraped clean. After that, I took a few sips of water from the cup. Since it came from our own canteen, it tasted like an old sock, which was no surprise since that's what we used to filter out the dust.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind," Peter said as he watched me with sad eyes.

"I do. I was just thinking of everything that has happened to us. You know, the day I met you and we fled St. Ignace. We're lucky to be alive, aren't we?"

"Yes," he said, each letter of the word coaxed out with a lingering drawl. "Though I don't know how much longer we can last up here in Canada."

"What do you mean?" I pointed to the shelf with all the food. "We can stay here for weeks now. It's a good place to stay hidden; out of the way of the Dark Eyes. We'll be safe here."

Peter shook his head, but kept the eyes stayed locked on mine. "But what are we going to do afterward? I mean after the food runs out. We've been scratching out an existence up here in Canada, looting what we can from the little towns and cabins, but we can't do this forever. We're going to run out of food someday and then what will we do?"

"I don't know," I snapped back. It was hard to think of the future when every day was a struggle. "We'll probably starve, unless the Dark Eyes get us first. Since you're so smart, what do you think we should do?"

"Head back south," he stated as if it was just a simple matter. "Let's go back to Michigan."

"You make it sound easy. It's a long way to go on foot."

"It won't be easy," he admitted. "But there are big cities there. We can find food."

"All the food there would already have been taken," I protested. "All of that traveling would be for nothing. Anyway, it'll be too hot and the Black Eyes will be there. There's probably more of them there. We could get killed."

He took a sip from his paper cup. "You're probably right." But I could tell he wasn't going to let this idea go.

It was an old argument and one that I wasn't in the mood for. Peter always wanted to see the tall buildings, long highways, and the crowds of the cities. Ever since he was a child, he had wanted to escape from the rural emptiness of the small town he had grown up in. I noticed that being raised in a closed community often had that effect on a person. However the big cities were now death traps, overrun by disease and violence, and that was even before the Dark Eyes had come on the scene. Who knew what the cities were like now. I could only imagine the worst.

"We should get some rest," I suggested.

Together, we moved the two cots together. Though the days were hot, the nights were as cold as any winter. I carried a sleeping bag, as did Peter. Each time we went to sleep, they were zipped together so we could be wrapped in each other's arms in a feeble attempt to stay warm. Before going to bed, I went and turned the generator off, plunging the room into darkness. Only the faint moonlight from the cracks of the trapdoor above could be seen. I got inside the sleeping bag which smelled of sweat. Peter put his arms around me. I felt content and safe. With my stomach full, I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 2

I was dreaming. I was much younger, playing with my parents in a park filled with happy people. The bright sun was high in the sky but the grass was lush and green, quite unlike the dry barren ground of today. I was being pushed on a merry-go-ground that was moving faster and faster, making my poor stomach churn. The face of my father flashed by as the spinning colors churned and blurred into a dizzying burst. I heard low voices. There was something wrong.

My eyes opened. I turned my head away from Peter. From the thin line of the trap door above, I saw a flash of light that came and disappeared. It was then that I heard a noise. It was footsteps. And then a husky voice above called out.

"Are you sure you saw them come to this house?"

"Yes," another answered. "And they did not leave."

I could tell by the flat monotone of the voices that the Dark Eyes were here. They spoke like unemotional robots. We had been foolish to assume that they had not seen us. Of course the nearby town was probably filled with them. Peter and I normally took turns while the other slept, but the food and the seeming safety of this shelter had put our guard down. That had been a mistake. Now we were trapped down here with nowhere to go. We would have to fight our way out.

"Peter," I whispered urgently into his ear.

He stirred and was about to say something. I clamped my hand over his mouth before he had a chance to speak.

"The Dark Eyes are here," I said in a low voice. I then pulled my hand away, knowing the message had penetrated that thick skull of his. He would know what to do.

"Damn," was his only reply before slipping out of the sleeping bag. He scrambled towards his backpack. In the darkness he fought with the zippers, trying to find the pistol within.

I already had my little Colt revolver out since I slept with it tucked inside a worn leather shoulder holster I always wore. I got out of the sleeping bag, letting it fall to the floor with a rustle. Once again there was a flash of light at the crack of the trap door above.

"What's this?" a muted voice asked.

"It looks like an entrance," someone replied. "Open it."

With a rusty squeak, the trapdoor opened. The artificial light above was just enough to dispel the gloom of the room. A foot appeared on the rung of the ladder. With a glance, I could see Peter now. He was on his knees, the large automatic Beretta in his hands, pointing in the direction of the coming intruders. I could see that he was ready to pull the trigger. Before he could do so, I rushed over and pulled his arm down.

"Wait," I whispered in his ear. Together we drew back in the shadows, hiding behind one of the shelves of food.

It was just in time since the first Dark Eye was down on the floor now. He was holding a lantern, the flame inside flickering yellow and orange. In the light I could see he was dressed in a dirty work jacket. His hair was long and blackness of his alien eyes was magnified by the extreme shadows. Like us, he was painfully thin. There was something inhuman about his appearance, almost as if the infection inside had worn away the character of his face.

"There's no one here," he called to his comrades above. "It is safe to come down."

Two other quickly followed. Each was dressed differently than their friend. One had a grimy police uniform while the other wore nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants. Both of them were carrying rifles. For such a hive-like mind, one expected a uniform of sorts, but instead their clothing was only a matter of necessity for these inhuman creatures; I've seen everything from finely cut, but dirty tuxedos to complete nudity. The cold of night or the heat of the day had no apparent effect on them, yet another side-effect of the nanobot infection. Their bodies were only mere vehicles for the host that lived deep inside.

"Take the food," the man in the uniform said, his voice flat as cardboard. "We need it."

In unison, they turned and headed towards the shelves where we were hiding. I didn't give them a chance to find us. Clutching my pistol, I rose and fired, hitting the Infected wearing the sweatpants directly in the forehead. After all these years of surviving I had learned to be a good shot. My target went tumbling backward, his arms flailing in a wild pantomime of pain. Peter was only a second behind me. His larger Beretta was a little harder to handle, but two shots put the one wearing the police uniform down.

The remaining Dark Eye did not flinch or retreat. Instead, with a crash, he dropped the lantern and started running toward us, his mouth open with an inhuman screech. This is what made these creatures so dangerous: a relentless need to attack, bite, and infect those who were unlike them. Peter and I fired at the same time. The combined force of our bullets sent our attacker twisting to the side where he fell into one of the shelves. He then died silently without a moan or whimper escaping from those clenched teeth.

Peter and I didn't even say anything to each other. Words would come later. Instead it was time to gather what we could and get out of there. Once the Dark Eyes realized that some of their numbers were missing, the whole horde from the town would come out searching. I ran for my backpack, took out my jacket, and began shoveling food inside. With practiced hands, Peter began rolling up the sleeping bags. When he was done with that task, he pulled on his coat and began to dump in his pack whatever food he could carry. It was too bad that so much would be left behind. It would have been better if we could have stayed here and enjoyed the unexpected bounty.

When we were done packing, Peter then took the still lit lantern, opened the base, and dumped the fuel onto the shelves containing the remaining food. The room swam with the fumes of kerosene. He then threw the lantern. The top shattered when it hit the floor, igniting the rations in a burst of flame. Coughing, we slipped our dust masks back on and clambered up the ladder.

The dust masks went back on. It was bitterly cold outside. The stars twinkled above with no clouds to block the view. The moon hovered over the horizon, shining through the thin dead branches. The shadows were strange: a mixture of pitch black and dark grays interspersed by a crowd of white trees, the bark stripped away by the tireless wind. On the ground it was dust – pushed against the walls of the destroyed house or spun in some strange pattern by the shifting winds. Below the hill was Mossonee, the buildings dark except for a fire burning brightly in the middle of town. The Dark Eyes were keeping watch.

Peter grabbed my hand and began pulling me along.

"Where are we going?" I asked in a whisper.

After a long sigh, he said quietly, "I mean to go south, back to America. You can come with me or stay here."

"But why are you so set to go? Why now?" I protested as we trudged along.

"I'm tired of scrambling around and just barely surviving. I'm tired of fighting the Dark Eyes. We have to find a way to live for a change. You can still remember the days when you didn't have to worry where your next meal was coming from? That's what I want."

I could feel my anger boiling over. I needed rest. "I want the same thing too but you're being impossible. Starvation is our only worry right now and nothing can change that, not unless you can make bread out of thin air!"

He said with exasperation, "Look, there has to be other survivors out there. There have to be places that haven't been taken over by the Dark Eyes. I mean to find them so you and I can be safe again. Don't you want that?"

"Of course I do, but I don't think there is anyone left but us. We're only alive because we've been smart and the fact that we're inoculated from the Infection. Who else could survive against the Dark Eyes?"

Peter's shoulders lifted slightly, his version of a shrug. "I don't know, but I want to find out while we still have a chance. You told me that Brent found the inoculation at an army base. Whoever made the nanobots that caused the Infection also made the drug that kept us from being turned into Dark Eyes. Those people may also still be alive. Perhaps they have a real cure, something that will change the Dark Eyes back to humans, or at least permanently destroy them."

"Fine," I said sharply. "We'll go back to Michigan. But it's only because of your stubbornness that I'm going at all. It's a fool errand. We're doing okay here."

"You know we can't survive here too much longer," he said, keeping his eyes away from mine.

I shook my head, wondering how I had become attached to such a stubborn idiot. He was going to get the both of us killed. But we had to stay together if we wanted to survive. I didn't have much choice in the matter which is why it seemed so unfair.

We were now at the bottom of the hill, skirting past the town. There was outline of a road here, nothing but an indentation against the lifeless plain of gray dust. Along the shoulder were half-buried clumps of weeds, the yellow leaves somehow finding sustenance in this blighted land. We headed south, the hardness of blacktop underneath barely felt over the finely powdered sand. I felt tired beyond belief but at least I was still full from the dinner. It certainly beat the normal grumblings my stomach felt.

We walked on. I remembered the days when gasoline was still available. Back then I had learned how to drive a truck and wished I had that trusted vehicle once again. I had a feeling my feet were going to get very tired. And the soles of my shoes would wear through. Finding another pair wouldn't be that difficult, not with all the available homes to loot, but still, I was pretty comfortable with the old brown hiking boots I had found last year. Peter still got around with a pair of old tennis shoes held together with duct tape. His feet size – thirteen – made finding a new pair difficult, so he was always complaining about his footwear.

It was some hours later when the sun began to rise. In another hour the heat would be stifling, but for now the warm was a welcome relief from the cold night air. The pack across my back felt like impossibly heavy but I wasn't about to ditch the precious cans of food inside. Instead I staggered along, knowing that the load would get lighter every day. Anyway who knew how much longer we would have to travel before we came across another cache. Perhaps we never would find another. The land had been so picked over that the last find had been pure luck.

"Can we stop yet?" I finally asked as my legs began to ache in protest.

"Sure," Peter answered back. "We can hide over there." He pointed to an area on the side of the road where several trees had fallen. Their trunks had made a natural wall where we could remain unseen from the road.

"Don't you think the Dark Eyes could just follow our tracks?" I said, casting a glance at the footsteps we had left in the dust. Hiding one's movements here was always a problem and that fact had already led to several ill-timed encounters.

Peter looked up at the sky as if trying to find an answer. "I was hoping for a windstorm to come along. It's just our luck that the wind decided to settle down for now. I know the Dark Eyes will be coming for us soon enough. We'll stop for a little bit and then we'll have to continue."

Settling down into the hollow behind the fallen trees, Peter began going through his pack. He pulled out a can of pears which opened easily enough with the pull tab on top. After pulling off the dust masks, we passed the can back and forth until the fruit was gone. Afterward I drank some of the sugary juice on the bottom, leaving an equal amount for my companion. He finished it, licked his lips, and then threw the can off to the side.

He asked, "How are you holding out?"

I raised my eyebrows, wondering where this sudden concern came from. "I'm fine," I shot back even though everything ached. "Let's get going before we get caught."

Peter made a face and then raised himself up from off the ground. "Yeah, you're right. It's time we get off the road anyway since the Dark Eyes will be traveling that way too. This is not the time to run into one of their patrols."
Chapter 3

It was an hour later when, while casting a nervous glance over my shoulder, that I saw the Dark Eyes. There were a dozen of them, some hundred yards back, weaving their way through the broken remnants of the forest that Peter and I were traversing. With their flagless energy, they were making much better time than we were.

"Peter!" I shouted.

He took one look behind us before grabbing my hand. We took off running, jumping over fallen logs and leaving a cloud of dust as we went. The lead Dark Eye gave an unearthly howl and the chase was on.

Even though I was already tired from walking, the sudden rush of fear gave me a renewed burst of energy. I soon disentangled my hand from Peter's, letting me run past him. I could always move faster than he could. A shot rang out from the Dark Eyes, the bullet striking a tree to my left. I would have liked to return fire, but my ammunition was too low. I only have two shots left in my little revolver and I wanted to save that for a real emergency. Peter also only had a few rounds left, but felt scared enough to point the Beretta at our pursuers and pull the trigger a few times. I didn't bother to see if he had hit anything. Instead I just ran, trying to put as much distance between myself and the Dark Eyes. If we were caught, it would mean our death. But at least we wouldn't have to become one of them.

We should have died that day but fate intervened. I felt a gust of wind strike my cheek, sending trickle of dust brushing against my skin. A windstorm was coming! They were quite common, but this one was timed with good fortune. It would give us a chance to escape. Within seconds the landscape disappeared into a heavy swirl of brown and gray, the colors of the sun-bleached dirt that had been scoured away from the earth. The wind began to howl with a lonely moan. I slowed, desperately hoping that I hadn't lost Peter. He collided into me, sending both of us staggering like drunks. Once again his hand clutched mine.

I could hear the Dark Eyes shouting at each other. They were close but, like us, lost in the sweep of dust. Peter yanked my arm and led me forward. We swung to the left, straight into the direction of the oncoming wind. After a few steps, we stopped and hunkered behind a fallen tree trunk. It was only a moment later when one of those creatures ran by. He was only a fleeting shadow in the fine grains of sand. I held my breath. It went by without even stopping. I let out a sigh of relief.

"You had better get your glasses on," Peter shouted into my ear as he rummaged through his pack. He pulled out a pair of safety glasses and slipped them over his eyes. I did the same, but instead wore wrap-around sunglasses which were also good for protecting against the glare of the sun. After a mere second to catch my breath, we took off again, this time heading east.

The wind tore on with the violent chaos that these storms make. I'm not sure how Peter kept us on track since the wind seemed to change direction every moment. Each one of my steps a torturous plod: my feet ached, my head hurt and I was getting hungry. We were out of the forest now, walking along fields that probably once held corn or wheat, but were now filled with yellowing weeds. It struck me that the plants were especially thick here, impeding our progress.

I thought I was going to scream in frustration when Peter grabbed my hand and pointed - in the maelstrom of dust stood the dark shadow of a building. As we cautiously approached this unknown structure, it soon came clear that it was a barn. The roof sagged at an alarming angle and the wall facing us had been ripped open at one time. The red paint was now just a trace, exposing the silvered dry wood underneath. The whole outside had been scoured clean by the unrelenting wind. It wasn't much of a place, but it was still shelter from the storm.

Rounding the corner, the force of the wind abated. There was an open entrance here with a door lying on the ground. Peter entered first and I followed. Inside it was dusty and all the cracks only allowed more of the damned stuff in. After settling down near a stack of dried out straw bales, we broke into our packs and got out some food. Peter started the portable camping stove that we had taken last week from an abandoned cottage. Once the flame was dancing merrily away, he put a small aluminum pot on top.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to look calm after our flight from the Dark Eyes.

"Surprise me," I said as I unwrapped a candy bar.

"You had better start saving your food," Peter said with a hint of a smile.

This was an old argument. He always wanted to ration our supplies, allowing just enough calories to live on. I disagreed with this, thinking it was best to eat while you could and enjoy yourself. Yes, there wasn't much food left in the world, but after all, who knew if I would even be alive tomorrow. Why suffer needlessly when this day could be your last?

"I'll keep that in mind," I finally replied harshly.

"It's a long way to Michigan."

"And it will be even longer if I have to march their starving along the way. Don't worry, we'll find some more food."

We split a can of ravioli which had all the flavor of glue. But still, a calorie is a calorie as far as my stomach was concerned. After the meal was completed, we each took a few sips from the canteen which felt too light.

"We'll have to find some water soon," Peter said.

"Yeah." I leaned back into the dirty straw, trying to find a comfortable position. Though food was always an issue, finding water was never easy either. Of course the rivers and lakes were long gone. Most wells had gone dry but some had been drilled deep enough to still produce a thin trickle. Peter and I had only filled the canteen two days ago at a burned out house that had an outside manual pump. We would have to find another source soon. I had foolishly lost my own canteen a week ago, so it was paramount that I find another container for my own use.

I was about to say something but was stopped by the shadow that fell over my face. I looked up and immediately scrambled for the pistol stuck in the holster. But the waving form of the crossbow made me stop. Peter was already frozen, staring at the group of men that had sneaked up on us, using the blowing wind as cover to mask the sound of their footsteps.

There were five of them, all wearing a motley assortment of work clothing that had been patched many times – jeans, boots, and t-shirts with popular fertilizer and farm tools barely visible under the years of grime. No one looked particularly starved and one even had a sizable potbelly. Everyone was armed with either a shotgun or pistol. The man in front had a hunting crossbow, the quiver filled with arrows. Their faces were hidden by nightmarish looking gas masks. Only their eyes were barely visible through the filtered glass. To my surprise the color of the eyes looked normal instead of the nightmarish coal of the Dark Eyes. It had been a long time since I had seen a normal human but that was no reason to let my guard down since even uninfected men had reasons to kill.

"Get up!" the man with the crossbow said, his voice muffled by the thick rubber mask.

We did as commanded. I could tell Peter was itching to go for his gun but an imperceptible shake of my head stopped him from going any further. I didn't have enough ammunition for a protracted fight and anyway, one of those shotguns would have made quick work of us.

The same man then lifted his gas mask off, revealing a shock of brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a craggy face that was overdue for a shave. His expression was one of annoyance more than anger, his narrows lips twitching nervously. He said, "What are you doing here?"

"Just heading south," Peter said.

"There's nothing there," the man spat out.

"There's nothing much here either," Peter retorted.

"You may be right, young man, but we still don't like trespassers. This is our land and we aim to keep it."

I frowned, wondering how anyone could hold onto such old ideas of property. There was nothing left to protect except for your friends and family. What was so important about an old barn filled with dried straw?

Before I had the chance to ask, the man said, "Frisk them."

Two of the men searched Peter and I, taking our weapons, canteen, and packs away. They were excited by the food inside and began to handle the cans, showing off the loot to their friends. This made me angrier than being caught. That was our food and now it was being stolen.

"Now march!" the man with the crossbow commanded as he slid his mask back on.

We were quickly surrounded by the men, who smelled of sweat. Together we went out in the storm again, wading through the weeds which were even thicker here. It suddenly struck me that there was a strange uniformity to these plants. They were laid out in neat rows as if being farmed like a crop. I pointed this out to Peter who merely shrugged. I could tell by the way his eyes were searching the landscape that he was looking for a chance to make our escape.

Such a chance never happened. In a few minutes we came to a strange structure. It was made of hundreds of crushed and rusted cars stacked on top of each other, forming a long wall that was some ten feet tall. Due to the dust, I couldn't see where the sides ended. Strung along the top was a thick entanglement of barbed wire. There was an entrance here, a rough hole through the destroyed vehicles. It was covered by a gate made with chain link fence, scraps of metal, and a few car doors.

The man with the crossbow gave a shout. "Open up!"

There was a sound of metal grinding on metal and then the gate was pulled open from the inside. Peter and I were shoved forward. With the protection of the walls, the force of wind was lessened enough that I could see the inside of the compound. Here there was a motley assortment of little rough wooden shacks, a gigantic fire pit with blackened stones, a tractor with flat tires, and one long and low building in the back. From the openings of one of the shacks, a little child in dirty rags stared at us. The entire space here was maybe fifty yards wide and equally long. Four feet below the top of the insides of the wall ran a platform. Two men with rifles were here, walking back and forth, watching outside for any possible attack.

It was amazing. Someone had managed to build a fortress here in the middle the wilderness and kept it safe, or perhaps even hidden, from the Dark Eyes. But how did they survive? What did they eat? And why did they grow those worthless weeds? My mind was buzzing with those questions and many more but I stayed quiet. I decided to just wait and see what happened. At this point I didn't have much choice in the matter.

The man with the crossbow stopped in front of the fire pit and turned to face us. He gave a shout, raising his free arm over his head. As he removed the gas mask from his head, people began to drift out from the shacks. There were a mix of mostly women and children with another few men thrown in. There were perhaps two dozen of them, mostly dirty and lean, but not touched with the hollowness of starvation. This little crowd shuffled around us in a rough circle, gathering together to watch.

"I am the leader," the man with the crossbow said, more to his followers than to us. "It was my father who gathered the people together and it was his blood and sweat that brought us here. He died defending this place, and I, Neil Haden, have picked up his burden to protect what is ours." His eyes settled on Peter and me. He continued, "I have caught these two trespassers spoiling the land we have toiled and trying to take what is ours."

A murmur rose in the crowd and several dark angry looks were cast our way.

Haden gave us a smile that was lacking any humor. He said, "The boy here shall join the other one in the barn. However, the girl is not without her qualities. Does any man claim her for mating?"

My mouth opened in shock. "What do you mean?" I protested angrily. "I'm not some livestock that can be haggled over."

This time Haden laughed, a cold sound that sent a chill down my back. "We try to be civilized as we can, young lady, but men still have their needs. You will be given food and a place to live, which is more than you will get outside." He waved his hands, pointing to the walls surrounding us. "After your travels out there in the wasteland, you will finally be safe. We need more members for our community or we will wither and die. I only wish we could keep everyone who is captured, but that is not possible."

I shook my head violently. "We don't want to be here. We just want to go."

"We can't let you go. You're too valuable to us. It's because of people like you that we can survive."

Those mysterious words made me pause. How could we help them survive? I only had one thought: cannibalism. I had already seen men feeding on others, and knew it was probably more prevalent than anyone ever guessed.

Peter finally spoke, his voice hard and unyielding. "We have done no harm to anyone. I ask that you return our food, weapons, and water and let us go. We shall not come back this way and will not tell anyone of your camp here."

Haden's head bobbed up and down slowly as if agreeing, but his eyes remained impassive. He made a motion with his hand and two men grabbed Peter, pulling him towards the large barn in the back of the compound. I didn't stay and watch, but instead bolted after him, yelling my head off. Someone grabbed me. I began to kick and scream, striking anyone who got to close. And then I was hit in the back of the head. I saw red and a blur of laughing faces. I tried to remain standing but the world spun away into darkness.
Chapter 4

I awoke with the smell of dried burlap in my nostrils. My head ached something terrible. I felt weak and sick. Even peeling my eyes open took more energy than I could muster.

"How you doing, missy?" a gruff voice asked.

I didn't answer. I was scared of what could happen next. My forehead was suddenly awash with a cool sensation. A liquid dribbled into my mouth. It tasted like fresh water. Before I could stop myself, I let out a little moan. With a renewed effort I was able to open my eyes. The world began to spin. In that brief moment I caught a glimpse of white beard and a pale face. With a heave from my stomach I threw up. Trying to shut off the pain, I closed my eyes. Once again the water bathed my face.

"That damn bastard hit you too hard," the voice said. The tone was gentle and filled with concern.

"Where am I?" I managed to croak out.

"You're in my home. I'm Dan."

"Emily," I said. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at someone who looked a bit like Santa Claus gone to seed.

He had friendly brown eyes, a dirty white beard, and a mouth marked by laugh lines. He was leaning over me with a washcloth in hand. The room we were in was the inside of one of the little huts, the walls made from mismatched aluminum siding and wood framing. There was a big stuffed chair and a little table. In the corner of the dirt floor, a mattress was there with a pile of blankets on top. A little window set on the wall was streaked with dust and the single doorway was only covered by a blanket smudged with dirt. I was in a corner, resting on my jacket which had been placed some brown sacks. I had seen worse places.

"What am I doing here?" I finally asked after I had gotten my bearings.

Dan gave a little self-depreciating laugh. "No one wanted to take a hothead like you into their home. I volunteered to look after you so you wouldn't be put in the barn with your friend. Trust me, you don't want to go there."

"You took me for a mate?" I asked suspiciously. He looked a little too old for the effort.

He shook his head. "No, nothing like that. You just reminded me of my granddaughter. She would have been your age if she was still alive."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I lost my parents," I said, remembering the day they had been attacked by the Dark Eyes. We had been traveling in a RV to the safety of my uncle's house when we had stopped for two soldiers on the side of the road. From my hiding spot in the cupboard under the sink, I had seen my mother and father bitten by those things. Instead of sticking around, I had ran for it. Luckily I was rescued by Brent before I had became the next victim. I never saw my parents again and part of me still wondered if they were half-alive as wandering zombies.

"We've all lost someone," Dan said sagely. "But as long as we survive, they will remain alive in our memories. Now let us stop talking about such sad things. Do you want something to eat?"

I had visions of human flesh, possibly even part of Peter. I shook my head with disgust.

He must have caught the look of fear from me. "Now don't you worry about what we keep in the barn. I assure you that we don't eat people here. Now how would you like a nice slice of bread or perhaps a cookie?"

"Bread?" I asked in astonishment. The last time I had tasted bread was years ago. Since everything I ate was canned, such food was gone forever.

"Yes, the bread was made just this morning, but the cookies are a few days old. I hope you don't mind."

"I'll take some bread," I said with some skepticism.

Dan sauntered off to the cupboards and pulled out a metal container. Opening the cover, he pulled out a half loaf of bread. It had a strange, dark yellowish color. Placing it on the table, he sliced off a hunk and brought it over to me.

Studying the bread, I took a cautious bite. It tasted strange, almost flavorless, without the normal sweetness I remembered. "What is this made out of?" I asked as I continued to eat.

"You saw those plants outside – the yellow weeds? Well, we figured out if you crush the dry leaves enough and mill the remains, a sort of flour can be made. Add some water and you can make all sorts of things. Of course getting any kind of flavor is a challenge, but the deeper roots, if combined with our meager supply of salt, makes it just palatable to eat."

"So what do the cookies taste like?"

He broke into a grin. "I'm afraid it's much like the bread, but in a different shape."

"I see." I suddenly remembered Peter. I almost choked on the dry bread as I asked, "So what happens to the people sent to the barn?"

Dan dropped his eyes from mine. The skin of his face became tight and withdrawn. After a moment he said, "We're alone out here. I mean there is no one here in the wilderness but us and the Dark Eyes. We were lucky enough to have built our walls here before they arrived, or else we would have joined them in their mindless pursuit. Instead we had enough food to live on and a working water pump. So we fought the Dark Eyes, killing scores of them with many losses on our side. But they were free to roam while we were trapped inside. Soon the food ran out. People starved and died.

"It was Neil Haden's father, a man named Charles, who discovered how to use the plants to make food. We stopped starving alright, but by then we had lost too many to the attacks. By then the Dark Eyes had changed too. No longer did they attack with mindless regularity. Instead they talked and planned and began to work in a concerted effort to destroy us. But Charles eventually made a deal with them. If we provided food to them, then we would be left alone. They would also give us salt for our troubles while we had to give them tribute in another fashion." Those final words were spoken with some trouble. His face turned red with shame.

I could feel the anger welling inside of me. "You mean you give the Dark Eyes people? Why?"

Dan shook his head. He sadly replied, "No one knows what happens to the prisoners. All I know is the Dark Eyes come every few weeks to see if we have anyone new for them. At first there were plenty of survivors asking for help, but the past years have seen those numbers dwindle. Your friend has only one other guest staying with him, some wild-looking girl that no one wanted to take home. I guess she wasn't pretty enough – just dirt and matted hair."

"I see," I said icily. I felt a lump of sour bile rising in my throat. It was monstrous to think of all the regular people who had come here looking for food or water, only to be taken away by the Dark Eyes. I thought of my family and of all the people I had known who had fallen victim to the changing world. How many had perished? No one would ever know.

"Look, Emily," Dan started lamely, "It's really not all that bad here. There is food and there is shelter. You won't have to worry about starving to death out there in the dust. Why don't you stay here with me? I promise that I won't hurt you. I just need someone to help with the cleaning and getting the water from the well. I'm getting a little lame and can't move around like I used to." His pleading eyes locked into mine.

To his obvious surprise, I slowly nodded in agreement. "Look I can tell you are a kind man, but I can't leave my friend Peter in the lurch. I have to help him. I'll stay if you find someway to get him out." That last sentence were a lie, but being in the position I was in, I didn't have much of a choice. I needed some sort of ally if I wanted to escape.

"I don't know," Dan said uncertainly. "No one has ever escaped from the barn before. I'm not sure what I could do." But no matter how he protested, it was obvious that he wanted me to stay and would do anything to help.

"Tell me, when are the Dark Eyes due to come next?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe in a day or two."

"That doesn't give us much time to break Peter out of there."

"I know. Let me give it some thought. I'm sure I can think of something." He then had a far away look as if the cogs and gears of his brain were slowly turning.

I nodded. "You do that. Is it okay if I have a look around this compound. I mean no one will mind, will they?"

He pointed to a white plastic bucket near the door. "No, no one will mind, provided you look busy. We need some water to clean up the mess you made. The pump is located on the north side, right next to the wall. It will be good for you to get out and get to know the place a little better. Just pay no mind to anyone if they start giving you trouble. You know how people like to gossip."

"Not anymore," I said as I went and picked up the bucket. I pushed away the blanket at the doorway, smiled at Dan, and went outside.

I must have been out for some time. Based on the position of the sun, the afternoon was getting on. The wind had died down and the roiling clouds of dust had disappeared. Without the benefit of a breeze, it was unbelievably hot within the confines of the metal walls. A few of the residents were around, doing whatever chores that kept them busy. A pair of older women were busy turning a long and thick wooden dowel around and around, using a grinding stone to pulverize a bunched of dried kernels. Beyond them, three men were moving bales of the yellow weeds, stacking the plants next to a knot of children, who were flailing the cultivated plants with sticks. I watched this operation a few minutes before moving on.

Stepping past this activity, I came to the pump located near the wall. The heat of the metal radiated out like an open oven. The pump was an old-fashioned thing made of iron that had been painted red. The long handle was work from use, showing the bare metal underneath. A little boy was in front of the spout, stomping his feet in the muddy soil underneath. Once he saw me, he stopped to stare.

"You're the new girl," the boy said. He was perhaps eight or nine years old, but rather short for his age. His face and arms were burned brown by the sun. His long hair was so blond it was almost white. The eyes were bright blue while the nose was snubbed. The grin on his face looked permanently etched on.

I nodded. "You're in the way," I said, keeping my voice gentle but firm. There was no reason to make any enemies here. I had enough trouble as it was.

"Sure," he said with a smile so wide it revealed a number of missing teeth.

He stepped aside, grabbed the handle and began to pump with practiced ease. A gush of water came rushing out. I hastily placed the bucket underneath and waited until it was full.

When the boy was finished, he said, "I'm Kevin. What's your name?"

"Emily," I replied. "Thank you for helping me. Have you been here long?"

"As long as I can remember, but I'm not that old. You planning to stay here with us? I hope so because I wouldn't mind having a new friend."

"Yes we can be friends. I don't think I have much choice."

Kevin let out a giggle. "Yeah, you're right. If you're in the barn, then you don't stay too long. Since you're out here with the rest of us, then you will be around for a long time. I don't know why the adults have those silly rules."

"Yeah," I agreed, "Adults can be a little silly. You know I have a friend who is being held inside the barn. Do you think it would be possible for me to see him? I just want to make sure he is alright."

He kicked at the mud and watched as it squished between his toes. This seemed to fascinate him to no end. After wrinkling up his nose, he said, "I suppose I can show you where he is. There are some slats loose that let you see inside. If I get bored, sometimes I go and take a look at the prisoners."

After those words, Kevin skipped away. Leaving the bucket behind, I took off after him. Instead of heading directly for the barn, which apparently would draw some notice, we took a roundabout way along the edge of the walls. Here I saw the dilapidated state of the hovels that people lived in. There were broken windows, a few hastily patched roofs, and even a small blackened crater sunk in the ground. It was obvious that some fighting had gone on here in the past and there wasn't enough supplies to properly repair the damage. The few other residents I did see were a few scraggly dressed women, towing dirty children around. I got nothing but sullen looks from them. I assumed that most of the men were outside the walls, doing whatever they did to cultivate the plants.

The barn, as they called it, was actually a low outbuilding made out of light blue aluminum. It had seen better days. The outside walls had been battered and dented, showing gaps inside. Kevin stopped near the corner and began to kick at the sand.

Like a practiced spy, he said out of the side of his mouth, "He's in there. Call for him."

"Peter," I said, trying to keep my voice low but still loud enough to be heard through the wall.

It took a few moments before someone responded. "Emily?" a familiar voice from inside answered. It was Peter.

"Thank goodness you're alright," I said, my voice betraying more relief than I expected.

"What are they going to do with me?" he asked. If you listened carefully, you could tell he was scared, but, like me, he had experienced enough danger to know that one had to face your fears, not hide away like a frightened child.

"It's bad news. They're going to give you over to the Dark Eyes."

"But once I'm bitten, then the Dark Eyes will realize that I cannot be converted. They will kill me." His voice grew slightly higher in pitch with each word. He had every reason to be afraid, but was doing a marvelous job of covering it up.

"Don't worry. We'll think of something. Now I have to go before someone gets suspicious. Okay?"

"Wait, before you go. There's someone else in here with me. Her name is Beth. We should take her along with us."

"Fine," I hastily agreed. "If I manage to pull this off, she can come too."
Chapter 5

By the time I returned to Dan's hovel, the shadows were growing long. The sun had disappeared over the top of the wall. It would only be another hour or two before complete darkness and the resulting cold came.

"You took your time," Dan said. He was sitting on the chair, bent over a pile of yellowed grass. With practiced ease, he was busy tying the plant strands together, turning them into short tightly wadded sticks.

"I went and looked in on Peter," I admitted. "What are you doing there?"

He pointed to the little potbelly stove shoved in the corner. "We use that plant as much as we can. Not only does it provide food, but when the fibers are twisted tightly together, the plant burns slow enough to be used as fuel. It's not as good as coal, but still, it beats freezing to death."

I began to clean the floor, using a splash of water to clear out the dust and the mess I had made earlier. I said, "I see. Tell me, have you thought of a way to free Peter?"

Dan shook his head, his thick fingers continuing to create knots. "It's too dangerous. There aren't many guards at night. I mean there are only a few men watching for an attack. Of course since we've made peace with the Dark Eyes, there hasn't been the need. But you know how it goes, Neil doesn't trust those monsters, so we continue to watch. I know you'll be spotted if you try to free your friend. And there's no easy way to get through the gate without waking the whole camp, that's for sure."

I nodded slowly, making a show of it. I wanted Dan to think I was giving up on the idea of escape, but I wouldn't surrender that quickly. I had a plan myself. It wasn't much of one but I wasn't going to wait here for another day.

"Surely there has to be some way," I pleaded. "Peter is my best friend."

He grimaced. "You have to look on the bright side, Emily. As far as I know your friend won't die. He'll just become one of those Dark Eyes. Surely that's better than death."

I covered my eyes with the crook of my arm and slumped to the ground. I began to fake a series of sobs. Little did Dan or anyone else know that some of us had no fear of the Infection. We were invulnerable to those nanobots that took over the mind and body. That meant the Dark Eyes would kill Peter once they discovered he could not become one of them.

"Now, now," Dan said. "Stop your crying. It isn't all that bad. You're still alive and so is your friend. For the present nothing can change that."

"I suppose you're right," I blurted out, keeping my voice raspy as if I was fighting back a flood of tears. I still did not look at him, but instead continued to feign sorrow.

"Why don't you get some rest?" he suggested. "I made you up a bed over there in the corner near the stove. It will be a warm place to sleep, especially when the night turns so cold."

"Thank you," I replied softly. With one last theatrical whimper, I crawled over to the pile of blankets and then gave a few sniffles. Through my half-closed eyelids I watched as Dan returned to work, twisting and tying the plant strands together. The pile of finished little logs grew slowly in size, spreading around his ankles. He whistled under his teeth as he worked. I had some work of my own to do. Resting quietly on the floor, especially after such a wretched day, turned out to be harder than I thought. I fought to stay awake, battling my drooping eyelids.

