 
ZOMBIE: ORIGINS

Copyright 2016 W. G. Sweet

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Portions copyright 2010, 2014, 2015 by W. G. Sweet.

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LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person's places, situations or events is purely coincidental. Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.
**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN
ZOMBIE: ORIGINS
PROLOGUE

A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Police, fire, politicians, military, governments: All gone. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in desperate struggle to survive.

From L.A. To Manhattan the cities, governments have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. For a time the dead lay in the streets while gangs fought for control of what was left, and then the dead began to rise into some other sort of life. Small groups of the living begin to band together for safety and begin to leave the ravaged cities behind in search of a future that can once again hold promise. This is the story of the OutRunners and how they came to be, start to finish.

August 4th

Plague Year One

Bear

We were down along the river checking over some old buildings that were perched on the cliffs there, high above the water. Fall was not far away and we knew we had to get moving, get out of this dead city. We had half the country to cross and find a place before winter came back around again.

We had left the others in our place off the park. An abandoned factory building I had found after I had lost Donita, and struck out looking for food earlier that morning. With the park and its crowds so near to us, the shops and small stores for blocks around us were stripped clean. Another reason to get out of the city. It was time. I remember thinking that as I walked along.

I was thinking back to March as I walked. Not really paying attention to the walk, where I was going... March... Just a few months ago, but the world was still the world then. And for the next little while we didn't even know about the dead. Dead was still dead. When you closed your eyes for the long eternal sleep you didn't wake up a short minute later as something else. No. We were ignorant up until they decided to come after us. Ignorant. Stupid. Didn't know a thing: Have a clue.

I had been in Central Park a few days after the first earthquakes hit New York. I had left Donita alone and went down on my own to see what the deal was. I found out nothing. No one knew any more than anyone else. There was a lot of speculation, but that was it. There had been earthquakes. It had rained hard for nearly twenty-four hours straight. The really freaky stuff hadn't happened yet. We were just starting down our new path, but what was clear was that thousands of people had died in the city, maybe more than thousands, maybe a million or more. And certainly millions if the damage here was the same across the country... Or, worldwide.

And my initial estimate turned out to be kind. In the city alone: Collapsed buildings: Fires; exposure to the elements because there was no shelter, there were millions of bodies. It was not so bad in those first few days, but a few days later when the smell of the dead rotting under the rubble began, it was horrible. The diseases started then too. And the diseases took thousands more, and we thought that was the end of it, but it was not. The dead came next. The same dead, newly risen to some other sort of life. But that day in Central Park I did not know about the dead yet. I had no idea what was ahead; what was before me was bad enough.

At six foot three and nearly two hundred ninety pounds I don't usually fear much. But that day I did. I realized there are some things you had better fear if you have half a brain in your head. It didn't matter that I could walk through Central Park unmolested. Something was on the wind. Something that didn't care who it touched: Did not respect physical size.

I walked through the park. There were hundreds there already. In the coming days those same people began to make the park home. But that day they wandered aimlessly. In shock. The subway was shut down, most of it flooded. The buses parked. You could not find a cab. The same with the cops. Everything that was the same about the city. The things you could depend on to be the same day after day, were gone. A few short days and they were gone. No more. And it had a feeling of permanence to it. A feeling of doom.

I sat down on a bench and watched the people shuffle by. No noisy kids. No babies bawling. No Joggers. No dog walkers. Hopeless people shuffling by. The occasional panicked whack job running around crazily. I saw no one shot that day, but in the coming days, they, the hopeless ones, began to shoot the crazies. Chase them down and kill them. But that was later. That day I sat on the bench and wondered what had happened, and that was when the planes had overflown.

We all heard them from a long way off. Military cargo planes. Slow, sometimes seeming to hang in the sky. That droning sound as they overflew, blocking the sun from the sky. This was no fly over to see how New York was, that much was evident immediately.

I was torn between running, and needing to know what this was. Once you start down that path of just reacting to fear, it gets bad fast, so I sat there, as calm as I could be. 'They will not drop bombs,' was my thought. I remember it. And they didn't. What they did was spray the entire city. Trails of blue-tinged vapor drifting down out of the sky. That was the first time.

I finally did give in to the fear and took off through the park, thinking, like nearly everyone else, that it must be some sort of poison. The government solution to whatever it was that was going on in the city.

We didn't know what the blue shit the government planes sprayed us with right after everything went to hell was. And I am still not convinced I know all there is to know, but I suspect things. I have been told things. I met a guy a few weeks back that said he worked at the Army base over in Jersey. He said he knew what it was. He said the planes came from somewhere down south, but stopped there on the way back to re-fuel. What he told me was it was designed to strengthen us. Keep us alive a little longer. Make us stronger somehow. Some dip shit scientist's idea.

I suppose it was meant as a boost for us. A help. The world slowed down, fell apart, everything stopped working. They knew they couldn't get to us. We would die. So they sprayed the blue shit on us. And I could suppose further that some of us survived the first few months because of it. I can't prove it, but I suspect it did help us evolve into...

I don't know. Whatever the hell we are now. I know we're alive? I know our hearts beat. I still feel human and I truly think I am still human: If it made changes to the living they are very small changes... At least so far.

But the dead. Oh the dead, that is a different story. It did something else to the dead.

I walked along now thinking my thoughts. I was lost in them, I'll admit it. Right back in March for a few seconds. But I came back fast.

We were right in front of a line of cliffs that overhung the river, spread out a little, at least I was. It's funny how you can forget to be careful so goddamn fast. It was somewhere past midday when they came for us.

" _Bear! Bear!"_

Cammy from a hundred yards down. The panic and fear in her voice made my heart leap into my throat, and because of her fear, and probably some of my own, I did a really stupid thing right then that cost me time. I was so panicked, that I threw my rifle down and sprinted toward the sound of her voice. I got maybe twenty feet when the realization of what I had done hit me. It would have been comical to see the way I locked my legs up and tried to turn around, before I had even come to a stop, if it had not been so goddamned serious.

I had the rifle back in my hands, the safety off, just a fraction of a second later when Cammy and Madison opened up on the UN-dead closing in on them from the mouth of the narrow trail that lead up from the river. I added my fire to theirs before I had run another fifty feet, and their leader, a shambling wreck of a corpse, folded up, and then flopped over the side of the trail and down into the river. I continued to run as I fired and I was shocked to realize that I was screaming at the top of my lungs as I closed in. I am big, but I can move when I have to.

" _Goddamn-son-of-a-bitching-goddamn-bastards,dead-fuckers!"_ All strung together. Fear words. I did not hear them at first so I did not know when they started, and I could not shut them down once I did hear them, the panic and fear were just too hot.

I watched as, unseen by Cammy and Madison, a zombie crouched on a narrow path above them swiveled his rotting head to me, seemed to take my measure with a wide, yellowed grin, and then dropped from the ledge on to Madison's back.

" _No! Goddamn-son-of-a-bitches-dead-bastards-bastards!"_ I could not say, 'Madison Look Out!' Or speed up my feet or any other damn thing. Time had slowed, become elastic, strange, too clearly seen... The Zombie hit her hard, and she folded like an accordion: Driven into the ground, a few hundred pounds of animated corpse riding her down into the dirt. Clawed hands clutching, mouth already angling to bite... To taste her...

I was still thirty or more yards away. I could not see how that could even be possible. I should have been closer, but I was not. I saw Cammy turn, panicked, take her eyes off the other UN-dead, and start towards Madison. Unchallenged the other Zombies closed ground far faster than they should have been able to.

I saw the Zombie on Madison take a mouthful of her back, just below the curve of her neck, and rip the flesh away from her spine. Cammy's rifle came up and barked, and the zombie blew apart, raining down on Madison, a storm of black blood. Somehow, I managed to switch to full auto, get my rifle up, and spray an entire one hundred round clip into the other zombies where they rushed along the path towards Cammy and the fallen Madison.

Madison screamed. Time leapt back into its proper frame and I found myself five feet away as Madison arched her back, screamed, and tried to stand. Blood ran in a perfect river from her gaping wound, across the white of her T-Shirt and down to the waist of her jeans.

" _I think... I think..."_ Madison tried.

"Baby... Baby," Cammy sobbed. She dropped to her knees and pulled Madison to her. "Oh, Baby... Baby," Cammy sobbed.

I looked back up at the trail: Empty. At least of moving UN-dead. Three or four, it was hard to tell with the tangle of legs and arms, lay dead on the pathway. Silence descended. I heard a bird in the trees above calling as if nothing was wrong with the world. Cammy sobbing. Madison crying hysterically. The wind moaning through the empty buildings that were set just back from the cliffs and the river on this side of the city.

I was thinking... 'That wind is colder. Colder even than when we started out this morning. Maybe the weather will turn back to snow and cold. Maybe winter is not done after all... Or coming sooner... It could be, it's all so screwed up. Maybe, if it does get cold, it will slow those bastards down... Maybe we will be okay... My, God, they bit Madison... They BIT Madison!!!' I sagged to the ground my mind full of confusion and numbness.

Cammy was sobbing uncontrollably, Madison had lapsed into shock. I was sitting crossed legged wondering where in Hell this would all end up, my rifle fallen from my hands and laying on the ground next to me. Time spun out: Dragged; seemed elastic once more, sticking in places and jumping ahead from those places to where it should have been had it continued to run properly.

Cammy sobbing, holding Madison up. Kissing her forehead. Telling her how much she loved her... How she was her world...

Madison... Eyes rolled back in her head... Face pale... Fine beads of sweat standing out on her forehead... Her back a bright slick of red, running across Cammy's hands where she held her. Slowing... Slowing... Cammy mouthing words in such slow motion that I could not understand what she said... Madison's body sagging, eyes rolled up to the whites... Bright dots of blood speckled across Cammy's cheeks... Then time jumped, staggered, came back to normal and Cammy was screaming and screaming...

" _No! ... NO! ... Not my... My love, my Madison, my..."_ Collapsing to the ground with Madison, crying still... Softer, but continuous.

"Cammy..." My voice, but I did not know it at first. I actually stopped speaking and looked around, startled, before I realized it was me speaking. I turned my attention back to Cammy. "Cammy... Cammy, it'll be okay... It'll be..."

" _NO!....NO!"_ She scrambled backward, pulling Madison's unconscious body with her. She wiped one hand across her eyes trying to stem the flow of tears... "NO! She's... She's okay... Okay... You can't... You..." She broke down into sobs, pulled Madison to her and began dragging her away from me.

"Cammy... Cammy, it bit her... Bit her... Cammy... Cammy, it's... It's just you and me, Cammy... It bit her... It bit her..."

She let go of Madison and lunged for her rifle. I sat, still cross legged, stupidly, as she grabbed it and leveled it at me.

"Get out," She said very calmly. Much more calmly than I thought she should have been capable of.

"Cammy... What are you doing... Cammy?"

" _GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!"_ She screamed. I reared back as the rifle barrel came up and then slashed down across my face. I jumped back, but not fast enough. The steel barrel smashed into my lower lip, through it and then hit my teeth. I immediately tasted blood and machine oil. My tongue ran across my teeth unconsciously. I was sure she had smashed them out, but the barrel edge had come up short or I had moved back far enough. One of those things.

The pain was delayed but it came never-the-less. Hard, heavy, fast, down into my lower jaw and then ricocheted back up into the top of my head. I scrambled backwards, tripped over my own rifle, got it into my hands and then time did that funny slowing, elastic thing again.

The blood dripped from my chin onto the ground. My rifle was pointed squarely at Cammy, safety off, and an empty clip, but Cammy didn't know that. The blood dripped slowly. Cammy's eyes swam in and out of focus, but remained on me. Her rifle barrel dipped and then rose again, leveled on me once more.

She seemed to take a deep breath that went on forever, and then, once more, time sped up. "I'll kill you," Cammy told me. "If you touch her, I'll kill you... I will," She started out strong, but ended in a doubtful, whining whisper.

I didn't drop my rifle barrel but held one hand out in front of me in a placating gesture. "Not touching anyone... Not," I managed through my busted lip and aching jaw. The pain was a live, throbbing thing.

"You will... But... I know you will... You think... You think..." She seemed all at once to realize that she no longer held Madison in her arms. She took a deep shuddering breath and then dropped her rifle to the ground. She collapsed back down to the ground and crawled to Madison's body.

I stood. Shocked. Not knowing what to do. Time side slipped again. The bird went back to calling out; if it had ever stopped. The wind came back, blowing cold against my face, pushing the flush of heat that the situation had bought with it away, cooling the sweat on my brow. The bird called... Another picked it up and soon all the birds were talking as though nothing at all had happened. It became a perfect storm of noise after the deepness of the silence. Time slipped away again, clouds moving across the cold, blue of the sky.

Cammy sat, Madison pulled up into her lap, a large smear of maroon on her forehead, stroking Madison's black hair. The birds called. The coldness of the wind seemed to bite at my bones. Nipping. Tasting: An UN-dead thing of its own.

I can't tell you why I did it, but I am glad I did. I pushed the button on the rifle butt, dropped the empty clip in to my waiting palm, and slid another up into the rifle where it socketed itself home with a solid click. I did it perfectly. Like I had been doing it all of my life instead of just the last few months since the UN-dead disease, epidemic, disorder, plague, what-ever-the-fuck it is that has happened. She never looked up. The birds didn't stop singing their birdsong... Just in case, I told myself. Just in case.

I stood, my knees screaming, flexed experimentally and then walked a short distance away, leaning up against the cliff face. I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out my pouch and rolled a cigarette. I felt at my lips, busted up, but I would heal. I had been in fights in my old life where I had been busted up much worse. I lit the cigarette, held it carefully between my lips, smoking as I watched the clouds slip across the sky. Letting the urgency of the situation float away on the wind like the smoke was.

Cammy's voice had fallen to a barely audible whisper as she stroked Madison's hair and held her. Madison's lips, blue tinged, moved. Too quiet to hear her words. A private conversation. A private conversation in the wide open, which thanks to the UN-dead was a very private place. No one at all around, alive anyway, and the dead couldn't care less about love, secrets, whispered promises, goodbyes. The UN-dead only cared about the hunger that drove them. Flesh, and more flesh... The time turned elastic once more and spun out of control for some unknown length. I only know that when I came back to myself the sun had moved across the sky. My thoughts were about darkness, zombies, staying alive.

When I think back on it now, I realize a noise had brought me back. Had to be, otherwise there was no reason for me to come back at all. Just stay gone. Let the sun go down and the UN-dead take the night, me, Cammy, Madison and whatever else they wanted. But it didn't go that way...

A noise. A sliding foot. A pebble falling from above... I really don't know. I know that this time I reacted fast. My rifle came up, my mind was clear. I focused; two of them dropping from the cliffs above... Like cats... Like dead, stinking, feral cats... Dragging that stink of death with them. The stench of rotted flesh falling from the sky, enveloping me even as I fired into them.

I had a choice. I couldn't get them both. One falling at me, one falling at Cammy where she sat with Madison cradled in her arms, oblivious to everything around her. My reaction chose for me. The rifle came straight up and spat short, little barks of noise and flame. The Zombie started to come apart before it hit me. A shower of cold, dead blood rained down on me, splattered against my face. The body hit the barrel of the rifle and took me down to the ground clutching the rifle hard to keep from losing it as the full weight of the Zombie came down on it.

I kept it, but only by sheer determination. The Zombie had impaled herself onto the barrel. Her flesh so rotted that it had simply punched through her breast and out her back. I shoved her off as quickly as I could. One booted foot kicking against her chest. Knocking her apart, pulling the barrel back through the soft flesh and hard bone.

I expected to see Cammy done for. I expected to see her dead or dying, but she had somehow ended up about twenty feet from where the Zombie had fallen. She looked herself as if she had no real idea how that had happened, but when I raised my eyes and they took in the whole scene before them, I saw exactly how it had happened.

Madison must have still been awake. Laying there badly injured, but not gone. Taking the comfort from Cammy that she offered: When the Zombie fell she saw it and managed to push Cammy away from her and take the attack on herself.

The Zombie was no match for her, wounded though she was. She straddled the Zombie with a rock easily the size of her own head and bought it down hard. Once. Twice, and then I lost count, and the Zombie quit fighting. The UN-dead, dead again. This time for good.

The silence came back hard. Like a curtain on the last act of a play, just when the audience isn't expecting it. It crashed down.

Time did it's elastic trick and then snapped back before I was ready for it. My senses were shot. At first I could not connect the dots of memory that I needed to connect to make sense of what my eyes were seeing.

Cammy rose to shaky legs and started toward Madison, sobbing once more. Madison's eyes swiveled to me. A sick look in them and pain riding there too. She slumped forward, one wrist flapping uselessly and lunged for the rifle that Cammy had, had trained on me not so long ago. Time stopped its elastic trickery right around that time. I knew exactly what she intended to do before she did it.

Cammy stopped in mid stride and nearly fell backwards at the effort of stopping so quickly. I think she believed for a second that Madison intended to shoot her. I really believe she thought that. But that was not the plan, and I knew that was not the plan. Because the plan that had resurfaced in her mind was the one we had talked about, half seriously, half jokingly, for as long as we had been traveling together. Before she followed through on that plan I heard her tell it to me in my mind once again, the way she had a week or so before. When she had been unmolested... Whole... Not about to join the ranks of the UN-dead herself.

"If I ever fuckin' have to, I won't hesitate," Madison had said, "Once I'm dead I don't want to come back." She shuddered and grimaced at the same time.

We had been in an old house over in Harlem. That was before Harlem got crazy too. We had had gas lanterns for light. The windows were boarded over. The UN-dead scratched and cried and pleaded, but they could not get in. The four of us-John had still been alive then, in fact he had died just a few hours later... Fell through a rotted section of floor in that same old house... Impaled himself on a pipe in the basement... Madison had shot him in the head nearly as soon as he had stopped his struggles.

"He would have expected it," she had said, and nothing more. But that night... That night she had said it right out. Like a mantra. Like looking into the future and seeing this day.

"If they come for me? If they get me? I'll put a bullet in my own head. I will. I swear I will. If I ever fuckin' have to, I won't hesitate," Madison had said, "Once I'm dead I don't want to come back."

And Cammy had begun to cry. "Don't say it, Maddie... Don't say it." And she hadn't said it again, but it didn't matter. She had already spoke it into truth. I had heard it. I had heard it and I knew she meant it.

And now... Time stopped it's trick. She jammed the rifle under her chin and squeezed the trigger... Her head exploded in a spray of red and gray. I swear I could hear the sounds of small bits of bone and drops of blood pattering down to the ground. And then the silence was roaring again.

I took a breath, another... And then Cammy began to scream once more...

~

It's been three weeks. I thought Cammy would never talk again. I believed she wouldn't, right up until she did yesterday.

I just kept us moving. Different places in the city. Not staying in any one place for more than a day. Walking days, seeking refuge at night. The zombies smell us, you know. They can smell us for miles. So at night it's been strong places. Strong places where they can't get in and then hope like hell that these were not some of the new breed, the ones that don't seem to have a need to avoid the day, and that they would be gone in the morning.

I started carrying a radio the other day. Clips on the belt. FM. Picks up a lot of talk during the day. There's a place that a lot of the people I hear from have heard about. Down south somewhere. Nobody seems to know exactly where it is. But others swear they have talked to the people that founded this place. A city... Somewhere down south. I had heard of something like that when it was Donita and me back in New York. But the word I keep hearing is that it is a safe place. That it is open to everyone.

So that is where I had been thinking about getting us to. Three days ago we got a truck, it's still just me and Cammy, but it feels safer.

I have been thinking about this place. I don't know who these people are. If they even exist, I only know the whole world is fucked up. I have come to understand that even if I get us as far South as I can, we wont make it for long. There are only two of us that can fight. The dead are getting smarter. And that is not just my point of view. It's on the radio. They all say it.

L.A. and New York both are barely hanging on. Both! Barely hanging on! Nearly over run! We're right here. I see it every day. The people talking aren't exaggerating at all. If the big cities are truly falling apart, and people can't make it banded together, how can we make it alone?

No. I'm heading for this place. I'm hoping it's real. Today on the radio I caught someone talking and it sounded like he was talking about the same place I have heard about. Too far away to hear me. Skip. You can never tell where it's coming from. I'm just hoping it's true. That I didn't just imagine it to assuage my mind.

Meantime I am trying to keep us alive. Find strong places to stay through the nights. There are strong places. Places you can find if you give it some thought. Stairwells in highrise buildings. Steel and concrete. They can't get through those doors. Deep freezers in grocery stores. Heavy steel doors. The vehicles if we have to and we have had to. They can't get in there to get us either. A little fire at night if I can, because they are afraid of fire. It's one constant, so far. The Zombies don't like the smell of smoke.

Canned stuff to eat. Christ, we'll be eating canned shit until we die. Get up the next day and push on. Get moving again. And that is what I've done. Kept us moving. Kept us safe. And she has come willingly, although silently, like a big, semi animated puppet. And then yesterday she was sitting beside me, silent as she had been since the thing with Madison, and she spoke.

"I don't like beans, Bear. I just don't... Maybe we could find something different tonight?" She had lifted her voice at the end and made it into a question. I was winding my way through the middle of an abandoned car and a wrecked, burned out truck. Months old. I looked over at her. She smiled, tentative at first, but then it lit up her face. I had to laugh. I had, had so much pent up inside me.

"The beans are a bit much then?" I asked.

"A bit," she agreed.

I bought the truck to a dead stop for a second not knowing what to say.

"You could say, 'Welcome back,'" she said softly.

"Welcome back," I repeated every bit as quietly. "Welcome back..."
THE END BEGINS
ONE

**April 31** st

New York: Harlem

9:00 pm

Donita made her way down the sidewalk. It was icy, and so she was careful where she stepped. Bear walked beside her. He seemed to have no trouble walking on the sidewalk, ice or not. He had lessened his stride to stay beside her as they walked.

"Okay?" he asked now.

Donita laughed. "Damn slippery," she said. Almost as soon as she said it she felt her right foot take off on some black ice ridged up against a subway vent. Almost as quick as that happened Bear had her elbow, holding her safely.

"Donita," Bear told her. "You got to be careful... The baby." He sounded reverent.

"I know about the baby, baby," She laughed. "And I am being careful. This damn sidewalk is not cooperating. Why doesn't Harlem have heated sidewalks like some of those places over off Park?"

"Ha," Bear told her. "We ain't getting no heated sidewalks ever. Are you kidding?"

"Hey," Donita told him. "We got Bill Clinton over here."

"Uh huh. And he can fall and crack his white ass too, cause he ain't got no heated sidewalks either." He shook his head and laughed. It was funny to see a man as big as Bear laugh, or shake his head, or really anything. He was the sort of man you looked at and saw violent things coming from. Nearly three hundred pounds, over six feet, and muscular from a ten year stint in prison. And he had that way of looking at someone, any someone, but men in particular, that made them walk away from him. With women it did something else, and Donita watched out for that too, but Bear had no eyes for any other woman. She was it and she knew it; didn't have to question it.

"The day Harlem gets heated sidewalks is the day that they'll put another black man in the white house."

"Baby we got that," Donita told him. She had reached a section of walk that was shoveled and clear of ice both. A rarity after a heavy snow fall.

"And did he get us heated sidewalks?" Bear asked. He looked at her google eyed and she had to laugh.

Owning a car in New York was a tough proposition, Bear thought. They didn't have one, but it would be nice. That way Donita could drive home from work instead of the subway, and a long walk through a bad neighborhood.

Bear's job was steel work. He was picked up every morning and dropped off again. For him a car or a truck would be a luxury. To her it was really a necessity. A necessity he was trying to work out, but it was tough to do.

First you had to be able to afford to buy a car. Then you had to pay nearly as much for insurance as you did for the car. Then you had to pay for a place to park it. If you were stupid enough to leave it on the street it would be towed, stripped, stolen, or get so many parking tickets it wouldn't be worth owning. So you needed a parking place, and that would set you back five times what the shit box car you had managed to buy had cost you. Bear knew, he had checked into it. He sighed now thinking about it.

"Stop worrying about a car," Donita told him.

"I wasn't," Bear told her."

"Oh, so you're going to start lying to me now?" Donita asked him.

"No," Bear admitted. "Just pisses me off. I see these people that are on welfare driving a Cadillac and I got to say, _what the fuck!_ I mean we work hard. We really do. I don't like seeing you have to walk."

Donita laughed. "Baby, it's a handful of blocks."

"Uh huh, and you nearly bust your ass walking them," Bear said.

She laughed again.

"Oh, that's funny that you might slip and bust your ass?"

"No," She giggled. "Bear, God forbid the sidewalk that slapped my ass. I believe you would kill it, but I'm never gonna hit that sidewalk because you're always going to be there to catch me."

"Huh," Bear said. He laughed a little.

"Well, you will be and I know it. So it doesn't matter," Donita said. "And besides, I like this... I like this walk every evening with you." She slipped her arm further through Bear's own, and huddled closer to him. "And it keeps my ass nice and firm," she whispered as she leaned closer to him. She laughed and Bear broke into laughter with her. A skinny kid in a hoody, passing by them shrunk away from them, his eyes suddenly startled wide.

"Hey it's just laughing, cousin. Ain't gonna rob you." Bear told him.

"Baby," Donita said.

"I know... I know," Bear told her. He left off and turned away from the kid who seemed about to break into a run.

"Sometimes it isn't about black and white," Donita told him. "Sometimes it's about you're a very big man and when a man as big as you does something as simple as laugh a little loud it scares people."

"Well that's funny because it's been about black and white for as long as I can remember," Bear told her.

"Baby?" She waited until he looked down at her.

"It's true... Now stop... This is something I enjoy. Don't spoil it." She held his eyes until he smiled at her.

Their combined laughter faded into the gray of the evening as they moved off down the street.

March 1st 12:06 am.

L.A.

Billy Jingo & Beth

Billy knocked back the tequila and waved off Beth as she motioned to the back bar for another. She came over smiling.

"A man that knows when to quit. I like that," Beth said.

Billy laughed. "A recently acquired habit, I assure you. Shit will bite you if you don't set your limits," He smiled at her, hesitated and then spoke again. "So it's almost over for tonight... Thought you would be singing?" He raised his voice at the end to make it into a question. He knew it was what she wanted. He had heard her sing, there wasn't an act in the place that could hang with her. She was it, except something wasn't clicking between her and Jimmy, or maybe it went all the way up the ladder to Harry. Whatever it was Billy was curious about it.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Beth said with a wide smile as if reading his thoughts.

"Damn," Billy said. "It's as if..."

"I read your thoughts?" She laughed. "It's been written all over your face since you came in. I saw you looking at the stage, back at me, back to the stage. It's not hard to figure it out."

"Hey, it's not like I'm some wacko fan, Beth. I just think you are way to good for..."

"If you say it I'll smack you stupid," Beth told him. Her eyes were slitted, narrowed and focused. Her right hand had doubled into a fist. Billy had no doubt she meant what she said.

"Peace," Billy said.

"Not that it really matters," Beth said with a sigh. "Jimmy knows, and that means Harry knows, and they don't care... That's not it. I'd feel for the lame ass that came in here if I was doing a set and had anything to say about my time on the streets... We've all been there... At least the interesting ones."

Billy nodded. "So what is it?"

Beth shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm hoping Harry will be around later on and I..."

"Hey... Baby, what the fuck with the drink?" A big guy, belly straining at the buttons of his shirt. He smiled, but the smile was no more than a rough semblance of a smile. Billy tried to burn him with his eyes, but Beth reached nearly into his face and said. "So you're done here?"

Her eyes said don't, he didn't, but he would have liked to say something to the guy. Instead, he nodded a yes and picked up the change she had laid on the bar. She was talking to the fat guy before he got his change in his pocket.

"See that big guy over by the door," she asked nicely.

Billy watched the fat guy turn to the door and then back to Beth. "Yeah?" The guy said. There was a sarcastic edge to his voice that made Billy slow down. He wanted to see the outcome.

Don, the big guy on the door had that bouncer six sense and looked over at Beth and shrugged as if to ask if there was a problem. She rolled her eyes, and Don left the door and headed for the bar.

"I told you no more," Beth told the guy.

"And I said I don't take no orders from no bitch," The fat guy said. He puffed up, but a line of sweat trickled from under his too black hair and streaked his forehead with whatever he had sprayed on his hair to get the color. He swiped at it angrily. And began to bluster a little more when Don's heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"And I missed my workout today," Don told him as he easily spun him around, "unless you're it?" Don finished.

"This is a private matter," The fat guy told him, but there was a quiver in his voice that Billy heard clearly.

"Tried to grab Jill's breast when she went past him. Jill laughed it off, said he'd been a perfect gentleman all the rest of the night. I said cool, a little fuck up, he's had too much to drink and so I cut him off."

Gentleman was a code word for a creep that had been hanging around getting way too friendly with the dancers.

"That so," Don asked. He had stepped back to give himself some room just in case things took a physical turn.

The guy noted the movement and then he set his empty glass on the bar and put his hands in front of him, palms up. "No interest in trouble at all," he told Don.

Don nodded at the door. "Time to go home and sleep it off, I think," Don told him.

Billy watched the guy walk to the door and leave. He looked back to see Don and Beth looking at him.

"You know, this guy is becoming a pain in the ass," Beth told Don.

"Ha, ha," Billy said.

"Beat it Jingo. Leave the honey alone. It's off limits. In other words you ain't getting none of it." Billy watched the cloud come over Beth just that fast. She had been teasing, Don probably knew that, but Don had a thing for her and he hated Billy who sometimes did small things for Harry. He didn't wait for Billy to leave, but headed back to the door, opened it quickly and looked out into the lot.

"Probably making sure the guy ain't fucking up his car," Billy said under his breath.

"Sorry, Billy. I keep forgetting Don isn't human," Beth told him. That made Billy laugh.

"Anyway, I'll see you around. I'll be late tonight."

Billy nodded. "Good luck, Beth." He turned and walked to the door at the other end of the club. The one that let out onto the front sidewalk.

~

The night was beautiful, Billy thought as he walked along. He knew pretty much everyone he passed. He had been here for a little over six months having made his way up from Mexico when things had gone bad for him there. Technically he was on the run. Warrants out of New York. Somebody had put two and two together and dug up some prints from a crime Billy had been involved with. He had only found out about it because he had happened to be away from the house when the Feds showed up. His neck of the woods had no municipal police, but even if it had they wouldn't have come with shotguns and armor.

He had hid out for three days until the word had trickled down to him that it was him they were looking for to hand over to some federal agents from the U.S. It hadn't taken much to put two and two together. He had managed to get a beat up old Ford pickup truck and then filled-fifty five gallon drums full of gasoline that rode on the back of it. He set off into the desert.

The rest had been easier. Despite the laws and the changes in the U.S. It was pretty easy to disappear here. He had come with a little money, and that had helped. He had worked a series of meaningless jobs as he worked his way up the west coast. LA had looked good and so it had held him. That and Beth had come along.

Beth was out of reach and he knew it, but that didn't stop the fact that he wanted her to be in reach. He had never met a woman like her. So he had stayed. He had watched her arrival from God knew where, some other place in California or Washington probably. He had watched her struggle to survive on the streets: Watched her work those same streets, doing her act in any place she could get into by day, walking the streets by night, and it was then he had seen something else in her. Something hard, some will he himself had that was hard to define, but that hardness in her pulled him to her like a magnet. It was that simple.

He had been working for Harry by then and so he had mentioned Beth to him. He didn't know how the details had worked out, but a few weeks later when he had noticed she had disappeared from the avenue, he had found her tending bar at Harry's Palace.

Now, as he walked he became immune to the world around him. He never heard Don until he was on him, had spun him around and dragged him into an alley.

"Hey... Hey! Don... What the fuck, Don... Hey!" But it did no good. The first punch nearly shut him down. The second did. The rest he never knew about.

Seattle Washington

Bobby

The wind kicked up along Beechwood Avenue in Seattle's red light district. A paper bag went rolling along the cracked sidewalk: Skipping over Bobby's feet where he stood watching the traffic. Money, he thought, if he could get a little money he could be okay. It didn't have to be a million dollars, _just..._ A few hundred, he decided. A few hundred could really fix him up right... There had to be a way.

He watched the cars slide by and tried to work it out in his head. The problem was he was too far off the edge of down. He needed to be more _up, high, wasted_ to think straight. The brain just didn't work without the sauce. He needed some good shit, and for that he needed some money. Just enough to get enough good shit to get a good high tonight and maybe a good high tomorrow when it all wore off and the jingle jangles set in? ... Maybe, he decided. Maybe. Bobby turned away from watching the cars as the paper bag bounded over his feet and tumbled along the avenue. The diner down the block was calling. Sometimes he had scored in the parking lot, there were truckers, creeps, who knew, but they were in this area for one thing and it wasn't the food. All he had to do was find the right guy and he'd be set. He looked once more at the traffic and then turned and walked off toward the diner.

New York: Rochester

John Simons

The sidewalks below him were crowded. John stood at the apex of the steps that led up to the old court house. It was impressive. He looked down at his hands, shifting the small silver canister from hand to hand, rolling it across his palm, treating it as though it were just a small fascination to occupy his mind, when in fact he knew it was something more. He didn't know what, exactly. He wasn't paid to know what. Maybe someone up the ladder knew what, he didn't, and it was likely he never would, but it was something more than just a shiny little object to occupy his mind.

He had done hundreds of these small jobs. Little things. Little things that probably meant nothing in the scheme of things, at least that's what he had always told himself. A little mental salve to prevent an infection of the larger truth. Little things he never heard a single thing about later on. Little things, but he suspected this time, this _job_ was not a little thing at all. He suspected this was a big thing. He suspected he would hear about this one down the road. He suspected this one would come back to bite him in the ass.

The trouble was, in for a penny, in for a pound. It all mattered. He had taken job after job where he might leave an item on a park bench. Drop off a set of wheels in the middle of the desert. Switch a suitcase at an airport. Little jobs. Little jobs and he had never said no. Never complained about them. Never turned one down. And so here he was about to press the activator on a small, silver canister that might do anything. Anything at all. And was he worried about that? Yes, he was.

It was not so much worry for himself. He didn't really believe the thing would blow up. He didn't truly think they would take him out that way, if there was ever a reason to take him out, that was. He quickly shut down that line of thought. He had too much to worry about right now without starting a whole new avenue of doubt.

So, _no_ , he did not believe it would blow up. He believed it would hiss and release a giant cloud of some sort of toxic gas, _gases_ even, he amended. Waste, poison, something, but if that were the case, how could he safely set it off and not be contaminated himself?

The instructions were to walk to the top of the courthouse steps, depress the red button, and then toss it away. No specific direction, just away. It apparently didn't matter. And, he thought now, wasn't this exactly the way some terrorist would do it? Do an attack? A poison gas attack? An unclassified viral attack? He had seen a few movies, this was the way he would do it if he was writing the script. The girl beside him spoke.

"If this is going to take much longer you're gonna have to pay more. I know I said it would be cool, a fifty, I mean, but standing around here is wasting my time. I got places to be. I got..."

He cut her off. "And you ain't got no money _yet_. And if you do want the money then you need to shut the fuck up." He went back to his self observation. A second later he looked back at her. "Hey, _hey,"_ he soothed. She had begun to pout. Just another street girl with a habit and too much time on her hands to feed it.

"Look..." He waited for her to look at his hand. He held the small vial upright. "Do me a favor, okay? I was looking around because, well because, I want a picture right here. Now all you have to do is push this little red button... Aim at me, it's got a little camera in there...You can't see it, it's one of those new ones, like them spy ones? So all you got to do is point it at me and then press the button." He held the canister and looked around. She tried to take the canister from his hand and he snatched it away.

"Goddammit, dude, You want it or not?" She stamped her foot exactly like the spoiled child she was and was destined to always be.

"Yeah... _Yeah I do_. Just... See that corner over there? The top of the stairs? That little what-do-you-call-it _hollow_ between those two pillars? Wait until I get there and take the picture." He handed her the silver canister and started away.

"Hey! How the fuck am I spos'ed to tell? There ain't no screen thingy, what-the-fuck-it-is?"

He turned back and smiled. "Just face it to me and do it. It's not supposed to have a thing, _screen_ , just do it."

She turned the canister to her face. It was only about four inches long, maybe an inch thick. It didn't look like a camera at all. She turned it back to John and clicked the button. Nothing, not even a click. It didn't work. It was bullshit just as she had thought.

John froze when he saw her push the button, but nothing happened. Nothing at all. She had pushed it just a few inches from his nose. No odor. No vapor he could see. No anything. He pulled it from her fingers and flipped it back and forth. The red button was depressed now and although he tried to work a thumbnail under it to pull it back up he couldn't do it. He bought it closer to his nose, nothing. No odor. He pressed it to his ear. No hissing. It was dead. A dud. Whatever it was it did nothing at all. Maybe it had even malfunctioned. He hefted it a few times and then let it drop from his fingers. It hit the stone step below him with a small metallic click, and then rolled away to the edge. It dropped to the next step, but it didn't have enough momentum to find it's way across that step to the next. He turned back to the girl.

"You broke my camera," he told her.

"Did not, and that ain't no fuckin' camera anyway. _You think I'm just stupid?_ "

"I do think you're stupid. You broke it. You broke it and so I ain't paying you. Fact, you should pay me for breaking my camera! Besides which, you pressed it before it was time. You fucked the whole thing up. I shouldn't pay you shit. Not a fuckin' dime."

"Yeah?" she asked. Her eyes were wet, but they were also hard. She looked around at the crowd. "That's okay, because you know what?"

"What?" John asked. He smiled. She was stuck and he knew it.

"What is, I'm fourteen. _Fourteen_. And I bet you if I was to start yelling right now, oh, something like rape. If I was to say _Rape!"_ She raised her voice a little and a nearby couple flashed their eyes at the two and slowed.

John flinched and drew back from her.

"Yeah, see? So, now if I was to do that I bet your tune would be different. I just bet it would."

"Twenty," John said. His smile was gone.

"You said fifty. Fifty is what you said, and it should be eighty." She picked eighty out of a hat. It was three more dimes, and three more dimes was a lot better than five. "It _is_ eighty. It's eighty because you tried to _rape_ me!" She raised her voice once more and John's hand plunged quickly into his back pocket. He flipped a fifty and three tens at her from the wallet he quickly pulled free, and she had to scramble to catch the money. Two of the tens fluttered to the stone step below her and she flashed a hard smile at him. The couple that had cut their eyes at them were now stopped and staring at the two of them. A cell phone appeared in the woman's hand and when John met her eyes there was something there he didn't like at all. The girl scooped up the money, muttering as she did, and John headed down the stairs two at a time. A few minutes later he had blended into the crowd and was making his way away from the downtown area.

Seattle Washington

Bobby

The prostitutes were just beginning to show up in force, waiting for the early morning traffic. Bobby Chambers sat with his back against the wall of an alley: Needle ready, and a speed-ball cooking over a tin of shoe polish. There was a bum sleeping a little further down the alley. Bobby ignored him, watching the mixture in the blackened spoon begin to bubble, melting together.

Two hours before he had been sitting in the diner waiting for his world to end. He had paid for the bottomless cup of coffee the place advertised, but ten cups had done nothing to improve his situation. He was still sick. He was still broke, and he needed something to take the edge off the real world, which had been sucking pretty hard at that time. A trucker had come in and ate his dinner just two stools away from Bobby, but every time he had worked up the courage to ask him for a couple of bucks the guy had stared him down so hard that he had changed his mind.

He had just made up his mind to leave. Even the waitress was staring hard every time he asked for more coffee. The cops couldn't be far away, when the trucker had reached back for his wallet, pulled it free, took a ten from inside and dropped it on the counter top.

Bobby watched. It was involuntary. One of those things you did when your head was full of sickness and static. Just a place for your ever moving eyes to fall. The wallet was one of those types he had seen bikers use. A long chain connecting it to the wide leather belt he wore. Hard to steal. Hard to even get a chance at. The man stuffed the wallet back into his pocket. Sloppy, Bobby saw, probably because he knew the chain was there and so if it did fall out he would know it. He turned and put his ass nearly in Bobby's face as he got up from the stool. The wallet was right there. Two inches from his nose, bulging from the pocket. The leather where the steel eye slipped through to hold the chain, frayed, ripped, barely connected. The man straightened and the wallet slipped free. The chain caught on the pocket, slipped down inside, and the wallet came free, the leather holding the steel eye parted like butter, and the wallet fell into Bobby's lap. He nearly called out to the man before he could shut his mouth. His hand closed over the wallet and slipped it under his tattered windbreaker. The waitress spoke in his ear a second later.

" _Listen..."_

Bobby jumped and straightened quickly in his seat, his heart hammering hard against his rib cage. Busted. Busted and he had shoved the wallet into his wind breaker, double busted...

"Listen," the waitress continued, "buy something else of get the fuck out. You hear me? Otherwise, my boss," she turned and waved one fat hand at the serve through window, "Says to call the cops."

Bobby stared at her in disbelief. He was sure that everyone in the diner had seen the wallet fall into his lap. He swallowed. "Yeah... Okay... I'm leaving," he said with his croaky voice. Sometimes, getting high, he didn't speak for weeks. It just wasn't necessary. When he did he would find his voice rusty, his throat croaking out words like a frog. Sometimes he was right on the edge of not even being able to understand the words. Like they had suddenly become some foreign language. He cleared his throat, picked up the cup of cold coffee and drained it. "Going," he said.

He got up from the stool, kept one hand in his pocket holding the wallet under the windbreaker and walked out the front door.

L.A.: 2:00 am.

Beth

The night wore on. Midnight came and went and the club shut down for another day. Beth worked at cleaning up the last little area of the bar as two of the dancers finished their drinks and hushed conversations, smiled at her and walked away. A short conversation with Don, probably some crude remark, Beth has seen how both of them had instantly stiffened their backs after he spoke. It wasn't just her, Don was an actual creep. Whatever he had said the two girls chose to ignore it, turning away, making eye contact with Beth, waving as if they had been at the bar talking to her, and when Don looked back to see who they had been waving at they slipped out the door. Don made his way over to the bar.

"You scared my honeys away," he told her.

"I think you can do that all on your own," Beth told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Don asked.

Beth frowned and shook her head. Sometimes she wondered if Don even knew what a creep he was. How he made the girls who worked here, her included, feel. "It means that not everyone is always on the same page," Beth said. She had changed her mind at the last second. She had to work here. Don was the nephew of the owner. Creep or not he was part of the package.

Don looked confused.

"Donny, it means that sometimes you just have to let things happen. Go slow. A girl wants to think it was her own idea to like you," she told him.

"Yeah... I can see that, but when you need it you need it. Some of these bitches need to be on point." One finger disappeared into his nose and then he seemed to suddenly remember she was there. "You know, me and you need to hook up. I got ..." One massive hand settled onto his shoulder and he stopped in mid sentence.

"Disappear, Donny. I need to talk to Beth right now," Jimmy told him as he sat down at one of the stools.

"We was just talking, uncle Jimmy."

"Right. And now you're done talking... Unless you're not? Am I interrupting you?"

Don turned beet red. He laughed to hide the embarrassment. "No... No," he turned and walked away.

Jimmy turned to Beth. "I guess you'll have to get used to the kid. He's a pain in the ass, but he's my pain in the ass... Load to bear," He turned and watched Don step out the door to the parking lot. "Donny," Jimmy yelled. Don poked his head back in the door and looked at his uncle. "Take a good look around out there, make sure the lot's empty and the girls all got to their cars okay."

"Okay, uncle Jimmy," Don called back. The dopey smile that he usually wore settled back on his face as he stepped out into the darkness. Jimmy turned back to Beth.

"Billy Jingo," he said.

Beth looked at him.

"I think that kid is bad news for you... Not telling you how you should live your life, just distributing advice... A girl like you, a singer, don't need a distraction like that. The customers don't want to see no boyfriend hanging around. Spoils the fantasy that you're singing just to them." He held her stare.

"It's not like that, Jimmy. Billy is a friend only... Lives in the same building." She had caught the fact that he had said she was a singer. Something she wasn't yet, unless...

"Uh huh, but he wants you. The kid is like a love sick puppy. If you could step back and look at it you would see it clearly. Are you telling me you are smart enough to handle Donny and you can't see this Jingo kid has it bad for you?"

Beth shrugged. "No... I know... I know that... But he knows it isn't going to happen. He knows what the deal is."

"Good... That's all I'm saying... But you need to tell him to stay away... Can't be hanging around while you're working... See?"