The light through the window faded away into gray. And then slipped into darkness. I was just about to give in and fall asleep when Dan suddenly got up. He tried to be quiet, but every one of his clumsy steps could be heard. Opening the stove, he then threw in a couple of the twisted-up sticks. A flash of a lit match and orange shadows began dancing against the wall. Once Dan was satisfied with the fire he paused to look at me for a moment. I stayed perfectly still, letting my breath go in and out with slow, relaxed motions. After a moment, he turned and sat back down in the chair. For a few minutes his eyes stared off into space and then closed.

I felt awake now and bursting with energy. I wanted to leave but had to wait impatiently, hoping that Dan would quickly fall asleep. Of course he did no such thing. Instead he tossed and turned, gave a few fitful coughs, and then eventually stood up. He went outside – probably to use the bathroom - and came back in within a few minutes, bringing in a burst of cold night air. After that, he threw in some more twisted branches into the stove, igniting another surge of yellow and orange light that made the shadows dance on the rough walls. He then settled back into the chair. I felt as if I could scream. I was tired of waiting and wanted to go now. Instead I just practiced my slow breathing, trying to look as peaceful as possible.

It was at least an hour later when Dan finally let out a gentle snore. I waited a few more minutes before gently rising. After putting my jacket on, I walked delicately to the small kitchen and took the half-loaf of remaining bread from the container. I also found another container made of plastic which I filled from the bucket of water that I had brought in. The top didn't fit quite right, so some of the water leaked when I crammed it in my coat pocket. I did all of this slowly, trying to minimize the sound of my movement as much as possible. I then went to the doorway, and pushed back the blanket. I slipped outside, feeling free of the claustrophobic hovel. It was cold outside and the sky above was so clear that the stars looked as if they could be touched. The only light was from a sliver of the moon.

Before heading to the barn, I stopped and shoved my back against the wall of the hut. I stood perfectly still. I watched and, most important of all, listened. I almost didn't catch the movement, but there was a sentry on the wall, almost directly ahead of me. I craned my neck around and saw another. This one was near the gate. Whether they were men or women, I could not tell, since only their dark figures against the moonlit horizon could be seen. But whoever they were, these sentries had to be looking outward for enemies, not inward for escapees. At least that was my hope.

With the bread under my arm and the water sloshing against my stomach, I headed toward the barn, using every stealthy trick I had learned over the years: I walked on the edges of my feet, all while staying hidden in the shadows as much as possible. Nobody appeared to be out, and the cluster of hovels around me were all dark. But still, this was not time to be hasty. I picked my way forward carefully. It seemed like hours before I reached the barn. By this time I was tired of grinding my teeth together.

The building was silent. Moving to the corner where I had already heard Peter, I called out his name using a voice just louder than a whisper. It was so quiet that I could hear my own heart beating. I tried again, this time raising the volume just another smidgen.

"Who is it?" someone finally answered. It wasn't Peter, but a girl's voice.

"I'm Emily. I need to talk to Peter."

"He's sleeping," was the testy reply.

"Is your name Beth?"

"Yes."

"Look, I'm trying to get Peter out of here. I want to escape this place. You can come too if you help me."

"Hold on."

I heard her walk away and then some sleepy mumblings. In a few seconds, I heard Peter's voice.

"Good evening, Emily," he said with all the politeness he could muster.

I felt like giggling, but stopped myself. Peter always had a way of taking the worst situations and making light of them. It was a good attitude to have when the world was ending.

I managed to say, "I have to break you two out of there. Help me while I pull at the siding here. With all of us working together, maybe we can loosen it enough to let you slip through."

"It's worth a shot," he said.

Sticking both of my hands along a gap, I began to pull. Peter gave a grunt from inside. I could feel his extra weight pushing against the aluminum wall. There was a creak and then a tearing sound, like a soda can being crinkled up. With a screech that seemed to break the night air, I felt a screw give loose and part of the panel gave way. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. One of the sentries on the wall was gone. Did they leave their post because of the sounds we were making?

With renewed vigor, I pulled on the aluminum panel. With Peter's help, another rivet gave away. And then another. The sound was loud and I wondered how much longer we would go unnoticed. With one more jerk, the metal twisted upward, giving enough space to allow someone to crawl through. Before I could tell Peter or Beth that it was safe to go through, a heavy blow struck me on the shoulder.

With a gasp, I pitched sideways, trying to pull away from the attacker. I saw a dark figure, a man, with a baseball bat in his hand. His arms came up for another blow, this time aiming for my head. The bat fell. Just in time I rolled off to the side and felt the impact strike the ground next to my ear. Even though my shoulder ached, I managed to stand. Instead of retreating, I charged the man. My sudden offense threw him off. We both fell to the ground. The bat went tumbling off to the side. I scratched at his face. He screamed. His fists flailed at me but I wasn't about to stop now. One thing I learned out among the world of the Dark Eyes is that you had to fight until you could battle no longer.

My attacker was much bigger than me. My blows weren't stopping him. With a swipe of his hand, I was shoved to the side. I struck the ground, panting. It felt as if I was paralyzed with fear. He was standing over me now, nothing but a dark shadow. A bitter laugh escaped his mouth. I could tell he was about to kick me. But before he could strike, he gave out a choking sound. The man fell to his knees and then slumped down to the ground, apparently unconscious. Standing behind him was someone else, bat in hand.

It was Peter. He said, "Come on, Emily, let's get out of here." His hand took mine. He pulled me off the ground. The movement hurt my shoulder. I almost cried out in pain but instead clamped hard on my bottom lip. I could taste blood. I put my good arm around his waist, thankful that we were together again.

"Now what?" Beth impatiently asked, her voice coming from behind his. "We still have to get outside."

I turned to look at her. In the gloom I saw nothing but the outline of wild hair and a willow-like body. "I thought we could climb on top of the barn here," I suggested. "The wall is only a few feet higher there."

"What do we have for food and water?" Peter asked.

I gave a little shrug and pointed to the bread that I had set down before removing the metal siding. "A dirty loaf of bread and a few swallows of water that's in my pocket."

"We won't get far on that," Beth said acidly.

I felt my anger rising as if I was choking the venom that came out. I snapped back, "If you don't like it, you can go ahead and get back inside. I'm sure Peter and I won't miss your company."

"This is no time for arguing," Peter hissed. "Let's go."

With my hurt shoulder, it took some considerable work from the both of them to get me on top of the barn roof. I scrambled against the cool metal, lying flat on my stomach. I extended my good arm to help Beth up. When she touched my hand, my skin crawled. Her nails bit cruelly into mine as she climbed up next to me. With both of our help, we managed to pull the heavier Peter up. After catching our breath, we crawled to the wall. This height was considerably easier to scale.

From the top of the wall, the ground below looked like quite the drop.

"Do you think you can do it?" Peter asked me with a whisper.

"I think so," I said. I would have preferred to have been helped down, but I wasn't about to give Beth the satisfaction. Instead I lowered myself as far as I could go, took a deep breath, and let myself drop. Thankfully the blowing sand had collected against the wall. When I hit, I ended up being buried up to my waist in the stuff. I quickly dug myself out and rolled off to the side, trying to keep the pain of my shoulder at bay.

Beth went next, followed by Peter. We then took off together, heading south. We moved as fast as we could, trying to put as much distance as we could between us and the pursuers that would be sure to come after us in the morning.
Chapter 6

By the time the sun was beginning to peek above the horizon, we were deep inside the remains of a dead forest. I felt parched and exhausted. I could see that my companions were feeling the same. Nonetheless, we went on, using the fear of being caught to fuel our flight. At this time I also got my first good glance at Beth. She was a scraggly specimen with tangled black hair, a face caked with grime, and dark eyes that appeared to hide a million secrets. Her clothing was no better than rags, revealing a well-toned body that was used to hardship. Of course these days, cleanliness was a rare thing, but I gained some satisfaction in how she appeared. It sounds terribly petty, but Peter and I had been companions for so long, I didn't want another woman to infringe on our special relationship. He would have to be blind to want a woman who looked like that.

As we neared a collapsed pile of trees that formed a natural hiding spot, Peter signaled us to stop. We were all breathing hard now. The pace had been relentless. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little container and saw that about half of the water had leaked out, soaking the front of my jacket. Opening the top, I saw there was enough for a good swallow each.

"Peter," I said, "We will have to get some more water soon. There isn't much here."

"I'm not thirsty yet," he replied, evading my eyes.

"Neither am I," Beth said bravely.

Peter continued, "We will need to stock up on everything soon enough. We can worry about water then." He slumped to the ground and leaned his back against a rotten stump. "Anyway, I'm tired right now. We can worry about that other stuff later."

Beth nodded in agreement. She also sat down, fairly close to Peter. That made me feel surprisingly angry.

I asked him, "Do you think those people from the village are going to hunt us down?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. I doubt it. If they do, I'm sure they won't go very far to find us. They're more concerned about their crop, not tracking down three runaways like us. I would hope they have better things to do than risk running into a bunch of Dark Eyes.."

I sat on my haunches and stared at Beth. I said to her, "I know we've just escaped that place and were lucky to do so, but I really wonder if we can trust her."

Peter was taken aback by my accusation. "How could you say that?" he asked.

Beth just gave me a crooked smile.

I replied, "I don't mean to be cruel, it is just that I don't know anything about her. I mean where did she come from and how did she survive so long without becoming a Dark Eye?"

Before Peter could answer, Beth said, "It's a long story. I'm not sure if you want to hear it."

"Go ahead," I said, trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

She gave Peter a shy glance before starting. "I originally came from New York City. My parents lived in an apartment on Park Avenue that overlooked Central Park. I had a younger sister named Anne. During summer break we would visit France or, if the weather was bad, head down to the Bahamas on my father's yacht. When the Infection came to the city, there was lots of confusion and fighting. Luckily we had a second home up in the wilds of Maine, right near the Canadian border. It was one crazy trip, but we managed to get there unscathed. However there wasn't much time to settle in. We ran out of food in a few weeks. My dad, who was an investment banker, had to learn to shoot a rifle, scavenge the surrounding homes, and go into town to barter. But even then, it wasn't long before there wasn't too much left to eat. It was almost a year later when the Dark Eyes came, spreading everywhere and infecting everyone they came into contact with. The nearby town, Rumford, was quickly overtaken by a mob of those monsters. We packed up everything and fled again, this time heading into Canada."

I glanced over at Peter. He appeared to be awestruck by her words. Perhaps it was her wealthy background or the fact that she once lived in a big city. Or perhaps it was unbridled love. Personally I didn't believe a single word of what she was saying. It sounded like a bunch of lies.

Beth continued, "Every mile we drove only ate into the gasoline and the few rations we had left. It wasn't long when we were forced to stop at a deserted and remote farmhouse. We spent the next two years there, each day a battle for survival. A few Dark Eyes came by but we remained hidden until they passed. But my mother got sick and died. It was some kind of fever. Anne got sick too but managed to fight off whatever disease it was. After my mother died, father was a broken man. He refused to leave the house. I was forced to go out and find food. I did this for months. I learned how to shoot, how to hide, and, when necessary, how to fight."

With his wide eyes, Peter looked spellbound. He said, "What happened to your father and sister?"

With a dramatic sweep of her hand, Beth replied, "It was the Dark Eyes, of course. We hadn't seen any for a few months, so our guard was down. I had left the house, scouting around trying to get more food. Since I had to go further and further out to find a house that was untouched, I was gone all day. When I returned, I noticed that it was too quiet. It was night and the little lamp that Anne kept lit for me wasn't to be seen anywhere. I was smart enough, so instead of rushing in, I stayed in the woods and watched. It was a long time, but soon I saw some strangers come out of the house. They dragged out my father and sister, both of them tied up with rope. They were flailing against the bonds like crazed people. I wanted to rush down and go help them, but knew I would join their fate if I did. Instead I decided to follow and see where they went.

"At that time I had never seen the later stage of the Dark Eyes. I thought they were all wild beasts. So it took a while for me to determine that there was something wrong with these people too. All through the night they led my father and sister, who, unknown to me, were suffering through the early throes of the Infection, to a little town. The place was crowded with what I thought were people. But they were moving in strange ways; not as individuals, but more like bees working at a hive. I watched all day, waiting until it was safe to make my approach the next evening."

"You are awfully brave," Peter gushed. And the worst part was the words sounded sincere.

I could only frown at the poor boy, shaking my head.

"Thank you," Beth said with an ingratiating smile. "You are awfully sweet, Peter. Anyway, it seemed like forever waiting outside. I got so awfully hungry and my water bottle quickly ran out. It was a relief when night came. I snuck carefully in and had to slip past several guards. After some searching, I found my father and sister. They were locked inside of a house. I could hear them thrashing around. I thought they were in pain or perhaps even being tortured. After opening a window in the back, I managed to crawl inside. I found my father on the floor of the living room. He was rolling on the floor, trying to free himself from the rope that bound him. However, once my father saw that I was there, he tried to bite me. A quick flick of my flashlight and I saw he had been turned into a Dark Eye. My sister Annie, who was in another room, was the same."

"That must have been awful," Peter said.

I felt like slapping him. We had all lost our loved ones, both family and new acquaintances. What did another sad story matter now?

"It was," she said. "I ran out of there and out of the town as fast as I could. When I got away far enough, I hid in the underbrush and cried my head off. It was only then that I realized that everyone in that town were Dark Eyes. They had changed, becoming cold and calculating; much different than the previous crazed things. This transformation, of course, took time to complete. Even to this day, I wonder if my father and sister are still alive, part human and part monster. I don't know.

"After the night had passed, I started off in a random direction. I luckily found a house deep on the woods that still had a few untouched provisions and a well that was deep enough to still draw out a trickle of water. I stayed there as long as I could. After the food was gone I went on, finding whatever I could to eat and drink. The days blended into one another. I mostly stayed hidden from the Dark Eyes, and only had to fight them on a few occasions. I don't know how I survived all of this time, but somehow I did. That is until I was captured by those farmers and thrown into that barn. I'm glad I ran into you two."

"As you should be," I said coldly. "Or else you would have been a Dark Eye by now. Just like your father and sister."

Beth looked as if she was about to burst into tears. But before she could reply, Peter interjected.

"Emily! That's no way to speak to her. Now I suggest we get moving again. We've had enough rest for now. We will have to find somewhere to hole up for a while and get our bearings. Hopefully some place with food and water."

"Fine," I said, giving him a nasty look.

Without a further word, we got up plodded on. There was a feeling of resentment in the air. Perhaps I had been too hasty in my poor treatment of Beth, but I still didn't trust her. Maybe it was just jealousy. I didn't know. The only thing I was sure of was that Peter was being a fool around her. That was one weakness that could affect my own survival out here in the wasteland of dust and desert. It was one thing to be helpful and protective of your comrades, and yet another to be a fawning idiot willing to throw his own life away for something like love. There was no room for such emotion in this new world.

It was a few hours later when we came to a highway: two ribbons of asphalt separated by a wide stretch of land. The pavement had been beaten to death by the beating sun above, turning the once black asphalt into a mottled gray. Large portions were covered by the ever present layer of dust and no tire tracks could be seen. It had been a long time since any cars had come this way. I imagined that by now everyone had run out of gasoline.

"Where are we going?" Beth asked.

"South," Peter stated confidently.

She didn't reply, but instead shrugged her shoulders in resignation. I suppose the two of us could have convinced Peter otherwise, but he seemed dead set to continue on.

We trudged along, all the while keeping a lookout for some place to find food and water. The sun above still scorched the earth with relentless ferocity. Even with my jacket knotted around my waist, the slight breeze that had sprung up brought little relief since the air was hot and dry. The stirred up dust wavered and shimmered above the road, making the asphalt look like black water. In the past such a sight would be surreal, but now it was just part of everyday living.

"There's something!" Peter exclaimed.

Off to the right, and almost hidden by the mass of leafless trees and brush, was a little camper – the sort that would be attached to the bed of a pickup truck. It had been removed from the bed of the vehicle and now rested in a clump of bramble. The top was covered with a thick layer of dust and the windows were streaked with grime. It looked empty and the ground around it was free of any tracks.

"Careful," I warned Peter as he approached.

"Don't worry," he said with a grin. With practiced caution, he approached the door, stopping every few seconds to listen. Once he was satisfied that no one was inside the aluminum enclosure, he gave the door a try. It did not open but a few kicks later and the lightweight frame buckled. He ducked his head and went inside. In moments, Peter was back outside and waving us to come over.

With Beth following meekly behind, I entered. It was dusty and dirty inside, but there was still a small bed with a jumble of blankets. The kitchen cupboards were hanging open, apparently already cleared by whoever left the camper behind. However in their haste they didn't get everything. A few cans with yellowed labels were crammed in the corner, along with a two liter of still-sealed soda. I went over to look at the food. It was all cream corn. The damned stuff was always the last to go.

Beth made a face. "I'm not eating that."

Peter shrugged. "It won't be that bad, especially with a little of the bread that Emily brought with. But at least we can have something to drink. I vote we stay here the night and rest. We have plenty more walking in front of us."

"Okay," I wearily agreed. At this point I was so tired that I didn't care if we were caught again. I just wanted to sleep.
Chapter 7

After a meal of bread and corn, followed by a few swallows of soda, we went to sleep. Or tried to. The bed was barely large enough for one. Fitting three of us on that tiny mattress took some doing. Every jostle or movement was felt and it was some time before I could finally fall asleep. When I woke up in the morning, I felt as if I had slept on a bag of rocks. Perhaps it would have been better to sleep outside on the ground, but at least here we could share some body warmth. It also felt good to have some walls around us, no matter how thin they were.

I noticed that I didn't feel very well, but I attributed that feeling to the lack of food and the hurried pace of our forced march.

After a breakfast consisting of a thin slice of bread each, we left. It was stifling outside. The sun above was hidden by thick billowing clouds. However it wasn't a sign of coming rain, but the common sight of a dust storm blowing high and clear of the ground. We traveled south, sticking to the road. Perhaps it wasn't the safest route, but it certainly was the easiest. Going through the dead forest would have provided more cover, but stumbling over the fallen trees and broken bramble would eat up too much time. And time was something we couldn't afford to waste – not with only two liters of soda and a few scraps of food to see us through.

As the day progressed, I noticed that Peter and Beth were getting along quite well. Perhaps a little too well for my liking. Most of the time they spent walking just ahead of me, sharing stories of their past. With the laughter and smiles, the both of them seemed to be in a fine mood which only made mine feel worse. Instead of joining in on the conversation, I sulked. I was feeling dizzy and sick, which didn't help. I also didn't want to show any weakness, so instead I kept quiet and desperately tried to keep up.

Peter eventually noticed my flagging energy. With concern, he asked, "Emily, are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine!" I snapped back, gritting my teeth so hard I thought my teeth would shatter.

"Okay, okay," he said with annoyance. He then returned to conversing with Beth. I hated him for it.

I could feel the sweat pouring off of my temples. Of course it was hot outside, but this was something worse. My legs throbbed and a strange tingling sensation seemed to rob them of feeling. I felt cold and just wanted to lie down. Instead I marched behind my two companions, every step burning up energy. I despised the both of them. It was unreasonable to do so, but my mind was swimming with a sea of emotion. I couldn't think straight and my feelings were getting the better of me.

It seemed like forever until we stopped for lunch. Peter guided us off the side of the road where we rested behind a large fallen tree. I rested my head against the smooth bark, wishing I could just die. The idea of walking further on seemed like too much. But no matter what, I was going to carry on without their help.

My eyes were cinched together in pain so I didn't notice Peter until he grabbed my shoulder. "Hey, Emily, you don't look so good. I think we should stop so you can rest."

I opened my eyes. Peter looked blurry and far away. The whole world seemed to be spinning. "I told you I'm fine," I lied. My voice sounded faraway as if someone else was saying the words.

He nodded slowly and then backed away. I shut my eyes again, wishing I could somehow make myself feel better. I could hear him whispering to Beth. I knew they had to be talking about me. This made me angry.

With a burst of energy, I spat out, "Come on let's go!" However, that exertion was too much for me. I tried to rise but just couldn't. Instead I fell into a heap, unable to move except for a spasm of vomit that rose from my stomach and escaped my lips.

The next few hours were a swirl of misery. I couldn't stop throwing up until my stomach was empty. I could hear Peter and Beth trying to talk to me, but I was too weak to respond. I then felt myself being carried and finally dragged along. I shivered. I moaned. I cried out for my mother, who I didn't even know was alive or dead.

When I finally awoke, I was lying on a bed. A mound of blankets covered my body. The sun shone through a filthy window. The walls were made of rough paneling that had seen better days. When I tried to move, I found that it took all of my energy to even twist my head to the side. I looked around the room I was in. It was a small place, barely large enough to hold the bed I was lying on. A shabby dresser was tucked in the corner. A side table next to me held an empty glass, and a lamp with a light bulb that was probably last turned on years ago.

"Hello?" I called out. My voice sounded weak, cracking with every letter. There was no response. I tried a second time. Again there was no response. I began to panic. Perhaps I had been left behind to die. Or maybe Peter and Beth had brought me here, only to have been captured by the Dark Eyes. I had to find out what happened to them.

Getting out of bed took some effort. I pushed the mass of blankets aside and rolled to the floor, which was thankfully carpeted with a hideous brown shag. Thankfully my shoulder now felt mostly healed. That made me wonder how long I had been out. I was too weak to walk, or even stand. Instead I crawled, moving on my hands and knees inch by painful inch. I thought I was going to pass out from the exertion, but I gritted my teeth and kept on going. Leaving the bedroom, I found I was in a small narrow hallway. There were a few pictures on the wall.

"Peter!" I shouted. My voice was stronger this time.

There was no immediate response, but I thought I heard a low groan coming from the doorway to my right. Feeling helpless, I went to investigate. I cautiously poked my head in and saw that it was another bedroom. Peter was lying on the bed, moaning and thrashing around. I crawled over to him. I felt his forehead. He was sweating profusely. No matter how I shook his shoulders or how many times I called his name, he did not respond. He was lost in some terrible sickness, most likely the one that had overtaken me.

When I had regained enough strength, I went searching for Beth. I found her on the sofa of the living room. She was also incapacitated in the same manner that had befallen Peter. I could tell she was in pain. To my surprise, I felt sorry for her. It appeared that the two of them had found a small cottage to hide out in. They had put me in bed and cared for me until the sickness had come for them. Who knows how long we had been here. Now it was my turn to take of them. But first I needed something to drink, and perhaps a bite to eat. Only then could I venture outside and see where we were.

I crawled to the kitchen and pulled myself off the floor. On the counter I found only a scrap of bread left, the very end that was completely dry. It had obviously been sitting here a few days. The few cans were in the sink, opened and empty. The two-liter of soda only had a swallow left. I opened the cap and drank the last of the sugary dregs. To my sour mouth it tasted wonderful. I managed to swallow the last bit of bread. It tasted like sand but it was better than nothing.

A quick search of the rest of the cupboard revealed nothing. With Peter and Beth sick, we wouldn't last long. Even in my weakened state, I had to go out and try to find some food and water. There just wasn't any other choice. But first I sat on the kitchen floor and rested my back against the oven door. I rested until I felt I could move without falling over. I pushed myself up off the floor and clumsily found my way back to the living room. Beth was still there, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Pulling open the front door, I stepped outside. I saw that we were in the middle of a forest, the lines of dead trees standing at odd angles. Like everywhere else, the branches were bare of leaves, but they were so close together that a dense wall was made, almost blocking out the sun. Even the dust seemed lighter here, as if had filtered from above instead of being blown along by the wind. I could see a set of footprints leading to the house which was a small and built long before I was born. The trail wound along until lost in the bone white trunks.

I had to go another direction. Since Peter and Beth had already come that way, there couldn't be any sense taking that route. Instead I took a ninety degree turn, keeping the sun over my left shoulder. It looked as if I was on the remains of a dirt road, now buried and impeded by fallen trees. I wasn't too afraid of getting lost since I could always follow my own tracks back. There was, of course, a chance that a sudden windstorm could come along and blanket out my footprints, but as far as I could tell this area was well-protected from the elements.

I kept along the road, stepping over fallen logs as I went. It was quiet here. I realized I hated being alone. I missed hearing Peter's voice. Without him, I suddenly felt lost. But I pushed on, trying not to feel miserable. It was several hundred yards before I saw another sign that the area had once been inhabited. A pickup truck, the tires flat and baked gray, rested on the shoulder of the road. The blue paint was faded and cracked, but the lack of moisture also kept it free of rust. Perhaps, I thought, some archaeologists hundreds of years from now will find all these preserved artifacts and come up with some fanciful theories about their daily use.

Before I could continue my thoughts, I suddenly stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. To my right, in the graveyard of trees, there was someone walking. It was a man in a red shirt, perhaps some fifty yards away. He didn't appear to see me. Instead he kicked some sand at the base of a tree and shuffled along as if he hadn't a care in the world. I stayed perfectly still and waited. He moved slowly on, apparently not noticing me at all.

I got off the road. Dodging from tree to tree, I stayed behind him, but remained far enough away that I could remain undetected. Soon the road was far behind me. I could see that the man a little better now. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt with holes in the elbows. His pants were hanging loosely on this gaunt body and he was barefoot. A baseball cap was balanced on his head and long blonde hair spilled out from underneath. He certainly was no Dark Eye since he didn't move with the inhuman rigidity or travel in a pack.

After a few minutes, he paused and turned to look over his shoulder. I was quick on my feet and was able to slip behind a tree. I waited, hearing my breath and the thump of my heart. There was no sound or any sign that I had been seen. I peeked around the peeling bark and saw that he had disappeared. Moving cautiously, I followed his footprints. The man had moved deeper into the trees. It wasn't long when I came to a little cabin. The structure had once been nestled inside a copse of pines. Now the branches were stripped of needles, making the trees look like twisted skeletons hanging over the roof of worn cedar shake. The walls looked to be made of rough-hewn slabs of wood, but it could have just been a decorative effect done by the original builder.

The front yard, if you could call it that, was dominated by a stone rimmed fire pit that was smoldering away, creating a thin trail of white smoke that rose into the air. The small front porch had a pair of camping chairs made of fabric and aluminum poles. Beyond that was a closed door and a pair of windows. Seeing inside the building was impossible because of the closed drapes.

Finding a good hiding place in a pile of bramble, I got down on my stomach and began to watch. I had to be careful. I couldn't afford to get caught; not with Peter and Beth helpless and sick. Who knew how this man had managed to survive out here so long. He was either a cannibal or had a big stash of food. I was hoping for the latter.

My wait wasn't long. The front door opened. The man came out carrying a can. He sat down on one of the chairs, put his feet up on the deck railing, and began to whistle to himself. The tune floated over the broken land. It wasn't any song that I recognized, but the notes had a dreamy, lonely sound that made me think of days long past. After a few moments of this, the man suddenly gave a snort. He then pulled on the tab of the can and flung the lid away. Dipping a hand inside, he pulled out a orange glob that, even at the distance I was at, looked to be a peach. I began to salivate at the prospect of getting my hands on such a delicacy.

I thought of the options before me. I could try to sneak into that house and steal what I food I could, but the tracks I would leave would allow the man to follow me back to Peter and Beth. The other choice was to just leave, but the idea of starving or dying of thirst was not a pleasant prospect. The only thing left to do was to go and go ask for supplies, hoping he had no malice toward beggars. I really didn't feel comfortable taking this route, not with my past experience with the Dark Eyes and cannibals.

However, before I had a chance to rise and approach the house, I heard a soft footstep coming from behind. Alerted, I spun onto my back and tried to quickly stand. But the barrel of a shotgun pointing my way stopped any further movement. The wielder of this firearm was a lean bearded man wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days. His face cracked into a smile that revealed a number of missing teeth. I had been a fool not to realize that the two chairs on the porch meant that someone else was around.

"Well," he said, "It looks like I caught myself a snooper. What are you doing here, girl?"'
Chapter 8

"Are there more of you?" the bearded man asked.

I shook my head, my eyes staying busy trying to find some avenue to escape. But any chance of flight was impossible since I would be cut down by a single pull of the trigger. In the past I had seen what a shotgun at close range can do and it isn't pretty.

"Nate!" he called out to his friend. "It looks like I owe you a cigarette. You were right; you were being followed."

I looked over my shoulder and saw the man named Nate come off the porch.

He came to us at a run. When Nate stopped, he was breathing hard. "I told you, Sean," he spat out. "What do you want to do with her?"

"Look, I'm not doing you any harm," I said, trying to keep calm. I was scared as hell but I didn't want to show it. "I'm just looking for something to eat and maybe something to drink."

The man named Sean studied me. He finally said, "I bet you are. Tell me are you one of those grubbing farmers?" Those last words were spoken with some venom.

I shook my head. "No, sir. I'm just lost. Though I just did escape from their village. But I had to leave all of my supplies and gun behind."

The barrel of the gun dropped. "How did a girl like you survive out in the wilderness by yourself? How did you evade the Dark Eyes for so long?"

I was reminded of the questions I had asked Beth. Perhaps I had been a little too unfair with her. It felt terrible to be on the other side of an interrogation. I replied, "I guess I was lucky. But do you think you could spare me something to eat?"

Sean seemed skeptical, but Nate said, "Come on in, we've got plenty to spare. By the way, what's your name?"

"Emily," I replied.

Nate smiled at me. "Well, Emily, why don't you come with me and we'll get you some food. You are looking a little underfed. By the way, my name is Nate Stafford. This here is my brother Sean." He laughed, but it was the sort of laugh that built on humor.

With Sean taking up the rear, I followed Nate into the house. It was dark inside. The first thing I saw was two cots in front of a fireplace. In the back there was a small vintage kitchen table was located near a sink with a manual pump. Stacked against the walls were boxes and boxes of food. The very sight of it made me catch my breath.

"Impressive, isn't it," Nate stated with pride. "What are you hankering for?"

"Anything," I replied gratefully, momentarily forgetting my fear of being here in this house with two complete strangers. But part of me really did feel relaxed. There was no sense of malice emanating from these two. They actually seemed concerned for my well-being, unlike most of the people I have met out in this destroyed world. I wondered how they still maintained some sense of humanity, especially after all these dark years.

Nate opened a can of mandarin oranges and passed it over to me, along with a fork. As they watched, I finished all of the fruit and then drank the remaining juice. When I was finished, I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt.

With a laugh, Nate said, "Well you are hungry."

I gave him a smile. "Just how did you get all of this food?"

"It was my idea," Sean growled. "When everything started going to hell, I bought this land out in the middle of nowhere. We built a cabin here. I spent all of my money buying food and supplies." He waved his hand in a flat circular motion apparently indicating the area immediately around us.. "There are plenty of buried stockpiles hidden here. I made sure that my brother and I had plenty to live on, though things got much worse than I ever expected. But at least we aren't starving to death."

"How did you deal with the Dark Eyes?" I asked.

"The Dark Eyes? Oh, you mean those crazy zombie things? Well, as I said, this place is pretty remote. I didn't even know those things were around until I traveled into town to see how bad things got. We had been living pretty much alone and hadn't seen anyone for a long time. That must have been two or three years ago. Everyone I knew there had been changed. They started chasing me." He lifted the shotgun up. "I made a few of those monsters pay for it. I took off in the truck and never went back there again. No reason to, is there? Not when Nate and I have everything we need here."

I nodded. "You said something about a truck. Does it still run?"

"If it had gas it would. We ran out of that a couple of months ago. Why do you ask?"

Deciding it was time to come clean, I said, "I have two friends back in a house a few miles from here. Both of them are very ill. I had the same sickness but I'm better now. I was just thinking of some way of bringing them here. You see, we're traveling south, trying to get back to Michigan. My friend Peter has it in his head that there will be more food in the big cities. He also wants to see if we can find out more about the Dark Eyes."

"What's to know?" Nate asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"My brother makes a good point," Sean said. "About the only thing you need to know is to stay far away from them."

I explained, "Before I wandered up here with my friend Peter, I was living in Michigan at a house with a man named Brent. He discovered what is causing the Infection. It's not a zombie movie scenario, but a nanobot. It was a small robot designed as a military weapon to conquer other countries. There was an accident. The nanobots were somehow released. That's what caused the Infection to spread. There is an inoculation, one that I received. It is impossible for me to become a Dark Eye."

"That's interesting," Sean commented, his forehead narrowed in thought. "I was thinking it was something biological." He let out a self-depreciating laugh. "Or even supernatural, but perhaps I watched too many movies when I was growing up."

"My friend Peter thinks we should try to find where this nanobot was manufactured. Perhaps there really is a cure or at least some way to permanently stop them."

Sean said, "Things are pretty tough right now. We already have enough trouble staying alive on this poor planet of ours. At this point, why do you think it matters now? I mean your friend Peter says this and says that, but how do you feel? Is there really a chance to get rid of the Dark Eyes?"

I could do nothing but give a weak shrug in response. Thinking of what happened to Brent, I said, "I don't know, but I know that sometimes you have to do what is right, no matter what it personally costs you. I think Peter is perhaps a little misguided, but he may have a point. We can't survive much longer out here, not without new sources of food and the threat of the Dark Eyes gone. There is no chance to build a community that can work together. Those farmers back there were on the right track, but they still lived in fear of the Dark Eyes. They are confined to their little village like prisoners. At this rate, in a few years there won't be many of their people left."

Sean looked at his brother. Some sort of understanding passed between the two of them. He said, "Look, I'm getting tired of scraping out a living out here in the middle of nowhere. When our food runs out, there won't be anything left to do but join the farmers and hope that they take us in. I can't live that way. I want to be my own man. I want to be free. We'll help you anyway that we can."

"Why would you want to help me?" I asked suspiciously. My time out there fighting for survival had left me a little paranoid. That was understandable after all the death and destruction I had seen.

Nate interjected, "Anything beats sitting around here and seeing the same old dirt blowing around the house."

"My brother has a point," Sean said. "If we don't do something soon, we'll die of boredom. Now take us to your friends and we'll see what we can do to set you on the right path."

"Okay," I said uncertainly.

Using the tracks I had left behind, finding our way back to the place where my companions were holed up was easy enough. Peter and Beth were still where I had left them, twitching and moaning with pain.

"We'll have to drag them back with us," Sean suggested after he had looked them over. "It will be easier to take care of them that way. They've both got the fever pretty bad."

"I had it too," I said. "Will they be okay?"

"It's those farmers," Nate said as he shook his head.

"What does he mean?" I asked Sean.

"It's the crowded conditions," Sean explained. "It's like a medieval village that has walled itself off from the Vikings. Cramming all those people into such a small space without proper sanitation can only lead to sickness. I'll give them credit for making food out of that damn rag weed, but they aren't very good at keeping things clean. Now let's give these young kids a chance to rest. We can plan your trip when they are feeling better. Now come and give me a hand."

*

It was three days before Peter and Beth could move under their own power again. During that time I regained my strength by eating and resting. I also spent my time watching Sean and Nate work. They were an odd pair of brothers apparently resigned to each others company.

Sean, the older of the two, was the more thoughtful. When not busy with some chore, he would sit on the porch and stare off into the sky. His talk would turn to weighty measures about the existence of mankind, morality, and the meaning of life. At first I found the conversations with him interesting, but a few days of such circular musings was ultimately unrewarding. Nonetheless, he was a good leader who was concerned with minute details.

Nate, on the other hand, was more concerned about the immediate. He was a quiet man who rarely spoke, but still listened to conversations with an intent interest. Though obviously deferential to his brother, he was still his own person: kind and good with his hands. He had built the little log cabin we were now all staying at.

The quarters were cramped but it still felt homey. At night, the roar of the fire and the snores of my companions was a reassuring reminder that we were still alive and out of the clutches of the Dark Eyes. We were still human and still fighting against the odds..

When Beth and Peter were finally healthy enough to participate in a meeting, Sean called everyone together in the main room of the cabin. It was after breakfast and the fire in the stove was dwindling. Beth was resting on one of the cots while Peter was slumped in the chair. Nate was sitting at the kitchen table, whittling some piece of wood with a pocketknife. Sean was pacing back and forth in front of the fire, looking as if he could wear a path in the rough floor. I stayed standing, my arm resting on the backrest of the chair that Peter was using.

When he was ready to start, Sean cleared his throat. He then eyed each one of us as if taking our measure. He then said, "We have been joined together by chance. My brother and I survived by his work and my brains." He said the last part without any trace of humility. "You three have survived impossible odds to find yourself here, a small haven against the outside world. But we cannot stay, waiting for fate to make everything right again. We must take part in that decision. I thought that my brother and I only had a few years left until we would have starved or been forced to join the nearby farmers, spending the rest of our lives keeping the Dark Eyes at bay."

He pointed in my direction and said, "But then with the information that I received from Emily, I see a new opportunity. Peter suggested finding the source of the nanobots; the place these infernal things were created. It seems like a slim chance, but it's still better than what the future hold for us." He fanned out his arms as if encompassing the whole world. "If we do not do something, the immediate future will see the end of the human race. Sure, we have made our mistakes, but that doesn't mean that we deserve to be snuffed out like vermin."

His voice still weak, Peter asked, "How will we get back south? I mean we cannot walk that distance, not without starving or dying of thirst. It's impossible to haul all the food we need by foot."

Sean dropped his hands and smiled at the young man. "I have given this some thought too. The best thing to do is to travel by truck. That way we can carry the food, water, and fuel needed to make the journey. It will be dangerous trip, so guns will be required."

"How will we get the gasoline to travel?" I asked. "You told me that your truck hasn't been run for a long time. Are you sure it still works?"

"If it doesn't run, I can fix it," Nate said with confidence.

"He can fix anything," Sean replied. "But as you say, the biggest concern is getting the gas for the truck. Any remaining stocks have got to be low or even turned into turpentine. But we got to find enough to top off those tanks. That means we have to go to the nearby town and find some. I'll take Emily with me and the two of us can see if there is any left to get."

Peter quickly rose from his chair. He was still so weak that the motion almost made him fall over. He protested, "It's not safe. I'll go instead of her."

Knowing that Peter still cared for me, I felt a twinge of happiness.

Sean shook his head, looking at him with an expression of pity. "You're much too sick, my friend. Anyway Emily is good at looking after herself. There won't be any trouble. We'll just scout around, work our way around the edges of town at first. If it's too dangerous, we'll have to find somewhere else to get the fuel we need."

With those assurances, Peter backed down. His head drooped. I could tell he was feeling useless. He wasn't used to being out of the action.

I touched his back. I said, "Don't worry, Peter, I'll be alright. It isn't like I'll be going in unarmed or anything like that." I patted the Colt automatic – a gift from Sean - that was hanging in the harness under my left armpit. A glance over to Beth and I saw that she was watching us carefully. Her eyes were hard and unblinking. Did I detect a hint of jealousy there? I took the chance and leaned over. I gave Pete a quick peck on the cheek. Much to my annoyance he was so lost in his thoughts that he did not respond.

"When do we leave?" I asked brightly, hoping to further annoy Beth. Yes, I realized by then that I had been too hard on her, but when it came to Peter, I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Sean must have felt some of the tension in the room since it took a few seconds before he replied. "Uh, right now."

"Good, let's go." Without a further word, I turned and went out the front door.
Chapter 9

Sean came out of the cabin carrying a plastic container for the gasoline. He had a shotgun and a canteen slung over his shoulder. "This way," he said while pointing off to the east. "It's going to be a bit of a hike, so I hope you're feeling up to it."

"We'll see."

In a few moments we were lost in the press of trees. As normal, the sun above was glowing hot, but the denseness of the forest helped to block some of the heat. It was quiet out and, except for sand crunching underfoot, the only sound was the wind blowing through the skeletal forest.

"You like that Peter fellow, don't you?" Sean asked, obviously embarrassed for suggesting it.

I could feel myself blushing. "I guess so," I replied cautiously.

"He seems like a good guy. But in this world you have to be careful with who you fall in love with. I'm sure you don't want to hear my story." He gave a grimace, turning his expression dark and frightening. That quickly disappeared when he smiled weakly. "We've all lost someone that was important to us."

I nodded. "I lost my father and mother. After that, I was practically adopted by Brent and a woman named Tanya. They took care of me. Now they're gone too. I'm afraid that Peter is going to be next." I felt my voice catch.

He gave me a sidelong glance. "I hate to say it but it could happen. You know that. I know that. My own wife, Anne, was killed by a road gang. So was my twelve-year old daughter." He gave a cough and then cleared his throat, as if trying to push away an old memory. "It was before the Dark Eyes came. Amazing how those bad times look positively good now. This is when gangs ruled the streets. We were driving home from her mother's house when we got attacked. The car was shot up from both sides. Anne got a bullet in the temple and died right away. My only daughter, Susan, was dragged out of the car. I was knocked unconscious by some bastard with a hammer. When I woke up, I found myself in a ditch. Susan was dead in the street, lying next to the car. I won't go into the detail of what happened to her, but I'll never forget that expression on her face."

"I'm sorry to hear that," was all that I could say.

I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked a few times and brushed them away. "Thank you, Emily. That means something to me. It really does. After that, I sort of gave up on life." He shook his head. "It was my brother who brought me out of the slump. Nate drove me up here so I could think things through. That's when everything really went to hell. We were lucky to have made it here before things went completely downhill. Before the Dark Eyes took over."

"I've seen some terrible things myself," I said as I stepped past a fallen tree branch that had been stripped bare of bark. The wood underneath was almost as white as a bone.

"And I'm sure we'll see plenty more before we die." He paused as if trying to collect his thoughts. "I just wanted to say that there are other men than Peter in the world."

"What?" I asked.

The words tumbled out. "I mean that if things don't work out for Peter and you, there are other choices."

"Like what?" I spat out with more venom than I intended.

This little outburst made Sean pause once again. This time he stopped to face me. He grabbed my shoulders which made me feel trapped and a little frightened. "I just wanted to say that I think I love you. I know we haven't known each other for long, but I had to say it. I may not be around in the next hour or the next day to tell you." He then let go of me and began walking away, his shoulders hunched together as if expecting a blow.

I was too shocked to say anything. Instead I began to plod behind him, wondering how I could reply without breaking his heart. I decided not to say anything. I liked Sean but he seemed too cerebral, too worried about the details of life. He was also almost twice my age.

I followed him for another half an hour or so without either of us saying a word. He suddenly stopped and pulled the canteen off of his shoulder. He passed it to me.

"Thank you," I said quietly. I took a long pull of the water. Even though it was warm, the moisture was a welcome relief from the heat. When I was done, I passed the canteen back to him.

Sean screwed the top on. He blurted out, "I'm sorry what I said back there. You shouldn't pay me any attention to me. I'm just a lonely man. You know, there exactly haven't been many women around here." He gave me a sheepish grin.

"No apologies required."

"Good. We can discuss what I said later, but only if you want to. Now it's time to be a little more careful. Over this crest is the town of Cochran. The last time I was here, it was overtaken by the Dark Eyes. It couldn't have gotten any better since then."

He was right. When we had crawled through the dust and, using binoculars, looked down into the town below the hill, the sight was surprising. Instead of the expected desolated homes, offices and businesses, the entire place had been burned to the ground. A large center building still existed though. It was an old large warehouse with brick walls. It was only one story high and the center of the metal roof was open. From this rough hole came a thin stream of smoke. Moving figures could be seen around the base of the building which was populated with a few tents of different sizes and colors.

"I'll be damned," I heard Sean say. "There's nothing left."

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until I let out a gasp. "Why would they burn down the town?"

"Who knows? There was probably some sort of battle here. We'll have to sneak down there and see if they have any gas stored away. It'll probably be inside that warehouse."

"I guess so," I said. A shiver of fear traveled down my spine. "But let's stay here and watch for a little while. Anyway, I would like it to get a little more dark before we get anywhere close to the Infecteds."

"Sure," he said as he returned his attention to the sight below.

We spent the next few hours watching the encampment. Little groups of Dark Eyes would sporadically come and go. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to their movements. I wondered how they stayed alive. Food was such a rare thing now.

My ruminations were cut off by the distant sound of an engine. Trailing a stream of dust, a black truck pulled up to the front entrance. It was dirty and the bed was enclosed with thrown together metal sheeting. Someone pulled out two women from the back. A pair of Dark Eyes marched them to the warehouse entrance where they disappeared inside. The truck then pulled away and was parked off to the side. It was the only vehicle around and the only one I had seen running for the past couple of years. I wondered who those prisoners were.

"There we go," Sean said. "The fuel has to be stored somewhere by the truck."

"What about those two who were brought inside?" I asked.

"There isn't much we can do about them," Sean replied. "We can't fight the whole lot of Dark Eyes. There must be a good thirty or forty of those bastards down there and who knows how many are inside that building."

"I know," I replied. "But I would still like to look inside the warehouse. There could be something important, like some more weapons."

"It will be on your head," he said. "I'll go get the gasoline and you can go investigate that building. Either way, we'll have to wait until dark."

I nodded. "I'll do it."

We waited for night to come. We ate from the food we had brought and drank from the canteen. Sean talked of the old days.

"I used to work as a foreman at an auto parts plant. We made plastic bumpers and that sort of thing. It wasn't a large company so when things started going to hell, we were one of the first places to go under." He let out a sigh. "Luckily I had enough experience that I was able to get another job quickly. It was pretty much doing the same thing. But that didn't last very long. If people aren't buying cars or trucks, then the demand just isn't there. I got let go after only five months.

"At first I was too proud to take unemployment, but I didn't want to starve. You remember, of course, how much food started to cost." He looked up at the burning sun that was baking our shoulders. "When the weather got bad, the farmers started pumping all the water they could into the crops. Even then, I heard, half of the harvest would die. And that's before it got really hot. After that, the prices for food jumped up even more. With my wife and kid on the edge of starvation we were forced to take the government assistance."

"We did the same," I said. "My dad was a librarian. With a busted budget, the city didn't think keeping a library around was worth the expense. We were living off the government handouts too."

Sean gave a little laugh. "Yeah, when the government stores of food disappeared, everyone went crazy. Only those survival nuts like me were sitting pretty. I wonder how many of us were robbed or killed before we had a chance to use our supplies." He turned to study the sun which was beginning to dip under the horizon. After a moment he said, "Come on, let's go. We've done enough jawing."

We headed down the hill, taking a diagonal course through the shattered forest. The dust here was piled up, making the way treacherous. After the first slip, I used the outstretched branches to slow my descent. At the bottom of the hill, the ground flattened out. Sean took the lead, moving low and fast. I followed him as he dodged from tree to tree. Once we reached the edge of the town, he motioned me to stop. I got close to him and looked upon the remaining building. It was standing in the middle of the ruins of blackened wood and bleached concrete.

I could now see the tents in more detail. Aligned in a rough circle, they were placed in front of the warehouse entrance. A few scraggly Dark Eyes lounged around in camping chairs. Someone was building a fire using wood that came from a stack of logs. Even at our distance of some fifty yards, I could smell the stink of humanity; people who had gone too long without bathing or building proper toilet facilities.

"Do you smell that?" Sean asked, his voice rough with emotion.

"So they aren't the cleanest," I answered.

"No, that faint smell of meat. It's like nothing I had ever smelled before."

"It's people," I said with a whisper. "I've come across it before."

Sean looked like he was going to turn green. He swallowed hard. "I'm going to go look at that truck. I'm going to get whatever fuel I can. You can do what you need to, but please, be careful. I'll meet you back here in ten minutes. If you hear any shooting, I want you to take off without me. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now go."

Before I could say anything, he suddenly reached over and hugged me. He smelled of burnt wood and sweat, but it was a good odor, quite unlike the Dark Eyes only a stone's throw away. I hugged him back. I don't know why. Perhaps I was more scared than I thought.

Sean then slipped out of my arms and went off to the side, using the trees as cover. I went the other way, hoping nothing wrong would happen.
Chapter 10

I broke from the cover of the trees and ran. I went through the maze of ruins and only stopped when I got to the back of the warehouse. There was a metal door here. I tugged on the knob but it didn't budge. In frustration, I looked around the corner. I didn't see anyone. This time I pushed hard as I could against the door as I turned the knob. With a small metallic screech; it moved, grating hard against concrete floor. I opened it just enough so I could slide through.

There was an odor in the air; a very unpleasant one that I had smelled before. It was the stench of death. Pushing carefully past stacks of boxes and clutter, I came to the main part of the building. It was cavernous. And terrible. Even after all the horrors I had already seen, my senses began to swim. On the right side of the wide space was a fenced off area. Behind the fence were at least two dozen people. They were all naked, emaciated, and dirty beyond belief. They looked so weak that I was surprised that they were even alive. They were sitting on the floor, looking numb and hopeless like cattle waiting for the slaughter. In the center of the room was a fire placed inside of a rock-ringed pit. Stretched above the pit were three metal horizontal poles, each end resting on a wooden post. One of the poles was occupied by a tied-up man with missing legs. He was dead. His skin was blackened from the licking flames below.

If that sight wasn't terrible enough, the left side of the room made bile rise from my stomach. Hanging from the ceiling were a series of chains with hooks on the end. On the end of several of the hooks were pieces of what looked to be meat. But I knew they were the remains of people – those who had already been cooked above the fire. Bile rose in my throat. I could barely keep my last meal down. Instead I swallowed hard. There were others besides the captives in the room

Near the entrance I saw two Dark Eyes talking. One was wearing a leather apron while the other had on an army uniform that had seen better days. The latter had a military rifle slung over his shoulder. The distance was great enough that I couldn't make out their words.

I stayed behind the cover of boxes and watched. I knew I didn't have much time but I wanted to help the poor souls trapped here. I couldn't imagine the horror they must be going through; waiting for the moment when they were to be killed, cooked, and chopped into food for the Dark Eyes outside. It would have been better to be shot trying to escape than suffer the cruel torture of waiting, not knowing exactly when you would die but fearing it could happen at any moment.

The man in the army uniform turned away and left, heading outside. The other man turned his attention to the inside of the building. He wiped his hands on the apron and walked over to the fence.

"We will need another," he stated as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Of course there was nothing normal about the Dark Eyes. They were free of emotion and humanity. But I also wondered why they had turned to cannibalism. I would have to return to that thought later. Now it was time to act. I took this moment to search through the jumble of junk behind me. There I found a pipe about the length of my arm and the thickness of my wrist. I tested the weight in my hand and the returned my attention to the creature in the leather apron.

He was unlocking the gate, using a key from a ring that hung on his waist. The metal bars swung open. He grabbed a meat cleaver and entered inside. The prisoners were too weak to resist. The Dark Eye in the leather apron was out quickly enough, dragging a young girl by the hair. He shoved her roughly to the ground and then went to lock the gate back up.

Holding the pipe over my head, I charged out of my hiding space. I could feel the eyes of the prisoners on me. My target heard me coming from behind but it was too late to for him do anything. His neck turned just as I struck the back of his head with all the might I could muster. I didn't feel any sense of guilt or remorse when he pitched forward, the back of his skull now a bloody red pulp.

I had to move fast now. I only had a few minutes left before I had to get back and meet Sean. Jerking the gate open, I shouted, "Come on! Get out of here before the Dark Eyes come back!"

I was only met by blank stares. The emaciated prisoners looked too far gone and too cowed to do anything. I was about to turn and run back the way I had come, when a man with a feathery white beard started moving. He went past me and headed toward the rear entrance. In seconds there was a flood of them moving as fast as they could. I counted at least ten of them before I lost track. I felt a sense of relief flooding through me. At least some of them would get away and perhaps survive out there. Anything, even starvation, would be better than being trapped here.

A terrible screech came from behind me.

I spun around and saw a short, bald Dark Eye at the front entrance. Luckily he wasn't armed except for a baseball bat. With a lumbering gait he came running at me, his weapon held over his head.

Without thinking, I tugged the Colt out of the harness and fired, hitting the attacker right in the chest. With a gurgling, blood-flecked scream, he pitched forward and collapsed on the floor. The baseball bat went rolling on the concrete floor, stopping to rest on the lip of the fire pit. His black eyes blinked a few times and then stared into nothingness.

I cursed myself for shooting the gun. It had been pure reaction but now we would be swarmed with Dark Eyes. This escape was going all wrong. From outside I heard a shot rang out. And then a barrage. I heard the sound of an engine screaming and then pulling away. It sounded if Sean had also run into trouble. I had to get out of here. As the last escapees ran out the back door, I saw that the little girl, the one who had been picked by the butcher, was still on the floor. She was a dirty-faced waif with muddy brown hair. I could hear her sniffling away, oblivious to the escape. Pulling her along with me, I lurched towards the rear entrance. The girl was nothing but a bag of bones.

When I got outside, I saw the freed prisoners desperately running for the trees, trying to gain as much distance as they could. It wouldn't take long before the Dark Eyes noticed their food was running away. At least the distraction of the gunfire would buy the escapees a little more time.

The roar of the engine suddenly grew louder. The truck came careening around the corner of the building. I pulled back into the building, fearing the worst. The truck stopped in a cloud of dust. Through the open window, I could see Sean behind the steering wheel, waving his hands wildly, indicating that I should jump in. I scooped the little girl up, ran to the door, opened it, and fell inside with my arms still wrapped around her. Not even waiting for me to shut the door, Sean took off. We spun through the dust and then the tires hit the remnant of the road. I slammed the door shut. Over the roar of the exhaust, I could hear the crack of gunfire. Several bullets clattered against the back of the truck. And then, amazingly, we were over and hill and clear.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.

For a brief second he took his attention away from driving. He cracked me a grin. "Instead of taking the gas, I decided to take the whole truck! Anyway, at least we know it runs!"

"Well slow down!" I spat out. We were going fast, the headlights bouncing up and down over the rough surface. The girl in my arms began to cry, apparently scared out of her wits.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sean said hurriedly. The speed slackened. "I just got a little carried away. Who's she?"

"I don't know her name. I just found her inside of that warehouse, along with a bunch of other prisoners. The Dark Eyes were going to eat her. I took care of the butcher and freed everyone. I can only hope that they get far enough away."

"I'm sure they will, especially since those damn zombies don't have this truck." With apparent glee, Sean slapped his hand on the steering wheel. "I sneaked through the woods and got to the rear of the vehicle. There were some gas cans there. I grabbed one and was about to head back when I heard someone coming my way. I had to hide next to the door of the truck. I saw some big balding guy walk out of the warehouse. That's when I noticed the keys were still inside the ignition. I thought it would be better to take their only running vehicle."

I craned my head to look at the side view mirror to see if we were somehow being followed. There was nothing there but the darkness of night. "You're lucky to be alive," I said.

He let out a laugh as if releasing all the pent up worries. "When we get back home, won't they be surprised? But now we won't be able to dawdle. We'll have to pack up and go. It won't be that hard for those Dark Eyes to track us back to my cabin."

"Yeah," I said as I stroked the girl's hair. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 11

I was dreaming. My father was on the deck of a ship, trying to take a picture of my mother, who was steadying herself at the rail. The motion of the deck was such that standing was impossible. The waves were crashing against the side of the boat, sending a watery spray high into the air. I could see them, but I couldn't talk. I felt as if my voice was choked with sand. I wanted to speak, but I no matter how I tried, the words just didn't form. My father snapped photo after photo, but somehow the lens never seemed to be pointing at my mother. The whole situation would have been comedic if it wasn't for the dark oppressive clouds overhead and the feeling of dread that hung over the landscape created in my mind.

"Wake up, Emily," a voice came from out of nowhere. It was Beth. I felt myself being shaken. I woke up and looked blearily around, trying to figure out where I was. And then I remembered. I was lying a mattress that lurched up and down in a sickening manner. I was in the back of the truck with Beth, Nate, and the mute girl. We were huddled together in the hot confines of the enclosure that had been built on the bed of the truck. The only source of light was a single barred window on the side. We were surrounded by boxes of canned food, several five gallon jugs of water and a single container of diesel, which we would have to fill as we went, since this was our only extra supply of fuel.

"Are you okay?" Beth asked. "You were having some kind of nightmare."

"Yeah," I said sourly. I still didn't like her, but for now I had been trying to hide it. Feeling my mask slipping, I gave her a false smile. "I'm sorry, I'm always a little grumpy when I wake up. Where are we?"

She gave a little shrug. "I don't know."

We had already crossed the still intact bridge at Sault Ste. Marie. The locks were empty of water and a large cargo ship was grounded in the dirt. The town itself was empty of real people. Our attempt at looting had been brief since a few Dark Eyes had been spotted in the streets. Instead of taking the risk, we had continued on.

"I saw an old sign a few miles back," Nate shyly chimed in, keeping his eyes away from mine. He had continued to keep a watch through the little window. I think it gave him something to do other than to talk to us. "It said that St. Ignace is still over fifty miles away. At the pace we are moving at, it will be another three or four hours before we get there. That's if the gas holds out."

"Thanks," I said.

I thought he was going to blush. Instead he returned his attention back to the dusty landscape outside.

The mute girl gave me a shy smile. We still hadn't learned her name. At least now she was interacting with us, but no matter of cajoling or pleading would break her self-imposed silence. Instead Beth and I had dressed her up in some clothes that we he had found at a nearby cottage. They were a little big for her, but once she was filled out with some food, the clothing would fit her perfectly. It was like having a living doll and I'm afraid I doted on the poor thing. She didn't seem to mind, though she always looked confused as if wondering where we were going and what we were doing. Perhaps that was a very good question with no easy answers.

The truck was moving at a snail's pace. Sean was a cautious driver. He feared being ambushed by the Dark Eyes and I could hardly blame him. Of course the other reason for our slow movement forward was the condition of the roads. The asphalt had been baked dry and scoured with sand. That made it potholed and rough, more like an old country road than a modern highway. Any speed above a crawl was jarring and uncomfortable. I was sure that this old truck could have handled the abuse but it would have been decidedly rougher on the passengers.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I muttered to no one in particular. With my fists, I began hammering on the back of the metal enclosure; the part that connected to the front cab. Someone rapped back and we began to slow to a stop.

After Nate opened the little door, we all slid out to the outside world. The sun was incredibly bright and I had to blink a few times before I could properly see. In the past, the trees here would have been thick against the road. Now they were ghostly sticks, some pointing at the angry sky above while other had collapsed into the dusty soil. At least the wind was still just a murmur. The quiet seemed unreal as if the world had gone and died on us. Perhaps it had. A few yards away, I saw a clump of weedy bushes. I started that way but stopped when I heard Peter call out.

He was standing by the truck with a shotgun slung over a shoulder. "Be careful. We don't know who or what is out there."

"I will," I said, annoyed at being reminded of the obvious. I patted the holster strung over my shoulder.

He shot me a grin and then turned his attention to the others, who were clustered at the back of the truck, sharing a bottle of water.

After reaching the cover of the bushes, I urinated. When I was done, I stood up. As I was heading back, I saw a white round shape buried in the soil. Without thinking, I gave it a gentle kick. The object rolled over, revealing a skull. The bottom jawbone was missing. A shattered hole in back of the head indicated where the person had been shot. I shook my head, thinking of the time when such a sight would have sent me screaming. Now death was so common that it no longer had the fear it once had. In fact I think I feared becoming a Dark Eye more than death itself. It was one thing to die being yourself and another to become a mindless automaton under the control of some microscopic robot.

With a resigned shrug, I was about to take a step when I saw another skull. And then another. And another. There were dozens of them littering the side of the road. They grew thicker near the forest. The sand had covered most of the evidence, but now I could see bones, leathery skin remnants, and ragged clumps of clothing. I wondered what had happened here.

"Peter! Sean!" I shouted out as I waved my arms to attract their attention.

Nate, Beth, and the girl stayed behind while the other two came running up with guns held at the ready.

"What is it?" Sean asked.

I pointed to the scene of death. "Something big happened here," was all that I could say. My previous stoicism had suddenly given away to a profound sadness.

There was a pause as the two of them studied the littered remains.

When Peter finally spoke, his voice was low with an edge of worry. "We have to get out of here. Now."

"Hold on," Sean said. "I want to take a closer look."

"No," Peter replied. "It's not safe. I can feel it. You haven't been out here as long as Emily and I have been. It's best not to poke your nose where it doesn't belong. I suggest we get back in the truck right now and start driving."

"He's right," I breathed out, afraid of breaking the evil spell that seemed to inhabit this cursed place.

"Come on," Sean said with exasperation. He pointed to the jumble of remains around us. "Whatever happened here was a long time ago."

"It doesn't pay to be curious," I said. "Not these days."

"I think I'm beginning to understand that. But I still want to know."

"Fine," Peter said curtly. "But please be careful. I'll cover you."

The older man nodded. The two of them began picking their way toward the forest. I hadn't noticed it before, but there was an old dirt track here that had been long covered with dust whipped up by the blowing winds. The only indication was a slight indentation created by many tires pounding the ground underneath hard and flat. We headed that way with Sean in the front, Peter in the middle, and myself following behind. After a few steps, we were lost in a thick line of trees, old thick trunks that had long been stripped bare. The road here was dotted with corpses that were dry, the sun turning the flesh into mummified black leather, They looked as gaunt as their dead tree neighbors. I felt as if I was treading through a graveyard.

The road soon opened up to a large clearing. Inside were a number of large military trucks, carryalls I believe they are called, parked in a rough circle. They were painted in army camouflage, a patched mix of brown and green. The collection of bones grew thicker here, ringing the vehicles in grotesque collection of death. We stood together outside the circle. Inside, with a suspended tarp to block out the sun, sat a man in uniform. He was sitting on a folding camping chair. His beard was long and his clothing was tattered and worn. As far as the man's age went, it was hard to tell since the hair was so matted and covered most of the face. Next to him was another chair, the occupant a leathery corpse dressed in combat fatigues.

"What in the hell?" Sean asked himself, his voice a mere whisper. And then without a further word, he stepped inside the circle with the butt of his hunting rifle held against his shoulder and his forefinger on the trigger.

This motion made the man take notice. He lifted his head to stare at us. I could see he was no Dark Eye. Instead his gaze was that of a mad man.

"Who are you?" he croaked.

"We should be asking you that!" Peter spat out.

"What happened here?" Sean asked impatiently. The barrel of his rifle stayed in position, ready to fire at any provocation. "Why are all of these bodies here?"

The man began to laugh. Those strange eyes, however, remained unblinking and locked on us. When he finally was done, the man gave a few gasps as he sucked air into his lungs. "I'm Sergeant Bradley Mills. Or I should say that I used to be a sergeant. I suppose I'm a civilian now, just like you."

"I'm happy to meet you," Sean said, trying to stop another outburst of laughter. "These here are my friends Peter and Emily. My name is Sean. We're heading south."

"South! South!" the sergeant shouted. He swept his hands wildly around as if indicating the deceased around us. "We came from the south. There's nothing down there but death."

"How long ago was that?"

The man named Bradley shrugged. "Maybe four or five months ago. We were holed up, sitting nice and safe inside of a base near Kalamazoo. My unit was stationed there when everything went to hell. A few of the soldiers left to go protect their family but enough of us stayed on since there was nowhere else to go. Luckily we had enough food and guns to stay in place for a very long time. When those damn zombies attacked, my buddies and I killed them by the thousands. They kept coming, like inhuman waves. We were stocked with plenty of ammunition, so that wasn't a problem.

"But when those creatures started to organize, the shit really hit the fan. The bastards started to battle in smarter ways, using tactics instead of just waves of mindless attackers. We also discovered, the hard way, that being bitten by one of those things would spread some sort of disease that would transform the victim into a zombie. Half of the remaining base personnel were lost until we managed to hole up in a bunker and put a stop to the spread of the infection. At first food wasn't a problem, not with a good quartermaster doling out the rations. But I still think we would have fled if it wasn't for Captain Hoskin here." He nudged the dried out remains next to him.

"Is that so?" Sean asked. You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

"Yes sir, it was the captain who organized us and kept the unit together. Of course some of the men didn't want to follow his orders, but they were allowed to leave. They didn't last long with those zombies out there. A few examples and discipline was restored right quick."

"How did you end up here? Why are you so far from the base?"

"It was the food. We were running low. Captain Hoskin took the matter up with a vote. We could stay here and try to scavenge the area, which could only last for so long, or we could head north and make a new life. It was hotter than hell at the base, so the idea of moving north seemed liked a good idea." He momentarily looked at the corpse next to him. "So we packed everything up into these trucks, broke free of the zombies surrounding us, and took the first road heading north. Of course it took some heavy fighting and we lost many soldiers to those accursed creatures. In the end it was all a worthless gesture. We found, just as you must have, that it isn't much better up here. Since we were low on gas by then, we pulled off the highway here and the captain sent out some scouts to look for a place for all of us to live at. Those scouts never came back.

"By then the food situation was getting worse and worse, especially with so men and women to feed. That's when the captain thought it would be best to reduce the number of hungry mouths to feed. Of course Old Hoskin was quite insane by then. The pressure was just too much for the old man. Isn't that right, captain?" Bradley turned to face the deceased officer as if waiting for a reply.

"It must have been a hell of a firefight," Peter commented.

Bradley nodded. "The captain had four bodyguards, each unpopular with the rest of the troops. Without any sort of announcement, they opened fire on us with the heavy machine guns mounted on the trucks. Most of the troops went down pretty quick and a few managed to make it further than the others. In the confusion, I was able to grab my M4 and hump it into the woods without getting hit. I imagine a few others did too. I waited there until the shooting died down. Of course I didn't have any food or water, and the thought of leaving all my comrades unavenged was a little too much to consider. So I snuck back here to see what was going on. Only Captain Hoskin here and that bully Parker were alive. His other bodyguards were apparently shot down in the battle. I didn't give them a chance. I opened up and killed the both of them."

"Why are you still here?" Sean asked. "I mean you could move on and go somewhere a little safer than this."

"Why would I?" Bradley answered. "A food shortage for a platoon still leaves plenty for one man. I can last for a long time before I'm starving."

"We're headed south," Sean said. "I would like to ask you some questions on the conditions down there. Would you mind?"

"No. What do you want to know?"
Chapter 12

The engine sputtered to a stop. The truck coasted to the side of the road. Peter cursed underneath his breath, reached for the key and tried to start the engine. After a few cranks, the chatter of the pistons rose and then quickly died.

"We're out of fuel," he said, punctuating his comment by slamming a fist on the steering wheel. "I knew it wasn't going to be long since we've been riding on empty for the past hour."

It was evening, the blue sky giving away to darkness. The cold chill of the night was creeping up my bones. Peter and I had taken over the driving duties, letting Sean and the others rest in the back. As for the man we had found, Bradley had decided to stay where he was. He was done traveling and finished with life. He had told us of all the horrors that he had encountered: the starved out towns, the relentless attack of the Dark Eyes, and the destruction brought on by both man and the forces of nature. We also learned that the water between St. Ignace and Michigan City was gone, meaning one could travel across without using a boat. The bridge, of course, had already been destroyed. Peter and I knew that was the work of our deceased friend, Brent. I, for one, was glad to leave Bradley behind to stew in the memories of his fallen comrades. There was something odd about the man that I did not trust. Perhaps it was because he was on the edge of insanity. Who knew how much longer he would last before he completely cracked.

Even with the dire news of life in what remained of the United States, we decided to press on. While Sean and Peter had high hopes of finding a cure for the Dark Eyes infection, I just wanted to keep moving. I felt like I was looking for a place of rest, somewhere free of the fear that gripped my every day. I knew such a place may not even exist, but my quest at least gave me a purpose in life. I also had the glimmer of an idea to find out what happened to Brent, and the closer we got to Michigan, the more that thought plagued my mind. He could have been captured by the Dark Eyes. Since he too was inoculated, there was the slimmest of chances that he was still alive. I had to find out to put my mind at ease.

I heard the back of the truck open up. I opened the door. Sean strode up. He was looking haggard. I knew how difficult it was sleeping in the back of the truck, prey to every bounce and jiggle and the oppressive feeling of everyone's bodies pressed against your flesh.

With a frown, he said, "We finally ran out of gas? That's too bad. I was hoping to make it to the city. At least we only have a few miles to go."

"What about the food and water?" I asked. "We just can't leave it behind."

"It would take a couple of trips to get it all. With any luck, we can find a place at St. Ignace to hole up in. Maybe we can find some diesel somewhere too, eh?"

"Maybe," I said doubtfully.

Once everyone was out of the back of the truck, we divided up a few days of food into separate packs. The men carried jugs of water while I took the empty fuel container in case we found any diesel. Even the mute girl took her fair share. With her hand in mine, we began the march along the side of the road. We must have made an odd sight; a bunch of stragglers that had met by pure chance and bonded together by hardship. At least that's the lie I told myself as we grunted and complained foot by dusty foot.

The night sky exploded into a cascade of brilliant stars, the steady shine of the planets, and the sliver of the waning moon. Even the faint shimmer of the Milky Way could be seen with all the vigor that must have mesmerized hundreds of generations before this final gasp of humankind. I wondered if there was any future on this planet, and if there was, who would win out, us or the Dark Eyes? Perhaps in the future some aliens would swoop down from their spaceships and wonder what happened with the old race that once inhabited Earth. Instead they would be met with a hail of bullets and treated like mortal enemies. I wouldn't put it past the Dark Eyes to act in such a way. They seemed to hate everyone and everything.

I tired of this direction of thought, so I turned my attention to the little girl holding my hand. I thought of the day I first met Brent. Like this girl, I couldn't speak. The shock of seeing my parents transformed into inhuman monsters had frightened me so badly that I lost the power to form words. But like me, perhaps she would speak soon. I could tell she was getting tired but there wasn't much I could do but try to slow the punishing pace of the men ahead. Instead I began to hum and sing some of the songs that I heard when I was young. The small talk of the group quieted down as everyone listened to my voice break through the silence of the night. I felt self-conscious, but continued on as best as I could. I tried to keep the songs light and upbeat, but they felt sad nonetheless. It was like singing at a funeral, the final goodbye for the world. I felt tears stinging my eyes. I had to stop before I completely broke down.

With hushed tones, Peter said "That was lovely, Emily."

"Thank you," I replied, feeling as if my voice was about to crack. I squeezed the hand of the little girl and wished I could make the current world disappear and turn it into something better. I knew it wasn't possible.

Everyone trudged along, now quiet as if lost in their own thoughts. It was some time when someone finally spoke.

The tone was high and frail as glass. It was the little girl. "C-c-can you sing again?" she asked with a quavering voice.

I was afraid to break the spell. So was everyone else. We froze in our tracks as if a sudden movement would silence the girl again.

"What would you like to hear?" I finally managed to say. My voice was just a whisper.

"My mom used to sing a song. I think it was called _This Land is Your Land_. Do you know it?"

"Sure," I replied. "I know that." I hummed a few bars and then began to sing. To my surprise, Sean joined in. And then Peter followed his lead. Soon everyone was singing along, our voices joining together in a rough, unpracticed chorus. Somehow, as the words slipped out of my mouth, the world became a better place. The stars didn't seem so cold and forbidding, and the troubles that lay before us were no longer so insurmountable. We were going to make it. As long as we stuck together, there was nothing in the world that could stop us.

When we finished, the little girl gave a cheery smile that could be seen even in the gloom of the night. She dropped her clasp from mine and clapped her hands together. "Do it again!" she demanded.

"First tell me your name," I said.

"Sophia Sanders," she replied shyly.

"Well, Sophia, that's a pretty name. I think I can manage one more song. But you have to agree to something, okay?"

"What?"

"I need you to keep talking to me. You don't need to tell me anything bad that happened to you. But I don't want to you to go quiet on me again."

"I think I can do that," she said uncertainly. "But I'm so tired."

Any feeling of gloom I had a few minutes ago was gone now. "Good, now let's get walking and I'll sing for you again."

"That's a good idea," Sean said. "It's only a few more minutes until we'll stop, okay?"

So I sang the song for a second time. This time no one joined in with me. I think everyone was too tired and looking forward to finally being able to stop and rest. Or maybe they just wanted to take this chance to go over some old memories. My voice was low as if I was singing a lullaby. Sophia stumbled along, holding my hand and leaning into my body for support.

Sean's promised few minutes turned into an hour. And then another. We were all exhausted by then, only moving because we had to. It was a great relief when Peter, who had scouted ahead, came back to tell us that he found a place.

"It's not much," he said, "just an old convenience store. At least we can rest up there and wait for daylight."

"It's a good idea," Sean agreed. "But let's check the place out first. I want everyone to wait here until Peter and I come back."

The two of them disappeared. I sank to the ground as did the others. Thankfully our wait wasn't too long. Peter came back quickly enough.

"It looks safe enough," he said. "No sign of the Dark Eyes. Sean says we can go ahead."

I was surprised to hear Peter defer to Sean. It seemed like Sean was becoming the recognized leader of our little groups. I didn't mind. He seemed to have the maturity and intelligence, but I did wish he was more experienced, like Peter, in the ways of staying alive.

With a groan, I pulled myself up. Sophia had fallen asleep on my lap. Instead of awakening her, I tried to lift that little body up. I felt too weak and couldn't do it with my other hand taken up by the empty jug for the fuel.