Beth nodded. "I see."

"Good, cause next week you start as my lead act. I know you..." He stopped as Beth lunged across the bar and hugged him, squealing as she did. He hugged her back, laughing.

She kissed his cheek and then her smile went away a little as one of his hands cupped the side of her breast. Her eyes focused on his own. "I think we'll become good friends, baby," he told her. She nodded as his hand roamed a little further and then trailed away across the flat plains of her stomach. She pulled back. Jimmy wore a crooked smile on his face. "So we understand each other?"

"Yeah," Beth told him.

"So smile then. Let's have a drink... On me... Pour us something good, baby," Jimmy told her.

3:00 am

Beth stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. She had spent over a month trying to convince Jimmy to let her sing. The Palace had huge crowds every night. Everyone knew that scouts were constantly cruising the crowd looking for talent. More than one act had been discovered at the Palace. Harry knew that and played on the reputation. Singing here could lead to the big break she was looking for. She had gotten her wish tonight, and more than she had bargained for, a relationship with Jimmy. She wasn't sure how that was going to be defined in public, but in private it was going to be defined as a sexual relationship. He had just defined it for her, she would have to wait to see what the public definition was going to be, but she had a good idea how it was going to be.

Nan, the dancer Jimmy was currently seeing, was going to be upset. Jimmy was not subtle. It had been clear that they had been seeing less and less of each other. She had no doubt that her first night he was going to make it clear she was his. Like a dog marking his territory. She sighed. Off the street, but still getting fucked for money. She hated putting it that starkly in her head, but that was the plain truth. She was still selling it, just different terms, better money, better protection. She heard footsteps running behind her and her breath caught in her throat. She turned as the club door that exited to the parking lot banged shut.

" _Beth,"_ Don yelled. _"Beth."_

She stopped and waited.

"Uncle Jimmy said I should drive you home... He don't want you walking."

She sighed. She had half expected it. Don ran the twenty feet from the door to where she was. She changed direction and walked slowly toward Don's car. Well, she thought, at least there would be no more bullshit from Don.

Twenty feet away the prostitutes were just beginning to show up in force, waiting for the early morning traffic.

Seattle: 6:00 A.M.

Bobby

Bobby Chambers sat slumped against a wall in an alley off Beechwood Avenue, in Seattle's red light district. He had been dead for over six hours. The money he had stolen, had allowed him to indulge in his habit for over eight hours with no sleep. The last injection had killed him.

The Cocaine he had purchased had been cut with rat poison, among other things, so that the hype who had sold it to him could stretch it a little further.

The constant hours of indulging in his habit would have killed him anyway, but the addition of the rat poison was all his overworked heart could stand, and it had simply stopped beating in protest.

The alleyway seemed to dip and then rise sharply as a sudden, strong vibration shook the area. The shaking lasted for mere seconds. Dust raftered down from the sky, shaken from buildings. In the silence alarms brayed, and glass shattered; fell from its frame to the streets below. Gunshots punctuated the silences in between the sudden periods of quiet, screams, yelling. Suddenly the ground shook harder, cracks appeared in the alleyway where Bobby's body lay and threaded their way out into the street.

Bobby's eyelids flickered, and his hand shot up to bat at a fly that had been examining his nose.

The alleyway shuddered and another strong vibration sent more glass and brick tumbling from the building into the street. Bobby sat, confused, his mind locked away from him in some dark place. Down the alleyway the man he had taken for a bum moved and rose shakily to his feet. Bobby closed his eyes as the shaking ended, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

Billy Jingo had found himself rolling across the alley and nearly slamming into the opposite wall. He held himself steady, fingertips outstretched, until the shaking stopped: Unsure where he was or why he was there.

As his mind began to awaken once more he remembered Jon punching him earlier. Nothing specific besides that, but it was enough to draw some conclusions as to where he was. Even so, it didn't explain the shaking that had awakened him. He looked off down the alley where a bum, or maybe a hype was resting against the wall, slumped over. Maybe, Billy thought, the bum had tried to awaken him. He made his feet and staggered past the bum to the mouth of the alley, looking out at the street. The bum was still sleeping when he looked back. The more he looked at the bum the more he thought he might be a crack head, maybe even a heroin addict. Those fuckers could crash out anywhere, oblivious to their surroundings, he reminded himself. He stepped onto the sidewalk, and then glanced back once more, wondering if he should repay the favor and wake up the now sleeping bum, hype, whatever he was.

No, he decided. He focused his eyes, stretched his arms and legs, flexed his fingers and decided he was pretty much okay. As he started back down the street, he suddenly found himself thrown to the sidewalk as the earth began to shake and heave violently once more.

Behind him the street began to shake harder, cracks traveled farther out from the alleyway where Bobby's body lay and threaded their way out into the street. Far off in the distance the earthquake shook harder at the epicenter, small booms coming over the sound of destruction as the time wore on. Nearby another building succumbed to the vibration and toppled over into the street clogging it from side to side. Cars rocked on their tires, shifting violently from side to side, sometimes bouncing off in one direction or another, or slamming into a nearby car or building.

This time when the silence came the sounds that it carried were different. Weeping from the piled remains in the street. The zap and crackle of power lines as they danced in the street like charmed snakes without their handlers.

A harder jolt hit and the cracks opened wider, some swallowing whole sections of rubble as they did. Bobby's body slumped over and then tumbled into a chasm that had opened next to him. Almost as quickly the chasm closed as though it had never really been there at all. The shaking slowed and then stopped and the silence fell once more.

Billy managed to get to his feet, staggering at first, pulling deep lungfuls of air, but getting his feet under him. Blood ran into his eye from a cut on his forehead, but he was otherwise okay. He waited for his panic to abate, his breathing to slow, and then he moved off at a fast run along the Avenue: Heading for home.

6:15 PM

Watertown New York: Public Square

Pearl (Pearly) Bloodworth

The streets were clogged with snow, but the sidewalks were impassable, so she had no choice but to walk in the street.

She made her way carefully, slipping and sliding as she went. It was just before 6:30 P.M. and she might make it to work on time if she could make the next two blocks without incident.

She had been working at the downtown mission for the last several months: The night shift for the last two months. The mission night shift was an easy shift. Everything was closed down. Those who had made the curfew were locked in for the night. Occasionally there would be a little trouble between residents, but that was rare. Watertown was small, as a consequence the homeless population was small. And trouble, when it came, was usually settled long before her shift. Her shift amounted to catching up on paperwork, dispensing an aspirin or two, and being there if there was an emergency of any kind. At 4:00 A.M. The kitchen staff would be there to start their day. Shortly after that the rest of the day-shift would be in. At 6:00 A.M. The mission doors would open and the homeless would take to the streets. She would have an hour of quiet at the end of her shift, sitting and listening to the bustle from the kitchen as they cleaned up after breakfast and began to prepare for lunch.

She heard the approaching vehicle as she was stepping around a mound of melting snow and ice. It was late and there had been no traffic on this side street when she had stepped into the street at the cross walk three blocks down. The alternative was the foot deep snow and ice thrown onto the sidewalk from the plows. She would never get through that and make it to the mission on time.

The Mission was on upper Franklin street, a short walk in a straight line, or even if you had to walk around the square and start up, as she usually did, but tonight the square was packed with traffic and so she had chosen the shortcut instead. Unfortunately it was not well lit: A four block wasteland of parking lots and alleyways.

She had almost turned completely around to make sure the car had seen her when the horn blared and startled her. A second later she finished the turn, hand clasped to her throat, and watched as the car skidded to a stop and three men piled out of the back seat slipping and sliding in the slush, laughing.

"What's up, bitch," one asked as he found his feet and stood staring her down. The laughter died away.

"Nice ass," another said as he moved toward her.

She turned to the second man, the one who had just spoken, as she shrugged her purse from her shoulder, caught the bottom of it in one hand, and slipped her other hand inside. The third man, really just a boy, looked frightened as his eyes slipped from his two companions and then flitted to her.

The driver leaned out the window, "What the fuck! Get the bitch!" He was looking over the roof-line, sitting on the windowsill of the driver's door, a smirk on his too-white little-boy face.

"Yeah... How about a ride, baby," the nearest one said. The other had finally found his feet, stopped slipping, and was skidding his feet across the slush heading in her direction. She pulled her hand from her pocket and aimed the mace canister at them. They both skidded to a stop.

The closer one, the one that had made the remark about her ass, cocked his head sideways, shrugged his shoulders and then pulled a gun from his waist band. "Yeah... Kind of changes the whole situation, don't it?" He asked.

His gun was aimed at the ground, close to her feet. She had only a split second to decide. He was less than five feet away, the gun rising from the ground, when she pushed the trigger and watched the stream leap at him. His face went from sarcastic smirk to alarm just before the stream of mace hit his nose and splattered across his face and into his eyes. A second later he was screaming. She had just turned to aim at the second guy when the world turned upside down.

She found herself tumbling sideways. Somewhere, close by, a roar began and rose in pitch as the ground below her feet began to jump and shake. She found her knees after she fell and skidded across the roadway as she tried to hold herself, but the shaking was just too hard. She collapsed back to the roadway and the relative softness of the slush and snow, her body jumping and shaking as she seemed almost to bounce across the short expanse and into the snowbank on the opposite side of the road.

The roar went on for what seemed like minutes as she tried to catch her breath and steady herself at the same time. Both seemed impossible to do, but almost as soon as she had the thought the trembling of the earth became less and a split second after that the roaring stopped. There was no silence. The sound of breaking glass, tumbling brick, blaring horns and screams in the dark night replaced the roar. Sounds that had probably been there, she decided, she had just been unable to hear them.

Pearl made her feet and stared back down the street where the car had been. The car was still there, the nose tilted upward, the back seemingly buried in the street itself. She blinked, but nothing changed. She noted the broken asphalt and churned up dirt, and realized the car had broken through the street. There was no sign of the men, including the driver that had been hanging halfway out of the window.

She drew a breath, another, and suddenly the noise and smells of the world rushed back in completely. The screams became louder. Horns blared. The ground trembled under her feet as if restless. She could smell sewage on the air. Broken lines below the pavement, her mind reasoned. She swayed on her feet as the earth trembled once more, lurching as it did. She waited, but the tremble was not repeated. She sucked in another deep breath and then began to walk, slipping on the broken pavement and slush as she did.

Franklin street appeared untouched as she lurched from the side street, slipping over the broken pavement, and retching from the overpowering smell of sewer gas. She collapsed to the icy pavement, skidding on her knees and was surprise to hear herself crying as she struggled to get back on her feet.

She nearly made it to her feet before the next tremor hit, this one much harder than the last one. She bounced sideways, knees slamming into the ground, crying out as they did, but unaware of her own cries.

Just as the trembling stopped she made her feet again and stood, hand clasped to her knees to steady herself, breathing hard, holding herself rigidly, wondering what was coming next. When the shaking stopped and silence flooded in she was shocked.

She finally opened her eyes, she had no idea when she had closed them, straightened from the bent posture she had found herself in, quieted her sobbing and looked around.

Forty feet away, the gray stone of the mission that had rose just past the sidewalk was no more: Churned earth had replaced it. The sidewalk was still intact, as though some weird sort of urban renewal had occurred in a matter of seconds. Her eyes swept the street and now they took in the sections where the sidewalk was missing. The entire side of the street was gone for blocks. What was in evidence was an old house several hundred feet away, perched on the edge of a ravine. Beyond that, houses and streets continued. She was on the opposite side of complete destruction, and there appeared no way to reach that side.

She turned and looked back at the side street she had come from. Churned earth, tilted pavement, the car was now gone. Farther down the short hillside that had appeared the public square seemed completely destroyed. Water had formed in the middle of the square and ran away to the north, probably toward the Black river, Pearl thought. To the west everything appeared to be intact, to the east, Franklin street stretched away untouched toward the park in the distance. Close by someone began to scream, calling for help. She took a few more calming breaths and then began to walk toward the screams: The west, angling toward the opposite end of the square.

The screams cut off all at once, and a second after that the sound of a motor straining came to her. Cycling up and then dropping. She paused in the middle of the road, listening, wondering where the sound came from. As she stood something ran into her eye, stinging, clouding her vision, she reached one hand up and swiped at it and the back of her hand came back stained with a smear of blood.

She stared at it for a second. The ground seemed to lurch, shift suddenly, and she reached her hands to her knees to brace herself once more, expecting the shaking to start again, but her hands slipped past her knees and she found herself falling, her legs buckling under her. The ground seemed to rise to meet her and she found herself staring down the length of the roadway, her face flush with the asphalt. The coldness of the ice and slush felt good against her skin: As if she were overheated; ice wrapped inside of a dishrag at the base of her neck on a hot day. She blinked, blinked again, and then her world went dark.

She floated, or seemed to, thinking of London. A hot day. She was a child again: Standing in the second floor window and looking down at the street far below. The dishrag dripped, but it felt so good against her skin. The memory seemed to float away. She was rushing headlong through a never ending stream of memories. All suddenly real again. Urgent, flying by so fast, but sharp in every detail.

Pearl had grown up on a council estate in London: When her mother had died she had come to the United States only to find herself in the Maywood projects on the north side of Watertown. From one pit to another. Just different names, she liked to tell herself. Up until a few weeks ago she had still made the trip back and forth every day, but she had found a place, a small walk-up, not far from the mission on the other side of the public square. It seemed extravagant to have her own space, but living in the downtown area suited her.

She seemed to be in both places at once. Back in her childhood, staring at the street below the window, yet hovering over her body, looking down at herself where she lay sprawled on the winter street. She wondered briefly which was real, but nearly as soon as she had the thought she found herself struggling to rise to her knees from the cold roadway, her eyes slitted, head throbbing.

In front of her a shadowed figure had appeared staggering through the ice and snow, angling toward her. She blinked, blinked again and her eyes found their focus. The man from the car, suddenly back from wherever he had been. One hand clutched his side where a bright red flood of blood seeped sluggishly over his clasping fingers. Her eyes swept down to his other hand which was rising to meet her. A gun was clasped there. Probably, her mind told her, the same gun he had been going to shoot her with before. The gun swept upward as if by magic. She blinked, and realized then that the sound of the motor straining was louder. Closer. Almost roaring in its intensity. The gun was rising, but her eyes swiveled away and watched as a truck from the nearby base skidded to a stop blocking the road from side to side no more than ten feet from her. She blinked, and the doors were opening, men yelling, rushing toward her.

Bright light flashed before her eyes, and a deafening roar accompanied it. An explosion, loud, everything in the world. A second explosion came, then a third, and she realized the explosions were gunshots. She felt herself falling even as she made the discovery. The pavement once again rising to meet her. Her eyes closed, she never felt the ground as she collapsed onto it, falling back into the dark.

She was back standing in the window, looking out over the street. The heat was oppressive, but the ice wrapped in the rag was mothers' wonderful cure. She tried to raise it to her neck once more, to feel the coldness of it, but her arm would not come. She tried harder and the window suddenly slipped away. A man was bent toward her face. A helmet strap buckled under his chin. Her hands were somehow held at her side. The motor screamed loudly as this world once more leapt into her head. She was on the floor of the truck, vibrations pulsing through her body as the truck sped along... In the back of the truck, her mind corrected as her eyes focused momentarily. Other men squatted nearby, including one who was partially over her holding her arms as the other man was tapping the bubbles from a syringe with one gloved finger. The mans face angled down toward her own and he aimed something in a silver canister into her face from his other hand. The hand opened and the canister fell to the ground.

"Itzawight," his voice said in a far away drone. "Awightzzz." She felt the prick of the needle, the light dimmed, his voice spat static: The light dimmed a little further, and then she found herself falling back into the darkness.

Harlem New York

Donita's Notebook

March 1st (Night)

Quakes, at least three. Warmed up fast and all the dirty snow that was piled along the streets has melted. Torrential rains. Thunder and lightening in the snow storm that came after sunset. Didn't last long, turned back to rain. Parts of the projects are burning. Jersey is burning, the sky is red-orange, like everything across the river is on fire. No one has come.

Watertown New York

10:00 PM

The first quake had been minor, the last few had not. The big one was coming, and Major Richard Weston didn't need to have a satellite link up to know that. He touched one hand to his head. The fingertips came away bloody. He would have to get his head wound taken care of, but the big thing was that he had made it through the complex above and down into the facility before it had been locked down.

He laughed to himself, _before_ it was _supposed_ to have been locked down. It had not been locked down at all. He had, had to lock it down once he had made his way in or else it would still be open to the world.

He had spent the last several years here commanding the base. He had spent the last two weeks working up to this event from his subterranean command post several levels above. All wreckage now. He had sent operatives out from there to do what they could, but it had all been a stop gap operation. There were planes that would soon be in the air, and there were men releasing the V compound worldwide, or there had been. Now that the end was here he had no way of knowing if the orders he had given would be carried out of not: Whether they even could be carried out.

The public knew that there was a meteor on a near collision course with the Earth. The spin doctors had assured the public it would miss by several thousands of miles. Paid off the best scientists in some cases, but in other cases they had found that even the scientists were willing to look past facts if their own personal spin put a better story in the mix. A survivable story. They had spun their own stories without prodding.

The truth was that the meteor might miss, it might hit, it might come close, a near miss, but it wouldn't matter because a natural chain of events was taking place that would make a meteor impact look like small change.

The big deal, the b _igger than a meteor deal_ , was the earthquakes that had already started and would probably continue until most of the civilized world was dead or dying. Crumbled into ruin from super earthquakes and volcanic activity that had never been seen by modern civilization. And it had been predicted several times over by more than one group and hushed up quickly when it was uncovered. The governments had known. The conspiracy theorists had known. The public should have known, but they were too caught up in world events that seemed to be dragging them ever closer to a third world war to pay attention to a few voices crying in the wilderness. The public was happier watching television series about conspiracies rather than looking at the day to day truths about real conspiracies. The fact was that this was a natural course of events. It had happened before and it would happen again in some distant future.

So, in the end it hadn't mattered. In the end the factual side of the event had begun to happen. The reality, Major Weston liked to think of it. And fact was fact. You couldn't dispute fact. You could spin it, and that was the way of the old world. Spinning it, but the bare facts were just that: The bare facts.

The bare facts were that the Yellowstone Caldera had erupted just a few hours before. The bare facts were that the earth quakes had begun, and although they were not so bad here in northern New York, in other areas of the country, in foreign countries, third world countries, the bare facts of what was occurring were devastating: Millions dead, and millions more would die before it was over. And this was nothing new. The government had evidence that this same event had happened many times in Earth's history. This was nothing new at all, not even new to the human race. A similar event had killed off most of the human race some seventy-five thousand years before.

There was an answer, _help_ , a _solution_ , but Richard Weston was unsure how well their solution would work. It was, like everything else, a stop gap measure, and probably too little too late. It was also flawed, but he pushed that knowledge away in his mind.

While most of America had tracked the meteorite that was supposed to miss earth from their living rooms, he had kept track of the real event that had even then been building beneath the Yellowstone caldera. And the end had come quickly. Satellites off line. Phone networks down. Power grids failed. Governments incommunicado or just gone. The Internet, down. The Meteorite had not missed Earth by much after all. And the gravitational pull from the large mass had simply accelerated an already bad situation.

Dams burst. River flows reversed. Waters rising or dropping in many places. Huge tidal waves. Fires out of control. Whole cities suddenly gone. A river of lava flowing from Yellowstone. Civilization was not dead; not wiped out, but her back was broken.

In the small city of Watertown, that had rested above Bluechip, near the shore of the former lake Ontario, the river waters had begun to rise: Bluechip, several levels below the city in the limestone cave structures that honeycombed the entire area, had survived mostly intact, but unless sealed, it would surely succumb to the rising river waters. By the time the last military groups had splashed through the tunnels and into the underground facility, they had been walking through better than two feet of cold and muddy river-water. The pressure from the water had begun to collapse small sections of caves and tunnels below the city, and that damage had been helped along by small after-shocks.

When the last group had reached the air shaft, they had immediately pitched in with a group Weston had sent to brick the passageway off. The remaining bricks and concrete blocks were stacked and cemented into place in the four foot thick wall they had started. The materials, along with sandbags initially used to hold back the rising waters, had been taken from huge stockpiles within the city, and from the stalled trucks within the wide tunnel that had once fed traffic into the base. There was no way in, and no way out of the city. With one small exception.

The exception was the air ducting. The ducts led away from the city towards a small mountain-peak about a mile from the city. There the ducts merged together, inside a huge natural rock tunnel that had been part of the original network of caves and passage ways. That tunnel culminated deep within the mountain at a remote air treatment facility. There were also several access points where the ducting came close to the surface via tunnels and passageways that ran though the huge complex of caves. And it would be possible to walk through one of the many air shafts to the tunnel, break through the ducting, follow it to the treatment facility or outside to the surface and freedom. It would be difficult, but it would be possible. The end of the trip would bring them to the surface, from there they could go anywhere.
TWO

Donita's Notebook

March 2nd (Day)

Rain 'til noon. Destruction widespread. Then horrific quake just before dark. Started to rain again, very heavy, then later at night it turned to snow. Lightening in the snow storm.

Night, no moon, no stars. Storms stopped for a while, still no stars. Then the storms came back harder.

Watertown New York

Project Bluechip

Major Richard Weston

The C-130's were lined up for take off ten deep. The Airfield at Fort Drum was geared up for continuing flights for the next twenty-four hours or until the chain of command broke down completely. Major Richard Weston watched on his monitor as the planes taxied to the main runway and took off one by one.

This was a further implementation of the V Virus. The planes would over fly the largest of the states cities and release the compound. It was mixed in two thousand gallon tanks of water mounted in the open cargo bay. A simple nozzle setup with a waste-gate type valve controlled the output. Blue dye had been added to track the wind movement of the spray for correction and that was it. There was enough V2765 in the mix to infect somewhere south of two billion people directly. Another five billion with the potential for passing the infection on from the original two billion that had been infected.

He chuckled as he watched the planes staging on the monitor. It was all overkill. There had been releases in every country, in every major city in this country. In every major water source or reservoir. He had taken no chances, and he had done it all of his own volition. The way the original plan had been laid out. No, no one had approved the release on the populace. It had only been approved for release on selected military units and specialized training facilities, but there had been no one left to stop him. No one in the chain of command who could decide otherwise. So, he had made the decision and then moved forward with it.

He reached forward and turned off the base monitor. He was several miles away, deep underground, but he had a firm control of the base and those left there. And he had actually been surprised that there had been enough of the chain of command left to get the planes loaded and moving out. He doubted the core that was there would hold together much longer, but it didn't matter. The planes were simply backup. The deed itself was done. The V Virus, as most of them had nicknamed it, would do the job, in most cases already had. The rest depended on humanity itself: Whether they could shoulder the responsibility of rebuilding society from nothing.

He rubbed lightly at his temples. It had been less than 24 hours since the first quakes had hit. His understanding of what had occurred out in the wider world was limited due to satellite failure, downed land lines, and point to point communication links that had been destroyed. What he did know was that the major governments were all gone on every continent. Not a single organized government remained. There had been a few hostile takeovers right at the end. The longest a hostile takeover in South Korea, but they had all succumbed. The machine was too vast. The simple weight of the various organizations, the secretive nature of the politics, had crushed them.

The military organizations lasted longer. They were used to chain of command procedures. It didn't matter if there was anyone further up the chain of command. It only mattered that they followed the orders' given. But even the military organizations were falling apart. It was hard to rule a society that now had the same weapons you had. The groups that were beginning to come together already were the small individual groups bent on survival. Equipped with military grade weapons or even sporting goods weapons picked off the shelves in gun shops across the country. He assumed it was the same in other countries.

Major Weston stood from his desk, a new office thrown together deep in the bowels of project Bluechip, and walked out into the hallway. Military command was built on chain of command. Chain of command required visibility. He did these walk-throughs three times a day. It kept up appearances, but appearances only, because the truth was that even here things were shaky, falling apart, and he was unsure how much of it could be saved and how long command could be sustained. The facility itself could last for decades. It was a self contained city deep in the rock, but the core he could depend on was small. He left the hallway and walked into the vastness of the control room.

Project Blue-chip was designed to be completely self-sufficient, and along with the facilities miles of underground roads and buildings, there were also several underground acres of vegetables, wheat, corn, and other essentials, already planted, and several acres ready for planting.

The planted fields would yield more than enough for the slightly over one hundred remaining people. Meat would be a problem for a while however. A small farm had been set up, but had not fared well at all. The chickens seemed to have been largely ignored, but the swine, and cattle, which had numbered well over three hundred initially, had mostly been slaughtered. Six cows, one bull, three sows, and two boars were all that remained, and, Weston knew, if they intended to breed them, which they were already considering, they would have to be off limits for a while.

He had been trapped above when the first quakes had hit and the initial devastation had begun. Once he had made his way below on the last remaining lift, he had assumed command with ease. Not with the iron hand that most of the survivors had expected, but with firm determination. It was a job he had lived for.

All around him people worked together to clean up the mess the main control room had become, and it was rapidly approaching the neat and orderly state it had once been.

For Weston it was amazing to see the transformations that were taking place. He turned from examining a screen, retrieved a thick printout from a nearby desk top, and settled into an office chair as he began to read. The printout contained over two thousand pages that dealt with farming, a very small portion of the subject matter in Bluechip's data banks, but he had to start somewhere, he reasoned.

March 3rd (Night)

Rain in the day, but as soon as the sun set it turned colder. Snow, heavy snow, thunder and lightening throughout the night. No moon or starlight. No stars at all!

March 4th (Day into Night)

Electronics stopped working, wristwatches, battery powered clocks. Bear tried to start a truck. Nothing... Dead. Three more quakes, aftershocks. Planes sprayed blue stuff on us too.

Billy Jingo: L.A.

March 4th

Billy paced the hallway, trying to think it out, telling himself they had to leave soon. Telling himself it was the right thing to do. The problem was that he was not used to doing the right thing. So unused to it, in fact, that he wasn't sure he wanted to try... _should try_.

The world had been turned upside down for the last few days. There was no official word that anything was wrong at all, but someone had fucked up; of that he had no doubt at all.

The police? Gone. Fire department? Ditto. Army? Well, wasn't the National Guard supposed to show up when the shit hit the fan? But so far the army had not raised a finger to do anything for them at all. There was a base right over by the airport near the Los Angeles Freeway, but there had been no sign of them.

He lived on the north side, a high rise that had been new sometime back in the seventies. He had gone up to the roof twice during the day and looked over the city.

It appeared to be dead. There was a precinct only two blocks away, deserted, doors hanging open. Looters were carrying away cheap computer systems and who knew what else, a steady stream in and out of the front doors.

There were fires over past the park. It appeared to be a whole block over by Jordan Downs, but there were other single fires all over the city too. There had been for two days now, and no one had come to put those fires out. And there was more; you could hear gunfire from all over the city all night long. He continued to pace the hall.

This was not normally a bad neighborhood, but it was no picnic either. There had been a few fires here but the people that lived nearby had put them out quickly. Dozens of buildings had come down or were now tilted crazily. The looting had started at some point, and now there were armed men prowling the streets in gangs.

He had acquired a gun from a shop a few blocks over, ransacked, left open to the world. He had loaded it and waited, but the few that had ventured to his door had turned away when they had seen him with the gun.

Winston, the old man that lived in the back basement apartment, had called them all down to listen to the radio just a short time ago. Not your average radio, a Short Band receiver. They had ended up listening to military talk, military talk that was probably supposed to be restricted. The stories that had come from that radio said the rest of the world was no better off. Explosions or earthquakes, there was a great deal of devastation everywhere.

A few years before, the CDC had issued a warning about zombies, the inevitability of an attack. How it would come. Why it would come. What you should do. How to survive it, and more. Billy and his friends had gotten a good laugh over it. He had been down in Mexico at the time because of some trouble he had gotten into in New York. And he had been living like a king. What sort of trouble could come? What he had listened to on the radio in the last few days had changed his mind completely.

Washington D.C. was completely overrun, the President gone. They weren't even sure he had made it into hiding. New York and Atlanta, overrun with the risen dead. Mexico, absolutely silent. Canada, the same. Millions of people absolutely silent. How could that even be? And right here in Los Angeles there was talk on the radio about dead roaming the streets too, and probably every city in between L.A. and New York, because if they had overrun the big cities, what kind of chance did the smaller cities and towns have, he asked himself.

CBS had stopped broadcasting here three days ago, even though what they had been broadcasting had been sketchy because the satellites were out. They had been dependent on travelers coming out of the east or up from the south. It had apparently not stopped broadcasting soon enough in the west, where T.V. viewers had witnessed the network studios being overrun, and the anchor of the evening news attacked on camera. The United states was under attack by an army of the dead.

He had spent some time checking the other stations, cable, Univision? Nothing at all. ABC? NBC? Dead air. Cable? Satellite? Frozen pictures on some channels, nothing at all on the others, and not a single channel you could actually watch. The internet was dead. That had seemed worse than all the rest of it. Google didn't load the page for his browser, but it also didn't tell him why. Nothing.

And it wasn't just the United States: North and South America. Germany had not been heard from in a week. England, France, all the European countries were incommunicado. The radio mans words, not Billy's. Australia had seemed fine up until two days ago. They had been talking about the problems facing America and Great Briton. They seemed to be wondering what was going on the same as everyone else. Then the broadcast had stopped in mid sentence. Shortly after that the few HAM radio operators that had been relaying information from there had gone silent too.

He had paced the hallways since then. He should talk to Jamie... Beth... Winston... Scotty, a few others. It might be time to talk about getting out of here. The thing he was concerned about was the non action from the military. That was not military like. For them to be sitting by and allowing this to happen, it must be a serious thing. And he had no doubt that eventually they _would_ get their shit together, or _think_ they had their shit together, and then they would act. And who knew what their remedy for zombies might be?

He stopped his pacing. Who did know, he asked himself again. Nobody. He stood in the hall for a second. Jamie was upstairs with Beth and a few others. Night was coming. Traveling in the night was not an option, at least not one he wanted to explore. But maybe they should be ready to leave in the morning. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it was not something they should do hastily, but he did believe they should not stay too much longer. He turned back towards the stairs, debated only briefly, then walked back and climbed them to the second floor. He would start with Beth. Let Beth make the decision. She would know what to do.

Maine

Carl Freeman rose from his couch reluctantly, and walked to the front door. He clutched the thick book, which to him was his Bible, in his hand as he walked.

There had been some shooting, and quite a lot of panic in the last several days, but none of it had touched him. He had locked himself inside the house after the first earthquake had hit, calmly finished the thick tattered book, and then had begun to re-read it again. He was once again at the good part, not the same good part he had been at, but every part of the book was a good part to him, and so it mattered not at all which part he was in. But he was at the part where he might be able to help.

He knew now that the book, The Book, was not just a book. It was real. It had to be he reasoned, it just had to be. The author must have been like a God or something, maybe even was God, or something, and so he had written the book not simply to be read, although that had definitely been intended, but as a warning. Something to point the way. The Book was, well, The Book was a Bible, he had decided, and thank God he had been able to figure it out in time, thank God, praise God, because if he hadn't, he knew, there would be no hope at all. He worriedly pressed his fingers to the flesh of his neck. Okay, good, he thought, all's cool on the western front, no problem, wonderful, great, grand and glorious.

He opened the thick steel door and peered out. The ground, indeed the house itself, he thought, had been shaking for the last several minutes A lesser shock than the others. It was winding down., Maybe over, as far as the earthquakes were concerned at least. He stepped cautiously out the front door into what should have been darkness, but somehow was not. In the distance he could see that the sun was beginning to rise. He glanced down at his watch. Well, he thought, it must have stopped, or something. He stared at the horizon for a few seconds longer and then calmly walked off down the street clutching the thick book under one arm, leaving the door standing open behind him.

It was time to leave, he told himself, and if he ever intended to reach Stovington in time, he had better hurry.

Kansas

Wendell Smith edged the thick concrete door open slowly. Everything seemed fine, he thought. The ground wasn't burned, the houses were still standing, most of them, he amended as he saw some that had fallen and a few that were leaning precariously. Tommy Switzer's body was still laying where it had fallen at the base of the stairs, he noticed, and, although it was none too appealing, it was not burned either.

He hesitated briefly, and then quickly ushered his family out into the early morning air. Kansas City, never looked so good, he thought, and the air had never smelled so sweet.

He had ushered everyone down into the shelter just after the first earthquake had hit. They had already lost the television feed by then and had been down to the radio broadcast. That had been difficult to follow, but he had understood that maybe, just maybe, the meteor would hit them after all. Tommy had shown up after he had bolted the door. Too late, or it should have been too late. He had reluctantly opened the door back up only to find that Tommy had collapsed just outside the door, and as he had bent to help him to his feet he had seen the large wound on his back; what looked like a bullet wound to Wendell. He had seen bullet wounds before on a crime show he had once liked to watch. Someone had killed Tommy. He had slammed the door, shot the bolt, and they had ridden the next few days out in the shelter.

Yesterday had been completely quiet, and today there had been nothing more than a slight tremor. Maybe the end wasn't now, he reasoned, maybe the end was yet to come. Either way it didn't matter, the kids were safe, Lucinda was too, and he had a sudden urge to strike out for Oklahoma, which he fully intended to follow.

The children filed out one by one, wide eyed, followed by Mrs. smith, who peered cautiously around as Wendell had done.

"Wendell," his wife asked, "you sure?"

"Yep. Honey, it's time to get on with life," he paused and drew her into his arms, as the children flocked around his feet. "What do you think of Oklahoma, 'Cinda?" he asked.

"What'za Okahoma, Daddy?" little Jasmine Smith asked, as she tugged at his pants leg. Wendell bent and took his youngest daughter into his arms.

"Well, baby, Oklahoma's a state, or was..." Wendell said with a smile. "How about we go there and find out for sure what it is, baby girl, Huh?" She giggled, as he tickled her chin and set her down. He reached over and took Lucinda back into his arms and kissed her.

"You must be nuts, Wendell," she said with a smile.

"Nope, just happy to be alive, honey," he said through a large smile.

Between them they herded the children into the back of their aging station wagon, cranked the motor to life, and backed slowly out of the driveway, as they held hands across the split vinyl of the front seat.

Donita's Notebook

March 5th (Day)

Tremors. Time seems off, days are longer, I feel it. No way to measure it though. No rain or snow.

March 6th

Harlem

Donita sat on a stool in the kitchen writing in her little notebook. Something was going on out in the world. Something, and the news was covering it up. The local news had been canceled. First at noon and now again at five. There had been no strange weather today, but the time was still off. Really off. The days were longer, no doubt about it at all.

There were fires burning out of control in the projects. No Firemen had come. No cops. Nobody at all. The gangs were beginning to fight the fires. Slowly taking control of Harlem, and that scared her badly. There had been Earthquakes, or at least the ground had shaken... Explosions somewhere? Was it Earthquakes? It seemed like no one knew.

Donita didn't know anyone who owned a phone. A real phone. Real phones were a thing of the past. But a real phone would have been good now, because something had happened to all the cell phones. The bars had dropped to nothing. How could that even be, she had asked Bear. There were towers all over the place! Nevertheless, they had ceased to function, and she now found herself wishing for a real phone.

Bear had rigged up a C.B. radio and they had listened to that for a while. Twice a voice bled through claiming to be from somewhere in Jersey warning everyone to stay away. The voice claimed the city was on fire. Union City? North Bergen? Edgewater? They didn't say, but it looked like all of Jersey was burning, just like parts of New York. There were gangs fighting for control of what was left here, probably the same there. The voice went on to say the dead were rising and walking the streets.

" _Feds?"_ Donita asked.

"Feds landed and took over the streets?" Bear supplied.

Donita shook her head doubtfully. "I hope so... Because it sounded like dead... The dead are walking the streets." She trailed off and turned her eyes back to the windows; night coming, noise winding up in the projects, low hanging gray clouds that slipped past the windows. "That's crazy, though, right?" She asked, "Crazy?"

"Yeah... Nuts... I think it was Feds, baby.... Feds... Maybe it means there's some serious shit going on there? We thought that anyhow, right? But dead walking the streets?... Can't be," Bear said in his deep, bass voice. He pulled Donita closer to him.

A few minutes later the C.B. went dead. When it came back a few seconds after that there was a man identifying himself as Commander Roberts telling them to keep the channel clear. Donita looked up at Bear. He pulled her closer and watched the night come down outside the windows.

March 8th

Manhattan

618 Park Avenue: Seventh floor. 2B

Donita's Notebook:

(Morning): Fresh snow. Made it all look like it never happened... Clean.

Watertown New York

Project Bluechip

Pearl

She came awake with a start. In her dreaming she had been leaning, leaning, holding the window sill and staring down at the street below. The heat, the cold dishrag freezing her tiny fingers. She had leaned back, shifted hands, placed the rag against the base of her neck once more, leaned forward and braced herself against the window frame and her fingers, slicked and unfeeling from the ice had slipped. She had plunged suddenly forward, falling, faster, panicked, and she had awakened as she had slammed into the surface of the bed, a scream right on the edge of her tongue waiting to leap.

" _Here."_ A woman's voice. A soft hand at the base of her neck, holding her, easing her back down to the bed. "It's okay now." She held Pearl's head up and bought a water glass to her lips. Cold, ice clinked together in the glass, she took the straw between her lips and drank deeply. She collapsed back against the bed.

"Where?" She managed at last. "Where is this place?" The ceiling was florescent lights in a panel ceiling. Dropped ceiling, her mind supplied. An Americanism.

"Blue," the woman told her as Pearl's eyes focused on her. She was short, slim, dressed in fatigues, a pistol in a holster at her side.

"Blue?" Pearl sounded as doubtful as she felt. She must have misheard. "Drum?" She asked. It was the closest military base.

"Blue," the young woman shook her head. "The new base... Blue." She smiled, but it was a tired smile. "You remember anything at all?"

Pearl shook her head, but then spoke. "A car... A boy with a gun... An earthquake?"

"English?" The woman asked.

Pearl nodded. "Was it then? An earthquake?"

"More than one," The young woman sighed. "It's bad up there. You're lucky they found you, Jeffers and the others. Lucky."

Pearl nodded and then moved her legs and nearly fainted. She looked down, both were bandaged. She recalled the gun. "Shot?" She asked.

"No... No, just scraped up, banged up maybe" The woman told her.

"Badly scraped up?" Pearl asked.

"No... A few cuts, but they are swollen. A day or two and you'll be fine."

Pearl didn't hear the rest as she sagged back against the bed and fell away back into the dream once more...

L.A: Billy Jingo:

Evening: March 9th

He came up from sleep fast, Jamie's face above him, her voice a low, panicked whisper.

"Wha... What... _What?"_

"Downstairs... It's downstairs," she didn't finish, but she didn't need to. A crash came to his ears, but he could not tell if it was from the downstairs hallway. At least he hoped it was the downstairs hallway, not the stairs outside of their apartment, or, God forbid, even closer.

He jumped from the tangle of blankets, started to pull his shoes on, and then reached for his machine pistol instead as another noise came from the hallway. This time it did sound like the downstairs hallway; the steel gate that closed off the lobby. Billy thumbed the safety off the machine pistol and ran for the apartment door.

The hallway was nearly completely black. The hallway windows let in the light from outside, but it was very little. He slowed and felt his way to the staircase. He sensed her before his hand brushed against her.

"Don't you fuckin' shoot me, Billy Jingo." Beth whispered tightly. A small penlight clicked on and he could see her leaning against the wall from the upstairs apartment.

"No," Billy said. It was stupid, but he could think of nothing else to say. "Going down," he told her. He made the stairs and headed down toward the lobby. Behind him Beth had turned out the light, but he could feel her following behind him.

The noise became louder as they made their way downward. Billy tried to count the steps as he went. Fifteen to the landing, turn to the right, feel for the banister. Fifteen more to the bottom, but he missed the last step. He had made himself count the steps just earlier that day in case he had to navigate them in the blackness.

He nearly fell before his foot found the floor and he regained his balance. He could smell them now though, as well as hear them. Just fifteen or so feet across the lobby. He felt Beth's hand brush against his back. A second later she pressed up against him and whispered in his ear.

"When I flick the light on them, just shoot!"

"But what if..."

"Fuck _What if_... Just shoot. Who do you think it would be, the fuckin' Avon lady?" Silence fell. The noise stopped. "Goddammit," Beth muttered.

A second later the penlight came on. It was like a floodlight in the narrow hallway. The gate was broken, forced part way open at the top. Another few minutes and they would have been through. Six dead were transfixed by the beam. Two with iridescent red eyes that seemed to glow in the light from the penlight. Both snarled and lunged at the gate to force their way through to them.

His pistol was in his hands, but it was like the beam had frozen him too. He did not begin to fire until after Beth's pistol began to fire. The noise was huge. Everything in the closed in space. All six of the dead fell and they thrashed on the floor. It was over fast. So fast that Billy had not even thought to breath.

He stood frozen, looking at the dead. Two still moved. He walked forward and shot both of them in the head, one by one. The beam left them and moved to the doorway.

The aluminum door frame was buckled in the doorway. The safety glass had been smashed out and lay on the floor in one spider webbed sheet. Two heavy sledge hammers lay just outside the doorway. Another three were scattered among the dead by the steel gate.

"Son of a bitch," Beth breathed.

"Jesus. You don't think they were using those, do you?"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Beth asked. She shone the light up and down the door frame. "We'll need a steel door and a welder to fix that," She said.

Billy nodded, realized she couldn't see it, and then spoke. "We can get one tomorrow."

She brushed against him as she squeezed past and walked toward the gate. His arm felt on fire from the softness of her breast as she had slipped past him. She turned and looked back at him. "They almost got in." She shone the light on the steel collapsible burglar door. It had been there for as long as she could remember, and she had lived in the building for several years. The top was nearly separated from the steel bracket that held the hinge mechanism. Billy got his feet moving, walked over and examined the top of the door.

They had hit it with the sledge hammer repeatedly. The steel had finally split, and it looked as though they had been trying to use sheer force to rip the rest of the bracket away from the wall where it was mounted. Billy stepped back.

"I think," he began, and that was when a zombie came through the shattered aluminum door frame and slammed into the steel gate. Fingers shot through the gaps in the steel and clutched at Billy's arm. The Zombie missed the arm, but got his shirt sleeve and immediately snarled and began to pull back.

It lasted less than a full second before Beth's pistol roared. The zombie's head blew apart in the narrow hallway, black zombie blood running down the walls.

"Got you? Got you?" Beth asked.

"No... No... No, I ..." Billy couldn't find the words. Something moved outside the door, and he opened up on it. A second later there were four more Zombies flooding through the door. None of them made it to the gate, tripping over the other dead, and both Billy and Beth were firing immediately. One made it back out the door, a hole in its side that had blown away part of its spine as it had exited. Billy could not believe it was still able to move, but it was. Canted to one side, legs twitching as it ran, causing it to lurch from side to side. It disappeared into the darkness before either of them could get another shot in. The silence came back full.

"You have got to get your shit together," Beth said quietly.

"I got my shit together," Billy shot back.

"You never saw that one coming through the door. What if I hadn't shot it..."

"Well, fuck, _if you hadn't_... Never mind... Okay... I'll get my shit together."

She said nothing.

"Okay... Okay... Does us no good to get on each other... None at all... We can fix this tomorrow." He looked around the lobby.

"Help me for a moment?" he asked. He headed for a length of chain they had bought back to use for something, he couldn't remember what, but it was about to be re-purposed, he thought. As Beth held the light he wound the chain through the separated sections of the gate, pulled it tight and ran a short length of nylon rope through the eyes, tying it tightly.

He stepped back and looked it over. It would have to do until morning, her flashlight was already flickering, causing shadows to jump and fall on the walls. Batteries were getting tougher and tougher to find. He looked at his wrist and cursed low. Old habits died hard. Watches were worthless now. He hadn't worn one in a few days.

"I don't know either... I think a few hours until dawn," Beth said. "That should hold for a few hours, at least slow them down enough to shoot them if they do try to get through it."

"Well, I'll sit here and wait for it... All I can do," Billy said. "Go on back up and get some sleep. I got this." He settled back onto the step, sitting with his back to the upstairs.

Beth stayed silent for a moment and then came and sat next to him. "Got it with you," she said. She sat next to him, and he immediately lost his words. Her arm pressed against his own. The flashlight snapped off, and the heat of her arm became everything.

" _Billy?"_ His name whispered from the upstairs hallway: Jamie.

"I'm here until daybreak," Billy whispered back.

Silence. And then... "It's safe?"