Peter saw my problem and went to my aid. He handed me the container of water and cradled Sophia in his arms. While I struggled along with the extra supplies, he began to lead the rest of the group toward the destination.

This convenience store was on the side of the road. Two gas pumps were located under a large canopy. At one time it must have served those customers who needed to buy fuel before heading out on the highway. In the parking lot there was a pickup truck with flat tires, the body covered in a fine layer of dust. The front windows of the store had been smashed in and remnants of past looting littered the ground, including wrappers and empty cans. In the past this place would have been an obvious target for anyone looking for something to steal. Now it was just a garbage dump.

Sean was at the entrance. He waved us over. "I went and checked it out. I don't think anyone has been here for quite some time."

I nodded sleepily and took a step inside. It was dark here. The shelves were stripped bare and tipped over. The cash register lying on the floor had been smashed open. Through the dust were glints of the coins that rested underneath. I put the jugs by the door and found a place to sit. There I watched Peter put Sophia down behind a counter that must have once held coffee and a pop machine. Beth kick away some glass and then sank to her knees. She looked as tired as I felt. Nate, on the other hand, was still a bundle of energy. He paced back and forth like a trapped animal. I wished he would calm down.

Sean came inside. "Is everyone comfortable?"

"I guess so," I said quietly.

Beth was now sprawled out on the floor. A light snore escaped her barely open lips.

"Okay," Sean said. "I'm going to keep watch. In a few hours, when the sun comes up, I'll put Peter on guard duty. I want everyone to get as much sleep as they can. We will have to get busy tomorrow looking for some more diesel. I bet the underground tanks here are empty, but maybe we can find something further inside St. Ignace. But for now we have to stay out of sight and keep low. We don't know how many Dark Eyes are around."

With the sleeping bag from my backpack, I crawled over to Sophia and wrapped my arms around her frail body. Within seconds I fell asleep on the cold hard floor.
Chapter 13

I woke up. My left arm hurt and my ribs ached from lying on the floor. Sophia was gone. Springing up with my heart racing in a panic, I quickly saw that she was only a few feet away, busy playing with some debris on the floor. Through the broken front windows, I saw Sean talking to his brother, both using low tones. Peter was still asleep, his arms around Beth. They were spooned together. It looked hopelessly romantic. I felt stick to my stomach. I got up and stormed outside.

I brushed past Nate.

"Good morning, Emily," he said kindly.

"Morning," I spat back.

I could feel Sean's eyes on my back. Ducking around the corner, I leaned against the wall and began to sob. That bastard Peter was ready to leave me, all for that scruffy bitch. I began to wonder how long their relationship had been going on. Back at Sean's place, I had discounted their little shared smiles and the attention that Beth had paid to him. I never even considered that he would really fall for her. It seemed impossible considering all the dangers that he and I had faced together.

Sean came carefully around the corner. His expression was filled with concern. I couldn't stand looking into his eyes, so I merely stared at the barren trees off in the distance.

He said, "I'm sorry. I really am."

"Thank you. Now leave me alone."

"Alright, but I just want you to know that my offer still stands."

"Your offer?" I asked, confused.

"I told already told you how I feel about you. If you want to be with me, it would make me happier than you could ever dream."

I shook my head. "I can't talk about this right now. Now leave me alone!"

"Okay," he said and stalked off. I could see he felt hurt but I didn't care.

In a few minutes, Sophia managed to find me. She looked worried. It made me feel terrible. I gave her a half-hearted smile, an attempt to hide the way I was feeling inside.

"Emily, are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, my little doll," I replied. "Have you had something to eat yet?"

"No, but Nate said he was going to cook something. Do you think we could help him?"

"Sure," I said. I grabbed her hand and we went to join the others.

Peter and Beth were awake now. I noticed that Peter was trying hard not to make eye contact with me. Instead he was busy rooting through the sacks of food while Nate was fiddling with the camping stove. Sophia went to join them, trying to sound out the names on the labels and then watching with interest as the blue flame of the fire sprung up from the canister of fuel. Beth was outside, talking to Sean.

In a few minutes, the food – canned ham and potatoes – was being fried up. Even though I was in a sour mood, the smell of breakfast made my stomach growl. Soon the plastic plates and silverware was distributed and the food doled out.

While we were eating, Sean began to speak. He looked tired, but tried to hide his exhaustion by talking brightly. "We have enough food to last a few days. I want to find some more diesel for the truck. If we can't do that, we'll have to try and find another vehicle. I want to take Emily and Peter with me. The rest of you can stay here. You will have to stay hidden and stay low, just in case the Dark Eyes come this way."

"I want to go with you," Beth said, her eyes on Peter. She was in a sitting position with a cup of water balanced on her knee.

Sean shook his head. "Someone needs to stay here and guard the food. We also have a little girl here who needs some protection. You and Nate can cover that end."

"You make me sound like a babysitter," Beth said hotly. Without thinking, she stood up, spilling the water on the floor. That somehow gave me a perverse pleasure. I'm sure Peter wasn't happy to see that his new girl wasn't so perfect after all.

"Now let's not start arguing," Sean said. "Peter and Emily here are the most experienced at dealing with the Dark Eyes. They are also the only two who are immune to being bitten. That gives them a special safeguard that the rest of us don't have."

"Then why are you going?" Beth asked.

He gave a little shrug. "I want to learn about these creatures. I don't have much experience with them. I want to see with my own eyes how they act. Going with Peter and Emily here will keep me safer than if I went by myself. Now I suggest everyone eat up. We have a lot of work to do."

After finishing the meal, Peter grabbed the shotgun. I checked the loads in the Colt and then slammed the pistol into the harness around my shoulder. After Sean had kitted up, we left, striking south along the road. The sun was now high in the sky, but was clouded over with a haze of dust that choked the atmosphere. Like the day before, it was boiling hot.

Before reaching a curve, I took a last glance at the little store. I could just make out the blonde hair of Sophia. She was staring out, following my movement. I wished I could had said a proper goodbye. But I knew I was going to only be gone for a few hours. It was a nagging idea that I may never see that little girl again. I brushed that idea thought. They would be in no danger if they stayed hidden. And anyway, we hadn't seen any Dark Eyes yet, so what trouble could there possibly be?

It was only a few hundred yards when we began to see the decaying remains of houses. Most still had their walls and roofs, but the windows had been smashed out and the doors flung open. The paint, where visible, was faded. It had been stripped clean by the blowing sand, giving the dry wood a silvered smooth look. The cars and trucks had flat tires. Some had open hoods. Litter was everywhere, most of it covered by the layers of dust. I had, of course, seen such scenes many times before in my wanderings, but each time it made me a little sad thinking of all the people that had once been here, raising children and living their lives. It seemed terribly unfair that they had to suffer. Well any suffering they had was probably long over now.

"How does it feel to be home?" Sean asked Peter.

Peter tilted his head and looked over the devastation. "It's been a long time," he replied. "This is where I met Emily." He paused, looked at me, and then continued. "As you know she was with a man named Brent. He had driven up from the Lower Peninsula, bringing the inoculation that worked against the spread of the Dark Eyes. We were happy to see him. At the time, I thought it was the turning point in our fight against those creatures." He kicked at a loose piece of asphalt. "But the Dark Eyes were too strong. The people of this town fled for their lives, only to be hunted down one by one. Emily and I are the only two that remain of that original group."

"What happened to this Brent character?" Sean asked.

I broke in before Peter could answer. I had to tell Sean about the most important man in my life. "Brent was like a father to me. He was upset when his woman died. She was called Tanya. They loved each other very much. After she was killed I think Brent just wanted to die. But he was willing to sacrifice himself so the rest of us could get away. He tried to blow up the Mackinac Bridge. Peter here helped him, didn't you?"

He nodded. "I was there."

I continued, "But the bomb never went off. Brent was many things, but he was no expert at making explosives. Instead the tanker they had used to store the fuel and fertilizer just burned away. Because of the fire, eventually the bridge collapsed, but it was too late for Brent to escape from the Dark Eyes. No one knows what happened to him. He too was inoculated against the Infection. There is no way that he could become a Dark Eye, so I always imagined that he was killed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sean said. "Brent sounds like he was a very interesting man to know."

I smiled at the memory. "He was at that. He taught me how to drive and how to shoot. I owed him my life."

We fell into silence and continued to walk. Soon the houses disappeared and were replaced by the original shoreline. Instead of water, there was only dirt that sloped downward from the land. The wooden docks now looked out of place, the once floating boats sitting in the sand. Hotels dotted the main road as did stores. Everything looked abandoned, vandalized, and aged beyond the years that I had last seen this town. The only movement was the roiling atmosphere above and the occasional loose trash skittering over the pavement.

"Where do you want to start?" Peter asked.

"Everything looks pretty picked over," Sean admitted as he surveyed the ruins. "I suppose I expected more in a town this size. What do you suggest?"

Peter replied, "Emily and I survived by getting the scraps that others missed. The problem with a larger town is that so many people lived here. When food and fuel started getting scarce, the stores and big vacation homes were the obvious targets. They got cleaned out quick. We have to look at the less obvious places."

"Such as?"

"The corner gas station isn't the only place to buy diesel. There are commercial truck facilities and some boatyards that also sold fuel. That would be the first place I would look. For food, and sometimes fuel, it's best to look for small stashes that were cached away by a person, not a company."

Sean nodded. "There are plenty of docks here. Let's take a look there first. We'll start on the edge of town and work our way in. Something had to have been missed by the previous looters."

We cautiously approached the first marina, looking for any signs of the Dark Eyes or even other humans. This was a place that once catered to the weekend sailor. There were no large yachts here, but only small sailboats and a handful of speedboats, all grounded in the dry soil. Our careful search of the boats turned up nothing but a single candy bar and some worthless clothing. The gas pumps were fed by three tanks, all bone dry.

The next marina was definitely more upscale with larger boats, a fancy-looking restaurant, and high fences that once provided better security than the last place. However the fence had been pushed over, indicating that this place had already been looted. This search took longer, but once again the results weren't worth the effort. One large cruiser did have a cup or two of sludgy diesel in the bottom of the tanks. A few prizes – a sleeping bag, a camp stove with fuel, and some water purification tablets – were found on another boat. Everything else of interest had been taken away at some time in the years past.

The next stretch of land was populated with hotels that had been built against the water. The empty windows stared at us, the insides empty and hollow. The remains of the Mackinac Bridge were now visible. The wide expanse was still there, though the broad strips of road was now broken, the long ends hanging loosely above the dirty soil of where the water once was. The sight made me think of Brent again. I missed him and Tanya terribly. They were like parents to me. No, they could never replace my real father and mother, but in this age, having someone care for you was a precious thing.

"Now what?" I asked. "It's getting late."

Sean nodded as he looked at the position of the sun. "I just want to look at some of the vehicles around here. Commercial vehicles often used diesel. It was never a popular fuel for cars, so perhaps some still remains in their tanks. Let's check out the restaurants and hotels. If we don't find anything in another hour, we'll start back, okay?"

The first hotel we hit was eight stories tall. A restaurant was located on the ground floor. The condition of the building was poor: most of the windows were smashed out and blackened soot marks indicated that a fire had once raged inside. The parking lot was littered with junk, including cars with broken windows and garbage that the wind had pushed into the nooks and crannies.

We went behind the building, the place where any deliveries would have taken place. A loading dock was here. A semi and trailer had been backed into one of the bays. A blue linen van was also here, parked near an open doorway. The original door rested ten feet away, probably pulled away by some looter.

While Sean and I watched, Peter tapped the side mounted tanks of the semi. He shook his head.

"Nothing here," he said with exasperation. It was looking more and more likely that our truck was going to stay on the side of the road.

Peter than moved on to the van and tried the door.

"It's still locked," he said.

This was a good sign. I went to the rear of the van and lowered myself to the ground to look under the frame. The gas tank was there. Getting on my back, I inched forward through the litter on the ground. Reaching up, I gave the tank a rap with the knuckles of my hand. It clunked with a heavy sound as if something still remained inside.

"There may be some fuel here," I said.

"Get the gas can ready," Peter said.

Using the butt of the shotgun, he broke the window and opened the door. Soon the small gas door popped open. We crowded around the opening. The cap was locked, an obvious attempt to stymie the theft of fuel. Back before the Dark Eyes came, gasoline was a precious commodity. People will kill for a tank of juice and many had lost their lives getting carjacked. Somehow this van had escaped the attention of the looters, or perhaps it had been used to ferry stolen goods.

"How are we going to get the diesel in there?" Sean asked. We don't have the tools to take the cap off."

"No worries," Peter calmly replied. This is easy, if you know what you're doing." He then reached into his pant leg pocket and pulled out a screwdriver. He then rooted through the garbage at his feet until he found a piece of yellowed newspaper. With this, he constructed a primitive funnel. "Come and help me, Emily," he said. "You're smaller than Sean."

"Okay," I said, even though I had been more than happy not to converse with Peter for most of the day.

We both crawled under the van, face up, until we were directly under the gas tank. As he jammed the point of the screwdriver through the thin metal of the gas tank, I held the homemade siphon and gas can at the ready. Soon diesel fuel was dribbling out and into the container. The trick was to not get too greedy or else there would be a real mess as the liquid gushed out. A small puncture was enough, though it took some patience to fill a five gallon can.

As we waited, Peter finally spoke. His voice was low enough that only I could hear it. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry about what?" I breathed back.

"About Beth. I didn't mean to fall in love with her. We just seem made for each other."

I adjusted the gas can, letting the bottom edge rest on the asphalt better. It was getting heavier now. "I don't mind," I finally said.

"You don't?"

"No," I lied. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. "You go and be happy with her. You and I know that life is too short to get all caught up with the past. If you love her, Peter, then be with her."

"You're the best, Emily. Really."

I was about to say something positively nasty, when I was stopped by the distant sound of an engine. What was once silence was broken by a loud roar. It rose and then fell away, going north - heading down the road where Beth, Sophia, and Nate were holed up.
Chapter 14

I found myself running. Peter was behind me, lugging the almost filled can of diesel. Sean, to my surprise, was ahead of me, moving at a good pace for a man of his years. We had left the hotel parking lot in a panic, letting the gurgling gas from the van spill on the ground. It was too bad that we couldn't get more of that precious fuel, but such thoughts were secondary compared to the danger that faced our comrades. If they were seen by the Dark Eyes, there was nothing we could do but exact our revenge.

It was hard going. The sun above beat on my shoulders. Sweat was pouring from brow. I felt as if I was going to collapse. But I forced myself to keep on, no matter what the costs were. I had to rescue Sophia. She was the only important thing left to me in this whole blasted world. Now that Peter had someone else to care for, nothing else mattered but that little girl.

I staggered to the crest of a small hill. Only a few hundred yards away, I saw the gas station. Sean had stopped, panting, to examine the situation. There weren't any extra vehicles around and it looked quiet enough. I was about to start past him when he grabbed me by the arm.

"Hold on a minute," he said. "There's no reason to be rushing into trouble."

Peter caught up to us. He dropped the gas can on the ground. His face was red and he was breathing hard. Of course we all were. It had been a long hard run in the sun.

Before I could say anything, there was an approaching rumble of an engine. And then way off in the distance, I saw a large white pickup truck. It was driving slowly as if the driver was looking for something in particular.

"Get down!" Peter said even though no words of encouragement were needed. We all flopped into the dust and inched our way back from the top of the hill. From there we were able to watch without being seen.

"I wish I hadn't left the binoculars with my brother," Sean murmured to himself.

When the truck reached the gas station, it stopped. The passenger and driver's side door opened simultaneously. Two men got out and headed towards the building. They both had rifles. The distance was too far to get a good look at them.

"Are they Dark Eyes?" I asked out loud.

"Does it matter?" Peter said. "They had to have seen our vehicle further up the road. And from there our footprints in the dust would have been easy enough to follow. Do you think you can tag them with that rifle of yours, Sean?"

"You mean shoot them?" he asked incredulously. "I don't want to kill any real people unless I have to."

The men were now almost at the door and would be inside in a few moments.

"There isn't time to determine if they're friendly or not. Hand me the rifle and I'll take the shot," Peter quickly said.

Sean said nothing. Instead he crammed the rifle butt into the crook of his shoulder and sighted down the barrel. He squeezed the trigger. I could see it was a good shot, since the lead man, who had just opened the door, fell to the ground. His partner didn't bother to look around. Instead he fell flat to the ground and crawled inside the building before Sean could line up another shot. Soon the first man also disappeared inside – aided by his comrade. Now we knew that they were not Dark Eyes, since those creatures would have rushed toward the sound of the shots, no matter what the odds were. That spark of survival was extinct with them; only the continuation of the horde mattered. Humans were to be converted or exterminated at all costs.

After a long shuddering breath, Sean said, "Well I got him. But now they're holed up inside there, probably using the others as hostages. What do you think we should do now?"

"You're the leader," Peter nastily shot back. "Why don't you tell me?" It was obvious that he was worried about Beth.

"Look, besides a few Dark Eyes, I've never killed anyone," Sean explained. "And even with the Dark Eyes, I still threw up afterward."

"You tell him, Emily," Peter said. He was shaking with anger. "You tell him what we had to do to survive out here."

I spat out a glob of dry dust that had collected in the back of my throat. I said coldly, "We had to kill, both humans and Dark Eyes alike. You get in bad situations out here. The only way to stay alive is to make someone else die before they do the same to you. There isn't much time for pity."

Sean nodded glumly.

Peter said, "Those two won't be going anywhere, not with one of them wounded. But they have a pair of rifles while we only have one. At least at long distances they will have an advantage. But once it gets dark, we can move in." He patted the barrel of his shotgun. "At close range we'll have the upper hand."

"But what about my brother?" Sean asked. "And Beth and Sophia? We just can't go in there with guns blazing. Maybe we can go and talk to them."

"I'm not going to give myself up," Peter said acidly. "How about you, Emily?"

I shook my head. "No. If those men are holding our friends hostage, then a little more waiting won't hurt anyone. If our friends are being hurt, then giving ourselves up will only lead to our deaths too. Even though I don't want to, we will have to wait." It sounded cold even to my own ears. I really was worrying about Sophia but also knew there was nothing I could do about it. But I would exact my vengeance on anyone who harmed her.

"I guess we'll wait," Sean said sourly. It was obvious that the leadership role was more taxing than he had expected.

"Yes we will," Peter said.

"But I'm still going to go talk to them. There may still be civilized men in this world."

"It'll be on your head," Peter said, shaking his head.

It was an agonizing hour before the sun began to dip below the horizon. It would be another hour after that until it was completely dark. In the meanwhile, we kept watch on the gasoline station. There wasn't any sign of movement. It was an excruciating time to wait. I could only imagine the terrible things they were doing to Sophia. Each second made my skin crawl. There was very little talking amongst us. I think we were all worried and fearing the worst.

When it was dark, we decided to move out, keeping the parked pickup in sight. It was the obvious means of escape, one that the two men would try for if things got desperate enough. As previously agreed, Peter split from us to cover the back of the building. Sean and I were to take the front and try to negotiate the release of our friends. If it was too late for that, then the two men would have to be killed. We found shelter behind the truck. The inside of the building was as dark as the night around, perhaps even darker since the sliver of moon above could not penetrate inside.

"Hey! In there!" Sean shouted over the bed of the truck.

There wasn't a response right away but soon a nervous voice answered. "What do you want?"

"We want our friends. The ones inside. If you let them go, you won't come to any harm."

The answer came quickly. "There isn't anyone in here but us."

"Don't lie to me! I've got a couple of men out here. We'll use force if necessary."

"Look, mister, I'm telling you the truth! We were driving along on the road when I noticed that truck on the side of the road. That has to be yours, right? We followed the tracks back here."

"Why would you do that?"

"We thought there could be zombies in here, or maybe someone looking for help. And then my friend here got hit in the leg by one of your bullets. He needs some help before he bleeds to death."

Sean looked at me. "What do you think?" he asked, using a whisper.

"It sounds like he's telling the truth, but where are Beth, Sophia, and Nate? They wouldn't go running off unless they really had to."

Without a word, Sean took the rifle slung over his shoulder and tried to hand it to me. "I'm going in there to talk to them."

"Don't!" I warned him. I refused to take his gun.

He shook his head. In the gloom his expression was unfathomable. "Look, I don't know if my brother is dead or alive. I need to find out about him and the rest of our friends. Anyway, those two inside think they're surrounded. They won't do anything to hurt me, okay?"

"You don't know that."

"Right now we don't know anything. I've got to take the risk."

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around Sean's waist and hugged him. "Be careful," I breathed into his ear. I could tell that my sudden embrace had taken him by surprise.

After a brief hesitation, he squeezed me back. "I will be." Sean let go, handed me the rifle, and pulled away from me. He then cautiously walked around the edge of the truck and toward the building. With his arms up in the air, he shouted, "I'm not armed! I'm coming in!"

In the stillness of the night, I could hear Sean's footsteps plodding through the dust. And then the silence was broken by the cocking of a gun. My heart froze. I peered over the bed of the truck and watched, expecting the worst.

"Move nice and slow," was the answer from inside.

I let out my breath and watched as Sean entered. The seconds crawled into minutes. I felt tense, my elbows tucked in and my muscles were knotted together. A light went on inside. It seemed like half the night passed when Sean finally stepped out of the building. He waved me over.

"It's safe. Don't worry," he said.

"Okay," I said uncertainly. It could have been a trap. Instead of taking the direct route to the building, I kept away from the open windows and stayed to the side. My Colt was out and Sean's rifle rode on my shoulder, bumping my back as I went.

When I got inside the gas station, I saw my precautions were for naught. Both of their rifles were leaning against the wall. One of the men, who had a gray shirt on, was looking over his wounded friend, who was lying on the floor in obvious agony. A path of drying blood indicated where he had been dragged across the dirty tiles. They both looked up, examining me as if I was some angel who had fallen to earth. Perhaps they hadn't seen many women around these parts.

"Hello," I said stiffly.

The man on the ground, who was wearing a dark shirt and blue jeans, smiled at me. It was a kindly smile, reminding me of my father. Not that he was the same age, but there was a gentleness here that was quite different than the cruelty that now pervaded the world. He was skinny but not malnourished, just naturally lean and muscled. His hair was light and his eyes were a dark brown. The denim of his pants was holed right in the lower thigh, the blood stain spreading like a blossom.

His jaw set tight against the pain, he said, "I'm Timothy Sanders, but my friends call me Tim."

"I'm Robert Felix," the other man said, his voice colder than his friend. He had short black hair, a lined face made worse by worry, and a stubby nose. By the expression on his face, I could tell he was the wary sort. Of course anyone still left alive and uninfected would naturally have to be careful around strangers. We could be cannibals or maybe even working for the Dark Eyes. These days you never knew what to expect.

"My name is Emily," I said.

"Are there any more of you?" Tim asked.

"A couple," I said as I stole a glance at Sean. He minutely shook his head, indicating I wasn't to give away our numbers quite yet.

"Hopefully a couple of women who are as pretty as this one," Tim said with a glimmer in his eye. Coming from him, it sounded nice.

"Your leg looks bad. Let me take a look," I suggested.

"Are you a doctor?"

"No, I'm not. But you should have it cleaned and bandaged. I'll get the stuff out of my backpack. But we'll have to hurry so we can find our friends who have gone missing."

As I busied myself cutting away his pants and cleaning the wound, Sean started to ask them questions.

"Where are you two from?"

"South," Robert answered evasively.

Tim studied his friend and then, as if reaching some internal decision, said, "Even though I got shot, you two look friendly enough to me. What my friend here says is true. But we're from a little town south of the bridge called Harbor Springs. We have a good thing going there. A few of us decided to band together to fight off the zombies. We stuck it out through the worst of them and managed to survive. What about you?"

"Just wandering," Sean replied.

"That's a dangerous occupation. We're holed up pretty nice in our little city. We've got walls and enough firepower to keep those blasted creatures away. Not that we've seen too many of them where we are. The town is kind of off the beaten track, if you know what I mean. Robert and I were sent out to scout around and look for food, guns, or anything else of interest. We've been looting St. Ignace and what remains of Mackinaw City for some time now. We've had to go further and further afield though. It's hard to keep everyone fed when the stocks are getting lower and lower."

I began tearing up one of my raggedy t-shirts to make strips of bandages. I could feel Tim study my face but I didn't meet his gaze.

Sean said, "This town of yours sounds interesting. But let me ask you, how much longer do you think you can survive on just canned food? I mean we have enough supplies to last us a few weeks, but there are only a few of us."

"That's one of the reasons that Robert and I are out here. We're looking around for seeds, farming tools, and a few other items."

"Seeds?" I said with a shake of my head. "Nothing can grow now. It's too dry and too damn hot except for those damn yellow weeds." I began tying the bandages around his thigh. I noticed that his legs were strong and muscular.

"You're right, of course," Tim said with a grin. "But we've been converting a warehouse into a sort of massive grow room. We modified the roof so it can slide open. That allows us to control the amount of sun that can come in. But we've also dug deep down past the original floor, finding enough coolness there that some plants have managed to thrive. We're still experimenting, but there have been some success with wheat and even a little corn. It's still not enough to feed the entire town, but it's a start in the right direction. After a few more experiments, we hope to expand the operation."

"You said you're looking for more people to join you?" Sean asked.

"Yes, we are," Tim replied. "We want to make a fresh start of everything. You know, leave the old world behind and try something different. Would you and your friends be interested in visiting Harbor Springs? If you like the place, you can stay."

Once again, I could see that he was staring at me as if hoping I would agree right on the spot.

Sean replied, "I can't speak for the others but I know I would. But first I have to find my brother and two girls. Will you help us out?"

"We could at that."

"Good. Now let me call my friend Peter in. He's probably going crazy wondering what we're doing inside here."
Chapter 15

It was Peter who first discovered the footprints leading away from the gasoline station. It was a set of three, obviously Beth, Nate, and Sophia leaving the safety of the building. The question was why would they do such a thing? Perhaps the Dark Eyes had come by. Or perhaps something else had happened, but no one could think of a reason based on the scant evidence. It was decided that Sean and I would take up the trail on foot. In the meanwhile, Robert and Peter would take the truck and scour the nearby roads. Tim would stay here alone to recuperate from his wound.

So with my pistol in hand, I struck out across the dusty ground with Sean beside me. We talked in low voices as we squinted to follow the footprints nearly hidden by the dark sky above.

"How are you holding out?" Sean asked.

"Fine," I replied.

"I hate to bring this up right now, especially with my brother missing, along with a little girl that you care very much for, but I don't want you to ever forget that I do love you. Even if you don't feel the same for me, it still doesn't change the way I feel."

I motioned the ground around us: the dying trees, the endless dried out earth, and the stars above. "There is no future here. You speak of a world that's no longer exists. I can't think in terms of love and romance anymore. Now it sounds made up like a fairy tale."

The tracks suddenly veered, heading west toward a collection of ruined houses. It would be a perfect place to hide.

After we had reoriented ourselves, Sean continued to speak, this time in a rather animated fashion.

He said, "There is still hope. No matter what happens, I cling to that idea. You heard what Tim said. There is a town that we can go to; a place that will offer us safety from the Dark Eyes. It will be a place where they are trying to grow food and start all over again. This could finally be a place to lead a normal life again."

I shook my head. "You mean a chance to live like a prisoner: safe behind walls. We might as well be like those damn farmers, eating weed bread and cowering like slaves. You said you wanted to travel south and try to find a cure for the Infection that caused the Dark Eyes. Have you forgotten that? That is the only way we could truly be safe again."

There an uncomfortable pause. When Sean finally spoke, I could hear the ragged emotion underneath. "If I promise to find a cure, will you promise to give me a second chance?"

I stopped in my tracks. "You're asking the impossible from me, and worst of all, from yourself. We don't know if there is any way to get rid of the nanobots. And I don't know if I will ever love you. It isn't fair to ask me to do such a thing."

"I know it isn't fair, but I can tell that you like me. At least you don't actively despise me."

"Of course I like you. You're a kind person. You remind me of the old days when people still had the time to care for each other. I'll always be your friend."

He frowned. "Come on," he said sourly. "Let's keep going. They have to be somewhere close by."

As he trudged ahead, I felt the maelstrom of thoughts circling around my head. I wondered why I was so cruel to him. I really did like him a lot, but I was still getting over Peter. Right now I was too confused to make any decisions about Sean. With a shake of my head, I ran up to join him. I decided right there and then that I was going to give him a second chance.

Before I could tell Sean, I saw several other footprints in the dust. They were converging from a different direction and were unlike the ones we were following. I was about to point them out to him when there was the bang of a gun being fired. The sound seemed to be coming from the row of houses in front of us. Without a further word, we took off in a run.

This block of homes, like most structures still standing, had seen better days. The street, except for a few dilapidated cars, was empty. The lawns, of course, were long gone, having been replaced by dirt and yellowing weeds. Only the ghosts of the past residents remained: litter blown into nooks and crannies, broken windows, ragged curtains, and open doors. Nothing looked intact, as if the last burst of looting wasn't about survival, but instead was a last destructive impulse at the unfairness of life. Any further examination of the scenery was interrupted by another gunshot, sounding if it was coming from the next block over.

We ran through the backyard of the closest house, past a sailboat mounted on a trailer, and immediately stopped at the chain-link fence. Two homes over and across the street there was a mob of thirty or forty people, surrounding a ranch house with white siding. They were too busy to notice us since their attention was on the occupants inside. I could tell by their unnatural synchronized motions that they were Dark Eyes, working together to try and gain entry into the home. Several were concentrating on trying to bash the door down while others were prying back the wooden boards that covered the windows. At this rate it wouldn't take long for them to get inside.

Another shot rang out. One of the creatures at the door collapsed only to be immediately replaced by another.

"We have to help them!" I demanded as I gripped the pistol in my hand.

"I know," Sean said. "We have to think of something."

"There isn't time!"

My words were punctuated by the collapse of the front door. The Dark Eyes were rushing through the opening, not using a single word but still working together with their eerie unnatural silence. Without thinking, I ran toward them with my pistol at the ready. After a few steps, I began pulling the trigger. I got closer and closer. I then heard the crack of Sean's rifle from behind. Again and again I fired, killing a few and wounding many others. It wasn't long before they turned the remaining Dark Eyes started toward me.

I pulled the trigger and realized that the pistol was out of ammunition. Staggering backwards, I released the empty clip, letting it fall to the ground. I reached for the other clip in my front pocket and pulled it out just as the first creature grabbed for me. A rifle shot rang out and the Dark Eye fell with a bloody wound in the chest. I jammed the clip in, pulled the slide, chambering the first bullet. But I had taken too much time. Soon I was covered with Dark Eyes. In a frenzy of clawing, they brought me down to the ground in a sprawling heap of arms and legs.

The first bite on my arm made me whimper, and the second made me scream. And then came a torrent of bites and scratches, enveloping my body with a sharp haze of unrelenting pain. The gun fell from my clasp and was lost among the mass of bodies. Though I was immune from becoming an Infected, I could still be killed. I began to panic. I shifted and squirmed, fighting to free myself. I could still hear the rhythmic blast of a rifle. It was obvious Sean was still doing his best to fight the remaining horde that now must be centering their attention on him. But I could give him no more thought. I had to free myself and come to his aid before it was too late. He wasn't immune. If bitten, he would become a Dark Eye. The hard and high snap of his rifle fire suddenly stopped.

My flailing hand hit something hard. I grasped at it, and at once recognized the barrel of the Colt. I grabbed, found the grips, and squeezed the trigger. With an unearthly scream, a Dark Eye rolled off of me. I began to fire again and again, until the weight on top of me lessened enough that I was able to extricate myself. I rolled out from under the press of bodies and crouched, facing the direction that I thought Sean would be. He was a good twenty yards away, swinging the rifle like a club. He had three attackers, each trying to subdue their prey with a bite.

Not knowing how much ammunition I had left, I brought the pistol up and stared down the barrel. I fired. The Dark Eye to the left crumpled and fell, clawing at the ragged hole below the shoulder. His fellow creatures didn't even notice, that's how intense their purpose was. Another shot and another one fell, the neck opening up with a violent gush of blood. Before I could fire again, Sean's primitive club connected, sending the remaining one tripping away to the right. I lined up this easy target and pulled the trigger. There was nothing but a click that sounded larger than it should have. I was out of ammunition again and wasn't carrying any more.

This problem, however, was quickly removed. There was a blaze of headlights and the scream on a hard accelerating engine. It was Robert's truck. It smacked heavily into the remaining Dark Eye, sending the body flying like a grotesque rag doll. The pickup skidded to a halt. Peter jumped down, brandishing his shotgun. I turned and saw that the house was cleared of the creatures. Next to me was a twisted pile of bodies, what was left of the Dark Eyes who had attacked me.

I took a deep breath and then realized I was hurting badly. I looked down at the pistol in my hand and found that my hands were trembling. My arms were bleeding with bite marks and long scratches. The Colt fell from my grasp. My knees buckled. I was on the ground, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Emily, are you okay?"

I dizzily looked up and saw that it was Sean. "Yes," I managed to choke out. "Were you bit?"

"No," he said. "Thanks to you."

And then his strong arms wrapped themselves around my waist and shoulders. He pulled me up until I was in a standing position. I felt weak and disorientated. I took a few tentative steps and found that I could just barely stay upright. Sean's grasp relaxed, but remained in place. It made me feel safe and protected.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"Peter is inside the house looking for them. Roberts went with him. They'll be here soon."

There was a boom of a shotgun coming from inside the house. It was probably Peter doing a little cleanup work. In another minute, Beth and Sophia stepped outside. They looked haggard. Both of them were crying, so distraught that the words from their mouths were only heaving sobs.

Pushing away my own weakness, I ran and stumbled to Sophia. I wrapped my arms around that frail body and picked her up. From there I carried her back to the open passenger door of the pickup. I placed her on the seat inside. She was staring at me, her eyes big and scared. I brushed the hair from her face. Any words of consoling were cut short by a long and forlorn scream. I whipped my head around to look. At the front door, Sean was trying to wrestle Peter to the ground. Sean was fighting like a madman.

Fearing he had somehow become a Dark Eye, I rushed over to help Roberts break the two apart before Peter could use the shotgun. After a brief scuffle, Sean ended up on his knees, tears falling from his eyes. He was still normal.

Peter was leaning against the edge of the house with ragged breaths escaping. "I had to do it," he murmured, repeating the phrase several times as if it was a prayer.

"You had to do what?" I demanded.

"Nate," he managed to say. "When I went inside, I found him pounding on the bathroom door, trying to get inside where Beth and Sophia were hiding. He had been bitten."

"That isn't true," Sean said, his eyes glaring. "You killed him on purpose."

"Don't say that," I said. "Peter wouldn't hurt your brother unless he had to. We were just too late to save his life. It is better that Nate isn't a Dark Eye."

Sean moaned. "But I was supposed to look after him. My brother trusted me. If we had just stayed in place at our cabin then none of this would have happened."

There was nothing I could say that would console Sean. Instead I went and helped him off the ground. I put my arm around his shoulder and we walked to the truck, leaving a trail of tears along the dusty ground.
Chapter 16

I drove, keeping a close distance to the back of Robert's truck where Tim, Beth, and Peter were being ferried. Next to me sat Sophia, followed by Sean, who was staring glumly out of the window. We had driven out of St. Ignace, crossing the dirt of the sandy straits by using a narrow track. After crossing into Mackinaw City, getting to higher ground via a boat ramp, we found this side of the shore of had seen even worse damage. Some time ago a fire had burned long and hot here, turning the homes and stores into blackened timbers and charred debris, now being covered by an ever thickening layer of dust.

We drove on, weaving our way past ruins, shells of cars, and fallen charcoal trees. Robert seemed very sure of the direction he was taking us. It was obvious they had come this way many times before. I was hoping to see a certain black Toyota pickup that had once been owned by Brent. We had been forced to leave it on the side of the road when the thirsty engine had finally run out of fuel. But to my disappointment, we soon turned off onto a side road that quickly led away from the highway.

I studied the gas tank gauge. It was nearly empty. The bit of diesel we had found in the city should be enough to get us to Harbor Springs. My greatest fear wasn't getting there, but what would happen once we arrived. I had no reason to trust Tim and Robert yet. Perhaps this town would be a death trap instead of the promised place of freedom. There was, unfortunately, only one way to find out. It was a dangerous gamble, but I wanted to find a safe place to stash Sophia while I traveled further with Sean. The outside world was no place for a young girl to be, wandering the roads and scavenging for food and fuel with each step of the way resulting in a possible run in with danger.

The burnt out city gave way to rolling hills dotted with the white skeleton of trees. The sun was high now, a yellow orb glowing through a haze of dust high in the atmosphere. It gave a strange cast to the landscape as if the world was about to start on fire. Even with the company inside the car, I felt lonely. The air felt thick and heavy, so much so that even with the windows down, the turbulence did little to cool the sweat dripping off of my brow.

"Is he going to be alright?" Sophia finally asked. Her tiny voice seemed to break the dark spell that had engulfed me.

I gave her a weak smile. "Sean? He'll be alright. He lost his brother and is just a little sad."

She nodded like some wise adult who had already seen the despair of the world. And perhaps she had. I knew nothing about her past.

"Did you have a brother once?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied meekly. "He's dead now. How about you?"

I shook my head. "No, I just had my parents. What happened to your mother and father?"

She paused, giving the matter much thought. "I think they're up in heaven. At least that's what my grandmother said the day they disappeared. But I don't remember too much from back then. It was such a long time ago and I was so little."

I could already imagine the scenario: her family fleeing from the suburbs and trying to find safety in the country. They probably went to stay with relatives, hoping the worst would quickly pass. Perhaps it would have if it hadn't been for the Dark Eyes. Sure, the world still would have been a mess, but humanity could have pulled together and somehow beaten the drought and relentless sun. Instead we were sliding toward the edge of extinction. "What about your grandmother, where is she?"

"Dead." The words were so quiet that I could barely hear them over the sound of the clattering diesel engine. "We were captured by those creatures and taken to that barn. They dragged grandma away. I never saw her again. Emily, do you think she's in heaven too?"

"Of course," I answered.

Sean finally stirred from his lonely vigil of watching the landscape roll by. He said, "Don't lie to the girl. Her parents are dead and gone and so is her grandmother."

I gave him an angry glance. "I know you're still grieving because you lost your brother. We're all unhappy the way things turned out. But that's no reason to hurt Sophia here."

He looked the girl and then patted her hand. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

"That's okay," she said, giving him a strange look.

I returned my concentration back to driving. Ahead Roberts had turned down another road, this one crowded with yellowing weeds. Only the faintest remnants of the black top could be seen under the layer of dust. Now a few abandoned homes were beginning to crop up, indicating we were drawing closer to a town. A number of street signs later and we came to a dried out wooden sign planted in the dirt: _Welcome to Harbor Springs, A Place That's Different_.

At one time this must have been a beautiful little town, but now that era was slowly being erased with time and the harshness of the environment. The streets were lined with gaunt, leafless trees, and the shops and homes looked stripped bare, the result of past looting. The sidewalks, like the road, were cracked and gray from the relentless heat of the day and the chilling cold of night.

Ahead, there was a deep pit dug torn into the asphalt. Barbed wire was strung out on the other side, creating a barrier to vehicles and intruders alike. Beyond that was a wall that cut across the length of the road. It was made with concrete slabs and stood at least eight feet high. Roberts slowed his truck and then turned down a narrow side street. I followed. Behind a hardware store was a parking lot. Quite a few trucks were here along with a yellow school bus. The vehicles looked well-cared for. Roberts found a spot and parked. I pulled in next to him.

"We're here," I said to no one in particular as we exited the truck.

Peter and Beth were already standing together, holding hands. They didn't seem to have much interest in anything but each other. I gave them a scowl that no one noticed. Tim was using his rifle like a cane, a poor thing to do to a gun. The bandages on the opened leg of his destroyed pants were red with blood. He gave me a half-smile before limping away toward the town. As for Roberts, he rewarded us with his customary sullen expression.

He said, "Welcome to Harbor Springs. I'm sure you're noticed that we're in the middle of construction. Please pardon our dust." He said the words deadpan, but a brief grin cracked that normally impassive face. "I'll have to take you to see the head of our community, a woman named Laura. She's a doctor and likes to meet the new residents just to make sure they will be a good fit for the community."

"What happens if she doesn't like us?" Sean asked. I could see that some of the original fire had returned to him. He was starting to act like a leader again, even though his eyes were ringed with dark circles and his shoulders were stooped like a man carrying a great weight.

"That's normally not a problem. Anyway, Tim and I will vouch for you. Since we do most of the scouting outside the walls, our word is usually good enough."

"What happens if we don't like her?"

Another brief smile cracked that stern countenance. "Then you're free to leave. Nobody here is held against their will, but I have to tell you that of all the people I brought in, no one has left."

"You make it sound rather sinister," I commented.

Roberts turned his attention to me and said, "You're quite suspicious, Emily. But we have nothing to hide. Come and see for yourself."

He led us down an alleyway. The space had been further constricted by a several cars, with tires removed, parked in alternating spaces, creating a natural barrier against any vehicle or rushing horde. It would certainly slow down any frontal assault. At the end of this alley was a bricked wall that ran the height of the two buildings on either side. There was a metal door here with two narrow openings on either side set on the wall. The door didn't have any handle. From one of these slits I could see the barrel of a machine gun that looked like a prop out of an old war movie.

"Does it fire?" I asked Roberts.

"Why yes it does. We don't have much ammunition left for it, but in the past we've used it to great effect against the Dark Eyes."

I nodded.

"Let us in!" Roberts shouted.

After a brief pause, the door swung open. Inside was a young man with brown hair that fell to his shoulders. A rifle was slung over his shoulder. He gave Roberts a grin before looking over the rest of us. "I see you've brought in some more survivors. Did you run into any trouble out there? Tim looked pretty bad. He went off to the hospital."

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Roberts replied. "We didn't bring anything back except for these people here. But the truck will need to be refueled. There's also a Ford that these folks here were driving. It'll need to be topped off with diesel."

"I'll get right on it."

"Thanks."

Going through the door, we brushed past this guard and found ourselves on the other side of the alleyway. Sophia grabbed my hand. I looked down at her. She looked scared. Perhaps I was too, but I wasn't about to show it. Soon we were on a street, one that was once the main artery of the town. Shops, still intact, lined the road. There were even a few pedestrians strolling around as if was a perfectly natural thing to do. There was even someone busy with a broom, fruitlessly trying to brush the dust away. Beyond a cursory glance, they didn't pay us very much attention.

Roberts pointed to a large stone building that had a sign outside indicating it was a library and said, "That over there is where we store our food. If you're hungry, just walk in and ask for something to eat. They'll give you the supplies you need." His arm swung toward another shop, the front window had a mannequin wearing a flashy red dress. "This is where the ladies get their clothing. And next door to it is where the gentlemen can shop. And further up the road is a machine shop where we try to fix anything that goes wrong." He then pointed to a building that was marked as a police station. "Of course we don't have much need for the police anymore. We look after ourselves here. But that's where Laura is. And that's also where we setup a little hospital. It isn't much, just a cell in the old jail with a bed and our limited stock of medication. The real healing is done by Doctor Fitzgerald. He's even more ornery than me."

"Where do people live?" I asked.

"Wherever they want, provided it is within the confines of the wall. There are apartments above the stores and a few houses too, but they're filling up. If you're lucky, maybe you can find a place for your entire gang. Now come this way so I can introduce you to Laura."

As we followed Roberts, I felt detached from reality. This town, except for the baking sun and the dust, felt like a dream from the past. It seemed impossible that even a scrap of the old way of like could still exist. I could see the others felt the same way. We felt dumbfounded by the tidy streets and the pedestrians who were too concerned with their own business to pay us much attention.

Except for the sun coming through the windows, the police station was unlit. There was a front desk here that was empty. We walked over the carpeted floor and into another office. Even more surprising was how tidy everything was; a far cry from the normal chaos I was used to. Here a woman, with gray hair tightly pulled back into a bun, was sitting at a large metal desk, going over a pile of papers. When she saw us come in, she put the work down and stood. She wasn't very tall, but had a stiff back and a set jaw that showed plenty of determination. However, once she saw Sophia, the eyes lit up with excitement.

"Come on in," she said, "I'm sorry that there aren't enough chairs for everyone to sit at."

"That's okay," Sean said. "I'm glad to meet you."

"Likewise. My name is Laura Gibbons. I'm often called the mayor of this town, but I'm more of a planner than anything else. Here at Spring Harbor the day to day responsibilities are delegated to the best people for the job. If they don't measure up for the task, then we put them somewhere else until a good match is found. Now what's your name?"

"I'm Sean Stafford. This here is Emily, Peter, and Beth. The little one here is named Sophia."

"Is she your daughter?"

"No," Sean said with a blush. "We rescued her from the Dark Eyes. She's been with us ever since."

"She's a cute one, I have to admit. But your party must be tired from the trip. I suggest you have a rest and then we can talk about your new roles here in our little community."

"As much as I appreciate your offer, I would like to discuss something else. You see we were originally heading south. We aren't looking for trouble. Instead we are trying to find a cure for the Infection that caused these zombies to appear. Believe it or not, Emily and Peter here are immune. It is impossible for them to be turned into Dark Eyes. This same drug they received, however, does not turn the Infected back to normal. I wanted to revisit the military base where the inoculation they received was originally discovered. From there I'm hoping to find the place that this disease was created and see if the same researchers had a cure that could stop the Infection."

It was obvious that this unexpected information took Laura by surprise. She slowly sat back down, her gaze locked on an empty space in the corner of the office. She said, "A cure? Could it be possible?"

"I certainly hope so," Sean replied. "All I know is that this disease was a man-made disaster. It was a weapon designed to take over a country, turning any resistance into chaos. Show her the bites you received, Emily."

I lowered my arms with the palms up. The skin was still recovering from the red welts created by the curved marks of teeth. I said, "It's true what Sean said. It was five years ago when I got an inoculation from my adopted father, a man named Brent Cohen. He discovered this drug at an army base near Fremont. Later that same drug was shared with members of the group that we had joined up with. But everyone was killed except for Peter and I."

Sean added, "We're going to need gas and some ammunition. And we'll want to leave Beth and Sophia here while we are gone."

"I think I can arrange that," Laura said. "But first you will need some rest."

"Wait a minute," I interjected. "You had a wounded man named Tim. Is he okay?"

"Don't worry, he will make a full recovery."

"Tim said something about growing crops. Is that true?"

Laura eyed me slowly before replying. "Yes, we've started some experiments in that direction. As you know, there isn't an infinite supply of canned food. We'll have to start making our own soon."

"Then this is important. Peter and I recently escaped from a village up in Canada. There were growing their own food by using the yellow weeds. I ate some of the bread. It wasn't the best tasting, but it was nourishing. I saw them dry the plant out and then crush the leaves to make flour. I was told the roots were used for flavoring and salt was added while baking."

Her eyes widened. "This little group is full of surprises. This information will come in handy. I will recommend that we start some research in that direction."
Chapter 17

After a brief stay at Harbor Springs, we were back on the road. With Sean driving and Peter riding shotgun, I elected to ride in back with Tim. It was a tight fit with the boxes of food, the single mattress, and the extra cans of diesel and water we carried. At first I felt uncomfortable sharing the space with a stranger, but after a few miles I began to enjoy the company. At least it was a chance to talk to someone new. And I had to admit that I was also attracted to this new man in my life. At the very least he gave me a chance to stop thinking of those friends we had left behind.

When we had left Harbor Springs, Sophia was heartbroken. She wanted to go with us and broke out into tears when the idea was turned down. I tried to console her the best I could, all while Peter and Beth said their goodbyes. The young couple made a heartbreaking little scene of hugs and kisses that only made me feel sick inside. I was glad when we had finally parted. It was worth it to see the sad, hang dog look on Peter's face. I chided myself for my petty behavior and hoped that this trip would clear any lingering jealousy I had. Of course it would have been better if he had also stayed behind, but his immunity to the Infection, like mine, was considered indispensable.

Sean drove carefully, heading south toward Shelby where I had once lived. It was my personal mission to see if Brent was still alive as a captive of the Dark Eyes. I hadn't told anyone of this idea of mine; instead I told them about the supplies we could pick up at Brent's old house. He had hidden stores of food, buried in the ground. After that, we were supposed to go to Fremont where the military base was. It wasn't much of a plan, but Sean still had enough enthusiasm to goad the rest of us to action. I wondered how much of it was driven by the guilt of his brother's death.

The roads that Sean selected were not exactly main thoroughfares. The idea was to stay clear of any Dark Eye activity that would be centered on the larger cities and highways. This meant we had to take a zigzag route southward, often cutting westward to continue on two-lane country roads. Needless to say, the view through the little side window wasn't worth the effort. All I saw were dead forests, dead towns, and fields flourishing with yellow weeds. These depressing sights had long ago been ingrained into my thoughts, so instead I sat back and conversed with my fellow passenger.

Tim and I talked of days past: where we had gone to school, what sort of friends we once had, and the activities that had kept us busy. It was some time later that he told me his story about surviving through the bad days.

He started off by saying, "I was a young jerk of a college student in Kalamazoo, making a few dollars here and there at a gas station. I saw the beginning when prices starting to go through the roof. I mean no one, except the very rich or those left with a good job, could pay them. That made everyone angry. There was theft and drive offs from the pumps all the time. The owner put up barbed wire fence and had to hire security guards to keep any kind of order. But in the end it didn't matter since the gas deliveries stopped coming. The fuel left in the tanks rose and rose in price until no one wanted to pay.

"It was a few days later when a band of bandits hit us hard. And I mean hard. It was nothing but gunfire and killing. The security guards fled and the owner was shot. I ran for it too, heading straight back to my apartment. Of course it wasn't much longer that I had no reason to stay in the city. The university was closed and the crime was getting too rampant for any sane person to stick around. I took off to join my parents and two sisters back at the farmhouse we had in Allegan. It seemed safe enough, at least for a few months. But the roads were filled with wanderers, all trying to find somewhere safe to hole up until things got better. Needless to say I got very lonely with just my family there. I no longer had my friends or even my girlfriend around since she was back in Ohio with her parents."

I suddenly felt uncomfortably close to him, cooped up in the back of this truck. He hadn't been overtly physical, but from his lingering gazes, I knew he wanted to touch me. I nervously said, "What happened after that?"

He continued, "My parents weren't exactly survivalists. The food ran out after a few months. For a while we were able to barter with the locals, but after a few weeks of that, no one wanted to trade anymore since food had become too valuable. So, like many others, we decided to head north, hoping the colder climate would be better. I'm not sure how the rumor started, but everyone said that things were better in Canada and there was plenty of food to go around. So we packed everything up in this old Malibu station wagon and started driving. For safety, my dad had decided to join up with a convoy of cars heading in the same direction. It turned out to be a trap."

"A road gang?"

Tim frowned at my question. "I'm afraid so. I'm still not sure if there was some collusion between one of the convoy organizers and the gang, or what. But we didn't even get a mile out of town when we were hit by gunfire. Bullets were popping everywhere. Most of the cars pulled over, but my dad decided to run for it. It was a few miles later when the bastards, who were driving motorcycles, caught up to us. A couple of gunshots later and my old man was hit in the shoulder. The station wagon careened out of control and ran into a telephone pole. My mother and father were both killed in the collision. I was flung from the backseat and knocked out. I don't remember much after that except for some screaming and yelling. When I woke up, I was in a ditch, covered in blood. My sisters were dead. Everything had been taken. Well, except for the corpses."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks. After their deaths, I started wandering, still heading north. I hitchhiked, looted, and did whatever I needed to do to survive. I found Spring Harbor was still intact. I stayed there. It was a lucky decision, especially when the Dark Eyes came. It sounds like you've had a rougher time than me. It must have been a real fight for survival out there." He leaned towards me, his eyes boring into mine.

I could tell by his attentions tell that he was attracted to me, but I felt mixed up inside. Up in the cab of the truck I had Peter, who I still loved, and Sean, who was on this fool errand to prove his affections for me. A third combination was bound to drive me crazy. But I couldn't help myself. Tim was attractive, funny, and had a real insight of what made me tick. Life was so painfully short and death was always lurking around the corner. What would one simple kiss matter?

I tilted my head up towards his and closed my eyes. I could smell him. I could feel his presence, ever so close to mine. His hands went around my back. They felt strong and hot. My eyes fluttered open. His face was near mine, the lips puckered.

The truck suddenly jerked to a stop, throwing us both off balance. He looked at me, his eyes still hungry.

I gave him a grin. "I guess fate has intervened." Sliding free from his grasp, I rolled off the mattress. "Let's see what's happening," I suggested.

Tim looked hurt, but managed to paste a false smile on that handsome face of his. "Sure," he said grumpily.

I opened the metal door and jumped out. It felt good to stand again. Sean and Peter were already there at the back of the truck, looking tired. We were out in the middle of nowhere on a road that cut through a path dead trees. I couldn't tell where we were, but from the direction of the sun I could tell we were heading almost due west.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Are you okay?" Sean asked, obviously catching something in my expression.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"I don't know, you just look jumpy. How are things going back there with Tim?"

"Fine enough," the man in question answered as he joined us.

I felt myself blushing. "As you can see, it's getting a little hot back there. I'm glad you stopped."

Sean said, "Well, I thought you would want a break. Anyway, I'm getting a little tired driving. Maybe you would want to take over while I try and get some rest. We have maybe another two or three hours before we hit Shelby. I would like to stop before we get there since the Dark Eyes, at least according to you, had taken that town over. We should scout the area out before we go blundering over to Brent's old house. Is that okay with everyone?"

No one disagreed. We spent the next couple of minutes eating a lunch of canned chili that was heated on the camping stove. For dessert it was fruit cocktail. I took a turn heading off into the bushes to go to the bathroom. On my way back, I saw Sean trotting off, probably to do the same. I wanted to have a word with him without the others hearing.

"Hold on a second," I said. "If you can."

"What's up?"

"I won't take too long. I just want to know if you'll ride up in front with me while I drive."

He made a face. "Why? Don't you like that Tim fellow?"

"He's okay."

"Just a little forward? I can tell he has something for you. Maybe all this male attention is going to your head." He gave a little laugh as if reassuring himself.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Don't be silly. I just want to talk to you some more. I've already spent a few hours with him. Some different company would be a nice change."

"I'm flattered and only just a little suspicious of your motives, but I'll ride up with you. Just don't expect the best company. I'm a bit tired."

"Thanks," I said gratefully. "I'll meet you there."

He nodded, and gave me one more quizzical look before leaving. He then disappeared behind a tree.

Feeling better, I went back to the truck. Peter and Tim were busy conversing and paused when I joined them. Neither of them looked all that pleased to see me.

"I hope you two aren't telling secrets about me," I said, guessing the topic of their conversation. I could only imagine what Peter could be telling him – the nights we spent together, wrapped in each other's arms as we tried to ward off the cold. Or the countless days we had spent together. Or perhaps Tim wanted to know if Peter had any interest in me.

"No, nothing like that," Peter replied nervously, unable to meet my eyes. "We were just discussing the trip and how long it takes to use these side roads."

"Good," I said. "I'm going to be driving now. Sean asked if he could ride in front with me. I told him it would be okay."

Tim looked crestfallen. Peter just shrugged, and began to climb in the back.

"I was hoping he could spend more time together," Tim said once Peter was out of earshot. "There is so much that I would like to say to you."

"I can only imagine, but we can discuss this later," I suggested. "Right now we have to concentrate on the task at hand. I don't want to be sidetracked by romance right now, okay?"

His expression turned hard, the eyes momentarily blazed with anger. Instead of blowing up at me, he instead gave me a nasty look. "Whatever you say," he managed to say. He then clambered into the back of the truck and slammed the door shut.

I cursed myself for being so foolish. Right from the beginning I should have spurned Tim's advances. Instead he would consider me his girl unless I told him otherwise. That could make Sean jealous and could even put the mission in jeopardy. Without any solution, I instead slid behind the wheel and started up the engine. Perhaps Sean would have an answer to all of this trouble I had created.
Chapter 18

After only a few perfunctory words, Sean settled into his seat and began to snore. At first I was annoyed since I had so much to say to him, but soon accepted that he must be tired beyond belief. The grief of losing his brother and the journey to get to Harbor Springs had been too much for him. His face, soft with sleep, looked younger, perhaps even handsome. But still, I almost wished that I had Tim or even Peter here with me, just to help make the slow miles go by a little quicker.

Instead, I turned the radio on and swung through the dial. It was a fruitless search since there was nothing but static. It wasn't that I was expecting a miracle, but the motion was more of a habit than anything else. I remembered the days when I traveled with Brent and complained about his music selections. He liked the old stuff and would sing along to songs that were foreign to me. Now I wished he was here, using that rough voice of his while listening to T. Rex or the Small Faces. Now that we were getting closer to Shelby, I was flooded with memories of him. Against all odds, I wondered if he could still somehow be alive, still searching for me after all these years. I knew such a thought was impossible since no one could have survived that collapse of the Mackinac Bridge and that attack of the Dark Eyes, but nonetheless, I was going to try and find out what had happened to him. And no one could stop me.

The miles ground on. With the rough shape of the road and the dust hiding the edges of the shoulder, it was slow going. The suspension of this old truck was also shot. I could feel every pot hole, every pebble, and the rough washboard of the broken asphalt. The scenery, beyond the stripped forest, was one of desolation: deserted farmhouses, burned out buildings, and abandoned vehicles, the tires gray and flat. In the past this area was deserted enough but now it screamed of loneliness and despair. My eyes began to play tricks – a waving hand turned out to be a scrap of paper caught on the limb of a tree and what I thought was the shout of a child came from the wind gusting through the shattered windows of a little roadside convenience store.

I felt better once we hit the edges of New Era, a little town two miles south of Shelby. I turned at the first driveway I came across, a small rental storage area. I drove past the open gate and into the lot where we would be hidden by the row of low buildings. The aluminum doors here had all been torn open as if ripped off their moorings by a tow truck. The jumbled remains of boxes, toys, and furniture littered the area. I slowed to a stop and then jammed the transmission into park.

"We're here," I said out loud.

Sean stirred next to me. "Where exactly is here?"

"It used to be called New Era. I took a little detour to get here, but Shelby is to the north of us."

"Sorry I fell asleep but why did you come here?" he asked as he stifled a yawn. "It's further south than we needed to go."

"I thought this town would be too small for the Dark Eyes to bother with. It's been looted several times already. I know since I helped Brent search through the remains on several occasions. We took all the food and water. But it's also the closest town to Shelby and is also near the home I used to live at. It will be a good place to start at."

"I still don't know why we're stopping here," he said. "We don't need supplies that badly."

"We can share the supplies at the house with the people at Spring Harbor," I replied. "Anyway there isn't much time since it's going to get dark soon. We can make a fire and something to eat."

He patted his stomach. "As long as it's not chili."

We built a little campfire and cooked up a quick meal of spam with reconstituted eggs. It was a salty mess but still tasted good, especially after swallowing a few gulps of lukewarm water. While Peter cleaned up, I pulled out the sleeping bags from the back of the truck. When everyone was nestled in around the dying embers, I stood up, took my pistol out and checked the loads.

"Going somewhere?" Sean asked, his face looking like a mask from the flicker of flame.

"I'm going out. I'll be back soon enough."

"You're going to Shelby, aren't you?"

"Yes. I need to know if Brent is there."

"What?" he said, his voice rising with anger.

"I'll go with you," Peter chimed in.

"I want to go too," Tim said, reaching for the rifle tucked under his sleeping bag.

I shook my head. "This is something I need to do alone. Anyway, Peter and I are the only ones safe from the Dark Eyes. They can't hurt me unless they catch me or decide to take a few pot shots. And they won't do that if they think they can capture me."

"It's still not safe!" Sean said, his voice becoming ragged with emotion.

"I agree. You can't go alone," Tim added.

"Fine," I spat out. "I'll take Peter then. You two are like a pair of old women." And with those final words, I stalked off into the darkness. I was angry at all men, thinking I needed constant protection. I had survived out here for a long time. I could do it again if I had to, even if Peter stayed with that bitch girlfriend of his.

I heard the pad of footsteps. It was Peter, coming up quick. He had the shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Emily," he breathed out.

"Hey," I snapped back.

"Are we going to walk there?"

"It's safer that way. You know that."

He paused. "Yeah. I've been meaning to ask you, what's eating you up? It isn't me, is it?"

"Of course not," I lied. "I told you that I'm happy that you found someone. Anyway there is no reason why you would have to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. I mean we're just good friends, right?"

"Yeah."

We walked along the edge of the road and past the remnants of the little buildings of New Era. There was a little stretch of storefronts and even a car dealership. Some of the vehicles had open hoods and doors. All had flat tires. They looked tired and sad with windshields covered with dust. There would never be any buyers for these wrecks. It was quiet here; so silent that the ears strained for any type of sound. Other than my breathing and the soft padding of our feet on the dust, there was nothing. The stars above twinkled with their cold inhuman gaze. The moon, which hung low on the horizon, was nearly a sliver, casting low and long shadows. It was these shadows that caused the imagination to run rampant: goblins, ghosts and silent killers lived here. I felt like joining them, sliding gently over the silent land, and free of the mixed-up emotions inside.

It was only a few strides when we hit the outskirts of town again. It was nothing but trees and the odd house. The next intersection crossed four lanes of traffic. On the other side we came to a dairy. The windows of the tourist restaurant in front were smashed as were the glass doors. In back was the processing plant with a semi still backed into the loading docks. Beyond this were empty fields and holding pens, where cows once roamed and chewed on green grass.

It was here that I took Peter's hand and pulled him off the road.

"We're getting close," I whispered in his ear. "Only another half a mile and we'll be at Shelby."

With practiced ease, we moved cautiously, finding cover in the backyards of homes and the rear of small businesses. It was the open areas where I felt the most vulnerable. The fields were the worst, requiring haste to traverse. At least the small clumps of leafless trees offered some cover. We traveled this way until I saw the old hospital up ahead. From here it was only a few steps to the downtown. This area had to be the most dangerous, since even the Dark Eyes would guard their towns from a surprise attack. We were crossing the parking lot when I saw something moving ahead. I stopped behind an abandoned car. Peter didn't even ask why. He and I had had enough run-ins with danger in the past. He crouched next to me as I peered over the roof.

Across the street was one of the creatures, trudging back and forth. It took me a moment to realize that there was something wrong with the thing. Instead of moving like a man, the Dark Eyes was lurching as if in great pain. Its shape, perhaps clouded by the gloom, was also strange: crouched and disfigured. I felt a chill run down my spine, reminding me of some horror movie that I had seen when I was a little girl.

I crouched down next to Peter. I whispered in his ear, "We have to get around it. Let's edge our way behind those houses over there. Okay?"

He nodded, his head only a gray shadow.

Hand in hand, we crept quietly behind the hospital, over a road, and into a small knot of homes. I couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched. Like skeletons, the homes here had been stripped down, leaving nothing but foundations, floors, and rough framing. The siding, roofs, and the contents were gone. I couldn't imagine why the Dark Eyes would do such a thing. What possible use would they have for all of this material?

My answer came soon enough. We were about to dart from behind a house and across the street when I saw an odd shape dominating the skyline. Where the downtown once was, there was a massive structure that was several stories high. It was a patchwork of different shades: colors muted by the dim light of the moon. The shape was round, expanding in the middle and tapering at the very highest point. It reminded me of an upside-down wasp nest, or an egg, but with a strange alien design straight out of a nightmare.

"What in the hell?" Peter muttered.

"We have to get closer," I said, trying to fight the fear creeping up inside.

"I think we should go back and tell the others," Peter suggested. "I don't want to get any closer to that thing."

"I'm not leaving until I know Brent isn't here."

"He's dead, okay?"

I quickly looked around but saw no one. "Keep your voice down. Brent is the only one who knows where the exact location of the military base is. If we spend our time looking around Fremont, it could take days to find it."

"That's not much of an excuse. If Brent is alive, he might save us some time, but the risk isn't worth our lives."

"You didn't know him like I did," I shot back. "He was like a father to me."

"Do you know anyone who has a family member left? It isn't worth the risk! No one is."

"I know that," I admitted. "But it doesn't matter. You're going to stay here." And before he could say anything in reply, I took off in a run across the street. To my surprise, Peter stayed in place. When I glanced over my shoulder, he had melded into the shadows. Perhaps he really was scared. I knew I was, but my love for Brent spurred me on.

At least alone I could move quickly. I ran from hiding spot to hiding spot, all while keeping a lookout for Dark Eyes. The land around this hive, for lack of a better word, had been cleared. I remembered the fruit processing plant and the remnants of the only bar in town. They were gone, with only filled in foundations remaining. The road, which once led to the little stores of the downtown, now went directly to a gaping entrance of this strange building. I felt exposed here, but I still didn't see any threat.

When I got closer to the structure, I saw it was made from material collected by the nearby houses. At the lower level there was a ring of different sized windows that appeared to go around the entire building. I went away from the entrance and instead ran to the closest wall. There I crouched in the shadows, listening for any evidence that I had been seen. There was nothing. This made me feel uneasy. There should have been something – it wasn't that late and the Dark Eyes had no fear of the night.

I peered through the openings, but they were dark. I then began to make my way around the hive, stopping at each window, but once again the lack of illumination stopped me from seeing further inside. After a few tries, I grew frustrated and tried one of the windows. With a low squeak, it slid open. Poking my head in, my nostrils were assaulted by the smell of sweat and urine. The silence was broken by a low rhythmic pulse, the sound of many people slowly breathing together as one. It gave me a strange feeling, like being inside a living creature.

Pushing my fears aside, I pulled myself inside. Without the light of the moon, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. I was in a small room, more like a hallway. There were rows and rows of slots built into the walls. Each slot had a shelf where a head, face up, was resting. They were Dark Eyes. Except for the breathing, one would think they were dead. My heart skipped a beat. To stop myself screaming, I chewed on a thumb. I could taste blood when my teeth broke the skin.
Chapter 19

When I was able to regain my composure, I went ever so slowly down the hallway. This led to a circular hub where, like spokes on a wheel, corridors led off to racks of sleeping Dead Eyes. In the center was a spiral staircase that led upward. With only a glimmer of moonlight from the windows, it was difficult to see where I was going. I managed to find a step and began a cautious journey to the floor above. On the metal stairs, my muted footsteps sounded impossibly loud, even though I was doing everything I could to move silently. I was soon lost in total darkness.

Against my better judgment, I dug through my front pocket until I found a book of matches. I lit one. The burst of light was like an orange flare, temporarily blinding me. I was able to see that I was on the next floor. Like below, passageways shot off into the darkness. Here I could also hear the rhythmic breathing of the Dark Eyes. The match burned my fingers. I dropped it on the floor. Fighting the urge to light another match, I continued upward.

This time I kept going until I could no longer hear any massed breathing. There was a strange smell in the air. I lit another match. This time there were no corridors, just a large room the width and depth of the building. Hanging from the ceiling were short lengths of chains with hooks on the ends. A few of these hooks supported slabs of meat, ribs and all. They looked to be human. Underneath these macabre cuts of flesh were scattered remains of bones. I let out a gasp as the match once again burned my fingers. There was nothing else I wanted to see here, so I went onward.

By now my heart was thudding hard in my chest. The sound was so loud in my ears that I feared the Dark Eyes could hear me. My inoculation only provided protection against these things, but now I had the fear of being eaten. They wouldn't try to infect me, instead I would be led off like a calf to the slaughter. I wondered why they had changed their tactics. Perhaps it was the lack of food changing their method of survival. No longer did they have to worry about being killed by humans, so they had modified their tactics: using them as a source of nourishment when possible. But still, there weren't enough people left to feed them all. There had to be some other source of nourishment. Perhaps they were feeding on themselves, eating the weakest so the strongest could survive.

When I was sure that I was at the next floor, I lit another match. This time there was no new horrors to see, only a few doors set into the wall that circled the stairway. I was about to move on when I heard a muffled cry of pain. I took a few tentative steps out of the stairway, my ears trying to pick up the location of this sound. It was repeated, this time I could tell it was coming from a hallway to my left. The light of the match flickered out. I lit another one.

"Hello?" I called out, using a low voice. I had never heard the Dark Eyes cry out in pain before, so it had to be someone human.

"Who is it?" a voice cracked with pain called out. It sounded strangely familiar, like an old dream half-forgotten.

It came from the first door in the hallway. I went to it and leaned my head against the frame. I tried the knob but it wouldn't budge. "My name is Emily," I said.

The match went out. There was such a long pause that I feared something had happened to the prisoner on the other side. The tired voice stammered, "E-E-Emily? It can't be. It's some sort of a trick!"

My heart soared with hope. Could it really be him? The idea, though I wished it so, seemed too impossible. "Brent?" I said, my voice just a whisper.

"Emily?"

I gripped the knob again and tried desperately opening it. The frame gave a little along the edges, but I couldn't bust him out of there. I was making too much noise. I feared the sleeping Dark Eyes would awake soon and investigate.

I could hear Brent's labored breathing from inside. "The key," he croaked out. "That's the only way."

"Where is the key?" I asked.

"That creature once named Rhode carries it. He lives on the top floor."

"I'll be right back."

"No, don't do it." Every word became more cracked with emotion. "Just leave me here. You don't want to see what they did to me."

"I don't care! It broke my heart when you left me. I can't have that happen again. I'll be right back with that key. Just hold on."

"Don't," he moaned through the door.

I didn't give him any further time to protest. Instead I blindly returned to the stairs and began to climb upward. This time I kept going until I heard the echo of my footsteps ring from above. Stopping, I listened carefully, trying to remember what the very top looked like from the outside. It was narrow, so perhaps there was only one room. I had to be careful. I waited. At first I didn't hear anything, but then a sigh broke the silence. It sounded so close that, fearing I had been heard, I took a few steps down the steps.

With shaking hands, I lit one of my few remaining matches. What I saw made me stifle a scream. Thanks to the gloom, I hadn't seen the other Dark Eyes here all that closely. This naked creature resting here on a thin mattress was barely human. Sure it had a head, two legs, and two arms, but the features were wildly distorted. The cranium, for instance, was now prominent as though all the excesses of the flesh had been stripped away. The same held true for the body which was a collection of bones tautly wrapped together by skin. This could have been the normal effects of starvation, but there was something sinister about the cruel face, colorless thin lips, slit-like nose, and hairless skull. The skin itself was ghostly white as if all the vitality had been removed. I wondered what strange course the Infection had taken to cause such changes. It hardly looked real.

The flame of the match burned my fingers. I ignored the burst of pain and let it drop to the steps. I lit another, this time pulling my attention away from the strange alien creature. Instead I scanned the walls, the floor, and the contents of this narrow room for any sign of the key. There wasn't anything here. I was about to give up when the light of the flame caught a glint of metal resting on the creature's chest. It was a key held in place by a necklace made out of metal links.

I threw the flickering match on the steps and watched as it died out. Girding myself for my next move, I took a few deep breaths. No matter what it took, I had to get that key free. I couldn't leave Brent here to suffer. If only I had a knife so I could slit the creature's throat. Instead I only had my gun, a few matches, and the clothes on my back. What could I do with these? I came up with a plan. I didn't like it, but it was better than nothing.

Taking my light jacket off, I slung it over my shoulder. I then lit another match and studied the creature in front of me, looking for the best way to get that chain free. I took in every detail, trying to remember the scene as best as I could. When the match went out, I took a deep breath and cautiously moved my right hand toward the Dark Eye. When my fingertips touched his skin, I felt an unexpected coldness that caused me to shiver. In seconds my hand found the edge of the key. I grasped it and slowly moved the chain upward, toward the neck. I went inch by inch, expecting him to awake at any moment.

My knuckles brushed against the chin. I stopped and took another deep breath. This next part was going to be difficult. I pulled upward, making the chain taut against the neck. I then began trying to slip the metal links over the creature's face. At approximately the half-way point, the Dark Eye moved minutely and let out a low inhuman snarl. I froze, wishing I could be anywhere but here. I wanted to give up, but knew I couldn't – not with Brent's freedom at stake.

The seconds ticked by, seemingly stretching into minutes. I felt scared. It felt like I had been here for hours. When my hand finally stopped trembling, I once more began sliding the chain along. Suddenly it stopped moving, the links apparently bunched up against the back of the skull. I stopped myself from jerking the key free, but instead slowly worked my hand gently back and forth, wishing and praying that the chain would free itself.

The creature gave another growl, this one louder than the last. Before I could arrest my movement, a hand shot out and made a grab for mine. This allowed the chain to break free from its skull. But now I was in a fight. With my free hand, I whipped the coat off of my shoulder and over the creature's face in an attempt at suffocation. The damn thing, however, was impossibly strong. It jerked up and off of the thin mattress, trying to pull me from the stairs. A shrieking yowl escaped from its lips. It wouldn't be long before some other Dark Eyes came to investigate.