"They won't get past us," Billy said.

She said nothing more. A few seconds later the door slammed upstairs. Billy sighed.

"Sorry," Beth said. She was aware how Jamie felt about her. Jamie and Billy were not really together, but Jamie felt she owned him. Billy didn't help matters by staying with her, sleeping with her, yet not making it official, and Jamie knew Billy was hung up on her too, Beth knew. For that matter, so was Scotty. She wasn't interested in either of them. She didn't feel like she absolutely had to have a man to protect her, define her. Yet ironically, she reminded herself, she was doing the same thing with Scotty. Staying when she didn't feel the same, couldn't feel the same. "I better go up... keep the peace." Beth said quietly.

"Yeah... I'm good here," Billy said. He wasn't though. He wanted her to stay; he just didn't know what he could do or say to get her to stay. Nothing, he supposed. "I'll be good. Morning's not far away." Her arm pulled away, and a moment later he heard her soft footfalls on the stairs as she ascended them. Billy sat quietly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, his machine pistol in his hands.

March 9th

618 Park Avenue: Seventh Floor 2B

(Afternoon)

Warming up, days longer. Nothing works so I can't track the hours, but I know the days are longer.

Donita folded the cover back on her notebook and slipped it into her pocket. She stood on the balcony that overlooked the city watching the fires that still burned here and there. It was ironic to her that the balcony faced West. Like she had never really left that world, only acquired a different view of it.

This was so much different than their own place. The west side, even the other side of the river over in Jersey, was almost entirely in flames now. Across the river, the same west side she was looking over at now, still burned brightly. And Harlem was strange. The gangs had taken over. First fighting among themselves, then taking over the streets. The drug infested blocks just off the interchanges where the white folks had sometimes driven down into pretending to be lost so they could buy their shit, take it back to their cozy, safe neighborhoods-probably a place just like this, Donita thought-and get high with their friends, closed down. The whole area blocked off. City buses pulled across the streets. They had tried to go there, she knew first hand what it was like.

She and Bear had left that area after just a few hours of wandering the streets, ducking in and out of the alleys to stay hidden, hearing the gunfire. The dead were one thing to have to deal with, she guessed the living would be the other thing everyone would have to contend with there, and there were too many dead. Too many poor in life, too many dead in death. And that was bad because death was not death any longer. Death was... Donita twisted her head and tried to put it into context, but she couldn't. There was no context. It made no sense. Death was still death except death was also now life. And life, the kind of life she knew, breathing, drawing breath, was becoming rare. Over there, if the dead didn't get you the gangs would. It was a no win situation. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she took a short breath involuntarily. Little angel wings flapping against her rib-cage. It was what always came to mind when it happened. She was almost out of medication too. She pushed it away. There was no time for it. It would have to be okay.

Fires burned over on the west side too. Nothing like Jersey though. There seemed to be a concerted effort, behind those barricades of buses, to get the fires out. It had been just over a week now since the city had collapsed. She and Bear had come here two days before. She thought back on it, playing the scene over in her head as she watched the fires burn across the river. Cliffside, North Bergen, Union City. She couldn't tell where the fires burned and where they left off. Maybe all of Jersey was on fire.

Two days prior...

They had walked right down the middle of the street, looking up at the buildings as they walked. Park Avenue looked bad, but nowhere near as bad as Harlem had looked.

618 rested above the door of this building in two foot tall brass letters. The door had been partly open. They had seen that from the street and walked closer.

The doorman, an elderly white-haired man, had been dead. Lying in the doorway preventing the door from closing and locking. The dead had killed him but not turned him. Or at least he had not turned yet. What a lot you learn in three days, she told herself now, as she remembered. They had dug in, shifted him outside the door. Bear had dragged him to the gutter as she had held the door. They had no sooner let the door close than he had sat up in the gutter of the street.

"Bear! He's only hurt," she had said, shocked. She had turned to Bear where he had stood behind her in the hallway. The words coming to her lips automatically.

"Baby," he had started. But that was when the doorman had hit the glass door. Rattling it in its frame. Scaring her so badly that she had peed herself a little. Bear had dragged her unprotesting, backwards down the hallway.

They had used the elevator. Taken it to the top of the building. There had still been electric in the building that first day. Now the elevator was dead, wedged open on their floor.

There had been an old lady in the apartment across the hall. She had come and stared as Bear had forced the handset and let them into the apartment.

"You know, Amanda Bynes will not care for that at all," she had told them as she stood in her doorway, clutching her dressing gown to her throat.

"Well, fuck Amanda Bynes," Bear had told her. He turned to her. "Not to put too fine a point on it," he added. She had shrunk back.

She blinked. "Well, I don't suppose she'll be back... Do you?" She hadn't waited for an answer but answered for herself. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "No. I don't suppose she will." She looked back up. "Well, you're welcome to it I guess. I guess it doesn't belong to anyone anymore... You just scared me is all." She stood blinking. Donita walked across the short distance and stuck out her hand.

"I don't think anyone who isn't here right now will ever be back," Donita had told her. She had held the old woman's cold, thin hand.

"Alice," The old woman said as Donita told her, her name. "Jefferson," she had added.

Bear chuckled from across the hall. Donita had turned her eyes to him. "Just found it amusing is all," Bear had told her.

"I wonder what Mister James might think about all of this," Alice had said. "We've never had... trouble like this," she had finished quietly.

"Mister James is your husband," Bear had asked kindly.

He tended to snap at people and then regret it after. He was so big that he scared people when he did that. Six foot three, and at two hundred and ninety, very close to three hundred pounds. But he was really an easy going soul, Donita knew. He had been trying to make up for snapping at the old woman a few seconds before.

"No, dear, our doorman. He's not supposed to let anyone in at all." She had clutched at her throat and the collar of her housecoat once more.

Donita had looked at Bear. He had opened his mouth and then closed it. She had turned her eyes to Alice. "Alice... Alice, the Zombies got him. They got your Mister James... I'm sorry," she had told her.

Alice had blinked. "I see. Well he'll probably lose his job if he's... Well if he's unable to do it," she had looked at Donita. "Do you think he's unable to do it?"

Donita nodded. "I'm pretty sure," She had said.

"Well... I wonder who will do it then?"

The silence had held in the hallway for a short time and Bear broke it. "Do you think you might want to come over here with us? We're going to try to ride it out... Can't last forever, right?" He had finished with the lock-set, swung open the door and looked into the gloomy interior of Amanda Bynes' apartment. He turned back to face her.

"No... Thank you, but I have always lived alone and I can't see changing it now... Have you seen these zombies? These dead people? I saw it on the T.V. before it quit working." She had peered up at Bear.

"Yeah. We've seen them... Had to fight our way through them." His hand had come up and scrubbed at his face and the beard that was beginning to grow there.

Alice had nodded. Her long robe lifted at floor level and a small white dog had stuck his head out from under the hem and looked up at Bear and Donita. Alice followed their eyes down. "Ge-boo," she had said. The dog looked up at her and then slipped his head back under the hem of the robe once more. He had poked his nose back out a few seconds later, fixed his eyes on Donita, and then slipped back under the robe for good. It seemed to Donita as though it hadn't really happened.

"A dog," Bear had said.

Alice had nodded. "I have been walking him in the daylight. They said... The T.V. Said... they can't come out in the daylight. Like vampires or something... They haven't bothered Ge-Boo and me... Have you seen them in the daylight?" She had asked.

"No," Bear had told her.

"No," Donita had agreed. "But you shouldn't go out. There are bad people out there... Not just zombies."

"You mean people that break into people's houses?" Alice had asked. She had looked from Donita to Bear.

"Yeah. Well, okay," Bear had agreed. "Just be careful... Alice," He had added her name as an afterthought. "Donita." Donita had nodded at Alice and then stepped into Amanda Bynes' apartment...

Now she looked out over the fires burning in Jersey. The air was full of ash and smoke. It seemed like it was always now. She turned and went back into the apartment, sliding the balcony door shut behind her.

Madison and Cammy

The street was empty. Madison went first, taking her time, then called to the others. Cammy and Mickey came around the corner a few seconds later. Cammy stopped, watching Madison where she waited, Mickey came slowly, trying to look everywhere at once, holding the machine pistol he carried pointed up at the sky.

Harlem was crazy. There were very few dead, but there were very few dead because the gangs were running all the sick and elderly out of the neighborhoods. They had watched from the safety of a rooftop that overlooked the projects, as some gang members had gone apartment to apartment in the projects, running the people there out into the street.

They had lined them up in the middle of the road and run them out of the projects, past the buses. Three different times one of the oldsters had turned to argue, or maybe just to make a point and they had clubbed them down, dragging them unconscious, out past the buses, and then shooting them in the head. After that they had begun going house to house looking for any other old people, sick, injured. Yeah, it was crazy in Harlem. They had decided to get out. There was no telling what might happen if they stayed.

Mickey finally lowered the machine pistol he carried to the ground. Took one more look around and then his eyes came back to Madison as he walked.

The shot rang out and they all flinched. Madison went into a crouch. She had reached out and grabbed Cammy, pulling her low too, so she did not see Mickey begin to fall. Did not look that way until he was crumpled on the ground like a small pile of dirty clothes. Her eyes shot up toward the buildings quickly, but they dropped as a voice spoke.

"Get the fuck up, Bitches." A tall dark-skinned kid, a kid, no more than that, walked from the darkened doorway of a building across the street. "I said, get the fuck up," he repeated as he walked toward them.

Cammy stood from her crouch and Madison stood with her. "You don't have to hurt us," Madison began.

"Good... Good. You bitches just get your asses moving and it'll be cool then." He motioned back the way they had come with his gun. Madison looked down at Mickey crumpled in the street, blood pooling around him, and got her feet moving. She held Cammy close as they walked slowly back into Harlem.

March 10th

618 Park Avenue: Seventh floor. 2B

Donita's Notebook:

March 10th: Warming up, days are longer. It feels like spring. It's early March. No way should it be this warm. My watch is working again, no rhyme or reason.

Donita stood now overlooking the city. It seemed that everything had changed in the last few days. Her watch said it was somewhere past midnight, if it could be trusted. It had quit, started again, and she had set it for 9:00 PM at sunset. The days were longer, but she had no idea how much. It should be close. But so many strange things had happened that she wasn't sure it could be trusted. The days seemed longer. What good was a twenty-four hour watch if the days were all screwed up? Longer? And everything else was bad too, her own life was falling apart, and she couldn't even bring herself to tell Bear about it, or how much it scared her.

The old woman, Alice, had taken her dog G-Boo out a few days before and she had not come back. Donita had opened the door a crack as she had been leaving and warned her again about how bad it was outside, but Alice had simply pretended not to see her, or hear her, when she had spoken. She had walked off down the hallway: Smartly dressed, G-Boo wearing a small, pink sweater, and Donita had not seen her since.

Bear had called the elevator back up a few hours later, locked it down, and then jammed it open with a chair from Amanda Bynes' kitchen. It was clear that if Alice was not back she would not be back. The streets had suddenly been crawling with the dead. The daylight meant absolutely nothing to them at all. An hour or two into the darkness the electricity quit, and the building, most of Manhattan with it, had gone dark. Now this.

Donita looked out on the city now. The fires were everywhere. Twice, a few days back, the planes had overflown the city. Bear had been down in the park trying to find out what was going on. She had been alone, jumping at every sound. The planes had swooped low, blue-tinged mist spraying from the open cargo holds. Military planes. Jets? She wasn't sure. She had seen them clearly from the seventh floor, but knew nothing at all about airplanes, military or otherwise. Soldiers in gas masks stood in the open bay doorways and directed the thick hoses that sprayed the city. Three men crouched in the open cargo holds of each plane.

She had slid the glass balcony doors closed. Fashioned a rag around her mouth and waited for Bear to come back. He had not been long. They had been able to smell something on the air. A thick, cloying smell that reminded Donita of old perfume. It had left a nasty taste in their mouths, but it didn't seem to do anything to them other than that. A few hours later they had ventured back out on the balcony. The rags tossed aside. If it had been something to kill them it would have already done that they had both reasoned.

The city had fallen quiet. That night the recently risen from the dead were dead once more. They had fallen sprawled into the streets where they had stood after crawling from their hiding places. Dead again. They had thought it was over. Hoped it was over.

Donita stood now and looked at the city. They weren't dead any longer. What ever it had been it had not been able to kill them, if that had been what it was supposed to do. In fact, it had seemed to make them even stronger once they had come back the second time; stronger and smarter. She could see them in the streets below now. They walked purposefully from doorway to doorway. Testing the locks. Stopping at every shadow. Investigating. A car here, a doorway there. Looking up to catch her eyes. Maybe just to let her know that they knew she was still there. And Bear slept behind her in the bed. Unaware of it all. Oblivious to it.

And there was irony here. Irony, because she was dying. She was dying and she was sure that they knew it. She was sure that was the reason they kept looking up at her where she stood on the balcony. Judging the time between now, and when she would be one of them.

She blinked away tears as she looked out over the night darkened city: The fires that burned; the dead that prowled the streets. She had popped her last nitro the day before. It had taken the pain in her chest down, but it had not stopped it. Too much excitement. Too much damage from the drug use that had ravaged her body. She hadn't touched a thing in two years, but it had still killed her. Just as she had known it would. It had just taken its time. Twenty-three and a bad heart. It thundered and trip-hammered in her chest. Out of sync. Out of beat. Out of time. And the dead knew it. They were only waiting for her to stop, keel over, and...

She wondered about that 'and' as she looked out over the burning city. And what? She would raise back to life? She didn't think so, but she didn't know. She was sure they had to bite you for that to happen. Even so, if you did come back on your own... She stood brooding. Feeling the pressure build in her chest as evening came on and the fires continued to burn.

She couldn't make Bear have to do for her, she decided at last, and there probably wasn't much more time for her: If she intended to go she should.

She turned and looked at Bear's outline on the bed. She couldn't chance waking him either to say goodbye. And that hurt too, but it would probably not hurt for long. He would stop her. Possibly read her mind. He had done it before; just seemed to know what she was thinking. She turned a few minutes later, walked quietly across Amanda Bynes' plush carpet, eased open the door, and stepped out into the hallway.

Lenox Avenue

She slipped from the shadows and ran along from building to building until she reached the end of the block. She had expected to hear gunshots behind her. Expected to find herself falling to the ground dead, a bullet in her back, but the bullet never came. They must have stayed asleep.

They, were four guys who had come around a few days before. She had opened the door to her apartment. Stupid. If she could have gone back and undone it she would have, but she had been so scared. She had been so alone. The kid at the peephole had seemed so young. Scared himself. All she had done was open the door an inch or two, just slipped the chain, and the other three had slammed into it. The four of them had easily broken the chain and pushed past her into the apartment. She had given in. There had been no sense in fighting them. What could she do?

She had become their toy. Passed from one to the other. Yesterday morning they had come back from someplace with a new girl. She had no idea where they had found her. Sometime late afternoon, before dinner, they had killed her.

Something had occurred. She hadn't been able to tell what. But she had heard the shot, and then they had bought her out from the bedroom and dumped her on the living room floor. Naked. A bullet hole in her head. And she had known it would not be long before it would be her turn to be dead. She had just known it.

She had been cooking for them. A little grill out on the balcony. They went out and bought things back. Canned stuff, she cooked it on the grill in a pot, and they ate it like it was the finest gourmet food available anywhere. She had gone into the bathroom. Opened the medicine chest, and stared at the sleeping pills she had put there, until one of them, Randy, she thought his name was, had come and yelled through the bathroom door. She had taken the pills and dumped them into her pocket, flushed the toilet, and went back out to the kitchen.

She had put all of them in the food. Mixed them right in with the canned spaghetti and they had wolfed them right down. Never had a clue. Now they were all out. Maybe dead. There had been an awful lot of pills.

She had been with Bobby a few days before, when she had thought to get the pills. Bobby was nice, if there could be anything close to nice with these guys. He had looked her up and down and that had been that. She imagined he had probably never had a woman that looked like her in his entire life. Maybe never had a woman at all, it was clear he was an inexperienced lover. He had no idea what he was doing. He was rough, cruel even. Nice only meant he didn't beat her, he still used he as he pleased.

He had taken her with him because the others had been out and he had not wanted to leave her alone in the apartment, guessing, correctly, that she would not be there when he came back. But, he had been bored, left alone, and he wanted to look through some shops and stores in the neighborhood.

It had been broad daylight, but there had been no one to stop him or any of the other gangs that roved the streets and did as they pleased. He had broken into a pawn shop. She had talked him into going into the medication aisle at the Korean store down the street. And she had picked up the sleeping pills. He had seen her do it. She had told him it was Midol. Relief for period pain. She had picked up a box of Tampons too. He had turned red and had not asked her about them again. As a bonus he had left her alone that night also. Probably thinking that she had been indisposed. Fine. Whatever. It didn't matter any longer.

It was nearly dark by the time they had finally passed out. That had pissed her off. Pissed her off and scared her too. The dead were out here somewhere. The dark was their time.

They had died off when the planes had come over, but they were back now. Strong, or becoming strong. She wanted to get as far away as she could before the street was completely lost to the night. There were people down the street, two blocks or so down. She had seen them coming and going. Making sport of the zombies. Enticing them into chasing them and then killing them with head shots from the shotguns they carried; routing them out in the daylight and running them over with cars, shooting them as they roared by, racing the block from end to end in a souped up car they had gotten from somewhere. They had been out earlier. If she could get down the street she was sure they would take her in. Positive.

She stopped at the end of the street, caught her breath leaning against the side of a pickup truck, and then took off once more at a fast walk.

She was halfway through the block when she realized someone was following her, and her heart sank like a stone. Bobby... Had to be. She stopped and peered back through the shadows and dark. The moonlight was bright, but it was still not easy to see. She thought she saw movement at the corner of a building two buildings back. She screwed up her courage.

" _Bobby... Bobby don't be sore... Don't..."_ She stopped and squinted into the gloom. Two people had come from around the edge of that house. Two, and neither of them looked anything like Bobby. Both were shuffling and lurching as they came. Her heart leapt high in her throat. Seeming to clog her airway. A strangled squawk came from her open mouth. She swore under her breath and turned to run.

He caught her under the arms. He must have been standing right behind her all along, she realized.

"Hey... Hey, there's no..." She stopped in mid word and began to scream at the rotted face that angled down at her own face. His hands clawed at her throat, closing off her screams and then his teeth found her and he began to tear and bite. A second later the others joined in, dragging her to the ground and then out into the road. They left her under the street lights, her blood pooling around her head.
THREE

The Docks

Donita walked along aimlessly. The smell of the river was heavy on the air and she was following it. She was unsure what she had in mind. The tears continued as she walked. It wasn't fair, she continued to tell herself, but telling herself it wasn't fair didn't do anything for her situation. And here she was wandering around in the night where the dead ruled. Like she wanted the exact opposite of what she had told Bear that she wanted. Like, instead of dying, she wanted to slip into forever alive like the zombies seemed to be. Like she was some sort of... Some sort of zombie bait... Teasing them.

But there were no zombies around, or if they were she couldn't see them, hear them, feel them. She pressed her hand flat against her chest. The pain was worse. Much worse. And she wondered how much more she could take. How much more her body could handle. She stopped and drew several deep breaths, trying to ease the pain that seemed to close on her chest like a fist.

When the pain eased a little, she started off down the street once more, heading toward the river.

March 11th

L.A.

Billy and Beth

Billy was up on the roof. Beth, Jamie, Winston and Scotty were standing at the edge of the building as he was, looking out over the city. Things were crazy, and they seemed to be getting worse as the days rolled by.

The police precinct was still burning. It had started sometime during the night two days before, and since there was no one to put the fire out, it had been raging for hours now. A few minutes ago, the roof of the building next door to the precinct burst into flames. Maybe the fire had started inside, or the extreme heat from the burning police precinct had caused it to burst into flame, spontaneous combustion, but it was a strange thing to watch. It appeared as though it had simply burst into flames all on its own.

The animated conversation about whether it had been spontaneous combustion or a fire source from inside the other building that had simply burned through, had kept up for a few moments, and then they had all lapsed back into silence. Beth spoke now.

"Where would we go?" she asked.

"I think southeast," Scotty threw in.

"Why not north or northeast," Jamie asked.

"Makes no difference, I suppose, but this winter it might. That's why I think southeast." Billy said.

Beth nodded. "What's the radio say?"

"It's bad everywhere. Different people, different days, all talking about the dead. Some talk about the living too, gangs, shit like that, but the big deal is the dead. Every major city... Boston, Hartford, Manhattan, San Fran, Providence, Scranton, Miami... there are more. Every day you hear more places, and that's bad. But then there are the ones that you don't hear from anymore, and that's even worse," Billy said.

"So how is southeast better?" Beth asked.

"Might not be better, as far as the dead are concerned: It might not be, but it will be warmer. I mean, no problem now, but winter isn't really over up north, and it will come again, and we had better be somewhere with our supplies settled in for it when it does come again," Billy answered.

Beth nodded. "All of us?"

"A few others," Winston said. "Emma, down street. She has a baby. Don and Ginny across the street. They got a few friends too."

"Babies... I don't know about babies," Billy said. "Adults, okay. Children are bad enough, but babies? How do we take care of them?"

"Billy, should we leave them here to die?" Scotty asked.

"Fuck, Scotty. I didn't say that. Do we invite them along to get killed? I mean we're leaving the safety... _Talking about_ leaving the safety of this building and going on the road."

Beth raised her hand. "Scotty misspoke, or you mistook what he said. Can we agree on that?" Scotty turned away and then turned back and nodded. Billy nodded too. "Tomorrow... Tomorrow we scout it out. We need trucks... not a car. Something that can get us over the bad spots. And we'll have to see how far we have to go before we can hope to drive. We sure as hell can't drive here." She shrugged.

"Tomorrow," Billy agreed.

"Yeah," Scotty added.

Beth turned and looked back over the city, watching the building next to the precinct burn.

New York: Park Avenue.

The Dead Girl In The Street:

They came from the shadows, the smell of blood pulling them. The young man in the lead approached the girl's body where it lay on the pavement. They had watched it far into the darkness and now into the sunrise. But unlike some it had not come back. He looked over at her now. Her eyes dull marbles, her mouth wide, as if frozen in a scream. Curled on her side, one sneaker twenty feet away. The pink sock on that foot had a hole in the toe, and her toe peeked out, red polish glinting in the early light.