Fighting blindly, I struck out with my free hand. The blow connected with cold flesh, but it didn't seem to matter. The nails of the creature dug into my wrist. I could feel the blood trickling down my arm. There was only one thing left to do, even though it was the worst possible option. I fumbled for the gun riding inside the holster. Since the Colt was on the same side as my free hand, it took a few seconds to free it. I clumsily tried to aim, but my body was swung off to the side. The back of my head hit something and the world exploded into stars.

It seemed like I was only out for a second. I found myself sprawled on the floor with the gun still grasped in my left hand and the chain in my right.. There was hard breathing coming from the darkness. It seemed to be inches away from my face. Lifting the Colt up, I fired a single shot into the darkness. In the confined space, it sounded like a cannon going off. As my ears rang, the Dark Eye crashed to the ground. And then there was silence.

Fighting the urge to throw up, I dizzily felt around, trying to find the staircase. My hand skidded into a pool of warm liquid, probably blood. And then I touched a bony limb. It wasn't moving. I cinched myself up and skirted along the edge of the wall until I almost fell into the open stairway. From there I began my descent down, wondering how much time I had left before the other Dark Eyes came swarming after me.
Chapter 20

With each step down those darkened stairs, I could hear a strange wailing sound coming from below. There were also footsteps, voices, and a great deal of commotion. The sound of the gun going off had riled up all of the Dark Eyes. I knew in my heart that I would probably die this night, but at least I could die with Brent at my side. That had to count for something.

I heard someone pounding on a door and crying. It had to be Brent, his pain seeping through the darkness. I stopped my downward progress and carefully followed my ears until I was once again standing at the door that kept him imprisoned. With shaking hands, I guided the key into the lock and twisted the handle. The door swung open. My body was immediately encircled by a pair of arms.

"I know this isn't a dream, but it feels like one," Brent rasped into my ear, his voice barely recognizable from the memory I had. He hugged me. His body felt incredibly thin and lightweight. I could feel a thick beard tickling my neck.

In the darkness I squeezed him back. I felt so happy that I could cry but this wasn't the time or place for heartfelt reunions. "Come on," I said as I broke free from his grasp. I tried to lead him to the stairway. I could feel the bones in his hand. He was having a hard time keeping up.

"What happened up there?" he asked.

"I had to kill it. I barely recognized it as human."

"Yes, they've been changing quickly now. Of course I don't feel too human myself. I've been starving for years, kept on a diet that has barely kept me alive."

"We'll soon put a fix to that," I said, trying to keep his spirits high. "Tell me, do you know a way out of here?"

"Just down and then out, I'm hate to say."

The Dark Eyes were busy screaming that strange cry of theirs. And the sound of their movement echoed up the stairway. But with each step we took down, the less I could hear them. By the time my foot hit the bottom floor, there was no sign of the creatures. The faint glow of the moon barely cut through the gloom, but I could just see that the partitions where the Dark Eyes had rested were now empty.

"Where are they?" Brent asked, his low voice close to my ear.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I replied.

From there, I took the closest corridor, opened the window at the end of the hall, and clambered out. Brent's hand waved erratically as if he couldn't see where he was going. It took some effort to get him out. It was good to see again and to breathe air that hadn't been polluted by the Dark Eyes. One glance at my companion showed the effects of his prolonged starvation. He was dressed in a pair of grimy pajamas. His limbs were impossibly thin. The hair was long and wild, tangled together in an unwashed mass.

But that was the least of the damage done to this once handsome man. Where his left eye was now an empty socket, the red pulp underneath looking tender and sore. The single eye that remained was covered with a white film. The skin of his face was scarred with what appeared to be multiple cut marks, as if done by a sadist with a dull knife.

"Brent," I managed to whimper. "What did they do to you? Can you see at all?"

"Just forms and shadows." He gave me a brave smile that revealed only a few of his teeth remained. "I was tortured. They wanted to know why I couldn't become Infected. But I never talked. I never told them anything."

My heart was broken. But I could feel the sorrow turn into a raging hatred of the Dark Eyes. I would see them all destroyed if it was the last thing I did.

"This way," I said as I grasped his hand.

It took me a moment to find my bearings. We headed south back toward where I had left Peter. Brent was leaning hard into me, but he was so thin that I hardly felt his weight. We had only taken a few steps when I saw several figures moving away from us. And then I saw more of them. They were Dark Eyes, heading outward from their hive like an expanding circle. It then dawned on me that they had been awoken by the gunshot that killed their leader. Not knowing where the sound came from, the creatures were now searching methodically for the source. I wondered how long that would last before they turned back and discovered us. Our only chance to escape from them was to follow and wait until the points of the circle were wide enough that we could slip through undetected. At least that was my theory. Now it was time to put it to the test.

The Dark Eyes were moving fast. With Brent's condition, it was impossible to keep up. Instead we cleared the field that surrounded the hive and then began moving from spot to spot, trying to gain whatever cover we could. I knew it wouldn't be too much longer before Peter, if he had stayed in place, would be discovered. I could only hope that he had retreated in time and headed back to join the others. Otherwise he would be seen and hunted down.

After much difficulty we got to the southern edge of Shelby, a place clear of standing homes. Hiding amongst the trees, I could see that the four lane road ahead was clear of pursuers. Once we crossed that, it would only be a mile or so before we reached New Era. But Brent was breathing hard now; his hand was clammy with sweat. I wondered how much longer he could last. He was so weak.

He seemed to read my mind. "Perhaps you should go on," he gasped out as he fought for breath.

"It's only another mile to New Era. Anyway, my friends have a truck. Once we get there, we can just hop in and ride away from these Dark Eyes."

"Go there and get the truck. Come back for me."

"You know I can't leave you. Come on!"

With those words, I dragged him forward. He didn't have the strength to resist. Instead, he plodded clumsily next to me, each step a battle. As soon as we our feet hit the cracked asphalt, I heard an inhuman scream coming from our left. It was a Dark Eye, heading straight toward us at a incredible pace. I pulled out the Colt and waited until the creature was almost on top of us. I fired, the bullet breaking he night air with a violent crack. The thing went down with a bullet between the eyes.

"Nice shooting," Brent managed to rasp out. "But they will all be on us now."

"Then we had better hurry," I shot back.

I dragged him onward. He fell. I helped him up. He was really looking sick now. We crossed the road and were soon lost in the forest. The gloomy shadows were long over the land. I could feel a breeze, but sadly it wasn't strong enough to stir up the dust and provide some sort of cover. Instead we would have to get to New Era on our wits.

This time the Dark Eyes did not scream out a warning. Instead they came en masse, moving through the trees like a tidal wave of horror. I could feel them before I heard them. The combined footsteps gave a slight tremor to the ground, and then it sounded like soldiers on a fast march. It felt as if we were being pushed on like foxes being hunted. There was no way we could outrun them, but I was going to try my damnedest.

"This way!" I shouted, clutching the pistol so tightly that my hand hurt.

We fought through the maze of trees. I had to help Brent clamber over the fallen trunks and dodge the errant branches that remained. My sides hurt and my lungs were burning with exhaustion. I could only imagine how bad Brent was feeling. Somehow he had drawn on some hidden well of stamina, perhaps the very strength that had kept him alive after all these years of privation. But still he was looking bad, his haggard face made into a horrible mask of exhaustion.

Every few steps I would turn my head to see how close the Dark Eyes had gotten. It was a few hundred feet later when I saw the first one. It let out a triumphant snarl and sped up, closing the gap in a few frantic leaps. With a jump, it grabbed at Brent's leg, barely missing. I turned and snapped a shot off, luckily striking the creature in the shoulder. It tried to rise, but collapsed.

Brent's was still, his eyes large. I could see his chest heaving like bellows.

"Come on!" I said between gasps. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back up.

That brief pause had taken too much time. Now I could hear a knot of Dark Eyes coming up quick. A glance over my shoulder and I saw a dozen of them, more than I could handle with my remaining ammunition. They would be on us in just a matter of moments. At that moment Brent and I broke free of the woods and found ourselves on top of a one track service road. As we crossed, a bright light engulfed us. Startled, I turned and saw a pair of headlights breaking the gloom. It was a truck. It shot ahead, and then braked next to us, blocking the Dark Eyes from getting to us.

"Get in!" The window was down. It was Sean at the wheel.

A heavy blast from a shotgun came from the other side of the truck. I headed toward the back of the truck and found that the door was open. But it was too late. The main horde of the Dark Eyes had arrived. They were surrounding the truck like a moving mass of silent death. Snapping a few shots off, I pushed ahead with Brent in tow. We kept close to the truck, using the metal body to stand upright against the fury of the attack. The Dark Eyes used their teeth, nails and sheer numbers in an attempt to bring us down. Like punch drunk boxers, we stumbled, kicked and screamed our way through the mass of bodies. I felt bloodied and battered, but kept on going with one hand on the gun and the other clasped around my companion.

During this terrible melee, I could hear the low boom of the shotgun joined in with the high crack of a hunting rifle. And then a quick succession of firewood crackles, indicating the use of someone quickly squeezing the trigger of a pistol. As for my Colt, I had ran out of ammunition long ago and was forced to use the stubby gun like a club. After endless seconds, we had reached the opening of the back of the truck.

Tim was there with his pistol in hand, taking shots at the unrelenting horde. When he saw us, his face lit up. He grabbed Brent roughly by the arm and pulled him in. I felt a Dark Eye try to grab me by the neck, but I shrugged this attack off and managed to jump inside. Tim then knocked on top of the enclosure and we began to pull away. The Dark Eyes didn't seem to care. They crowded against and began beating the sides of the truck. I could feel the wheels bump and grind over fallen bodies. A few of the foul creatures tried to get inside, but a few well-placed kicks and they were pushed out. After a few harrowing moments, the truck broke free and sped down the road, leaving a trail of dust in our wake. I could see hundreds of the creatures giving chase, their dark eyes looking like the blackest pits of hell.

Sean drove the truck fast, pushing the shot suspension hard over the bumps. The movement made my teeth dance around. The three of us hugged the mattress as boxes fell over and the water containers sloshed violently.

"We're clear! We're clear!" I found myself shouting.

Tim hammered on the partition that separated us from the cab. And then after a few seconds of this, the truck slowed to a more sensible speed. I found tears flowing down my cheek, but no one noticed because my face was still buried in the mustiness of the mattress. I was feeling mixed up – a combination of relief from having escaped and the happiness of seeing Brent again. But why had he been tortured so? I felt like a little girl again as I reached instinctively for his hand and squeezed it so tight that it hurt.
Chapter 21

We had finished eating – beef hash, if it matters – and were settled around the little campfire that had been started. We were tucked behind a farmhouse that had nearly collapsed. I watched the red coals deep in the blaze, and the crackle of sparks that rose in the air. Off in the distance, I could hear snatches of Peter walking along and keeping guard. Brent had eaten more than his fair share. I was glad to see him satisfy his hunger. Even though the glimmer of dawn was shining along the horizon, I wasn't tired. The actions of the night had riled me up. I could always catch up on my sleep at a later time.

Sean poked a stick into the fire. He said, "Well, Brent, you've had a rough time of it. But I will need your help."

Lost in thought, Brent was staring off at the rising sun. After a long moment that brought glances between Sean, Tim, and I, he said, "I will help." His voice sounded faraway.

"Look, Brent," Tim added. "I know you had a tough time, but can you tell us what happened to you in there?"

"Why don't you leave him alone?" I spat at him.

Brent's half-blind eye blinked a few times. "No, you all ought to know. I'm still feeling a bit strange as if this freedom isn't real.. I often thought of these days when I could be free again. Now that the moment is here, I'm not quite sure what to do. Perhaps it would be better to tell you the whole story."

"Go ahead," Sean said.

Brent still hesitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was cracked with emotion. "It seemed like a thousand years ago when I was on the Mackinac Bridge, waiting for the Infecteds, as I called them, to make their attack. My plan was to blow the bridge at that point and take a whole bunch of them down. Just in case, I had tied myself to a safety line. Well, my explosive, to say the least, was sort of a dud. It went off, but instead of a massive explosion there was just a burning pool of fire on the top of the bridge. The Dark Eyes easily bypassed this danger and continued on. I tried to untie myself, but I had made the knot too good. I couldn't get free."

"I was in the town then," I added, "forced into a car with the rest of the refugees trying to make their escape. I waited and waited, hoping you would join us. You never came."

He shook his head. "The fire from my dud bomb eventually made the center span of the bridge collapse, taking a bunch of the Infecteds and some cars down to the water below. But that bastard Rhode and a bunch of his followers survived. They dragged me up and tried right there to infect me with the nanobots. Of course I was immune, which seemed to mystify them. Instead of killing me, which I had wished for so many times since that day, I was taken prisoner.

"After a boat ride, I was escorted back to Shelby. This was before that hive was made. I was locked in a basement and put under guard. After a while, Rhode – or the creature that once had that name - came back. They took me back to my home and I was forced to point out where my hidden stores of food were located. Just to be sure I wasn't lying, they dug up everywhere in my land and took everything.

"After that I was returned to the colony, as Rhode called it. He was quite perplexed by my immunity. I think it caused him to worry, thinking that there was a strain of humanity that could not be turned." Brent then gave a visible shudder. "They started to question me. I would not answer, so they took away my food. That didn't work. I wasn't going to tell them anything. I wanted to keep Emily safe.

"As I began to wither away from starvation, Rhode began to worry that I was going to die. Not that he had any fear of death or was worried about my well-being. No, it was more like he wanted to know this secret of mine and if it would harm the Infecteds. So I got my food back. But that's when the experiments started."

"Experiments?" I asked, filled with horror.

"Rhode knew I would never talk while I was human. But if my immunity to the Infection could be overcome, then I could be converted. Once the transformation was finished, I would tell all. I was injected with drugs. Most of them did nothing other than make me vomit. A few made me delirious, a raving mad man. I thought I was going to go insane. The months passed by, each day filled with pain and misery. I wanted to kill myself, but any means to accomplish that task were kept away from me.

"With no results from their experiments, the questions started again. But this time they used torture. I lost one eye and almost lost another. I was cut and jabbed until my world became nothing but a ball of pain. I became what you see in front of you, deformed and crippled.

"One day everything stopped. Rhode told me that my problem had been solved and the inoculation was no longer considered a threat. I could only assume that Emily and all the others who had received the drug had been killed. I also thought of the possibility that the military base where I had found the inoculation had been discovered. The place isn't that far away from here and any thorough search would have revealed its location. The only thing that didn't seem to make sense was the question of my own life. Why was I still alive? That question was never answered. Perhaps they wanted to keep me as a safeguard in case the inoculation was somehow still a threat."

"Time went by at a crawl. I spent most of days in that accursed basement, with very little light and only a few scraps of food. I was eventually moved to the interior of that hive of theirs. That alien structure, believe it or not, did not really surprise me. I had been around the Dark Eyes for so long that their inhuman characteristics became a study of mine. The closest comparison I could make was to insects – something like bees or wasps. There was no individuality, but only the work for the collective. Their survival was the most important thing. The Dark Eyes would do anything to keep the whole horde safe, even if it meant their own death. After the food supplies started getting low, I've seen them kill and eat the weaker members."

I said, "The Dark Eyes here are different than the ones I saw. I mean they look

different."

Brent nodded. "That seems to be a recent change. As time has gone on any trace of humanity inside has receded away. My own theory is that the nanobot is taking a new turn of programming. As the Dark Eyes run out of food, the bodies are adapting for the change. They are becoming leaner, shutting off unneeded functions like sex and hair growth to save energy. Considering with these creatures that the need for survival trumps everything else, this explanation is the only one that I can think of."

"You talk of programming," Sean said. "Could these programs be directed in some way?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean these set of instructions seem to be changing. Perhaps mutating is the right word to use. Emily here told me that the original nanobot was created for the military. That makes sense. But these new changes do not. Why the construction of that hive? Why the physical changes?"

Brent gave a little shrug. He was looking exhausted from the talk. "I couldn't answer that question. Since the Dark Eyes initial transformation results in the pursuit of infecting others, and the end result is a stabilization and return to some intelligence, I cannot fathom why these latest changes have now surfaced."

"That's not the only thing," I said. "The Dark Eyes have taken to eating human flesh. Up north I also saw them trade with some human settlers. These farmers were left alone, provided they stayed within the walled confines of the fort they had created."

"My town also had run-ins with the Dark Eyes," Tim added. "But they mostly leave us alone now. We've never encountered the sort of massive hordes that you mentioned at Mackinac City or Shelby. Of course we are in an out of the way place, so we may have escaped their notice."

Brent said, "As I said, I cannot explain these events. The one scientist I knew, a man named Roberts, the one that discovered the nanobots, could have answered some of these questions. Unfortunately he is dead. It was his theory that the nanobots were created as a weapon. From that idea we were able to find the military base and the inoculation."

"It's this military base I would like to visit," Sean said. "While you discovered a way not to become Infected, I'm looking for a cure."

Brent raised an eyebrow. It looked ghastly over the empty eye socket. "Roberts and I already discussed that possibility. Even if there is a cure, how could it be distributed? You don't expect to hunt down all the Dark Eyes and jab them with a needle, do you?"

"No, nothing like that," Sean answered. "This is just a hope of mine, you see. But I would like to visit the place that the nanobot was created. I need to know if there is some way to stop the Infection forever." He pointed to the ruined farmhouse. "If we don't do something soon, all of humanity will perish. We can no longer live like hunted animals. I want to bring civilization back. I want to bring back a world where people can have a future again. We can't do that while we are being harassed by the Dark Eyes, can we? We must be free to roam, and free to try and grow food again."

Brent said. "I need to rest. I've given so much already." He sounded so very sad.

Sean said, "You must push yourself just one more time. At the town of Harbor Springs, they have started experiments with growing food. There is a real community there. They have something special. I want to give them a chance so we call all start a new life."

Brent stared into the fire with his one eye as if trying to find an answer in the dying embers. His jaw set, he finally said, "I'll try to help."
Chapter 22

I drove while Brent gave directions. Though he could barely see, his memory was still good. The going here wasn't any quicker than any of the other roads, but having him as a companion helped the minutes tick by. Though we were both haggard with exhaustion, it was good to catch up on old times and remember Tanya, the woman we both had once loved.

The wind was picking up now, darkening the sky above with rolling clouds of dust. The visibility was hell as particles blew along the road and crackled against the glass of the windshield.

It was nearing noon when Brent motioned me to slow down. With a squint, he said, "Take a right here. I think I recognize that gas station." He paused. "So it wasn't any better up north?"

I edged the truck gently through the intersection, skirting past a deep hole. I replied, "At first it was a little better, but then the dust storms came tearing through, burying the land. The temperature shot up and the plants began to die. The trees were the last to go." Clearing the obstacle, I gave the engine a little more gas.

Brent looked disappointed. He finally said. "I think this is Fremont. Last time I was here with Roberts, it was deserted. Let's hope it has stayed that way. Before I forget, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you."

I could feel myself blushing. I never did well with compliments. "For what?"

"I mean it must have been tough out there with just Peter."

"I had a good teacher – you. We stayed on the run and foraged as we went. That inoculation you gave me was the deciding factor. I would have become a Dark Eye if it wasn't for you."

His reply was cut off by my sighting of the town remnants. Like Mackinac City, this place had also been burned out. Only the old brick buildings remained, where windows and doors once stood were empty spaces, the edges blackened with soot. The cars here were gutted hollow shells, the rubber of the tires melted and stuck to the pavement. Sticking out of the dust were jagged collections of white bones. I was, of course, used to such sights.

Brent did not seem to notice. Perhaps it was his bad vision or else, like the rest of us, immune to such things. He said, "Just keep on driving until you reach the end of the downtown. After that, take the next right."

Twisting my lips together, I concentrated on driving. The tires crunched over the dried bones with frequent regularity. It couldn't be helped, but I soon found that my teeth were grinding together. It wasn't a very pleasant sound. Other than that, the streets were deadly quiet. The ruined buildings seemed to be staring at us as if wishing us away so the could return to their solitude. Once we had cleared the town, it felt good to be driving through the back roads that were surrounded by dead trees. Compared to the graveyard of the town, this area felt positively lively.

Brent was peering along the side of the road as if looking for something. "Stop!" he finally shouted after another mile.

I did as he requested, bringing the truck to a halt on the shoulder of the road. I pulled the transmission into park and tried to see what marker he had found. There was nothing there but an empty field and a collection of trees, half of them fallen over.

"Do you see it?" Sean asked as he limped out of the truck.

I shut the engine off. "No," I replied. I got out and shut the door.

"I think this is the place. Look carefully."

At first I couldn't see it, but then I noticed a man-made symmetrical hunk of steel in the middle of the fallen timber. Half-covered in dust, it was a tank, the turret pointing off to some enemy that would never come.

"It's an armored car or a tank, right?" I asked.

Brent nodded.

The others joined us from the back of the truck. Tim and Sean were looking particularly tired, while Peter maintained a good-natured smile.

"Is this the place?" Sean asked.

Brent answered, "Yes, beyond the tank and over the crest is the military base."

"Stay loose," Sean commanded. "I don't want anyone bunched up too close, okay?"

We then began to trudge toward the tank, staying a few feet apart. I really wasn't afraid of this ancient weapon of war, but still, some childish part could imagine it coming back to life, belching death with that cannon. I could tell by the quiet of my companions that they felt the same way. Well, that is except for Brent, who required my help to navigate the field.. He didn't seem to be concerned at all. Instead, once he reached the tank, he gave it a few raps with his knuckles.

"See, nothing to be afraid of," he said. And then he pointed toward the remaining forest.

Past the stripped trunks and fallen trees, were a collection of trailers. A large helicopter stood motionless. A few forlorn looking jeeps were also scattered amongst the buildings. A fence, large sections missing, was strung around the entire place. Except for the waving of the long leaves of the yellow weeds, there was no movement. The base looked deserted.

The dust here was smooth with no signs that anyone had recently come this way. However, with the blowing wind, who knew how long a footprint would stay. With that in mind, we moved cautiously forward, all the while keeping an eye on the scene in front of us. Soon we were amongst the buildings. At one time they appeared to have been cargo containers. An added door and a few windows did little to dispel their origin. At a closer vantage point, the debris left behind looked even worse: the windows on the jeeps had been smashed out and tires were either flat or missing, leaving nothing behind by a brake and hub. It looked as if some looters had come by and stripped the base. I wondered what could remain to help us pinpoint the location of the nanobot laboratory.

Guided by an old memory, Brent seemed to know where he was going. One of the buildings, located behind the helicopter, was painted a dull green. A white star was affixed near the door, which swung lazily with the wind. The jamb had been broken with enough forced to tear the handle off.

"This is the place," Brent said as he broke free of my grasp and took the two steps up to the door.

"Peter and Tim," Sean said, "I want you two to take a look around here. Keep an eye out for anything valuable that was missed. And also keep an eye on that tree line. Leaving that truck back on the road doesn't make our visit here much of a secret, okay?"

Peter scowled, but trotted off to the left with his shotgun held at the ready.

As for Tim, his face turned a deep shade of red. He said, "I think I've had enough of taking orders from you. Any fool can see that there is no danger here."

Sean's voice turned cold. "You volunteered to help us. What I'm suggesting is for the best."

"I noticed you don't boss Emily around," Tim snapped back. "Do you have a sweet spot for the girl?"

I felt myself blushing, but also a blaze of anger building inside.

However before I could react, Brent responded. He said, "Get a move on. You can solve this love triangle at a different time." And then he turned on his heel, swung the door open, and disappeared inside the trailer.

My face still red, I scampered in behind him.

Sean quickly followed us inside. He said, "Thanks, Brent. Kids these days are so hotheaded." He looked at me. "Present company excepted."

Brent gave a small grunt in response.

In the shadows I saw a desiccated body sitting in a high backed office chair resting behind a long desk. The corpse had been mummified by the elements, the skin brown and taut and the eye sockets empty. The lips were curled back, revealing a row of brown teeth. A hole had been blown into the side of the skull. Its right hand rested on the desk, the fingers arched as if replaying some past pain. The floor around the desk was littered with reams and reams of paper from the nearby bookcases. It looked as if someone had torn all of the folders off and strewn them wildly around the room.

"Did you know him?" Sean asked.

After getting close to the corpse, Bret peered at it. He replied, "Yes, I did. His name was Polk. I always wondered what happened to him. I guess he couldn't take it any longer."

Now it was my turn to ask a question. "Are these the papers we need to go through? It looks like a mess."

"We'll have to start digging," Sean said. "We're looking for an address in Grand Rapids. That is the place of manufacture, right?"

"That's right, Brent said. "At least that's where Polk said they picked up the load before moving it here."

While Brent fell into a moody silence, Sean and I began sorting through the mass of papers, reading each one before discarding it into the unwanted pile. At one point Peter poked his head in but quickly left once he saw what we were doing. I didn't blame him. This sort of work was pure drudgery. My eyes began to water as I squinted over the mundane orders, supply lists, and personnel reports. It was countless pages of random bureaucracy mixed together in a chaotic fashion that would make any office worker of the past shocked with disapproval.

It took over two hours of work when I finally reached the last sheet. It was only a requisition order for potatoes. I angrily crumpled the paper and threw it against the wall.

"Now what?" I asked.

Brent shook his head. "Either Polk here moved or destroyed the papers, or else someone else came along and took them. My fear is that the Dark Eyes got here and found where the laboratory in Grand Rapids is located. It would have been easy enough for them to find the location and destroy the place. Perhaps that is why Rhode stopped torturing me. There would be no reason to continue if they knew that threat had been removed.

Sean's face was scrunched up in thought. "This is the main office, but the supply depot here may have records. Let's check there next."

I rose from my haunches. I felt tired. We were on a wild goose chase. But I didn't have time to think further in that direction. I heard the crack of a pistol shot from outside. And then footsteps running in our direction.

Tim came bursting through the door. "The Dark Eyes are here!" he exclaimed.
Chapter 23

"How many of them are there?" Sean asked as he reached for his rifle that was leaning up against the wall.

Tim replied, "I don't know. I only saw three of them. I took a shot, missed, and decided to come here and warn you."

"Let's hope it is just a scouting party," I said.

We ran out of the door with Sean and Tim taking the lead. Brent trailed behind, finding his way by touch. Once I got outside, I saw three Dark Eyes coming down the hill, running straight toward us. One of the many weakness of these creatures was their blind devotion to the frontal attack. No matter how few their numbers, the Dark Eyes would charge directly at their enemy, trying to get in a good bite. Of course you had to kill them while they only had to inflict a minor wound.

"Wipe them out!" Sean shouted.

Though the range was perhaps too far for my pistol, I joined in, popping off a few shots. It only took a few rounds of rifle fire before Dark Eyes fell to the ground in bloody heaps.

Our momentary victory, however, was short-lived. Within seconds, the crest of the hill thick with a massive wave of new attackers. There were hundreds of them. They came running down and would engulf the camp in seconds. The three Dark Eyes that had been killed were merely the vanguard of this larger assault. We would have no chance. There were too many and our firepower was too little in number.

"We'll have to run for it!" Sean shouted.

"We won't be able to make it," I said with a shake of my head.

"Then we'll have to die trying. Come on!" he replied.

Sean tried to grab me by the arm, but instead I went back for Brent. I took him by the arm. We started running. We went between two of the trailers with Sean and Tim taking up the rear. It was then that I realized that Peter was missing.

"Where's Peter?" I managed to shout. "We have to go back for him."

"It's too late to save him," Sean said between clenched teeth. "Just keep going."

A loud noise broke through the heavy breathing that seemed to fill the inside of my head. Coming behind us was the nearby clack of a machine-gun. The sound went on and on with only momentary pauses. We stopped to listen, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Stay here!" Sean said as he ran back the way we had just come.

In moments he returned, his face flushed with excitement. "It's Peter! He is firing some big machine gun at the Dark Eyes. But he needs our help."

There was no talk, but just a silent agreement. It would be better to die fighting than to be run down by the coming horde. Tim and Sean took the lead, running far ahead of Brent and I. Passing the edge of a trailer, I saw Peter near the helicopter. He was lying on his stomach, sighting down a heavy machine gun fixed to a tripod. He was firing long bursts. Some sort of tracer must have been mixed in with the normal ammunition because I could see red streaks of fire flying over the ground, tearing massive gaps into the oncoming horde of Dark Eyes. The sound and fury was overwhelming, but I fought off the urge to stand dumbly and watch.

In a few quick strides, I helped Brent find a spot near me. I then sat down next to Peter, and began fumbling with a box of nearby ammunition. I could see that the belt feeding the machine gun was nearly out. I soon had the box open and as soon as the old belt was finished, I had the new length ready to go. As soon as Peter finished loading, his firing started again. I could see, even with the murderous hail of lead, that the Dark Eyes were not retreating. Instead, like the inhuman creatures they were, the maddening charge continued without any concern for their terrific losses. Behind them was a trail of dead and dying, the sandy ground thick with blood.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Sean and Tim were on their knees, taking slow and careful shots at any of the Dark Eyes who strayed too close. Brent crawled toward me and then motioned toward the tins of ammunition, indicating he would take over feeding the belts into the machine gun. I nodded, and shifted myself to the back of our little group. With my pistol out, I began to take a number of potshots into the horde. After this clip I would only have one left. The rest of my bullets were in the back of the truck. I knew everyone else must be hurting for ammunition.

The attack of the Dark Eyes curled around us. Peter swung the machine gun left and right, but couldn't arc it far enough to reach the attacking flanks. Even though he had cut great swathes into the enemy, they were still coming on strong, oblivious to the hammering death. Soon the distance between us and them had closed to yards. Now Sean and Tim were concentrating their fire to the sides, trying desperately to keep the Dark Eyes away from us. Throwing caution to the wind, I began pulling the trigger of my Colt as fast as I could.

The small arms weren't enough to stem the tide. Soon the Dark Eyes were amongst us, grabbing and biting. Through this maelstrom of flesh and bone, I heard the machine gun stop. And then there was the boom of the shotgun firing in rapid succession. I hit the dirt, trying to change to my last clip as I went. A gap momentarily opened up. I saw Brent wielding Peter's shotgun, firing blindly. And then a swarm of bodies blocked the view. I heard someone scream. I was loaded up again, so I began to fire as fast as I could.

Time has a funny way of changing when the pressure to live is so high. The seconds crawled to slow-motion minutes. I saw the gaping jaws of Dark Eyes swinging toward me and their pain filled eyes widen as my lead ripped through their impossibly thin bodies. The world had gone strangely quiet, the edges of my sight blurred. The dead were piled up all around me. I kicked, I pushed, and I screamed silently. And then something fell on top of me. It was a body. I tried rolling away, but another crushing weight was added on top. I blinked a few times and then saw darkness. When I moved, I found that I couldn't. My breathing became choked. White stars blazed in front of me.

And then I felt someone grab my right hand. With a tug, I was pulled free into the light.

"Are you okay?" It was Sean, his face bent over mine. His left cheek was bleeding and he was breathing hard.

"I'm fine. What happened?"

"We won. We got them all. Well, except for one."

Raising my head, I looked over and saw Peter looking at a figure on the ground. It was Tim. He was thrashing about, trying unsuccessfully to stand. His hand and feet were strapped together with belts. Brent was standing to the side, looking off into the distance as if he wasn't part of these proceedings.

"What happened?" I said, fearing I already knew the answer.

Sean slowly shook his head. "Peter did what we could to protect Tim and I from the Dark Eyes, but one still managed to get through. Tim has become infected with the nanobots. He will have to be killed."

Even though I knew it was the truth, I couldn't believe that Tim was a Dark Eye. With the help of Sean, I shakily stood and limped over to see for myself. Once I saw the black eyes glower at me, I knew that it was true.

Peter had his shotgun back. The barrel dropped downward until it was pointing at Tim's head. The finger touched the trigger.

Before he could finish the job, I shouted, "Wait!"

The barrel of the gun drooped until it no longer was pointing at Tim. Peter let out a long sigh. "We can't let him live, Emily. You know that. If we let him go, he'll just attack us. If we get away from him, he'll eventually return to the other Dark Eyes. And then they'll know what we're up to."

"Wait a minute," Sean interjected. "You shot and killed my brother after he became a Dark Eye. Now I understand why you did that, but back then that didn't stop me from being angry. We're looking for a cure, aren't we? If we find out where this lab is, and there is a way to change someone back to human, then we wouldn't want to kill our friend here."

Peter's face turned red. He angrily spat back, "I had to kill your brother. He could have gotten to Beth or that little girl. What do you want to do, carry Tim here along wherever we go?"

"We won't have to do that," I suggested. "Why don't we lock him up in one of the trailers here. If we don't find a cure, then we can return and take care of him then."

That's not a bad idea," Sean said. "We can leave him a little food and water. We will have to board up the windows and doors though. By the way, Peter, where did you find that machine gun?"

Peter broke his gaze off of Tim. He said, "While you were busy searching through those papers, I went exploring through the base. In one of the trailers, I stumbled across a cache of weapons that had been missed by the looters. The soldiers here must have hidden some of their gear. I carried out the machine gun, and collected some cans of ammunition. I thought Harbor Springs could have done with some more firepower. But once I saw the Dark Eyes attack, I knew I had to use it now."

"Show me where."

Leaving Tim to writhe on the ground, we followed Peter to a trailer on the very outskirts of the base. It was a run down place, looking much worse than the other buildings. We went inside. The entire room was crammed with computer gear: monitors, keyboards, workstations, and bundles of wire. A path had been cleared toward the very back of the room.

Peter pointed in that direction. "When I first got inside here, I saw nothing but this junk. Without electricity, who would want to bother with a bunch of computers? But perhaps, I thought, there could something behind this stuff. I began picking through the stacks and then I saw the edge of an ammunition box. That led me to the machine gun. There was also a box of rations, an M4 rifle with a few clips, and a notebook."

Brent said, "Polk must have stashed this stuff back here, hiding it for an emergency."

Sean retrieved the notebook and the other items. He came back with the rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Did you find anything?" I asked impatiently as we crowded around him.

"Yes, I believe I did. There is a list of all the material they picked up. One page here lists armament called XV-1559, along with a list of associated equipment, including vaccine shots. There is an address, a place out on Clay Street in Grand Rapids."

"XV-1559," I said out loud. Now that the weapon that had caused so much misery had a name, I felt a shiver run the length of my spine. This was something evil that had to be stopped.

Sean looked up at the sky, gauging how much time we had left before the sun went down. He said, "Let's get Tim locked up and then get going. I want to put as many miles away from here as we can. I know we're all tired, but don't want the Dark Eyes coming back while we're still here."
Chapter 24

Last night we had found a little road that led to an electrical substation. It was a safe place that had a chain-link fence wrapped around the silent transformers and metal towers. After cutting the padlock open with a bolt cutter, Sean had driven the truck straight in. I grabbed my sleeping bag from the back and headed for my own quiet corner, where I laid down and quickly fell asleep. Unfortunately my rest did not last long, even though I felt more tired than I ever had before.

After only a few hours of sleep, I found myself awake. My mind felt like it was running a million miles an hour. I spent the rest of the night with an aching head and eyes that were hurting. Every time I neared falling asleep, some phantom itch seemed to be inflicted on some hard to reach spot, usually on my back. It was misery. In the meanwhile, I thought of poor Tim and how we had locked him in one of the trailers and hammered some boards over the door and windows. With the supply of food and water we had left behind, he would last for a few days. I only hoped that we could come back to him with a cure.

As I rolled around, listening to the sound of the wind and the distant snore of my companions, I thought of everything that had happened the past few days. I went over the attack at the army base and how close our destruction had come. Then it struck me: how did the Dark Eyes know that we were there? Someone had obviously looted the place in the past, but there were no recent signs that anyone had been there. This question consumed me. I went over all the possibilities, but only one made sense. It had to be Brent. Something he said at some point in his captivity had tipped the Dark Eyes off. They were the ones that had cleaned out the army base of the weapons and food.

Morning came. The dust in the sky was thick. An amber hue on the eastern horizon heralded the coming of the sun. Groggily pulling my body out of the sleeping bag, I walked out into the woods to relieve myself. When I had returned, I saw Sean near the truck. He was sitting on the ground, working to get the camp stove started. When I approached, he gave me a half-smile.

"Good morning," he said. "I think you and I could do with some coffee."

"You couldn't sleep either?"

"Nope. And by the sounds you were making rolling around, it seems that you had the same problem."

"Too much on my mind," I admitted.

"Yeah, I was thinking of poor Tim. Perhaps it was my imagination but it seemed that you two may have had something going on. But again, you don't seem too heartbroken by his Infection." The fire under the camp stove finally burst to life.