They had watched as the other dead, the slow ones, had gotten her last night. Not that they wouldn't have gotten her themselves, they had been following her too. But the others had gotten her first. They had chased them off before they could take her too far into death, to the place where she could not come back. But sometimes they didn't come back. No reason, no explanation, they just didn't.

He walked across the asphalt. The sunlight bothered his eyes, but he wore dark glasses to protect them. He walked up to the girl's corpse and toed it with one heavy work boot. She rocked stiffly.

"Done for," he said. His voice was clear, but distorted. Two in the small crowd behind him whined. He stepped back from the body. "Go ahead," he said in his rasping whisper, "Go ahead."

The small crowd of seven fell on the girl's body and began to feed on it where she lay in the road.

Bear

Bear awoke to the early morning light spilling into the bedroom. He turned to hold Donita, but she was gone, that side of the bed cold. He lay still for a few minutes. Incredulous that he had not only fallen asleep in the midst of all of this, but shocked that he had slept through the night. It was a split second later that he launched himself from the bed. Nearly flying up, and landing neatly on the flats of his feet and running down the short hall to the living room in one smooth motion. Propelled by fear.

It was crazy to think that there was anything wrong. He knew about her heart problem. She had told him it was fine. But the panic had already slipped into his brain and pinned his thoughts down. She had just talked to him yesterday. She had just made him promise yesterday that he would... He pushed it out of his head as he slid into the living room. Empty.

The strength fled from his body as he stared at the back of the door. His hand reached out and plucked the note from the door. The pushpin went flying. He read it slowly and then read it again as the tears began to slide from his eyes.

The outskirts of the city

They stood in the shadows of the factory as the morning come on. The fires still burned in the distance. Fires were heat. Fires were bad. Fires frightened them all and they wanted nothing to do with them. Several times they had been tempted to go out into the city and feed, but the fires had been too frightening. Too frightening even with the smell of so much fresh death on the wind. So tempting... So tempting, but the fire was fierce. A pain of its own. Heat was for those who lived the small life. For those who were dead, heat was an enemy. Pain. Corruption.

They stood and silently waited for a leader. A leader was promised. None of them knew where that leader would come from, when that leader would come, but they knew they would have one. They sniffed the air and waited. Some whining lightly, deep in their throats, other times growling, salivating in their own dry way, eyes running as they scented the air and waited.

Last Wishes

Bear

The morning moved on. He had finally gotten himself up from the floor and went and looked out over the city. His sadness and depression stole away as the sun rose, and was replaced with a steely resolve. She had asked him, made him promise, that he would bury her if anything happened to her. She had a fear of the zombies getting to her, biting her, and turning her. She had made him promise. Promise, like she had known. Like it was a real thing. And he had thought it was just fear talking. Just things you said when you were afraid. Just in case things. Not real things.

He had known about her heart. He supposed, he admitted to himself now, that he had even known that she could die if she did not have the kind of treatment she needed. Could... He had known too that it was harder for her. He had thought immediately about her heart when she had talked to him, but he had not questioned her. Her eyes had said something to him. Something like, Ask me and I will tell you the truth. All you have to do is ask. And he had not wanted to talk about the truth. Did not want to talk about the truth because the truth scared him too badly. So he had not asked. He had pretended he had never seen that permission in her eyes.

She had talked. She had talked about the things that scared her. She had been worried she would die in the night, turn, and then go after him. They had talked about it, but only briefly. He had shut the conversation down. He didn't want to believe it, and hearing it only forced him to believe it. He had been selfish. He had given in to his fear when he should have given in to her need to talk to him. Tell him, and here he was. It was a real thing now. She would not have left if something had not made her leave. A real thing, he repeated to himself. He could see no other reason why she would have left. And what about the baby. The mere thought made his eyes begin to leak.

The note had said next to nothing. Just... 'I'm Sorry... I love you.' At least it said that. At least. But why had she gone?

He took the stairs down to the lobby. The stairwell had been empty, but the lobby had not. The zombies had long before crashed in through the door and taken over the lobby. He had eased open the door to find two of them laying in the shadows, sleeping, or whatever it was they did that passed for sleeping. He stepped quietly out of the stairwell, shoved a piece of broken board into the fire door opening to keep it from closing and locking him out, and then walked quietly to where the two lay.

They stank of death. Rotted flesh, corruption. Their chests did not rise and fall. They did not move. Their eyes were partially slitted. It would be easy to believe that they really were dead and had been for some time. The gun was in his hand. He had flicked off the safety before he had stepped out into the lobby. He walked up to the first one, turned slightly to take in the second one.

Whatever did not work, their hearing did. As soon as he shot the first one the second would be up and on him. He looked from one to the other, lowered the gun and shot the first one in the head.

The second one screamed as he turned. A high piercing sound that distracted him for the briefest of seconds. She began to come up off the floor, her eyes wild, flaccid breasts swinging freely, flapping like sails, and he nearly let her get him. He became so distracted that she was very close to having him before he finally pulled the trigger and shot her.

The first shot took her in the chest and flung her back like a rag doll. But that was all it did. She was scrabbling back for him as Bear stepped into her path and pushed the pistol into her head, squeezing the trigger as he did. She flew back this time and didn't rise again. Rotted brains splattered across the wall behind her. She slid down the wall.

Bear stood for a second, his breaths coming in long ragged pulls. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, then turned and went back to the stairwell. His concern was whether he should leave the door open or closed. Open and they might get in. Closed and he would have to smash the handle set off himself when he got back, so that he could get inside. And that made him wonder if he would be back. If he would find her, take care of her, and then make it back to here. He had no way to know.

A minute later he kicked the board from the propped open door, and stepped back into the lobby. It closed with a solid steel clunk. If he came back he would break in. Better that than leave it open for the dead, if he didn't make it back before nightfall, or if they came looking in the daylight. It was the only safe place he had. He walked across the lobby and stepped out onto the cracked city sidewalk.

He walked a short distance north before he found a stalled delivery truck at the curb. The keys dangled from the switch. The shattered drivers side window and the blood smeared down the door told the story of what had happened to the driver. Scattered sheets, towels and uniforms had tumbled from the shelves and fallen into the aisle of the truck when the driver had driven it into the curb. But there were no dead lurking in the back of the truck.

The battery was flat. He pushed the truck a few hundred yards before he came to a long slow downgrade. He jumped in, put the truck in second gear, and then popped the clutch out a few seconds later. The motor roared to life. The transmission whined, the truck jerking and bucking, throwing him against the dashboard. A second later he downshifted into first and began to wind his way around the traffic that clogged the intersection at the bottom of the short hill. He began looking for her. Convinced that he would find her, be lead to her somehow.

Leaving L. A.

Billy and Beth: March 12th

To leave the city with nine people they were going to need a truck, and that was going to have to wait until they made their way out of the city and all the stalled and wrecked vehicles that clogged the main streets.

They had hoped to cross over the river on the Firestone Boulevard bridge, but after a three hour walk, most of which consisted of crawl-walking over the tops of stalled vehicles, they had been forced to turn back when they reached the beginning of the bridge. The bridge was badly damaged, the pavement gone, leaving a ragged drop into the water below, and the water seemed to be much deeper than usual, nearing the tops of the concrete side to side, and fast moving.

They had debated back tracking and crossing the water to the west instead. Billy had pretty much let Beth decide. She was, after all, more familiar with the city. In the end they had decided to continue south toward the freeway where they could hope for a better crossing. That had caused an argument between Billy and Jamie that had only ended because Billy had walked away from her.

"You want her, not me. Her... Why don't you just say it, Billy... Just say it." She screamed the last as Billy picked up his pace walking faster still. There was nothing he could say. It was true after all, and the truth couldn't be hidden in these circumstances.

The light was fading from the day as he found a small shop, the glass covered by steel panels. The panels were dented, even punctured in a few places by something he assumed had been heavy and sharp, possibly an ax, but they had held. He rolled a cigarette and stood, one boot heel resting against the brick wall behind him, the other holding his weight on the cracked concrete. He watched Beth as she walked toward him.

She smiled. "Roll one for me?"

Billy rolled one and handed it to her. She fished a lighter from her own pocket and lit it.

"We have to settle in for the night... Too dark to keep on. Who knows what sort of freaks are waiting for night to make a move on us."

Billy nodded. "Dozens... No doubt..." He sighed. "We'll need a place for all of us." He tapped his free hand against the brick. "Place looks untouched, it will take a little work to get in, but we could spend the night here."

Beth inhaled deeply and let the smoke roll slowly out of her mouth. She turned the cigarette around and looked at it. "Killing me, I know it, and I couldn't care less. Tastes so fucking good and calms down that itch in my brain."

Billy laughed. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter what we do now. I think the life expectancy of the human race just dropped a whole shit load."

Beth laughed along with him, took another hard pull on the cigarette, looked at it once more and dropped it to the pavement. She ground it out with her boot heel. She raised her eyes to Billy and the laughter was gone, ground out like the cigarette. He knew the next words she spoke would be serious, but he wasn't prepared for them when they came a few moments later. "It's just you and me." She frowned as she finished.

"What?"

"What? Come on, Billy, what did you think she was gonna do? You knew this was a problem... Scotty ran you down after you walked away... It took very little to turn them around... They're heading south... Lynwood Park, I think. Scotty thinks there are safe places there and more people too."

"And? ... What did you say?"

Beth shrugged. "I said go... If you fall apart after a little tough walking we don't need you..."

"Jamie?"

Beth laughed, but the laugh didn't touch her eyes, instead they narrowed, hurt. "Called me a cunt. Told me I could have you."

"Wow... Right to the C word... Must have been pissed..." Billy straightened from the wall. "But you stayed with me."

"Yeah... About that... Nothing's changed, Billy. I don't want us to get off on the wrong foot. I like you... I even like you a great deal, but you're not the guy for me... I don't know where that guy is. Even if I let you be the guy you couldn't handle me, Billy."

She had shifted her rifle from her shoulder, she stepped forward now and rested the barrel end against the fat padlock that held the steel shutters on one side. "Better move off a little further," Beth told him. "I have no idea how this is gonna go."

The noise was deafening in the quiet late afternoon. A flock of pigeons startled from a nearby rooftop, lifted into the air. Billy followed them with his eyes as they lifted into the gloom. Suddenly a larger shadow appeared above the pigeons and a split second later a much larger bird dropped into the flock, talons extended, and emerged with a pigeon clasped in those same talons. The bird wheeled, climbing on an air current and then began to drop to a nearby roof where it apparently had a nest.

"Jesus," Billy breathed.

Beth chuckled. "Hawk," she turned her eyes back to the padlock. "Come on, Billy, lets get down for the night." She reached down and carefully pulled the jagged metal from the eye holes where it had rested in the bottom of the steel frame. Together they lifted the shutters.

Donita

The Lady In Waiting

She opened her eyes. The moon was high in the sky. A silver blue-tinged orb. A glow rose up to meet it. Brighter than the moonlight. She lay quietly and watched it for some time. Content to watch it move slowly across the sky. At least for the time being.

It occurred to her, after some time, that the man who had shot her, she recalled that now, lying here in the quiet night, one of the men had shot her when they were through with her... After they had raped her... He had bent over her and shot her... But, the man that shot her, must have done a bad job of it. Must have missed her completely, or skinned her, as they used to say when they were kids. Or a flesh wound. She had heard that used in countless movies on television...

" _Bobby! Bobby, are you shot bad? Are you?"_

" _Naw, Bill. Naw. It's only a flesh wound. A flesh wound is all."_

Who hadn't heard that in a movie before, she asked herself. And she had grown up in the projects. She had seen people get shot and live through it. Even get shot in the head and live through it. And she had not been shot in the head. She remembered that.

She tensed for the pain and then sat up all at once. No pain. None at all. The moonlight was bright, but at the street level she was laying in shadows. She gazed down at her chest. Her shirt was plastered to her chest with dried blood. It baffled her. She wondered if she could make it back to the apartment and Bear. Maybe... Maybe...

It baffled her because it seemed to be a great deal of blood yet there was no pain. It baffled her because the blood was dry, and no way could the blood be dry. Why... Why the man had just shot her a few minutes ago. She had left the apartment and...

She couldn't make it all come back. She had gone so that she would not chance coming back and attacking Bear. It had seemed a crazy thought, but the longer she had thought of it the less crazy it had seemed. The more it seemed to make sense to her...

They had come at her down by the river. Three blocks... Four blocks from the apartment, surely it had been no more than that. Her heart had begun to skip and beat irregularly She had hoped she could make the river. She thought if she could throw herself in, it might work. But it was clear she wasn't going to make it. She had stumbled into an alley, slumped against the wall, pulled the pistol Bear had gotten for her from her pocket, and slipped the barrel into her mouth.

The taste of the steel, and the coldness of the barrel had made her gag, and that had been her mistake. She had not seen them when she stumbled into the alley. As soon as the gun left her mouth, one of them, the same one who had ended up shooting her... Shooting her with her own gun as a matter of fact, had stepped from the shadows and snatched the gun from her hands. The others had surged forward then. They had dragged her deeper into the shadows and taken her.

She stared up at the full, bloated moon hanging directly overhead. Except it had been early evening and now it was not early evening. The moon did not hang in the middle of the sky during the early evening. She touched her chest, felt across the swell of her breast and found the bullet hole.

A big bullet hole. A scary bullet hole. She tried to suck in a deep breath and panicked when she realized she couldn't draw the breath. Not being able to breath was not possible. People could not live if they can not breathe. The panic rose fast and hot, bright in her thoughts.

The hole was crusted with blood, but sticky wet towards the center. And she probed it even in her panic. Maybe despite her panic. Her baby finger slid right in up to the second joint. Her breath still wouldn't come. She pulled harder. Harder. No good.

She struggled to her feet, still no pain: Still no breath. She staggered off down the street. Weaving, she saw. Not surprising, I'm dying. I'm dying because I can't breathe. I...

She Stopped in the middle of the street. She was dead... Dead or dreaming.... That was all that made sense. Nothing else did.

She had lain on the ground for... She looked down at her wrist, 9:29 pm. It meant nothing at all to her. Watches really couldn't keep time anymore. They could only record passing time if you had a point of reference. And she hadn't thought to look at her wrist when the whole thing had started, so she did not know how long she had lain there gazing up at the stars, and it didn't matter. The last time she had looked at it, it had read sometime just past midnight... She had been on the balcony; looking out at the city. Over twenty hours had passed then, and how could that be? And did it matter?

The thing that mattered was that she had lain there awake, gazing up at the moon and she had felt no pain. Same as she felt no pain now. She had lain there gazing up at the moon and she had not been breathing. Same as she wasn't breathing now. And it had been a long time. A long time she had lain there. A long time she had not been able to breath, draw air. She was not dying at all, she was dead already.

She let the panic bleed away. A dream or really dead, she decided.

Pinch yourself and wake up.

She didn't wait, she took a piece of the flesh on her side and pinched. Nothing. No pain. No waking in pain. Nothing. She did it again, pinching harder. Nothing at all. She looked down at the flesh between her fingers. Smashed flat. It should hurt and it did not hurt. She let go, smoothed her shirt, her blood-encrusted-shirt, her mind added, and then looked off down the street. The street was in shadow. She began to walk.

At first her vision was blurred, but as she walked on it had changed. Her eyes had changed. The world seemed to jump suddenly into sharp focus once more.

She had stopped, her knees buckling at the sudden urge to reverse and run away. She had actually taken two scrambling steps backward before she realized she could not run away from this... This change, she decided to term it.

She made her way to the water, and she had seen herself reflected back from the water of the harbor. Her hair was a ruined mass of black. Stringy, tangled, plastered to her head like a helmet in places. But it was her eyes that had caused her to stare the longest. They were cloudy marbles in the moonlight.

She had seen those eyes reflected back from the water of the harbor. She had gone for the water because you had to have water to survive, every living thing did. She had not yet accepted that she was no longer a living thing.

The moonlight reflected off the trash strewn water. A drowned cat floated by and transfixed her. She had been torn between vomiting and reaching into the water and retrieving the cat... Bringing it to her mouth... Tasting it... But the moment had passed and she had shaken herself... Come back to herself. And that was when she had seen her eyes reflected in the harbor water.

She was only hours dead, and it all came back. They had shot her, They had.... But she had run from the group of men after they had shot her. They had laughed and let her go and so she had run.

The pain in her chest worse than it had ever been, and she had run right into the arms of someone else... Some thing else. She never saw him... Her... Whatever it had been. It's teeth had found her neck, the blood had spurted, and she had spiraled down into darkness, the pain no more.

She bent to bring the water in her cupped hands to her dry, cracked lips, and she had seen her eyes. Dull, colorless marbles in her head. Barely reflecting light at all. And she had known. Known she was dead. Not that all the other things had not already told her, but that her mind had finally clicked over. Taken the information it had shoved to the corners of her cloudy thoughts and thrown it out into the conscious.

She had shaken it off. Scooped the water to her mouth, swallowed, and then gagged, vomiting the water back up. Her body would not accept it. She had stood from the water, shaky, unsure of anything.

There was smoke in the air. She could see it and it frightened her. Suddenly frightened her. She looked down at the water, shiny, black, and then something jumped into her mind. A word... South... South... And it made sense. It made sense of the fear of fire. It made sense of not being able to breath. It made sense of the hole in her chest. It explained nothing, yet it made perfect sense.

She turned in the street. She did not know north from south. For a second that seemed to matter, but as another second slipped by, it stopped mattering at all. She stood for a second longer and then walked off into the shadows of the street.

L.A.: March 13th

Beth and Billy

The trek east out of the city was much harder than Billy and Beth had thought it would be.

It was close to noon before they reached Alameda and decided to try to find some kind of four wheel drive SUV at one of the many car lots that dotted the sides of the service roads.

It had been slow going until they reached the El Segundo Boulevard. The stalled traffic had been much lighter there, and they had been able to drive part of the way by cutting into the parking lots of fast food restaurants that dotted almost the entire length of the highway. They had followed that to Willmington and picked up a truck that had seen better days. Getting the truck had not been a problem; there were several used car lots along the road. They had used the parking lots to swing around the worst of the traffic, and that had worked well until they had intersected Compton Boulevard. It was hopelessly packed with stalled traffic. They had left the truck, which had sounded as if it was close to dead anyway, and struck out on foot again. Beth led the way as they cut cross lots through Compton Woodley Airport.

Crossing the dead airfield had been unnerving for both of them. The runways had cracked, and either lifted skyward, or tilted down into the ground. Several blackened skeletons of large aircraft dotted the airfield. Most of them were so badly burned that they had been unable to tell what they had been before. Billy thought a couple of them may have been military aircraft, but as badly twisted as they were it was impossible to be sure.

One large plane sat tilted skyward on a chunk of runway that had separated from the surrounding pavement. The plane looked untouched, and almost as though it was some sort of rocket ship waiting to be launched skyward. Luggage, some burned, some untouched, was scattered across the airfield in every direction, and many of the suitcases were burst, with papers and clothing scattered everywhere along with other personal effects. There were bodies here too.

On their way through the city they had seen very few bodies. It had been unsettling to both of them. Fewer bodies meant more undead. They had both wondered aloud if the changing was happening that fast. Raising the dead faster as time slipped by. The bodies they had seen had not been killed by the Earthquakes. They bore head wounds, and appeared to have been dead for only a short period. Possibly only the last two or three days, they decided.

The bodies at the airport were concentrated around the terminal building. The huge glass windows were peppered with holes, and in some cases completely blown inward, as if a battle had taken place for the terminal. Most of the bodies inside were concentrated behind the long rows of seats in the main lobby, as if they had been trying to use the seats for cover. It had apparently done no good. They paused only briefly, wondering what had occurred before they moved on. The overwhelming stench in the shattered terminal building drove them out. The wrecked planes, where they had expected to see bodies scattered all around, were empty.

Occasionally they heard gunfire around them, and twice explosions from further north, behind them had startled them. They had hurried along fearing the sounds, but fearing more the possibility that the owners of the guns might find them. They walked in silence across the remainder of the shattered airfield, and they were both glad when they left it behind them and eventually came to 91. 91 was traffic packed and they made their way across the steel roof tops once more, crossing under 91 on South Central and making their way along the sides of the road to E Del Amo Boulevard.

Here, like the Martin Luther King Highway, black topped parking areas fronted all manner of fast food restaurants, store chains and shops, which bordered both sides of the strip. It wouldn't necessarily assure a way around the stalled traffic, Billy realized, but it appeared as though it would give them a much better chance of getting to 405.

Billy led them towards the rear garage area of a truck dealership where they found a full size four wheel drive Chevy pickup. Billy had worked at a dealership before, and recognized the garage area as the prep shop.

"When someone buys a new car," Billy said, "or truck, or whatever, they have to prep it. Take the plastic off the seats, fill the tank, wax it, sort of get it ready for the customer, you know?"

"I thought they came from the factory all ready to go?" Beth said.

"Well... they do, sort of," Billy agreed, "but, they have plastic over the seats to protect them, and oil drips from the cars overhead on the transport trucks; dirt gets tracked into them when the guys move them around the lot. Sometimes they may have a scratch, or small dent that the body shop guys have to fix, and they get paint over-spray all over the car; dust in it, you name it. I used to have to prep cars, and it's not much fun. Minimum wage type of job and the salesman who sold the car is usually breathing down your neck all the time you're getting it ready. I hated it. I figured though, if we're going to find a truck all ready to go, this would be the first place to look. Gassed up and the whole nine yards. They even waxed it for us." Billy finished, trying to break the somber mood that had set in as they crossed the airfield.

His effort worked partially, Beth offered him a small smile as she spoke. "You know a lot of things don't you?"

"Not really," Billy said. "I just worked at a lot of different jobs. Mainly just to stay employed, but also, I guess, because I believe you should learn as much as you possibly can. It worked for me. I grew up with a lot of guys who were constantly unemployed. Maybe they were carpenters, or roofers, or auto mechanics, whatever. When things would get bad, they'd get laid off. Not that I never got laid off, I did, but if I got laid off I could go to work somewhere else fairly quickly. I can practically build a house from the ground up, and do all the rough and finish, electrical, plumbing, and carpentry. The same with cars. I just learn well I guess, and it paid off. Someday I'd like to build my own house."

"I've always wanted to own a house," Beth said, the tentative smile had grown wider as she listened to Billy talk. "I never thought I would live anywhere except that crummy apartment. If I never own a house I guess that would be fine with me, as long as I never have to live in that dump again."

Billy was nodding his head as she finished speaking. "I know what you mean. I had a crummy little place in a little town in northern New York. I used to take all the overtime I could get, so I wouldn't have to go back to it too soon. I really hated it, I mean totally. I had this dream of buying some land and building my own house, when this is over that's what I would like to do. Just find a nice place and build a house. Maybe have some cows, I don't know much about cows, but I could learn. I guess that sounds kind of stupid, but it really is what I want to do, and if I make it through this in one piece, I'm going to."

"It doesn't sound stupid to me at all," Beth said, "in fact it sounds like a good plan, a good dream to hold on to. I've never really dared to dream. I guess you know that. I'm not making any excuses, and I'm not really ashamed of how I lived. I really didn't have many choices. It seems now though as if I do. I guess now it's okay to dream. You think?"

"I think so," Billy agreed. "I mean if you can't dream, what's the use, right?" she nodded her head as if to say yes before Billy continued. "Like, I live my life, and you live your life. You believe what you want, and I'll believe what I want. You see?"

"I do," Beth said. "I guess I'm sort of the same way. I always tried to live without hurting people. I was getting pretty bitter though, I have to admit. I just saw too much that didn't make any sense to me, and I could never understand why, if there was a God, he would let so much bad exist. I guess though, if people want it, it's going to be there. People thought I was bad, but I never really dared to look at myself. I guess I was bad, to a certain extent, but what was I supposed to do?" she seemed pensive.

"I had family, but... Well, you know.... I guess I don't want to get into that. Suffice to say I couldn't be with them. So I was on the street before you came to L.A. ... Before this last time, and I had to live. I prayed. I prayed a lot, but God never seemed to hear me. I guess I just gave up. I lost a lot of friends on the streets. It's sort of like a family, I don't know if you can understand that or not, but it is. We all tried to watch out for one another, but it didn't always help. When you live your life that way, you can't expect to get any help from the cops either. I guess I just tried to stay alive from day to day." She laughed, "And it was all about to change... I didn't see you, but they gave me the job singing." She had lost her smile as she spoke, replacing it with a wistful pursing of her lips and a sadness that sat deeply within her eyes.

Billy nodded his head and they both fell silent for a few seconds.

"Beth," Billy said. "It really doesn't matter anymore. I'm the last guy who would ever think of judging you. Believe me. I've screwed my life up so many times it's not funny. As far as I'm concerned what you did, you had to do. It doesn't make you a bad person at all, and it doesn't have any bearing on who you are now. I mean that sincerely."

Now it was her turn to nod her head. She hadn't realized it, but his opinion mattered to her, and what he said allowed the small smile to re-surface on her face. She had told herself that she didn't care what he thought about her, but she knew even as she told herself that, that she was wrong. It did matter. It mattered a great deal.

They walked together to the back of the garage, and pushed up the steel overhead door. It took a few minutes to move a couple of the cars out of the way, so that they could drive the pickup out of the garage and into the lot behind the dealership.

Billy drove the truck across the grassy back lot, and stopped at the rear of a gas station to look for a state map. Beth followed him into the deserted station.

She filled a paper bag with some groceries, mostly canned goods, while Billy opened the map and studied it on the counter at the front of the station.

"Looks like the best way out," Billy said, "Is still going to be 91. We passed it, we'll have to back track to catch it. We should be able to skirt around most of the traffic, shouldn't we?"

"Believe it or not, I don't really know," Beth answered. "I mean I live here, or did, but I didn't get out of the city at all, or hardly ever, so I don't know what it's like."

She paused and looked at Billy as he bent over the map. He smiled as he spoke.

"I actually understand that," he said. "I didn't really know a lot about getting around outside of Watertown. I guess you learn how to get to the places you need to get to, and that's about it. No real big deal though. According to the map there are a lot of loops, sort of side roads that go around, and run parallel to 91, and hey, we've got four wheel drive, we can cut through the fields if we have to, right? That will get us to 10 and ten is our ticket east."

Beth shrugged her shoulders, as she replied. "I guess?" The attempt at humor was not lost on her, and she flashed a smile at him as she shrugged her shoulders again. "I guess if the cows don't mind."

Billy grinned back, and they both laughed a little as they walked back out to the truck.

"You know," Billy said as they climbed into the cab of the truck. "We should stop and pick up a couple of sleeping bags, and maybe a tent too. We still need to pick up a couple more rifles too." He didn't want to alarm her, or make her start to worry by bringing the subject up once more, but the truth was that he was fairly worried himself. If there were armed people running around killing whoever they chose too, it would be kind of stupid, he thought, not to have better weapons. Beth had the pistol and her rifle. Billy had his own pistol and a rifle, but he wasn't sure it would do a lot of good. He wasn't a good shot. She surprised him when she not only agreed, but didn't seem to lose her smile when she did.

"I think it would be stupid not to stock up on whatever we can, guns included," she said, echoing Billy's thoughts. "You know much about them?"

"Not really," Billy confessed, "I've never even shot a rifle, you know, just never learned, I guess, or even wanted to. I think I could learn though. You know anything about them?"

"Well, now that you mention it I do. At least a little. Not from shooting one, but more from seeing them. There are a lot of pawn shops in LA, sort of goes with the territory, I guess. That's where I got this," she said, holding up her small pistol, "I got the rifle from a smashed in pawn shop... There has to be a pawn shop or sporting goods shop out here somewhere." Almost as she spoke Billy spotted one across the crowded interstate.

"There's one," Billy said as he pointed.

They left the truck beside the stalled traffic, and walked through and around the cars to the large shop. They spent the better part of the afternoon outfitting themselves from the racks in the shop and carrying what they needed across the road to the truck. The pickup had a black vinyl bed cover. They opened it, stored the tent and the sleeping bags along with the other camping gear inside it, and then snapped the cover back into place.

"It probably won't keep everything totally dry," Billy said, "if it rains, I mean. This is more for show than actual protection," he said indicating the cover. "But it should still do all right."

They had both picked up weapons in the shop. Billy had picked out a deer rifle, a fairly impressive looking Remington. He had also picked up several boxes of the ammunition the rifle took. Beth had settled on an entirely different sort of weapon. It looked more like a machine gun of some sort to Billy, and she also picked up several boxes of ammunition for it, and several spare clips. She explained to him that it really wasn't a rifle, but a machine pistol, and that it could fire better than seventy rounds a second if it were converted to full automatic. This one wasn't, she said, but she had seen some that were. To Billy it still looked like a machine gun, and he joked that the sight of it alone would probably scare anyone.

By the time they had loaded the truck and gotten under way it was late afternoon. Even with the late start, and the slow going due to the stalled traffic, they managed to make it to the Colorado River in Ehrenberg Arizona just before nightfall.

The country had been turning more arid as they drove, the river was an oasis. Off to the north giant plumes of smoke blanketed the sky, seeming to spread across the entire length of the horizon. They had both wondered what it might be. Beth had checked the map and she though it could be Yellowstone or something close to Yellowstone.

Shops, stores, and even an RV park had sprung up around the interchange. They foraged for food in the late afternoon and gassed up the truck before evening began to take the sunlight. The air had a bitter hot smell to it, the river flowed sluggishly, the water gray, and a scum of yellow white foam and ash rode the slow current. They sat in the truck and ate quietly while the map lay open across their legs and the seat top. Their eyes would drop to the map and then jump back up to scan the area. It had seemed too quiet, and there were no bodies anywhere. No sign of life either, and the stores and shops had not been looted. Most were still locked up. Empty RV's in the park when they rolled slowly through it. Neither liked the feeling, the whole place just felt wrong.

"Billy," Beth waited until his eyes left the map and met her own. He lifted them to follow her own gaze. "The silver building over to the right. The door just opened and then closed."

Billy frowned. "Not something the dead would do, is it?"

"We didn't think they would use sledge hammers either, or come out in the daylight," Beth said.

As billy watched he saw the door edge open slightly and then close just as slowly. "Saw it... I don't like it. Dead or alive they know we're here and they're checking us out." He dropped his eyes back to the map.

"Okay," he said after a few moments. "Lets get back on the road. That takes us away from civilization to a degree. Eventually that will bring us into Arizona, but there's a lot of desolation between here and there, at least on the map."

"Desolation is fine as long as the dead aren't there." Beth said quietly.

"Less likely to be," Billy agreed.

A few minutes later they were running through the desert that ran alongside I10. There were not a great many cars or trucks there, but in several places there had been wrecks that closed lanes down on the highway. With no one to clear them they would have ended up in the desert anyway. And there seemed to be a dirt road that ran beside I10 for as far as they could see.

The landscape in the distance had been changing as they drove the day away, but with the sun setting a few hours after they set out once more it was hard to tell what the surrounding countryside was like. Billy dropped speed and flicked the trucks high beams on. A short while later Beth was sleeping, her head heavy against Billy's arm. He drove through the night and into the early morning before she woke again.

March 13th

Manhattan

Donita

She came awake in the dark, sat up, and stared into the darkness. The old factory was still, quiet, but she knew something had pulled her from her sleep.

Her body had been reduced to skin and bone. The skin had stretched tight, illuminating the bones beneath it. Causing ridges and valleys where she had never seen any.

Her skin had peeled away from her face in a few places and the bone showed through yellow-white. Gleaming in the moonlight. Her face was framed by her black hair. It had come back thicker, changed, but back. It made her wonder what else might change too.

She wandered slowly from the old factory and focused on the moon above. The moon that had never meant much of anything to the old Donita. Now it talked to her. Pulled something inside of her. Spoke to her very being.

She stood quietly and scented the air. People had been here... Something else, traveling by, had wondered about her, but decided against tasting her. Warned by some instinct.

The people worried her the most. She could tell from the scent that they had lingered, and they would be back. If she stayed she would have to deal with them if they came back again.

She looked up at the buildings. Some city, she did not know where it was or what its name was only that it was south, and south was where she was headed still, New York far behind her.

She looked off at the other buildings. The hunger drove her. She needed to feed, but she needed more. It occurred to her that she needed more of her own kind... They were out there... They were out there waiting for someone to lead them. Maybe that someone was her. She had no idea where that thought came from, but she trusted in it. She looked up and down the street once more, scented the air, and then moved off toward the river.
FOUR

Billy and Beth

March 14th

The name of the place was Tonopah Arizona. Billy had eased the truck up onto I10 and that had waked Beth up, the tires bouncing over the broken asphalt.

"Not a big city... A town from the looks of it. Phoenix is close. Ten, fifteen miles maybe. Can't really tell from the map," Billy said. A gas station loomed out of the early morning gray and Billy wheeled the truck under the roof that covered the pumps. He shut off the motor and they both listened to the tick of the cooling motor for a few seconds.

"Coffee would be real nice," Beth said. "No way do we want to go into Phoenix... Too dangerous." She yawned and then covered her mouth and laughed. "Jesus... Morning breath." She zipped open her knapsack, retrieved a bottle of water, her toothbrush and some toothpaste. She stepped from the truck.

Billy opened his door and settled his feet onto the pavement. It wasn't just old pavement, he saw, it was gray, like it was completely washed out, used up. There was no black left in it. Beth stood slightly in front of the truck, her gun in one hand the toothbrush working around her mouth on its own. The other hand was reaching for the rifle which was just coming free of her shoulder. Billy shrugged his own rifle off his shoulder and into his hands before he even saw what had alarmed her. She spit out the toothbrush, unsheathed the rifle and flicked the safety off. Three men stepped out of the shadows of the open garage bay.

They were kids, Billy saw. Or at least not much more than kids. They walked slowly forward.

Beth raised the rifle and pointed it at the lead kid. "That's it right there." She said.

She didn't scream it, softly spoke it, Billy thought later, but the kid stopped in his tracks.

"What's with the fuckin' guns?" The kid asked.

"Ours weren't aimed at you until you aimed yours at us," Billy said. He hoped he sounded as cool as Beth had.

"Bullshit," one of the other kids said. "You had it in your hands when I looked at you. That's why I got mine ready."

"I don't want to kill anyone today," Beth said.

"It really don't bother me," The third kid said. His eyes were blood shot. They had interrupted him while he was sleeping, it seemed. He kept rubbing at his eyes, Beth saw.

"I think you're right. Can't matter if you're dead," Beth said.

"Hey," the lead kid said, "Maybe all we want is to party a little."

"Well I don't know if Billy swings that way," Beth said.

"Pretty funny," the kid responded. "Look... It's our town. We ain't the only ones here. You shoot there will be twenty more here in seconds. Then everybody dies."

"Oh... I guess I didn't see it right," Beth said. "I can see where it might be preferable to get raped and then murdered instead of getting murdered outright."

The one in the back, the one with the sleepy eyes, stiffed a yawn and reflexively raised one hand to his mouth as his eyes slipped shut for a split second. Beth shot the lead kid in that split second, Billy had the second guy a moment later. The third kid opened his eyes to a changed situation.

"Just give me a reason," Beth said. "Any reason." The kid released the rifle he held and it dropped from his hands to the pavement.

"Can't shoot me I ain't got no gun... Can't... _Can't shoot me..._ " He spun and looked off toward a rag tag collection of trailers that lined a dirt road in back of the station. _"Johnny!"_ he screamed. _"Johnny! Killers!"_ he turned back to Billy and Beth. "Can't shoot me... I ain't armed... _Can't..."_ Billy shot him.

A second later the truck roared to life and Billy spun the wheel hard heading back towards the drop off from the pavement, back the way they had come.

Beth bounced around the cab and smacked her head hard enough on the windshield to star the glass when the truck left the pavement at better than fifty miles an hour and hit the hard packed dirt that ran alongside I10. She finally got her balance, swept one hand across her forehead, looked at the blood and cursed lightly. Behind them three trucks had launched off the pavement and were running hard to catch them.

"Fuck me," Billy said. He pushed the pedal to the floor, there was nothing else for it. The glass in the back window starred a second later as Beth rammed the rifle stock into it. Another hit and the glass fell out into the pickup bed area. She raised the rifle and began to fire back at the trucks. A second later a hole punched through the windshield to Billy's left. He mashed the pedal harder into the floorboard feeling the truck skate across the hardscrabble of the desert as it flew beside the highway.

" _We have to get north, the other side of the highway. If they squeeze us south we'll be in the goddamn desert,"_ Beth yelled above the scream of the engine.

" _There's cars up there,"_ Billy yelled back. _"On the highway!"_

" _There are bullets down here and they're gaining on us,"_ Beth yelled back.

" _Better sit down,"_ Billy yelled.

" _Just do it, Billy!"_ She continued to fire out the back window.

Billy turned the wheel hard right and the truck lurched hard to the left, threatening to roll over as the center of gravity changed. It nearly rolled before it hit the edge of the pavement, broke over, and then became airborne. It came within ten feet of a stalled, wrecked semi and trailer and then it plunged off the other side of the highway so smoothly that billy couldn't believe it had actually landed.

" _Nearly broke my neck slamming it into the ceiling,"_ Beth yelled. She fell silent. _"I..."_ She started, but an explosion from the highway stopped her words.

" _Hit that fucking truck,"_ Billy screamed. _"Has to be."_

" _Keep it floored though, Billy. Keep it floored."_ She stayed where she was, staring out the back window, knees driven into the seat top. Billy's eyes strayed to her ass, and then snapped back to the road. He watched the hard packed earth fly by.

"Roads coming up... Like dirt roads," Billy said. He had no sooner said it than the truck hit the slight rise and flew across it.

"Like back roads, looks like," Beth said. "Nothing on the map." She was trying her best to read the map as the truck bounced and tilted. One hand clutching the seat back held her in a somewhat stable position as she looked at the roads. "Looks like all dirt roads, back roads and then it falls away to nothing. Just keep it pointed at the mountains in the distance." She turned completely around and sat down with the map in her lap. "Must have hit the truck or each other. Whatever it was I don't think they feel like coming after us again... Billy, we can't fuck up like that again. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking letting my guard down like that."

Billy said nothing. Beth went back to reading the map.

"Start breaking left, Billy. There's a river... No, maybe some sort of waterway, not a river, too straight. It ends and then picks up again a few miles later. We can get through and into the desert from there." She looked at the map for a few more minutes, "Maybe twenty miles or so. Just run right by I10 and we should be good." She turned and peeked over the back seat once more. "We're leaving a lot of dust, Billy."

He looked over at her.

"We gotta figure this out too. I mean, we're going backwards, back to where we came," Beth said.

"I could loop out deep and then swing back," Billy said.

"Yeah, except I'm thinking in this desert you can see dust for miles... The dust is the problem." She leaned over and looked at the gas gauge. "Less than a half tank, so gas is a problem too." She frowned.

"We've got gas in the back," Billy threw in.

"I'm thinking this. We hit that water way, or an out building, has to be something around here. We crash, sleep the day away, and then tonight we run across the desert to the other side of Phoenix. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a plan... I'm shot," Billy agreed.

"Okay, so take the next road that crosses, slow down to keep the dust down and let's start looking for a place to hide for the day... We've got enough gas in the back we can get a long way before we need to find a station if we don't burn it up running in circles and backtracking."

Billy slowed the truck and began heading to the right, the east. "One of those towers will do... High voltage lines? Something like that. Just scrap metal now, but that will hide us if we drive right up to it," Beth said.

They drove to the tower and a dirt service road that circled it and continued to the north. Billy pulled the truck up close to the tower and shut it down. The silence held for a few moments, he fisted his hands into his eyes. "Jesus, I'm shot."

"Come here," Beth said. She pulled him down to the seat and laid his head in her lap. She began to rub lightly at his temples.

"God, don't do that, It'll put me to sleep," Billy told her half jokingly.

"Which is why I'm doing it." She stretched her legs, angled them across to the drivers side floorboard, and leaned back into the door. The last thing she remembered was smoothing the hair out of his eyes and then she spiraled away into a series of dreams.

Billy and Beth

March 15th

It was late afternoon when Billy awoke. Somewhere in the day Beth had wound up beside him, two spoons in a drawer. He lay still unwilling to let her go, his hand was curled protectively around her. Beth moved and he felt the sleep leave her body. One moment all soft and willing, the next a live wire.

"You didn't cop a feel did you?" Beth asked in a mumbled half sleepy voice.

"Beth, can't you ever just say something like, I don't know, good morning?"

She twisted her head around and smiled. The secret smile she rarely ever gave out. The one that had started him falling in the first place. "Good late afternoon," she said and the smile slipped away. There was still something there, but it wasn't that secret, vulnerable glimpse into her heart that it was usually. She stretched, yawned, and her feet came up against the door. "Next vehicle we get is an SUV so we have some place to sleep too."

"I don't know, I kind of liked this," Billy said before he could shut his mouth down.

Beth laughed and it was the unguarded Beth once more. "As long as you know what the deal is." She twisted her head once more, and then her entire body so she was looking directly in his eyes.

"I... I know the deal," Billy said. The press of her body was maddening.

"We really don't need to talk it out?"

"You know how I feel, Beth."

"I do," she nodded and her eyes became sad. "Let me just say these few things." She took a deep breath and then began to speak. "I am attracted to you. I considered sleeping with you before you became my friend, before I knew it couldn't work between us. I even considered it after... Maybe ten minutes ago too, but it would cost me a friend because it wouldn't mean to me what it would mean to you." She held his eyes as if willing him to understand.

"It's like you see me as this fragile little princess, and I am so far from that, Billy. So far. You have been on the bad side of me and so I can't see why you still try to see me that way." She laughed. "It's a thing men do. Like... Like that is love, you see? Instead of love just being about all the other stuff... The things I admire about you, you about me. The things in common, the things that we share, the parts of you and me that are real that end up in the mix... But no, I'm a princess, unattainable beauty, something to worship, and it has nothing to do with what I really am at all. I have lived that way, tried to live up to that. It's not possible... The man I need is out there, I hope. Just someone that looks at me as me." She watched his eyes.

"I think I can do that," Billy told her.

Beth laughed.

"No, really. I think I can separate those things... I'm pretty sure."

"Yeah? I think you like the idea of me... I think you want to fuck me... I think it might even hold together in a situation like this... At least for a while. And I think you could talk me into that comfort we could give each other, and I think you would feel completely different about me once that happened. You would think it meant that we were together, and it wouldn't mean that at all. It would mean we were scared and we took some comfort in each other... Because the attraction was there, and because it can just be about that sometimes." She drew a breath. "But I think then I would go from princess to whore, because that's the way this world works, princess to whore in sixty seconds. I've seen it... I've felt it... And then I lose my friend, and I also hurt my fiend, because he doesn't want to see it, I mean really see it for what it is." She reached one hand up and pushed Billy's dirty blonde hair away from his eyes. That hair, and the way it hung across his eyes was one of the things that had nearly made her give in. He looked like a little boy, vulnerable, maybe he would love her forever, never hurt her, never treat her badly, never leave, but he would be reacting to something in her that didn't really exist. Something only he saw. That little boy, awestruck, in love, but not the kind of love she needed him to feel, to be in with her... She sighed again. She could see the hurt in his eyes.

"We probably should get going," Billy said. A smile played across his lips. Tentative, but there.

"Okay," she laid her head against his chest. "I need a toothbrush... That little bastard made me lose my toothbrush."

Billy laughed. "I got extras."

She lifted her face up, "Really?"

"Really."

She bent and kissed his forehead and then rose from the seat and looked around at the scrub brush and sand before she rose all the way up and sat on the edge of the seat while Billy straightened his long frame out and sat on the drivers side of the seat.

"That felt sort of, I don't know, brotherly... That kiss."

"I hated my brother," Beth said. She levered the handle and stepped down to the ground.

"Hey?" Billy said. Beth stopped and looked back at him, her eyes careful.

"I'll work at it... I mean," he looked at a loss. "I don't want to lose our friendship."

Beth smiled. "Thanks... I mean it. Now get out here and get me a toothbrush, Billy Jingo." She laughed as she finished.

~

"So, look." Billy jabbed his finger at the map and Beth leaned across and looked at the map. "Teddy Roosevelt Lake... Tonto National forest... Connected to Gila National forest... Cibola National forest. Pretty isolated."

Beth turned her eyes back to the desert. There was little to see, but twice she had hit bushes that popped up out of what seemed like nowhere. They had passed under the truck, but there were cactus out here too in places, and she was pretty sure a cactus wouldn't just pass under the truck.