"These days, it doesn't pay to be attached to someone." I tried to sound flippant when I said it.

Sean began heating a pot of water. He said, "Except when it comes to your adopted father, Brent. Then you're perfectly willing to risk everyone's life and limb for him. Don't get me wrong, Emily, I like him, but he seems to be hiding something."

"Like what?"

"When we got to the military base, I saw that the dust and dirt around there had been undisturbed. As far as I could tell, no one had been there for a very long time. We get there and, within hours, we are attacked by the Dark Eyes. That means they knew where we were going and why. Do you have a good answer for that?"

"I can answer that," a voice from behind me said. It was Brent, breaking free from the shadow of one of the massive transformers. The expression on his damaged face was unfathomable. "But first, I would like a cup of coffee."

"Gladly," Sean responded. He rummaged through a canvas bag until the instant coffee was found. He stirred this into three mugs with hot water.

Brent carefully sat down and tasted the coffee. He made a face. "I still miss the real stuff but this will do just fine. You wanted to know why the Dark Eyes knew about the military base. I'm hate to say that they learned that information from me. And no, it wasn't torture, but my own foolhardiness. I never gave into them directly. I never said anything. But some three years after I had been captured, I was given some pen and paper with no reasons offered. At first I did nothing. But my boredom began to consume me. I began to write a history of what had happened to me: the trouble in Grand Rapids, my escape, and the battle at Shelby. My story also included the discovery of the inoculation."

"But why would you do such a thing?" I asked.

His voice became unsteady with embarrassment. "I was living in hell. I was being tortured. I had given up on the world and any hope of escape. I thought you were dead, Emily. It felt good to relive those moments, especially my love for Tanya. I wrote those words without thinking of the consequences. I didn't think that the Dark Eyes at that point would have any interest in my writing. As far as I knew, it was all over. But one day Rhode took my completed work and it was never returned. I never thought of the harm it would cause since it didn't seem to matter."

"But it did," Sean said glumly. "And Tim paid with his life for your silence. If you had told us this, I would have approached that base a little differently. We could have been more cautious."

"I'm sorry," Brent said. "That's all I can say."

I said, "That leaves one question, doesn't it? Do the Dark Eyes know about the lab in Grand Rapids?"

Sean shook his head rapidly. "There is no way of telling. In the journal I wrote, I mentioned the city, but I didn't know the exact location."

Brent added, "We have to hope that Polk hid or destroyed the papers associated with the location of the lab. It did look as if someone had searched through all of the material at the headquarters. If it was the Dark Eyes or some looter, I cannot say."

"So we could be going all the way to Grand Rapids for no reason at all?" I asked. "We could be too late to do anything?"

"That's the most likely answer," Sean replied, "but we'll find out soon enough. There is still enough fuel in the tanks to get us there, though we'll have to scrounge up some diesel for the trip back. I say we continue on."

"I agree," Brent said.

I said, "Then I'll go wake Peter while you two get started making breakfast." I looked up at the swirling sky. "And there's a big storm brewing, so we had better leave soon."

I went off to find Peter. He was sleeping in the corner of the enclosure, his head tucked under the folds of his sleeping bag. The shotgun was propped against the fence. I got down on my haunches and shook his shoulders. His eyes groggily snapped open and he jerked awake.

"Oh, it's you," he said.

"You doing okay?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I'm feeling a little sick inside. Even killing so many Dark Eyes has an effect on me."

"We've all been through a lot lately."

"At least you have Brent back. You have to be happy about that."

"Of course I am. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten you. I'll never forget the time that you and I spent together. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you."

Peter shot me a toothy smile. "I'm sorry I've been such a bastard lately. We've been growing apart, haven't we? We shouldn't let anything come between us, okay?"

"Sure."

"I mean just because I'm in love Beth doesn't mean we can't be friends."

I gave him a momentary grin. "You are crazy about her, aren't you?"

"Yes I am. Though it seems you aren't doing too bad yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"If you hadn't noticed, I can see Sean watching every move you make. And Tim, before he became a Dark Eye, was doing the same. Men are attracted to you. You should be feeling full of yourself."

"I don't," I stated flatly. "I'm still getting over you. But Sean has made his intentions clear to me. I promised I would give him a chance."

"Good. He's a fine man, though I can tell he's a little jealous of Brent."

"Don't be silly. Brent is like a father to me."

Peter let out a laugh. "That's not what I meant. Sean is a natural leader, but so is Brent. The both of them are trying to lead this little expedition of ours. I just hope they don't come to blows over it."

"I don't think it's going to be an issue. After all, Brent is not a well man."

"I hope you're right."

"It's time to eat," Sean called out.

Peter stared at me and then shook his head as if trying to forget some memory past. "I suppose we should go." He clasped my hand.

I nodded and then helped him up.
Chapter 25

I was riding in the back of the truck with Sean. Even with the jostling and sickening motion of the worn suspension, I managed to fall asleep. I dreamt of being riding a carousel; the outside world spinning as the painted horses moved violently up and down. I felt hot, the musty air making feel trapped. My stomached ached and my head hurt.

When I finally opened my eyes, I found that my hand was being held by Sean. He was looking at me with great concern. Feeling embarrassed, I let go and ran my fingers nervously through my hair. I could feel the sweat on my brow.

"How are you doing?" Sean asked.

"Fine. It sure is hot though." And it was. The heat further up north had merely been bothersome, something that one got used to. But each mile south seemed to crank up the temperature to the point where I didn't know how much longer I could stand it. If anyone was living in Grand Rapids, I wondered how they could bear the unrelenting sun.

"Yeah. Maybe you should have a drink." He reached for the plastic jug of water and poured me out a cup,

I greedily drank the water even though it felt as warm as the air. "How much longer do we have to go?"

He looked out the narrow side window as if trying to gauge where we were. That's when I finally noticed a dust storm was blowing hard outside. "Let me see, you've been asleep for two hours now. Back in the old days, this trip would take only an hour on the highway. But at this speed and on the side roads, it'll be a bit longer before we get there, maybe another forty or fifty minutes."

I made a decision right there and then. My conversation with Peter made me realize how selfish I had been. I said nervously, "I'm not exactly looking my best right now, but do you think you could kiss me?"

Sean jerked his head from the window and stared at me. It was then that I saw that his blue eyes had flecks of gold. "Yes," he replied, his voice low.

We met in an embrace and kissed on the mouth. His hands then ran along my back. Together, we fell onto the mattress and held each other close. I felt like crying. I felt like laughing. There had been so many emotions pent up inside that I forgot what life should be like. Instead of concentrating on the negative, we should instead love and care for our friends. Even if things didn't work out between Sean and me, at least we would have given it a try. And in these times, that was all we could do.

I was resting my head on Sean's shoulder when the truck finally stopped. We hadn't made love or even got undressed, but instead we had spent the time talking and kissing. In low whispers, we had discussed people we once knew and our dreams for the future. In the end it was decided that once we returned to Harbor Springs, we would have a go at living together.

"Even the best of times must come to an end," Sean murmured as he got up.

"Trust me, we can have some much better times with a little more privacy."

His face blushed red. "I'll have to take you up on that." Sean then turned to look out the side window. The truck had been parked near the wall of building with smashed out windows. The dust storm was still blowing hard, making the view look surreal.

We crawled out the back. I felt embarrassed as if my encounter with Sean had somehow left me branded. When Brent and Peter joined us at the bumper, I found that I couldn't meet their eyes. Luckily that went unnoticed since everyone else was busy examining our surroundings.

We were on a wide street of broken asphalt. Patches of dust were scattered on top and pushed against the uneven line of white curb. The road stretched out for some distance, each side populated with buildings of different shapes and sizes. It took one glance to see that this had once been an industrial area populated with small businesses, a lot that sold commercial vehicles, and a diesel repair facility filled with heavy trucks. Everything looked old, dilapidated, and abandoned. Excerpt for the squeak of a metal sign blowing from the violent wind, nothing could be heard except for the rush of the dust storm. To the east, between two buildings, was a low concrete wall slightly lower than my shoulders. I could see the sandy trail of where a wide river used to run. On the other side of the bank were a matching retaining wall and a rise of hills dotted with buildings.

"Did you see any Dark Eyes when we were driving in?" Sean asked, his voice barely loud enough to pierce the sound of the wind.

Peter shook his head. "No, nothing at all. We drove through many blocks of houses but didn't see much except for some signs of past fighting – burned out cars, bullet holes, and that sort of thing. But not a living soul. Of course we're still pretty far from downtown. If the Dark Eyes are around, then they're bound to be there. But with the dust storm going, they can't see us and we can't see them."

"Then let's be quick."

Sean pointed up the street toward a three-story glass building with a chain-link fence with a barbed-wire top wrapped around it. The enclosure looked untouched as did the enclosure. A few cars with flat tires were parked in the lot next to it.

Peter said, "We're almost out of diesel. I'll go check out those trucks over there and see if I can find something."

Sean's face pinched together in a grimace. "I hate to divide our forces, but we can't afford to get caught out in the open without fuel. The three of us should be enough to go through the lab."

"That's fine with me," Brent said as he pulled the M4 rifle off of his shoulder. With his bad sight, I didn't feel good with Brent handling that kind of firepower, but he had insisted that he needed some sort of weapon. I could only pray that he wouldn't shoot one of us in the heat of battle.

"Hold on," Sean said. "Let me get my rifle and the bolt cutters from the back of the truck." He clambered inside and retrieved those objects.

"Be careful," I said to Peter as he set off on his own.

He patted his shotgun. "Don't worry, Emily. I'm an old hand at this kind of business."

I gave him a long look, trying to impress upon him the emotions I felt inside. He just raised an eyebrow and then turned to walk toward the truck yard. I then ran to catch up with the other two.

Upon closer inspection, the building that housed the laboratory was in good condition. None of the many panes of glass had been broken and the pair of front doors were also undamaged. The painted sign in front – Jacob Biowares – was faded from sun and dust, but still quite legible.

Sean studied the structure and surrounding fence. He said, "Amazing that it escaped the looting."

Brent said in reply, "Not too surprising considering what they made here. I imagine the name alone was enough to keep most people away." He touched the fence. "And this must have helped too."

"I'll make short work of that," Sean boasted. Using the bolt cutter, he began chewing through the links. A minute later and there was a hole wide enough for us to slip through.

I went next and then helped Brent get through. Together we went to the front of the building. Those yards of unbroken reflective glass on the building made me feel terribly exposed. Someone could be watching us and we wouldn't even know until it was too late. Nothing happened but I still let out a sigh of relief when we got to the entrance unscathed. Sean tried the doors but they were locked.

With a grin, he raised the butt of his rifle to smash the glass out. But before he could strike, a muffled voice came from the other side.

"Please don't do that," it said.

I could tell by the tone that it was female. The door slowly swung open to reveal an older woman. She was carrying a pipsqueak of a chrome pistol, but the grim determination set in her lined face revealed an inner strength of character. She didn't look particularly scared of us.

"I'm Sean. This here is Emily and my friend Brent. We're here because of the nanobot virus."

"Then you've come to the right place," she said dryly as if expecting us. "Come on in." She turned around and disappeared inside.

Sean went first. I held Brent's hand and the two of us entered together. Inside was a lobby that looks to have been converted into a makeshift living room. The black leather sofas were worn and paperbacks littered the floor. Behind a desk was a paneled wall with dusty photographs and a hallway that led to the interior of the building. It was dim here. The only light was muted, it came through the windows and, because of the dust, gave a strange orange glow to the room.

The woman was standing near the desk, watching the expressions on our faces. She said, "My name is Dr. Kristen Miles."

I took a closer look at her. I could see blonde hair streaked with gray. He face was narrow, almost horsy, but she had a fine nose, gray eyes, and laugh lines wrapped around a pair of full lips. Underneath her worn blue dress I could she was thin, but these days of rationing food, it was hardly unexpected.

Kristen continued, "I'm glad to see that someone has finally made it here. Who told you? Was it Thomas or William?"

Sean looked confused as I felt. "No one sent us here," he replied. "We came here trying to find where the nanobots were created. We are looking for a cure."

"They didn't make it," Kristen said to herself. Her eyes dropped to the ground, looking troubled.

"If you didn't know, it's not very pleasant out there," I said. "The only reason that I'm alive is because of the inoculation against the nanobots. Were your friends also inoculated?"

She took a few clumsy steps to the sofa and sat down. "So you found the drug. Thomas and William were also treated. We all were. They went out to find help - to put a stop to all of this."

Sean motioned for us to sit down as he headed for a chair. "Why don't you tell us about it? I mean we'll help in whatever way we can."
Chapter 26

She started, "When the troubles started, I was working here at Jacobs Laboratories. It was my second job after college and I was honored that I had made the cut. We specialized in stem cell research, and then branched off into nanotechnology. The point of our research was to heal the sick and find cures for genetic conditions. The possibility of nanobots being used to repair faulty heart valves, or find and destroy cancerous cells would forever revolutionize the world. And I felt proud to be part of it. My field was in biology. I had to study the effects of the treatments – how well they worked and if they were feasible for use in the real world.

"Our work, however, was expensive. Even though we had made many important discoveries, there weren't many of our products in the marketplace. The amount of red tape and testing requirements slowed down the introduction of these new cures. The company was nearing bankruptcy when it was approached by the Pentagon. They wanted research into new weapon possibilities."

"Surely some in the company must have been against this," Sean suggested.

Kristen replied, "Most of us would have been, but at the time, no one but the company board and a few members of the research department were involved. I found out most of this information much later while going through the electronic trail that had been left behind. If the scientists here would have known what was really going on, I'm sure they would have resigned. I know I would have."

"Go on," Sean suggested.

"That work – the creation of the nanobots that eventually caused the zombification of millions – went on in secret. Back then I was asked to test several samples of infected tissue from the project known as Thanatos which created the XV-1559 nanobot. At the time I was given an inoculation against any possible effects. This was hardly out of the ordinary considering the nature of the work. I was also told that this program was for the creation of a specialized hunter that could be programmed to root out HIV, Hepatitis, and even the common cold. But what I saw under the microscope was horrifying. Instead of curing, the nanobots were changing the very structure of the cells. I reported this concern to the experimental lab and they said I had been given a faulty batch.

"That was enough to allay any early suspicions I had. But the weeks went by. When I wasn't given a second batch to test, that's when I really started to take notice. I came in after hours and found XV-1559 stored away. I examined it under the microscope, feeding it a blood sample. This time the nanobots were multiplying at even a faster rate than before. The cells, therefore, were mutating so quickly that they were hardly recognizable. I went to my supervisor to report my findings. I was told yet again that this was a faulty experiment gone wrong and that the problem would be corrected."

"And what happened after that?" I asked. "I mean you had to think that something terrible was going on."

"Of course I did," she replied. "But by then it was too late to do anything."

"What do you mean?"

"There wasn't much of a government left. They were too busy trying to feed the mouths of millions to spend the time and listen to me. Actually I didn't think anyone there would even understand what I was seeing and what it meant. Instead I went directly to the president of the company, a man named Allan Walsh. He told me not to worry about a thing and that he would look into matters. But weeks went by and I still hadn't heard a thing. I continued working. But after a while, it didn't seem to matter."

"I think I know why," Brent said, his interest obviously piqued.

Kristen nodded. "Because like the rest of you, I was too busy trying to stay alive. The city government fell and the People's Party took over. The looting was bad before, but with that strongman Parker in power, things only got worse. Mobs were going door to door and taking everything that wasn't nailed down. There was murder and rape. I fled to this office and holed up with a bunch of other workers. There were eleven of us here then, just keeping low and hoping this building would be bypassed by the looters. It was until the military showed up. It was some army unit who had been given the task of looking after certain biological weapons. They wanted the drug XV-1559. There wasn't much that we could do to stop them. So off the army went, with a few crates from our laboratory and the stocks of the inoculation. At the time it didn't seem very important and I was actually glad that those dangerous nanobots had been removed from the building.

"In Grand Rapids, the situation became more desperate. We had enough food stocked away to last a few weeks, but the residents here were obviously starving. They would pass through the nearby streets, searching through the buildings and carrying out whatever food they could find. A few dared to venture into our lot, but a few shots scared them away. I'm still not sure if they feared the one rifle that Mike had, or some rumor about what was really going on here at the lab. It's always been my experience that people fear the unknown, and some word of the experiments must have gotten out, the rumors perhaps growing in scale with each telling.

"Either way, this office became our prison. We read, talked, and tried to guess what was happening outside. The situation became more desperate. Two members, a husband and wife, named Lucas, left to go out and search for food. They never came back. It was a few weeks later when someone else tried. Mike was young and still fast on his feet. He came back with a pickup loaded with food that he said was found in a nearby house. Perhaps Mike killed for those supplies – I do not know. Perhaps no one cared since we could last just a little longer. In hindsight, we too were changing, becoming more callous toward the suffering of others.

"It was around October when I first saw evidence that the nanobot virus had been inflicted upon humanity. I was sitting in this exact spot, paging through a novel that I had already read a half-dozen times. A running woman caught my attention. On the road outside I could see her being chased by a mob of people. Fearing the worst outcome, I watched as she was tackled to the ground. I thought she was going to be raped, or, even worse, eaten. But after a few seconds of struggle, the woman was released. But instead of fleeing, she stayed on the ground. The mob moved on. I was about to go out and help her, when she rose from the ground. Instead of running in the opposite direction, she instead began to chase after the others as if trying to catch up. It didn't make any sense and left me with a serious case of head scratching."

Brent said, "Emily here saw some of the first attacks. Her parents were bitten and then transformed into Infecteds, or Dark Eyes as she likes to call them. With some help, I eventually traced the source of this infection to this place. The army unit that had taken the weapons from here apparently had an accident, releasing the nanobots."

"I had no idea that XV-1559 had become weaponized," she said.

"As artillery shells. After the accident, a terrific fight erupted at the base, leaving the Infecteds the victors. From there they spread, biting their way through the remnants of humankind. It was the final blow, if the weather wasn't bad enough."

"How do you know all of this?" Kristen asked.

"Looking for a cure, I went to the military base. I found a remaining surviving soldier, named Polk, who told me what happened. He also gave me a supply of the inoculation drug, the trace element that keeps the nanobots at bay. I gave the injection to myself and Emily here. The only reason that we're still human is because of that drug."

The woman said, "At great personal risk, William went out and got gasoline for the generator. We were able to fire up the server and start digging through the files. It turns out that my suspicions were correct. Project Thanatos was created for the military. Its purpose, as you surmised, was to take over countries that were deemed to rebellious to conquer by normal military means. By the memos, it was considered better than a nuclear or chemical weapon."

"But it's insane," I protested. "I mean anyone who wasn't inoculated could become infected. It could spread from country to country until it took over the whole world."

"There's a cure," Kristen said.

Those simple words caused a momentary silence. I felt too shocked to speak.

She continued, apparently unaware of the bombshell that she had dropped. "You see the nanobots are like small programmable machines. They largely run by themselves without any interference. However, the military wanted a way to permanently stop them. Such a requirement would be needed once the targeted country had been completely taken over and the enemy government destroyed. Only then would the population be returned to normal."

"And how is that done?" Sean asked impatiently.

Kristen pointed to the ceiling above. "There is a ring of stationary orbit satellites above us. They can send a signal that will turn off the nanobots. It will be the end of the Infection."

"Then why hasn't the signal been sent? Why after all these years do we still have to live with this?" Brent demanded, his voice rising to an angry pitch. "Just think of all the innocents who have suffered. Just think of the suffering that I went through."

"It isn't that easy," Kristen explained. "Those are military satellites were put up there in secret. They require special codes to transmit the shut down signal."

"There has to be a way to do it," Sean said quietly.

"Yes there is," she said. "It took some time to crack the files, and that took even more gas for the generator. Two men were killed getting that extra fuel. By then the Infection had completely taken over Grand Rapids until, in all probability, we were the only human survivors left in the city. It took many months, but we were able to find the codes. With any luck, they haven't been changed. But that isn't the main problem. We would need a satellite link and a power source for the computer. Only then can the signal be sent."

"A satellite link." I said out loud. "What will that take to do that?"

"We thought that a television station would have the necessary equipment, but a generator with plenty of fuel would also be needed to run a computer and the satellite link-up. It's going to take some time to find the right satellite. There are hundreds of them up there in the sky. It will be a long search unless someone gets lucky."

"And what then?" Brent said. "I know for a fact that once the nanobot has entered and taken over someone, the inoculation at that point does nothing. It will kill. What will happen to those who are Infected? Will they also end up dead?"

Kristen frowned. "In the early state, no. The process will just shut down and the Infected will become normal. But in the past years those creatures have been warped by the nanobots so much. The programming has changed to the point that the very cellular structure is greatly changed, distorting the organism beyond recognition. Without the nanobot, I believe the host will die. But I am not sure since no experiment has ever been done."
Chapter 27

I was driving again, heading away from the city of Grand Rapids and back toward Harbor Springs. Kristen was sitting next to me, taking in the sights of the wasted land.

"It looks different than I remember," Kristen said as we passed a grove of leafless trees, the bark stripped away from the strength of the blowing wind. "I've been living in that prison of a building for so long that I forgot what the outside world looked like. I mean I somehow thought that the country was still green and pure, not like this at all."

"It's worse down here," I said. "I mean it's hotter. Up north, it is a little better. You'll like Harbor Springs." My cheerful voice rang hollow in my own ears, but I wanted to make friends with her.

"I think I will. At least it is good to talk to some new people. I was going crazy living by myself."

A few turns later and were heading down a street that was once filled with big box stores and chain restaurants. Over the years this area had been hit hard by looters. There was hardly anything remaining except the barren shells of buildings and debris – empty shelves and mannequins.

Kristen soon directed me to take another turn. We ended up in a side street that ran past a hotel. Beyond this was a television station, transmitting tower and all. The four-story building here was brick with narrow windows. Nearby was the highway, the concrete covered in dust. I steered the truck toward the back lot which had a few sorry looking vehicles. I parked next to a van outfitted with a little ladder mounted on the back door that allowed a cameraman to reach the equipment and satellite dish on top. The vehicle had flat tires and the gas door was open, signs that some previous looters had already come this way.

I turned off the engine and looked over the area. I got out. Kristen did the same. We were soon joined by the others who had clambered out of the back.

Sean began giving out the orders. "Let's get to work. Emily, I want you to get inside that building, right on the top floor and be the lookout. We're going to have to get this van roadworthy again. That's going to take some time. I don't want the Dark Eyes, or anyone else, sneaking up on us. Fire a shot if you run into any trouble or see anyone coming up."

I gave him a salute - meant in sarcasm - and then begin to scout around the premises. I went to the rear entrance and found the thick steel door here was locked. That, however, was not an insurmountable obstacle since most of the windows on the ground floor had already been smashed. I crawled through the nearest open window and found myself in what must have been an office. The furniture was wrecked and a thick layer of dust and dirt covered the floor. In a few steps, I found myself in a hallway. The light here was muted but there was still enough to see by. The ground was littered with yellowed paper filled with now meaningless words and worthless figures. At one time these would have been important to some office drone, but now they were just scribbles on fading paper.

A few turns later and I found the television studio. It was much darker here. The cameras were pointed at an empty desk with a violent-looking logo hanging on the wall behind. I resisted the urge to act out my own little drama in front of the staring lenses and instead began to look for the stairs. I found them in the next hallway. The staircase was dark and foreboding. Feeling a bit nervous, I took the pistol out from the holster and held it in my hands. The cold metal felt good against my skin, restoring some of the bravery that seemed to be slipping away from being in this gloomy husk of a building.

Using some matches as a temporary light source, I managed to run up the stairs. The only sound I heard was the thunk of my feet on the concrete stairs, my labored breath, and the sandpaper roughness of grit being squeezed underfoot. When I got to the top floor, I let out a sigh of relief. It was then that I realized that I didn't like being alone anymore. I opened the door here and was blinded by the change in light. It was bright now, the violent windstorm above finally breaking away to reveal the angry sun. I blinked a few times as I tried to take in my new surroundings.

The damage here was less extensive than the ground floor. The wood paneling still looked good and the rows of windows were unbroken, insulating the interior from the harsh environment outside. The desks and low cloth-covered office dividers were intact, along with the chairs and personal effects. It looked as if the workers could come back at any moment to resume their previous lives. It was, of course, beastly hot up here and I still had a sense of loneliness that wasn't helped by the desktop photographs of smiling families and newborn children.

I began to prowl along the outer edge of this office, looking out through the windows as I went. From high up I could see the ribbon of concrete leading to the buildings of downtown Grand Rapids. The sun reflected off the distant glass, making them shine like jewels in the ocean. The ground underneath the skyscrapers shimmered and undulated in the heat. That made me think of all the lakes I had been to, and the joys of swimming – splashing in the refreshing coldness. It had been a long time since that had happened. Now even a glass of water seemed like a lot of liquid.

A few turns later I found I had a good view of the parking lot below. There was Sean and Peter working hard on the van. Tires were being pumped with air and the gasoline tank was being filled. Brent stood off to the side, looking pained that he couldn't help. He was trying to talk to Kristen but even at this distance it was obvious that he was distracted. I wondered if he would ever be physically fit again. The Dark Eyes had hurt him so much that it was a miracle that he could even walk, or even think straight. He had found some internal strength inside to keep the madness of his solitary confinement at bay. Though perhaps – and this idea troubled me – Brent thought everything that had recently happened was a fantasy in his own mind. Only time and care could pull him out of whatever dreams he lived in now.

The next face of the building looked out on to the way we had driven in. There was nothing to see here but the back of the nearby hotel. Here were more cars, open doors, and broken windows. What the looters had expected to find there, only they could have answered.

As I meandered through the offices, I couldn't help but feel a sense of lingering dread. The empty silence certainly didn't help, nor did the feeling that there was a charge of electricity in the air – almost as if fate was preparing to stop our pitiful attempts to fight back. And then it dawned on me that I had seen something out of the ordinary. I rushed down the hallway and past desks until I reached the side of the building that faced the downtown. I stared out and looked at the waves of heat under the buildings and realized what I had seen there wasn't an effect, but actual movement. It was the Dark Eyes, swarming out from whatever hellish holes they inhabited. Something or someone had warned them of our coming. Most of them were on foot, moving like an inhuman wave, but in the vanguard was a knot of cars and trucks, moving as fast as they could over the broken pavement. It wouldn't be long before they got here.

I ran back so I could look down on the parking lot again. The hood of the van was open and Peter was hooking up a pair of cables to the battery. I pounded on the glass with the butt of my pistol but no one noticed. Frustrated, I pointed the barrel toward the window pane and pulled the trigger twice. Two neat bullet holes appeared. I gave the glass a kick and it shattered, sending shards below. When I looked down I saw Sean was already running from the back of the truck with his rifle in hand.

I shouted, "They're coming! The Dark Eyes are coming."

"From where?" Sean shouted back.

"The city. There are thousands of them. There are some cars and trucks in the lead."

"Get down here!"

I turned and ran toward the stairway. Going down, I skipped every other step, my feet hitting hard on every landing. Soon I was out of the back door, heading toward where Sean and Peter were working. I saw that the battery jumper cables were now connected between the truck and the van. Brent got inside the truck while Kristen clambered into the back of the van.

"Get in the van and help me," Peter said as he got behind the wheel of the truck. The diesel started up with its familiar click-clack.

I got inside the van and saw that Peter had already broken the ignition lock so no key was required. I turned the tumbler and there were a few clicks before the engine let out a gasp and died. I tried again, slamming my foot into the gas pedal. This time the motor caught, gave out a few sputters and then began to roughly idle. With the rifle still slung over his back, Sean disconnected the battery cables and slammed the hoods of both vehicles shut. He opened the passenger door of the van and got in to sit next to me.

"Go!" he demanded.

I threw the transmission into reverse and backed out of the space as quickly as I could. With the Peter taking the lead with the truck, we tore out of the parking lot. Down the street and heading our way were two cars running side-by side; both subcompacts with plenty of dents and faded paint. The truck let out a sooty belch of black smoke and accelerated away from me. It took me a moment to realize that Peter was going to ram them.

The Dark Eyes had no fear – they didn't swerve or break formation as the heavy truck aimed right for the narrow space between the two cars. Even in the confines of the van, I could hear the sound of twisted metal and broken glass and Peter tried to split the difference. One car went spinning to the left, wildly out of control and with the front bumper crushed like a tin can. The other vehicle was lower slung and the tall suspension of the truck allowed the bumper of the car to slide underneath. The wheel must have gone right up and onto the hood of the car, driving the tire right through the cockpit. To my amazement, Peter managed to keep the truck straight and it somehow kept going.

Any sense of relief was short lived, for as our little caravan turned on to the main street and headed toward the highway, I could see a pair of trucks and three cars coming our way from the direction of Grand Rapids. They were a few hundred yards distant but it wouldn't be long before they caught up to us.
Chapter 28

Peter must have seen the other vehicles coming since, instead of taking highway ramp, he accelerated north along the road we were already on. I tried to keep up but the van was sluggish. The engine often misfired and it took every trick I had to keep it moving. Sean could tell that something wasn't right.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's the gas, or else there is something wrong with the air filter. There is no way we can outrun them; not at this speed."

"Shit."

It didn't take long for Peter to realize that we couldn't keep pace. The truck slowed down until we caught up. Peter waved us forward. He was going to play the part of the blocker so we could make our getaway. In my rear view mirror I saw the pursuing vehicles. They were far away, just a glimmer of shining windshield, but were coming up fast. It would be long before the Dark Eyes caught up to us.

Against my better wishes, I accelerated as fast as I could. It took much longer than expected but soon Peter and Brent were behind us. Using the side and rear mirrors, I could see the bent fender from the previous collision. The truck continued to slow and soon their faces behind the glass of the windshield became indistinct. It was only a minute later when the first Dark Eye vehicle came up. It was a large car with faded police markings. The driver tried to pass on the left side, as if trying to cut the truck off. Peter responded violently, turning the wheel hard enough that I thought he was going to lose control. The side of the truck collided with the front bumper of the car, sending it plowing over the curb and into the parking lot of a store. There it collided heavily with a immobile vehicle, and then came to a rest.

The next Dark Eye, however, drove a large pickup that was high off the ground. It dwarfed Peter's truck. I feared for the worst. Luckily it was a ponderous beast that had a hard time accelerating past. Instead it nudged the back of the truck, as if trying to push Brent and Peter out of the way. I saw the figure of Brent slowly clamber out of the side of the truck. He had something in his hand. It was a rifle. Peter pulled to the side so Brent could get a clear shot. He began firing blindly with what appeared to be his M4. A few seconds later and the Dark Eye's pickup was steaming out a cloud of coolant from the radiator. And then vehicle began to fall back, its wheels bumping against the curb.

"Watch out!" Sean warned me.

I had been watching the action behind us so much that I didn't see the semi-trailer almost straddling the entire length of the road. I jammed on the brakes and managed to squeeze through a narrow break along the edge of the road. As I began accelerating away, I looked at the rear view mirror, hoping that Peter wouldn't collide with the barrier. But instead of driving through, I saw the truck stop. Two figures got out with guns in hand. They were going to make their stand and fight it out.

Wanting to help, I began to slow the van.

"Keep driving," Sean growled.

"But we can't leave them there. They'll be killed," I angrily spat out.

"Maybe they will and maybe they won't," he said, trying to keep his emotions in check. "But we have more important things to do. We must deliver Kristen and this van back to Harbor Springs. If Peter and Brent don't make it, then that will be a small price to pay if we can defeat the Dark Eyes."

I glanced in his direction, my eyes shooting daggers at the man that I thought I loved. I knew he was right but the idea of leaving the others behind seemed terribly wrong. So I reluctantly brought the speed back up and prayed that I would see Brent and Peter again.

An hour later and with no sign of pursuit, Sean suggested that I pull over so he could take over driving. I readily agreed. We were out in the country now, heading north. I found a small farm and pulled into the driveway. The house and barn here were still in relatively good condition, the nearby grove of trees apparently had slowed down the damaging wind enough to offer some protection. After throwing the transmission into park and leaving the engine running, I got out and began to wander toward the barn.

I wanted some space to think and to grieve since I had a feeling that Peter and Brent were forever gone. Of course they could have been successful in stopping the pursuing Dark Eyes and were just taking a different route back to Harbor Springs, but I was doubtful. It felt like I had lost all hope for this world, and even for my friends. Now what we were doing didn't seem to matter since we were doomed to fail anyway.

I found a spot near the barn and sat down with my back against the silvered wood of the wall. I watched as Kristen and Sean talked, apparently oblivious to what I was feeling. They didn't seem to care what happened to anyone, not as long as their plan continued forward. I wished I had that kind of clarity, to discard my emotions even with the odds against me.

Sean trudged up, looking at the surroundings with practiced unease. It had only been a few days out here in the wild and he was already changing to a feral animal – just like the rest of us.

"How are you holding out?" he asked.

Before I felt dead inside, almost as unfeeling as any Dark Eye. But with his question came a flood of emotions. I couldn't answer, but I could cry. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Sean hunkered down next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said.

That made me feel even worse. I leaned into him and began to sob. It took me awhile to find my words again. I said, "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of losing the ones I love."

"I know." He kissed me on the head and ran a hand through my hair as if trying to remove the dust that had been caught in the strands.

"I got Brent back, and now I've lost him. I've lost Peter. You and Sophia are the only ones left."

"This is almost over. I promise you that nothing will happen to me. Or Sophia."

I looked up at him. Our eyes locked on each other's. He looked as sad as I felt, with a down-turned mouth and hollow cheeks. I could now see that the stress of leading this expedition was eating him up inside.

"Don't say that," I warned him. "It's not a good idea to taunt fate."

"Every day, in some way, we're all taunting fate. Now come on, let's get going. I have a bad feeling that the Dark Eyes know exactly where we are going." He stood and took my hand, pulling me up.

"What do you mean?"

"We left Tim locked up back at the army base. He knew where we were going. If the Dark Eyes came back to the base after we had left, then they could have discovered him."

"But the Dark Eyes, when freshly infected, can't communicate until much later. It's part of the second stage."

Sean shrugged. "Perhaps the transformation is speeding up." He looked up at the sun above. The harsh yellow light made him blink. "The program that controls the Dark Eyes must know that the environment is becoming too harsh and that its numbers are dwindling. If there is no reason to spread the Infection anymore, than why bother with the initial phases?"

I chewed on this information for a bit. "If you're right, Sean, and I'm not saying that you are, then the Dark Eyes will know about Spring Harbor. They will know what we are trying to do. They will try to stop us."

"This is why we need to hurry."

Sean got behind the wheel while I slid in next to Kristen on the wide bench seat. The engine was still gurgling roughly along but seemed to have become a bit steadier after a few more miles under the belt. We took off, going over the broken road as fast as Sean dared – which wasn't fast enough. It was a slow crawl barely faster than a run. The suspension of the vehicle bobbed and weaved as we passed towns, homes, and farms. There was a feeling of doom in the air. As if afraid of breaking the spell, no one spoke out loud unless they had to. Sean, however, kept mumbling underneath his breath. I could only catch a few curse words above the squeaking and rattles of the van.

The hours passed. Evening came. It wasn't until we got to Harbor Spring that I realized how tense I felt. My arm hurt from clenching the bar above the window, and my jaw was in knots from clenching for so long. Sean parked the van in the same lot that we had used before. From there we went on foot into the walled off area, past the guard, and straight to Laura's office.

She was there, busy trying to read by the light of a candle. When Laura saw us, she raised a single eyebrow. "You made it. Where are the others?"

Sean glumly answered, "Peter is missing, along with Brent, who, if you remember, was Emily's stepfather. We rescued him from the Dark Eyes at Shelby. As for your man Tim, he became infected and is now a Dark Eye."

Laura frowned, but like a good leader knew that risks had to be made. She turned her attention to Kristen. "And who is this?"

The woman in question answered, "I'm Dr. Kristen Miles. I used to work for Jacob Biowares, doing clinical testing. This is the place where the Infection was created."

"I see," Laura said as if all the blames of the world could be laid at Kristen's feet. "Do you know how to stop it?"

"I have a pretty good idea. If we can contact the military satellite system above, then it may be possible to stop the program that is running the Dark Eyes."

Sean added. "We brought a van from television station. It has a satellite dish mounted on top. We're hoping to use that to make the hook up."

"Do you think there is any hope of this plan working?" Laura asked skeptically.

"It had better," I added. "Because we think the Dark Eyes are coming this way in force. They knew why we were in Grand Rapids and tried to stop us from taking the van with the satellite hookup. Peter and Brent stayed behind to fight so we could escape. We can't waste their sacrifice by sitting here and talking."

With cold eyes, Laura looked over me. She let out a sigh and the muscles on her face slackened. "I hope you're wrong about the Dark Eyes coming here. We'll get the van moved through the warehouse. That's the only way to get a vehicle inside the walls."

Sean added, "You had better get whatever weapons and soldiers you have ready. When the Dark Eyes come, there will be thousands of them."
Chapter 29

Harbor Spring was on full alert. On the walls that protected the town, pairs of men were stationed to watch for intruders. They were armed with rifles and Molotov cocktails. The roofs contained more people, using the height and binoculars to provide an early warning. They also had heavier machine guns and sniper rifles. At the first sign of the Dark Eyes, the rest of the town would scramble from their uneasy slumber and join in the defense. The children were tucked away in safe places, behind locked doors. I could only pray that Sophia would come to no harm. As for Beth, she was manning on of the many positions on the wall.

With the back doors open, the van was parked in the middle of the street, surrounded by a generator and a bank of lights. Sean and Kristen were inside, working on a laptop computer – trying desperately to get it to communicate with the electronics meant for broadcasting a television signal, not to transmit data to an unknown military satellite high in the sky.

I, of course, didn't grow up with computers, at least not as long as the older generation had. When I was younger I had a cellphone which seemed like a silly toy. But those memories were fading fast. With nothing to offer them, I hung back and just watched. As the night rolled on, I became tired. I got inside the driver's side of the van and laid flat on the bench seat and stared at the ceiling. Even with everything going on, the murmur of the voices became indistinct. I'm not quite sure if I ever fell asleep. Instead I drifted and thought of everything that had happened – the thoughts becoming almost real. I remembered Brent, and my escape from the Dark Eyes with Tanya. I thought of the summer I had after that, scavenging for food and gasoline, but also the happy moments of swimming and learning to cook. I realized I could never go back to that brief snapshot of time. Instead I would have to make my own happiness again, even if this world was doing everything it could to stop me.

The artificial light shining on the ceiling of the van faded and then grew brighter and brighter. The sun was out. It was morning. I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and pushed myself up; feeling achy from the seat springs poking me in the back. I was about to speak when I realized that there was an unnatural quiet. But that wasn't quite right. There was a low frequency sound, a heavy thrumming sound that was unfamiliar to me.

I got out of the van. I saw a knot of people a few yards away. They were standing still, listening to the noise. Sean was at the back of the van, his head tilted upward, obviously straining to hear.

"What is it?" I asked.

When he turned to face me, I saw a paleness underneath that tanned skin. He was frightened, more than I had ever seen him before. But when he finally spoke, his voice was unnaturally calm.

"The Dark Eyes. They're here. There are thousands and thousands of them."

For a moment I stared at him in disbelief. I then took off running, heading toward the tallest building. It was an apartment – all brown brick and wooden window frames – with a massive green door. I pushed past the residents, who were murmuring amongst themselves in despair, and headed toward the stairs. Five flights up and I found myself on the flat roof which was black tar with a layer of ingrained dust. A sentry with a rifle slung over this shoulder was here. He was staring off into the distance.

What I saw made my heart thud wildly in my chest. In all directions and as far as I could see, there was a rippling mass of Dark Eyes marching toward the town. There were so many of them that I couldn't even guess at the numbers. They were filtering through the trees, coming down the roads, and even coming from the sand-filled empty lake bottom. They would overwhelm us and put a stop to any plans we had. There was no chance of escape.

My limbs began to shake and I fought off the urge to cry. It seemed so unfair that we had come so far only to have it end this way. I staggered back down the steps and back onto the street. There was a pall over the air, as if we had all received a collective death sentence. Now it was only a matter of time. Most of the people here would become Dark Eyes, or be used as a source of food. Me? I couldn't become Infected and I would rather die than be herded away like cattle for the slaughter. No matter what, I would go down fighting, taking as many of those infernal creatures with me as I could. My only wish was that Brent or even Peter could be here to help me face death.

When I was back down at the street I saw Sean talking with Kristen. From the pointing and flinging of arms, it wasn't a good conversation. She ran off in a huff, giving out orders to a knot of armed people.

"What's going on?" I asked Sean as I rushed to join him at the back of the van.

He shook his head, but at least he had regained his composure, expressing anger instead of fear. "Kristen blames us for bringing the Dark Eyes here. She wants to know how much longer it is before we can stop the satellites from transmitting instructions."

"How much longer is it?" I asked, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.

"I don't know. Kristen is busy sweeping the sky, trying to find a signal. It's a big sky and this isn't exactly her line of work."

"I wish Brent was here," I said, thinking out loud.

"We can find the satellite, but only if we had the time. It's up to the people of Spring Harbor, and you, to give us as much time as possible."

I turned my head upward and kissed Sean on the mouth. "I'll do my best," I whispered in his ear. And then, after a hasty embrace, I rushed off to join the defenders at a section of the wall.

The place I selected to defend was the way we had come through – the alley leading to the lot where we had parked, which was near the main road coming into town. This part of the wall would bear the brunt of any frontal assault. The machine gun was manned, and on top of the parapet were a dozen defenders, all armed with different guns: pistols, shotguns, and rifles. Based on the firepower, and more importantly, the ammunition at our disposal, it wouldn't be long before the Dark Eyes overwhelmed us. But still, we had nothing to lose now, not with our backs against the wall.

I used a ladder to climb to the top of the parapet – a narrow ledge built of plywood and two-by-fours. The people here were strangers to me, but one more puny member to add to their thin ranks was appreciated. I was handed a bolt-action rifle with a box of bullets. I took the shells and crammed them in my pocket. In the middle of this walkway, I also saw a wooden box filled with a small number of Molotov cocktails – the poor man's grenade of gasoline inside of a glass bottle. It was tricky to light the fuel soaked rag without burning yourself, but a single person could create an impenetrable wall of flame.

My fellow defenders were alert, all eyes forward. One man, a grizzled type with gray hair and a short-barreled submachine gun, appeared to be giving out the orders.

He told me, "Ammunition is low. Only shoot when you have a good target. If you are not a good marksman then let them get close before you fire."

I nodded. I was looking down the alleyway. I could see the row of cars, flat tires and burned out wrecks, that had been laid out in a checkerboard pattern to break up an attack. And then, in the distance, I saw movement. It was a wave of closely packed Dark Eyes, all skin and bones. They moved forward without any restraint, oblivious to the danger ahead.

Someone next to me fired, using a rifle to pick out targets at long distance. I saw a Dark Eye fall to the ground, only to be stepped on and over by his fellow creatures. Once again the rifle barked, putting just a minor dent on the coming horde. The Dark Eyes moved forward, stoically taking the pinpricks of damage. They were getting close now, entering the very edge of the automotive barrier. With the cars in the way, the attackers were forced together into tight formations. It was then that the heavy machine gun opened fire.

This time huge swaths of blood was spilled as the lead storm tore into the Dark Eyes. I sighted down my rifle, found a target on the left flank, and fired. Without looking if I had hit the attacker, I pulled the bolt back and loaded another cartridge. I kept my pace of shooting low, only picking out those who the machine gun had missed. But even with the horrendous damage being inflicted on the Dark Eyes, they still kept on coming like an unstoppable tidal wave.

A woman, who was crouched next to me, pitched forward. Before falling off the parapet, I saw that the back of her head had been turned into a bloody pulp, the result of some heavy caliber gun. It was now apparent that some of the attackers were armed. I dropped down to me knees and prayed that her death had been the result of some lucky shot. Without any cover, we could easily be cut down.

The machine gun below us stopped – the ammunition must be gone. There was a brief silence, a strange lull in the battle. The alleyway was now thick with corpses, causing the attackers to stumble awkwardly forward. When they got close enough, a few lit Molotov cocktails were thrown down in front. The resulting flames leaped high in the air, but still the Dark Eyes moved forward, ignoring the violent heat. We fired our guns downward into the mass, killing them by the scores. But as we did so, the ever increasing pile of corpses only brought the attackers closer to the top of the wall. It wouldn't be that much longer before the Dark Eyes could reach out and grab us. And their numbers were not dwindling either. Instead, like a moving carpet, the entire length of the alleyway and beyond was choked with them, all pressing on with mechanical servitude.

I turned my head and looked up and down the street behind. I saw one section of the wall had already been overrun. The Dark Eyes were coming over the parapet and dropping to the ground below, running free. I dropped the rifle, and picked up a remaining Molotov cocktail and a nearby lighter. Shimmying down the ladder, I deserted my post and ran straight for the van. When I reached the back and looked through the open doors, I saw Kristen and Sean busy at work, bent over the laptop and ignoring the gunfire and chaos outside.

"The Dark Eyes have broken inside," I shouted. I slammed the doors shut before they could respond.

Through the back window I could see Sean. He was looking at me, mouthing something that I couldn't hear through the glass. He looked incredibly sad as if everything that had gone wrong was his fault.

Pulling a lighter from my pocket, I lit the rag on the Molotov cocktail. There was a group of Dark Eyes running down the street, heading straight toward me. I tossed the gasoline filled container only a few feet in front of my position. It erupted in a burst of flame that spread outward, the motion carrying the fire away from me. Into this inferno came a knot of Dark Eyes. Soon their blackened bodies were writhing as they fell burning onto the ground. The fire, however, did not hold them back at all. Instead the next wave came running toward me, all bared teeth and hollow eyes with the color of coal.

I had the Colt pistol out. I fired into the mass, backing up until my spine rested against the back door of the van. My back touched the ladder. I turned and swung a foot on the first rung and climbed up. From my perch on top of the vehicle, I could see a sea of Dark Eyes coming straight toward me. The van was being rocked and buffeted from all sides. Hand reached out and tried to drag me down. I kicked and screamed, scrambling away from the inevitable.

And then I was pulled down, covered with biting and clawing Dark Eyes. I felt pain all over as teeth broke through my skin, and nails raked against my flesh. I screamed in agony as the bodies pressed close against me, cutting off the air and crushing my limbs against the hot asphalt underneath. It was then that I knew I was finally going to die. The pain began to engulf me, becoming a blanket of red with blackness around the edges. I wasn't afraid to go since there was nothing left in this world but the Dark Eyes. Sophia would become one of them. Brent was gone. Peter was gone. And Sean. I would never see him again. The biting stopped. The clawing stopped. I felt myself floating away. I scrunched my eyes together and wished that death would come. It was then that I heard a voice.

"Emily!" he shouted, the sound muffled by the weight of bodies on top of me.

A hand touched mine. Our fingers grasped together. He began to pull. I was dragged out of the piled of dead Dark Eyes and into the sunlight, feeling as though I was being birthed into a new world. I hurt all over and could barely stand. I looked up and saw Sean. He was smiling.

He said, "It's over. We've won."

Dumbfounded, I stared at him.

His face glowing, he explained, "Kristen found the satellite and was able to feed it the shut off code! The nanobots have been stopped!"

Not quite understanding what he said, I looked around and saw the street was littered with hundreds corpses, the majority of them Dark Eyes. Without the nanobots modifying the cells, the infernal creatures could no longer live. Instead they had died en masse. Though I hated the creatures, I also felt sorry for them. And for us. Though we had won, the prize – a broken, dying world – wasn't worth all the pain and suffering that had been endured. I felt sick. I fell to my knees and fainted.
Chapter 30

I was awake. I found myself at the police station in a makeshift hospital bed in one of the cells. Sophia was slumped in a nearby chair, sleeping away with little snores. I hurt all over and my skin was covered with bandages where iodine had been applied on the wounds I had received. A few precious pills to ward off infection and then I had been told by the doctor that I would pull through.

With my head propped on a pillow, I stared out the window above and looked up at the sky above. Gray clouds had moved in, turning the outside dark and lifeless. Outside I could hear the survivors busily carting off the dead before they stunk up the town. I felt listless, wondering what would happen next. Without the immediate danger of the Dark Eyes, I didn't know what to do with myself. I wondered what I would do with my time now that I was free.

Someone opened a door and came into the cell. I turned over to see who it was. I saw Sean, and to my amazement, Peter, who was leading Brent along. Behind them came Beth, who had also survived the final battle. This unexpected sight made me bolt upright, and then I felt dizzy with pain as a hundred marks screamed against the sudden movement.

"You're alive!" I exclaimed, waking Sophia.

They came inside the cell. The small space felt crowded with people, but I didn't mind. Sophia was smiling and laughing, infecting the rest of us with her happiness. Sean sat down on the edge of the bed and held my hand. I was glad to have him with me.

Peter said, "When I stopped the truck in Grand Rapids, Brent and I managed to fight them off. But the truck had had enough. We were forced to walk. It was then that we saw thousands of Dark Eyes, some in trucks and buses, heading north, toward Spring Harbor. We hid in a house and only left when they had all passed by. We were able to find a car and fix it up enough to carry us here - though it looks like we missed the main show. You wouldn't believe the thousands of dead Dark Eyes we saw."

I was about to say something in reply when I heard something outside. It was a loud noise like a cannon. It rolled with a tremor that shook the foundation. A childhood memory came flooding back, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It couldn't be true.

"Was that thunder?" Brent asked, looking quizzically at the window, his good eye unable to focus.

A splash of water hit the glass. It was rain.

###

Connect with Paul Westwood Online:

Blog: http://ofghostsandgunpowder.blogspot.com

Facebook: <http://www.facebook.com/PaulWestwoodbooks>

The Other Works of Paul Westwood:

**The Color of Sin** : Devon Pierce lives a life of his own choosing, surviving by his wits and violent actions. For those in desperate need, he is the judge and executioner of last resort - above the law and incorruptible. Cleora Kinney has been wronged by an evil man and the Afghanistan treasure of her deceased father has been stolen. Only Devon Pierce can make things right. But first he must follow the clues found hidden deep in the shadowy underworld of the city of sin.

**Grave Injustice** : It had been in the Warren family for years: the ancestral home deep in the South. After the death of James's reclusive uncle, the house is now his to sell. But James is haunted by a childhood memory of a ghostly horror of a deceased young girl. With the help of his wife Beth, who is a law student, the young couple must solve a murder from the Civil War and lay to rest the spirit that still haunts the grounds. But the danger is not only in the past, but will come crashing into the present. Their lives and fortunes will be forever changed.

**Nano Zombie** : Not all zombies are undead. Brent is a man who lives in the near future, a crumbling civilization where man feeds upon man. Escaping from the chaos of the city, he is suddenly thrust into an unspeakable nightmare of sickness and war. In a world of apocalyptic horror, he battles for those he loves, an orphan girl and a woman with a mysterious past. In the desolated countryside, Brent fights to stay alive and find a cure to the most terrible disease that humanity has ever seen.

**Horror America** : Move over Sherlock Holmes! When the supernatural game's afoot, helpless people call on the good Dr. Townsend to save them. Ghosts, the undead, werewolves, and more horrors that man was not meant to see are loose in 1870s America, so it's up to Captain Parker, a gunslinger for hire, and Dr. Townsend to stop the horror. Yet when Townsend's beautiful daughter falls under the spell of a mysterious suitor, their fortitude will be tested in a battle like no other. Written in a series of connected short stories narrated by Parker, this novel will keep you turning pages late into the night.

**Lonely Are The Dead** : 1977. A ruthless serial-killer is stalking Bay City. His purpose is unknown, but the dismembered victims are always young and beautiful. In order to find the perpetrator, Police Detective Markus has to set aside his personal troubles, and pull the evidence together before panic sweeps the city. His only ally is Karen Dekker, a reporter with a tortured past and the chance to break the biggest story of her career.

**Malediction** : Two centuries after the Final War, civilization struggles to rise from the ashes of the new Dark Ages. An innocent man turned outlaw is forced on a journey across a desolated landscape, risking his life to deliver a warning to the growing rebellion. The message he carries will change the balance of power, and with it, the hopes of humanity.

**Murder at Zero Hour:** William Grant, an American, joins the British Army during the Great War. He is posted to France, where he witnesses the horrors of war on the front line. During a dangerous night patrol, a captain is murdered, leading to a series of unanswered questions. With only his wits, Grant must solve the mystery while keeping his own skin intact. Will he be a victim of war or just another victim?

**At Harper's Ferry** : The book that started it all. Jack Blackwood is a lonely drunk who starts a detective agency in the heart of Washington DC. As Fort Sumter is attacked, he and his partner Ezra are embroiled in a case that could change the very course of the war: the son of a retired congressman has gone missing, along with military papers outlining the Union's Anaconda Plan. At the heart of the matter is a beautiful prostitute, a trail of dead men, and a spy who will stop at nothing to deliver the plans to the Confederacy.

**At Bull Run** : The second book in the Blackwood Series. A wealthy man hires Jack Blackwood to find the murderer of his only son, who had recently joined a newly-formed Union cavalry regiment. In a city crowded with temptation, the investigation uncovers a killer who is targeting prostitutes and soldiers alike, causing panic in the ranks. Only Jack's wits and the power of the Colt can put a stop to the killings.

**At Shiloh** : The third book in the Blackwood series. As Grant's Army marches through Tennessee, it is beset by guerilla fighters led by the traitorous Major Gardner. An invaluable shipment of gold is stolen from the Union and must be retrieved at all costs. Posing as a guntrader, Jack must not only complete this impossible mission, but survive the perils of battle and the amorous advances of a widow trapped in an unfriendly town.

**The Blackwood Trilogy** : Jack Blackwood is a widower and a drunk. Ezra Miller is an ex-slave in a white man's world. Together, they run a detective agency in Washington DC. As the Civil War rages, they are involved in a series of cases that will change the very course of the war. This anthology collects all three adventures – At Harper's Ferry, At Bull Run, and At Shiloh - at one low price.

Free Bonus Chapter of The Color of Sin:

It was supposed to have been a nice and quiet evening at home. My current home being the an old warehouse that I had personally converted into apartments. I, of course, had kept the entire top floor and left the space underneath empty so I wouldn't be bothered by the worst impulses of humanity: noise. The other units brought in a tidy income though I purposefully kept the rents low enough to keep out the neuvo-rich. Instead, the building was populated with artists, workers, and a mish-mash of hustlers and conmen. They were the type of people who kept to themselves and weren't always asking questions about the landlord above. Instead they were quite happy to get entrance to such a secure building at an affordable price. And considering the area we lived in, D Street Avenue in Las Vegas, a little safety went a long way.

I was sitting on the sofa with my legs up on the footrest and half a Gimlet at my elbow. On my lap was a tablet. I was scrolling through a map app, trying to find the best way to drive out of this town. July was coming, which meant the hottest part of the year. A vacation was due, and I was entertaining the thought of taking my car on an extended tour of Oregon. I really didn't want to leave - I liked this town - but I was overcome with a feeling of restlessness. I had been bored as of late, which often happens in my line of work.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the graceful movement of Melodie Glass, who was working on some new dance moves. She had come over for the privacy and the fact that I had a massive space to practice in. The massive JE Labs speakers and Mark Levinson electronics were an additional bonus. The high-revved pop music sounded dismal to my ears, but she seemed to enjoy the fidelity as she stretched and contorted her dancer's body into moves that only can be done by top-level gymnasts or professional strippers. She was the latter sort.

Melodie was pale with long black hair, smooth skin, and a face that revealed an Asian ancestor. She was skinny but well-endowed on top – work done by a good plastic surgeon – and had the well-muscled legs of someone who moved all day for a living. She was wearing a faded black leotard with red legwarmers. Her hair was pulled back and kept in place with a hair clip. Though taller than your average woman, she was still a few inches shorter than myself.

She was working her body hard. If I had installed a stripper pole, I'm sure she would have been sweating even harder. But instead, she was practicing her floor routine, the gyrations meant to keep the dollar bills coming. With the stiff competition in Vegas, the men and women who made their living at exotic dancing, Melodie made sure to stay in shape and keep her dances fresh. Even with the air conditioning running at full blast, there was a slight odor of perspiration. From the track lighting above I could see a gleam of sweat on her exposed skin.

I put the tablet down and took a sip of my drink. Lime juice mixed with gin had a wonderful way of sharpening the senses. As I drank, I saw Melodie stop. She went over to the CD player and turned off the power, sending a momentary thump through the speakers. I frowned, knowing that something serious was on her mind.

"Devon?"

"Yes?" I replied as I set my drink back down.

She took a step closer. "Is it true what people say about you?"

"What do people say?"

"That you help people in need."

"I don't think I've ever been called charitable."

"You know what I mean."

I gave her a half of a smile. "Yes, it's true that I help those who can't help themselves. Of course there has to be some profit in it." I vaguely pointed at the luxury furnishings and the expensive rug at our feet. "This sort of stuff doesn't come cheap. I am, after not, not running a charity here. But there are some rules to the game. The first, of course, is that I won't go killing for money. The second is that I won't harm the innocent, though the latter is questionable since I have never met anyone who is truly innocent."

"You're the most cynical man I've ever met," she purred.

"I prefer the word experienced. But I did not earn my money by doing anything that is unethical – within the confines of what I consider ethical, that is."

She leered at me. "That leaves a wide range of possibilities, honey." She instantly turned serious again. "Maybe you really could help a friend of mine. Her name is Cleora Kinney. She's a co-worker of mine at the Pussycat Lounge. She's only been there a few days and anyone can tell that she isn't cut out for the life. But I do know that she needs help and I can't think of anyone but you."

I scratched my chin in thought. After a few moments of this, I said, "I wasn't exactly planning to be in town for very much longer. Anyway, I'm not hurting for money right now."

"This is something interesting."

"What is it?" I asked, taking the bait.

"Last night, after our shift was done, we got to drinking and talking. After a few beers she opened up and told me everything. We're talking a lot of money here."

"A few thousand dollars? A hundred thousand?"

"Maybe it would be better if you would talk to her yourself. I would hate to tell you the wrong thing and have you turn down the job. She can explain it better than I can."

"Now you've got me interested."

She closed the space between us with a few sultry steps – all hips and doe-like eyes. It was a good performance that got my heart racing, even though I knew the act was as false as a street bought Rolex.

She said, "That's the point, honey. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"What?"

She reached over and ran a hand through my hair. "Don't worry, you'll like her. Everyone does." She then sauntered off, showing her backside to good effect. She went back to the stereo, turned the CD back on, and began to dance to the rhythm of the music.

I returned my attention to the Gimlet. I took a drink and tasted nothing. I was too busy being angry with Melodie to notice the flavor. I put the glass down and tried to return my attention to the map on the tablet. But the route I had chosen instead blurred and disappeared from my vision. Instead I busily thought of the possibilities: a changed will that left the poor girl out of a sizable estate, a drug dealing boyfriend, or some stolen merchandise that she knew about. Dancers like that were always making friends with rich men who wanted to share their wealth. What could be different with this woman?

The door buzzer went off. It was just barely audible over the thump of the music. I got up off the sofa, threw Melodie a nasty smile, and went to unlock the steel reinforced door. After that, it was a walk to the elevator that I had specially modified so that it took a code to access my two floors. As an extra precaution, the door leading to the staircase was locked with thick doors at the floor levels. With the wired alarm system I had installed myself, no one could get inside without me knowing. In case I was out of the building, I had a computer setup to send an email to my cellphone. This may all sound rather paranoid, but when you do my type of work, a little caution goes a long way.

The door to the elevator opened. I got inside, selected the ground floor, and waited impatiently as I was taken slowly down. In the entryway, I saw a young blonde waiting behind the door. The glass of this entryway was reinforced with chicken wire. The wood was thick and old, an original part of the warehouse. With a flourish, I opened the door and let her in.

"I'm Cleora," she said as she offered her hand.

"Devon Pierce," I replied. We shook. "Come right this way."

In silence, we rode up in the elevator. There I studied her. In profile she looked good. With small features, she looked more like a teenager than a woman who works the stage for a living. Her nose was straight and the color of her eyebrows matched the color of her blonde hair. She had honest to goodness freckles, blue eyes, and a page boy haircut. She was wearing a shapeless top and a black skirt that went down to the knees. Long white socks and tennis shoes added to the school girl effect. The calves had the muscled tone of a dancer. I could see why men would like her, but there was also a coldness there that would be hard to penetrate.

"Come right this way," I said as I opened the door to my apartment.

She went in and let out a gasp. It's a common enough reaction when new visitors see the wood floors, plush rugs, the paintings on the brick wall, the gleaming stereo, and the Herman Miller furniture. The entire effect was that of stylish modernity and was a far cry from the ghetto streets a few stories below us. This was my hideaway from the world and only trusted souls were allowed into the inner sanctum. Part of my annoyance with Melodie was giving access to her friend without my permission. But if you can't trust your friends, than who can you trust?

"Are you a drug dealer?" Cleora asked.

Seeing the arrival of her friend, Melodie stopped the CD player. I noticed that this time she had done it correctly by using the buttons. She said, "No, and he's not part of the mob either. He's just a rich bastard."

I could see that this answer did nothing to clear up the confusion. I added, "I'm not that rich. But I do like to live comfortably. As for my income, I consider myself as a sort of an investor. This building, for example, used to be a warehouse. I provided apartments for the people of this neighborhood and in the process built a place for myself that I found comfortable. I also have other interests that meet my financial needs."

"But why this neighborhood? You could be living big in Summerlin." That was a more swank part of town.

Melodie answered, "Devon here isn't like other people. He likes to associate with conmen, junkies, and strippers. He thinks normal people are boring."

I nodded. "And their lives are rather boring without the sort of problems I find interesting. Perhaps I could help you."

Melodie said, "Cleora, why don't you tell Devon here all about your problem. I'll go shower and change." With those words, she went down the hallway and went into the bathroom. The sound of running water was immediately heard.

It was obvious that Cleora was feeling uncertain, so I went over to the bar and fixed her a drink. While I was pouring out the vodka, she sat down at the stool and waited until I was done. She gratefully accepted the screwdriver, taking a tentative sip.

She said, "I don't feel right being here. I mean what can anyone do for me?"

"I don't know anything about your situation so I can't possibly answer your question. But we could start at the beginning."

Cleora gave me a shy look, an honest to goodness inside view at the real woman underneath the veneer of the armor she must have developed in her line of work. I could see why Melodie said that this girl was not cut out for the job as an exotic dancer.

She finally said, "Okay, but this is going to sound a little crazy."

"Try me."

"My real name is Amy. Cleora is my professional name – everyone uses it except my sister. You see I was an army brat. That meant I never had a real home. Instead my family traveled from base to base. Five years ago, when I was eighteen, I got pregnant. This happened over in Henderson."

This was a suburb that southwest of Las Vegas.

"We were living in a little ranch home in a neighborhood Luckily my old man was off on his first tour in Afghanistan when I found out I was going to have a child or else there would have been hell to pay. The father of the baby was a boy named Timothy King who was an awkward kid I went to school with. There was nothing ever serious about us, instead we were just friends who liked to fool around. I don't know where he is now. I really don't care. So I had a little girl. She's named Madison. She's the only reason I came to you. I want her to go to college. I want her to have the things that I never had."

I nodded and didn't say anything. Now that she was on a roll there was no stopping her now.

"My father Bill Kinney was a captain in the Special Forces, doing some type of work for the government. It was all hush-hush, you know, top secret. We were never rich, that's for sure. But somehow when he was sent over to Afghanistan, he must have discovered some way to make money. I don't know what it was or how he got it back to the States, but that's not important. I know it had to be illegal, whatever he did. I mean they don't hand out free cash to soldiers, do they? But he was a hard man who thought he was the toughest thing on the planet. The older he got, the more he had to prove himself. A week after he returned from his final combat tour, he went out to the bar. He got into a fight with a younger man - some tough college football player. It must have been a lucky punch, because apparently my father just folded up like a house of cards when he got hit in the side of the head. He never regained consciousness. He died two days later."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She gave a shrug. "That was two years ago. I wasn't that sad at the time. And I'm not exactly grieving now."

"How did you find out about the money?"

"When Bill came back, he couldn't keep it a secret. He told my mother and my sister Kim and I that we were going to be rich soon. He also told us that we couldn't tell a soul. He made us promise."

I pursed my lips together. "Did your father tell you the source of this new found wealth?"

She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. "I thought he was making it up. Not that he was the sort of person to lie, but he came back from the war a changed man. He was a drunk.. He was abusive toward my mother. He threatened my little girl. I thought he was telling us lies about the money to keep us happy."

I was skeptical now. "What made you change your mind? I mean one day you don't believe him and the next you're suddenly sure that there is a fortune just waiting for you."

"I'm getting there. Eight months ago a man named Keith Miller came to the door. He ended up staying with us. He claimed to have known my father over in Afghanistan; that they had served together in the Green Berets. He was just out of the army and looking for a job. My mother let him stay with us until he could get back on his feet. I wish she had thrown the bum out on his ass."

The sudden venom caught me by surprise. But before I could say anything, she continued on, her jaw tight and unyielding.

"Keith said he knew my father well. He said they had spent two tours together. He had no family and nowhere to go. At first he seemed so kind. He was good with his hands and really helped around the house. After a few weeks, he even got a job as a bouncer at the club I worked at in Henderson. He isn't a big guy but he's got muscle. I've seen him fight and toss out some real tough guys. I admit that it felt good to have someone strong around. He seemed to like me and my daughter quite a lot. And with my mother sick with lung cancer, my sister and I really needed him.

"In the end I fell in love with Keith. We might as well have been married, that's how close he was to me. He seemed to be a good man. And when mother died, Kim quit job as receptionist so she could take care of her two sons from a former marriage and my daughter. It was up to Keith and I to bring in the money. Things were tight and I was glad for all the help I could get from him. But there was some strange quirk about Keith that became quite bothersome. You see he loved to talk about my father. I thought he was just waxing nostalgic about an old comrade, wanting to know Bill's habits: where he liked to visit, or where my dad hunted, or what kind of work he had done around the house. Keith also took a real keen interest in gardening and found some excuse to dig up most of the yard. I didn't pay any attention to this until the day that he left."

"It sounds like he was looking for something," I commented dryly.

She took the final sip from her glass. The ice cubes were all melted. I also noticed that the water in the bathroom was off and Melodie hadn't come out yet.

"Whatever it was, he found it," she said. "One day I awoke and Keith was gone. He only took his personal stuff and never showed up at work. This two months ago. To be honest, I wasn't all that surprised. I knew that he wasn't that good for me. But there was one strange thing that really got me shook up. In the back of that house was a patio that wasn't much larger than one of your rugs. It was made with old flagstones. One of them had been removed. Underneath was a hole that contained a scrap of canvas that was olive green. I can tell you that it didn't take too many leaps of the imagination to put the pieces together. Something, perhaps that money my father talked so much about, had been hidden there.

"I was angry as hell. I thought I would never see Keith again. I had to quit my job at Henderson and come to Vegas to get a better paying job. But just last week, after I had gotten out my shift at my new job at the Pussycat Lounge, I was driving home. I saw him outside of the Sands casino, pulling some breezy redhead out of a new Lexus with temporary tags. She looked high maintenance and much too rich for a man like him. Before I could find a parking spot, the two of them disappeared inside. I searched around the casino but didn't see them. I ended up camping in the lobby. It was an hour later when he came out with that woman. Like a fool, I ran after him, demanding all sorts of explanations. He practically ran away, dragging that bitch with him. They hopped into that car and took off. I ran to my car and started following them. Two blocks later, he dropped her off at the entrance of a ritzy condo called Eastgate. After that, I lost him in the traffic. I think he knew that I was following him."

"And you think he found the money that your father hid? Perhaps he just shacked up with a new woman."

Cleora actually blushed. "I can tell you that Keith isn't the type who can a snooty woman fall for him. He's different – uneducated and good with his hands. He's no gigolo."

I let out a small sigh of exasperation. "It's a general observation of mine that woman of all classes aren't particular when it comes to a man's background. If they like what they see, then they'll try and get him."

"You don't know Keith. He's a brute. And I'm not just saying that out of hatred. He can be tender and even sweet, but there's an anger inside of him that is downright scary. I have the scars to prove it. No woman in her right mind would be with him long. As I said, I was glad when he was gone. I also got scared that he would come after me, once there weren't any witnesses around. He can be cruel if he think he's been wronged. I'm glad that I left Henderson."

"You no longer live with your sister?"

"No, I share an apartment with one of the girls from the Pussycat. It's easier that way. I send my extra money back to my sister, who is busy taking care of my daughter, and visit them on the weekends."

"Would you like another drink?"

She shook her head. "No thanks. So will you take on my case?"

"I'm not a private detective. Let me give it some thought and I'll get back to you."

Cleora dragged a cellphone out from the heavy purse that was still slung over her shoulder. "Would you like my number?"

"That won't be necessary at this time. I'll contact you through Melodie."

After that, I walked her down to the front entrance. I waited until she got into her car – a beat up Kia – and drove away. Deep in thought, I went back to the apartment. Once the door shut, I could hear the Melodie humming some unknown song. The sound was coming from the bedroom. I went there, walking gently on the sides of my feet.

"Hey," I said through the half-open door.

"Why don't you come in?" Her voice was low and filled with desire.

I took a few steps inside. With the gauze curtains across the windows, the room was dim. I could just see the Stickley bed and matching side tables with their Tiffany lamps. Lying on top of the bed was Melodie. She wasn't wearing anything at all except for a smirk. The look suited her quite well. She was propped up on a pair of pillows, her long black and wet hair leaving a dark stain on the cotton. There was no extra fat on this specimen, only toned but shapely muscles that only accentuated her natural curves. She wasn't shy about me looking either, but we had our fling in the past so there was nothing new that Melodie could share with me.

"So what do you think of my new friend?" she asked. She said the words casually as if we were talking on a street corner.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I like her. It appears that Cleora has led a tough life. But she still managed to find her way through. That proves she's got her head on right."

"I like her too. So will you help her out?"

"I've got to think about it. There is a lot I need to know before I can even began to find out what was stolen from her."

"So do think really think that this Keith character did find something that her father buried in the backyard?"

"It seems plausible. Bill Kinney served in Afghanistan. To me that means poppies, opium, and heroin. With all the supplies being ferried back and forth, it wouldn't be that hard to smuggle some drugs into the country. You know as well as I do that it is a quick and dirty way to make some money."

Before I could react, Melodie grabbed my arm. I did not resist as he pulled me closer, guiding my hand to one of her perfectly formed breasts. That plastic surgeon really was a genius. But before my fingers touched the ruby hardness of her nipple, pulled back, easily breaking her grip.

"Damn it, Devon," she said sourly.

I rubbed my chin and stared into her dark eyes. "You know as well as I do, Melodie, that the game is over between you and I. Anyway, I thought you had a new boyfriend."

"I do," she said nastily as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

"Hold on, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"It's too damn late," Melodie spat out. She ran out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where she slammed the door with enough force to make the internal walls shake. She was a strong girl.

I went back to the living room. There I began to paw through some records that were tucked inside a bookcase. I found a Handel record. I went over to the Goldmund turntable, turned it on and, after turning a few knobs, had some glorious baroque music pouring elegantly out of the speakers. I stood in front of the stereo and listened intently, trying not to think of what could have happened in that bedroom. Don't get me wrong, I liked Melodie quite a bit and felt like a fool for turning her down, but I also did not want to rekindle that old flame. Before we had broken up, things had gotten complicated. I was happy to be friends with her and didn't want anything more than that – or so I told myself.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, Melodie was dressed in her street clothes: a miniskirt, a red sleeveless top, and a pair of high heels. Her damp hair was twisted into two long braids. A plastic grocery bag containing her workout clothes were in hand. She looked shyly at me, unable to meet my eyes. This was so unlike her that I felt a moment of pity.

"A fight with Angelo?" This was Melodie's boyfriend, a small-time hustler who I personally disliked. Of course I generally didn't cotton to anyone who sold cocaine.

She nodded. "It was a bad one. I was just trying to prove something to myself. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem."

"I wish things had worked out between us. If they did, I wouldn't be stuck with Angelo. He can be such a bastard sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow. "So can I. Things weren't always smooth sailing between the two of us."

She frowned, her eyes misted with tears. "Angelo is my Keith. They both take advantage of women who are in need. But I can't help myself. That's why I feel so strongly about Cleora. You have to do something for her."

"I'll have to think about it," I said. "Come on, let's get you home."

I escorted her down to her car, a new Mini Cooper. A chaste kiss on the cheek and I sent her on her way. I watched the taillights recede into the maze of traffic. I could already feel the heat of the day slowly start to give away to the chill of the desert night. It would take hours of time but it was inevitable. Around me were the sounds of civilization: people talking, the thud of a car door shutting, and the low rumble of an airplane flying overhead. But I was far away from all of that. Instead I was thinking that I needed some time and space to forget. And only then could I make a decision.