"So... Why there?" Beth asked.

"Just a place to get our shit together: Breath for a few moments, really look the map over and pick a destination."

"Isn't that taking us closer to Yellowstone, or whatever is causing the problems to the north?" Beth asked.

"It is... But," Billy checked the scale and did some quick measurements. "Still close to a thousand miles away from there." He looked up. "I think it is Yellowstone. I heard something just before the shit hit the fan, something about the park in Yellowstone."

"What was it?" Beth asked.

"I don't know," Billy answered. He shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention... Wish I had been... Something like everyone in the park went off line... Like they couldn't reach any of the stations, rangers, whatever you call them... Something like that. And seismic activity, like an earthquake centered there." He shrugged once more and shook his head.

"So it's a good place to stay away from," Beth said.

"Yeah... I would say so, but we'll be a thousand miles away." Billy shrugged once more.

"So?"

"So, head north... We'll have to cross a few highways... Just keep out from the cities... I mean Phoenix turns to suburbs that spread out a long way, at least that's what the map looks like. Like it just kept spreading and so they just kept adding names."

Off to their left the city was easy to spot. There were fires all through it. In some places huge sections were on fire, in others it was scattered fires. There were no areas that didn't seem to be affected, and with the fires it was easy to track the edge of the cities as they drove.

Beth laughed. "So they just added names. Well, couldn't the same be said about New York? About any large city as it grows? Isn't that the way it works?"

"I guess... I hadn't thought it out, I guess."

~

"Going to have to cut through part of the city," Beth said a few moments later.

Billy looked up from the map as the truck rolled to a stop. "A river."

"Probably a canal..." Beth said. "Either way we can't drive over it... Does it break anywhere?" She turned the truck and began to run along the side of the canal heading for the city once more. In the distance several fires burned, but the fires seemed to be a few mile distance, nothing close. "Like a housing development or something," Beth said a few minutes later as the truck bumped up onto a road that was paralleled by a brick wall. The wide concrete gutter was bone dry, the pavement smooth after so much time in the desert

"Not on the map..." He shrugged. "I just don't know, Beth."

Beth had stopped on the edge of the housing development. It was dark, lit only by the headlights of the truck. Cars and trucks sat neatly in driveways. The streets were empty. Heavy dust seemed to blanket the whole scene. Little trails cut from place to place.

"Fucking spooky," Billy said. "Volcanic ash?"

"Probably... What do you think the trails are?"

Billy frowned. "It has to be dead."

"It doesn't have to be dead... Could be small animals raiding house to house... No garbage any more so they have to get into those houses and get what they can or starve... Or it could be the dead."

"Great, you had me ha..."

Something hit the truck hard and it rocked on its springs. The smell of death hit them about the same time, and Beth hit the gas, mashing the pedal into the floor boards.

A rotting hand came through the open back window and fastened around Beth's throat, her hands left the wheel as she was yanked backwards, and the truck spun hard to the left and accelerated, her foot still mashed on the gas.

Billy lifted his gun and shot the zombie in the face. It seemed slow motion at first, the face exploded as it fell away into the back of the pickup, Beth drew a deep breath and tried to grab the wheel, but it was too late. Everything sped up to real time and the truck roared forward and slammed into the side of a house, continuing into it. Her foot had slammed down on the brake and the truck finally stopped several feet into the house.

Billy hit the dashboard hard and then rebounded, sliding under the dash as the truck plunged into the house. Seconds later he scrambled out from under the dash, the smell of gasoline was strong, the smell of the hot motor equally strong. He looked over at Beth but she seemed dazed, her eyes unfocused, a trickle of blood running from somewhere under her hairline, mumbling softly under her breath. Billy levered his door open with a little help from his foot, it screeched as it opened. The screech of metal was very loud in the silence of the house. The headlights were still on, illuminating what looked to be a kitchen.

The smell of death came to him over the smell of gas and hot motor.

"Jesus, Beth. Jesus. We got to go," Billy said loudly. He reached down, gabbed Beth's rifle where it had fallen to the floor and then shoved his gun into his holster. He was surprised he had the presence of mind to actually pull the strap over the hammer and snap it in place to hold the gun in. He reached over and pulled Beth to him, she came willingly and he bent slightly as he took her over his shoulder. A second later he was outside the ruined truck and staring out the hole it had punched through into the house. He saw no dead, but he could smell them. He debated only briefly and then ran for the hole and the moonlit night outside.

The dead were all around, pulled from their wanderings by the sound of the wreck and the smell of the living. Billy shifted Beth's weight more fully onto his shoulder, and lifted the gun. Before he could fire, the truck blew up behind him and he felt himself pushed by the blast out into the street where he struggled to stay on his feet. A warm rush or air moved rapidly past him and Billy got his feet moving only a second later.

The dead scattered. They made this odd clicking sound, a sort of strangled scream, which Billy supposed was all they could do with no air to move their lungs, as he ran they slowly disappeared into the hiding paces they had stumbled from. An SUV loomed out of the darkness, illuminated by the flames and the moonlight. Dusty, sitting in the driveway of a house three houses over from the one they had plowed into. A second later and Billy had the door open and Beth tumbled inside onto the passenger seat. He ran around the car to the other side and fired a quick burst at three of the dead that came from the side of the garage and started toward him in their stumbling, dragging way. They all three went down, but they were back up again almost as quickly as they had gone down. He was too far away for head shots. He got the handle open and jumped into the car pulling the door shut behind him.

He sat, his breath coming in ragged gasps and pulls. His lungs hurt, there was a stitch in his side and his heart felt like it just might explode at any second. He looked over at Beth, but her head was rocked back against the seat back. A sob escaped his throat, but he bit down on it, breathing hard, he checked the ignition.

No keys, but that was what he had expected. What he hoped for was gas. The car should start, the gas was the important thing. He reached to the floorboards for his knapsack and a screwdriver to jimmy the ignition and that was when he realized he had nothing to get the truck started with. All he needed was a screwdriver to hammer into the ignition, pop the cylinder, and then start it. But he had neither the screwdriver nor a way to get it into the ignition in the first place. He fisted his hands and slammed them against the wheel. His head sank onto his hands.

"Smash it," Beth said. It was not much more than a whisper, but it bought Billy's head up fast. Outside the truck the dead were gathering. Just three or four, but they could smell them, and it wouldn't be long until more showed up. He focused on her face which was ashen and blood slicked, unsure if she had really even spoken. She turned her face to him, eyes heavy lidded, unfocused. "Smash it, Billy... Rock... Rocks by the driveway... Saw them... Smash it." Her head sank down to the dashboard and stayed there. A trickle of blood ran across the dusty plastic and rolled toward the edge of the dash before it slipped over the edge and continued down into darkness.

"Jesus, Beth. You're hurt bad, Beth."

"Billy... Billy shut up and get a rock... Get it, Billy. Stop whining, get the fuckin' rock." Beth told him. Her words were muffled, whether from the effort or the position she was in he couldn't tell. He picked up the rifle by the barrel and looked through the glass at the dead that were trying to figure out a way into the truck. He waited for the one near the driver's door to slip backwards along the side of the SUV and then he threw the door open and jumped from the truck.

He landed bad, on the very same rocks Beth had been talking about, and nearly went all the way down before he caught himself and slammed his knee into the pavement to stop himself. He had been unable to close the door as his ankle twisted and he fell away. The one that had just slipped past the door was already turning to get inside. He couldn't shoot, if he did he might hit Beth. He launched himself at the shambling wreck instead and knocked it backwards and to the ground. They were both snarling he realized a moment later when he shot it in the head.

A second one came around the back of the SUV. Billy took two steps and shot it in the head. The third was on the opposite side of the truck and seemed frozen, unsure what to do. Billy turned, picked up a large rock, and tried to step back into the truck. The ankle collapsed and he went sprawling, losing the rock, barely holding onto the rifle as he once again slammed his knee into the ground to stop himself from planting his face on the steel door sill of the car. The zombie on the other side made up her mind, stood to her full height, and sprang to the roof of the car. Billy heard the metal buckle as she landed.

A second later he forced himself to his feet, adrenaline flooding his body, leaving that sour electric taste in his mouth as it did. The zombie stood to her full height once more, nothing but tightly stretched skin and protruding bones, but determined to have him. Billy raised the rifle and shot her under the chin. She collapsed on the barrel and he turned as she spilled past him and burst open onto the pavement behind him. Billy took two shambling steps of his own, ankle and knee screaming, pain so hard that it made him stop and double up. He vomited, losing control for a brief instant. The pain was so hot. A second after that the adrenaline kicked back in and he finished his shambling travel, managed to stoop and pick up another large rock and get back inside the SUV. He slammed the door on the hand of another zombie that had come out of the darkness. He heard the bones snap, and the fingers fell away into the SUV as the door thudded home. Billy collapsed against the steering wheel. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He waited for his heart to slow down.

The dead seemed to be everywhere when he lifted his eyes a few seconds later. One was inches away, staring into his own eyes through the glass. Dozens of others milled about as if waiting to be told what to do. His heart staggered once more, and the rifle was coming up before he realized he could do nothing. He lowered the gun and raised the rock that was still clutched in one hand. He smashed it down on the cheap plastic that surrounded the ignition built into the side of the steering column.

Outside the zombies went crazy. Sounds did that to them, but to Billy it was almost as if they knew he was about to escape. The one next to the window stepped back and cocked its head. Billy looked back at the column, smashed the rock down again and the pieces of the ignition fell to the floorboards of the SUV. A splinter of plastic cut his hand as he jammed his fingers into the opening and pushed down into the hole the cylinder had once occupied. It took a second to find what he was searching for, but once he found it his finger pressed down and the motor began to turn over. At nearly the same time the zombie dropped from sight outside the window.

The motor coughed to life just as the zombie shot up with a rock in its rotting hands and smashed it down on the glass. Billy let out an involuntary scream as the rock skittered across the glass and flew across the hood. The zombie did it's odd little scream and then fell out of sight once more. Billy slammed his hand forward, caught the shift lever and yanked it down into reverse. His foot was already mashing the gas pedal down, the engine was revving and so when the zombie came back up with yet another rock the front slammed into him as Billy spun the wheel, and the car began to race backwards, turning as it went. The zombie and several behind it flew away from the side of the car, the wheels hopped as it bounced over them and then caught. The car rocketed out into the street. Billy locked the brakes up to get it stopped and nearly stalled it as it ground to a stop. A second later he dropped it into drive and plowed through a group of a dozen or more of the dead as he fumbled for the headlight switch and roared off down the road.

The dead flew up over the hood. One smashed into the glass hard enough to spiderweb it as they hit and then tumbled over the roof. He could hear them bumping as they slammed into the roof and fell into the night behind them. A few seconds later and all he could hear was the scream of the motor as he accelerated down the street. He forced himself to slow down so he didn't wreck. Beth was holding onto the dashboard in a death grip.

The truck left the pavement and flew out into the desert once more. Billy mashed down the pedal a little more and began to put some space between themselves and the housing project. He reached over and pulled Beth away from the dashboard. She rocked back into the seat, her eyes closed, blood still running from under her hairline and slicking her face.

East of Phoenix

Billy and Beth

The moon was fully up. The desert seemed almost as if it were lit with streetlights to Billy. He had found a dirt road and followed it to a concrete building that was part of a complex of buildings. The place didn't look like it had much going for it. A collection of buildings in the desert. A few trucks sitting around. Company trucks of some sort, painted the same colors but no name on them. He passed through the complex slowly on the dirt road that fed it. Nothing. He turned and drove through it more slowly. Nothing again.

Billy stared out into the night. The moon was moving past the halfway point, there wouldn't be much of the night left. He looked over at Beth where she sat, head back, breathing slowly. At some point the bleeding had stopped. He looked back around at the buildings. Maybe ten, unless he had miscounted. A dozen trucks and cars sat around buildings. A large building that was probably a garage, or at least appeared to be. Doors down. A side door, closed. He drove slowly, circling the building. A back door, also closed. Maybe, he thought, if it had been closed from the start nothing had been in there.

Billy pulled back out front of the building, shifted the SUV into park and left it running. The door was fifteen feet away. He reached over, pushed the button on the glove box and let it fall open. He pawed through insurance papers, candy bars, those would come in handy later, maybe, and a half bottle of water. There was a small flashlight on a key chain. No keys on the chain. Probably no battery in the flashlight either, Billy thought, but when he pushed the click button on top of the small aluminum flashlight it shot a bright beam that lit up the inside of the truck and nearly made him blind to the night before he clicked it back off. He waited a second and then leaned across to Beth.

"Beth... Beth I got to go... Beth?" Nothing. Her breathing didn't change and it scared Billy more than the attack by the zombies had. He sighed, fingered the safety on the rifle to make sure it was off, and then stepped from the truck.

The door chuffed closed behind him. Nearly silently. Silence, or at least it seemed silent for a moment. The desert wind reached his ears, just a soft rising and falling of sound as it slipped around the buildings. Nothing else. He made himself search the entire area once more with his eye and then he walked to the door, took one more look back at the SUV and then turned the knob and stepped inside the building.

Billy stood in the darkness and listened to the wind slip around the metal building. His hand skittered along the wall and found the light switch. He flicked it before he had thought about it. Old habits died hard, he told himself. The click was overly loud in the darkness and made him jump. He forced his heart to slow down and then breathed deep. There was death here, but it was old death. Not the smell of the zombies. He breathed in deeply once more to be sure.

The building was much more than a garage. There was a garage area to pull trucks into. One sat inside now, two large rolls of fencing in the back and dozens of long steel fence posts. He had seen them before. About seven or eight feet long with a sharp steel cross piece at the bottom to drive into the ground. A sledge hammer to the top to drive it down into the earth and you had a fence post. He stepped forward toward a glassed in room just past the truck. A lunchroom or sorts he guessed, or a break room. Vending machines lined the walls and three tables sat in the middle of the room with plastic chairs scattered about them. Empty.

Off to the left a steel door separated another area. He was beginning to panic about Beth. He had been gone a long time, but he forced himself to twist the knob on the door. It led to a hallway. A small office, bathrooms, and the door that lead outside. He walked to the door and locked it. There was a glass wall that looked into the office and his eye caught something he had missed as he walked past. There was a chair that had been pulled over to a window that looked out on the desert. A man sat in that chair.

Billy's heart leapt into his throat, but only for a second. The man was dead. He had been dead for some time. A gun rested in his lap, his head cocked at an odd angle. Billy backtracked to the door, opened it and stepped inside.

The odor was not that bad, but it was what he had smelled. The dead smelled differently once they rose to their new life. That was all he knew. It wasn't something he could definitely put his finger on, just a different smell of corruption. Billy reached the chair and stared down at the man.

He had dried out in the heat of the desert. Billy grabbed the armrest closest to him and dragged the chair from the office and out into the garage. He rolled it up to the doors and looked them over. Electric, but they could be manually raised and closed. Probably a nod toward electricity that might not always be available in the desert. Billy pulled on the chains that dropped from the ceiling and the door went up, squeaking as it went. He pushed the chair out across the cracked pavement and left it close to one of the other buildings. The SUV rumbled close by, the motor turning over smoothly. He could see Beth, head back against the seat back. A minute later he drove the truck into the garage and then worked the chains, lowering the door down once more.

East of Phoenix

Northland Cemetery

The moon rode high in the sky. Moonlight gleamed from the gravel of the road that lead into the cemetery. Silence held, and then a scraping came from the ground, muffled, deep.

At the edge of the woods, eyes flashed dully in the over-bright moonlight. Shapes shifted among the trees and then emerged from the shadows onto the gravel roadway. One dragged a leg as he walked, clothes already rotted and hanging in tatters. A second seemed almost untouched, a young woman, maybe a little too pale in the wash of moonlight. She walked as easily as any woman, stepping lightly as she went. The third and fourth moved slower, purposefully, as they made their way to the freshly turned soil. They stopped beside a dirt mounded grave, and silence once again took the night, no sounds of breathing, no puffs of steam on the cold desert air.

"Do you think...?" The young woman asked in a whisper.

"Shut up," the one with the dragging leg rasped. His words were almost unintelligible. His vocal cords rotted and stringy, no air in his lungs to move his words. The noises came once again from the earth and the four fell silent... waiting...

A hand broke through into the moonlight. A few minutes later a young woman's head pushed up, and then she levered her arms upward and began to strain to pull herself up and out of the hole. She noticed the four and stopped, her pale skin nearly translucent, her blond hair tangled and matted against her face and neck. Her lips parted, a question seeming to ride on them.

" _It's okay,"_ the young woman whispered, _"it's okay."_ She and one of the older ones moved forward, fell to their knees and began to scoop the dirt away from her with their hands.

Harlem March 15th

"What I care about is how it goes," Madison said. "Things are goddamn crazy..." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Cammy, these guys intend to run things here... Right here!"

"Never happen," Cammy said. Her eyes slid past Madison and found Dollar where he stood with the curtains barely opened, looking out into the street. One gun stuffed into the back of his jeans, the other out and in his hand where he flicked the safety on and off, on and off as he peeked through the curtains at every new gunshot. There had been running gunfights most of the day. He was crazy and getting crazier as the time rolled by.

"I know... Which is why we need to go... When it fails they'll come here and kill all of us," she whispered.

Dollar's head suddenly appeared over Cammy's shoulder. "And what are you bitches whispering about?" His eyes were wild. He had access to as much cocaine as he wanted and he had been shoveling it in for the last few days, unsure of how much he wanted: How much his body could handle. Where to draw the line, or even if there was a line he should draw. He scared the hell out of Madison, and it took a lot to scare Madison.

"Shit women talk about," Madison spat. She pushed Cammy away, got up and got right in Dollar's face. "We need shit, and I already told you. I'm going to get it."

"Go and I'll shoot you dead," Dollar said. He waved the gun in her face.

"You know what, I don't think you will," Madison bluffed. "And, anyway, we're not leaving, we're just going to get some things... Lady things... Then we'll be back... You really gonna kill me over some shit like that?"

"What things?"

"Tampons."

"Oh, Jesus," Dollar said.

Madison laughed.

"I don't want to hear that shit. That's woman's shit. I don't want to hear it at all."

"Yeah, dip-shit. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't let us go, and now it's critical... Crit-it-cal! So unless you want us bleeding all over the place." She was still in his face. Inches away.

Dollar stared at her. "I can't fucking believe you said that. That's... That's way too much information." He spun quickly toward the front windows as the crash of nearby gunfire broke the silence of the street. "You go out there you'll get killed."

"Yeah, well, we'll go the back way. Either way we're going," Madison said. Her hand moved fast, fished the pistol that was jammed into the back of his pants, behind the belt, out, and then stepped back away before Dollar realized what had happened and spun around.

"And I said..." Dollar started as he turned around. "Wow." He froze and stared at the gun that had appeared in Madison's hand like so much magic. "Now why did you take my gun?" he asked. His empty hand felt along the back of his jeans where he was sure the gun had come from. He stuffed the gun in his hand into the waistband of his jeans. This time in front. Madison laughed.

"That is not the question you should be asking," Madison said.

"No? Then what is the question I should be asking, Bitch?" Dollar asked. He began to walk towards her. "I bet you ain't got no period either... Neither of you... Just said that to keep me away, I bet."

Madison laughed. "Well, you're right. But that isn't where we were in this conversation. Where we were was the question... You..." She pulled the slide back on the Automatic, chambering a round. "...should..." Her thumb swept downward and clicked the safety off, "...be asking me. The question, and you're not asking it."

Dollar stopped in his tracks. "Don't fuck around, Girl. That ain't no toy."

" _The question, you dumb fuck! The question,"_ Madison screamed. She pushed the pistol into his face.

" _Okay! Okay! The fucking question... The fucking question..."_ Dollar shrank back, but bumped into the wall and stopped. "I don't know the question... I don't know it."

"Will she do it," Madison said. "Will the crazy bitch shoot me."

Dollar's eyes squinted. Madison waved the gun up and down. His hand darted for his own gun where he had stuffed it into the front waistband of his jeans.

" _Yes she will."_ Madison yelled as she fired. Dollar was falling before she finished yelling her answer. A second later, as Dollar gasped for air, laying on his side, his knees drawn up, a sucking sound coming from the hole in his chest, Madison reached down, caught Cammy's hand, and they both fled toward the back of the apartment, and the door that lead into the alleyway.

Donita and the boy

She had made the boy a few days before. She had been heading out of another city when she had found him and his mother. The mother had given in with no fight. Donita had considered her for her army, but then rejected her. Perhaps if she had fought, maybe. But it seemed to not be a part of who she was. And Donita could not take the chance that she would evolve into a non fighter. It was not something she needed.

The boy's changing was slow, but it was happening She had thought about it before she had done it. The young would be useful. The willing... The powerful... But there was no way to convince them to this side, and so it would have to be the young at first. They were more easily subdued. They could grow into it. They would still change. Still become powerful. But they would be much easier for her to control while they did.

Once she had more than the boy she would have help. No longer would it be only her. She could see the way it would be. Not the way her old self saw, but this new way. This new way of knowing that had nothing to do with anything inside of her. Nevertheless, it was solid. Real. She could and did trust the knowledge that came to her. She would have her army, it would only take time.

March 17th (Late)

New York:

Bear:

Bear was curled up on the carpet, Amanda Bynes' carpet, where he had been for hours. Whatever had gone wrong with the world had gotten worse.

It had started yesterday with wind that was like a hurricane. It had blown into the city and the rain had not been far behind it. Heavy rains, torrential rains. He had been in Mobile Alabama one year, waiting on a train to go back to New York. A hurricane was closing in. It had hit the city a glancing blow and it had seemed the same as this. Heavy rain, the wind so hard it seemed to roar.

Then the lightening had come, and the thunder. Huge bolts. Deafening. Then there was a bad earthquake. The entire building shook and he was convinced it would go down. Believed it had to. How could it stand through that? But it had.

He had begun to get sick shortly after that, vomiting until there was nothing left, and still his stomach had not been satisfied. He still dry heaved for hours it seemed.

The night went on and on, seemed to last forever. It was like the sun just decided not to rise the next day. Or the next day never came. He didn't know which, anymore than he knew what day it really was now.

There was sunlight. Sparse, barely there but he could see through the sliding glass doors to the balcony. It seemed to be covered with dirty snow. Mounds of it. He closed his eyes: Squeezed them tightly, and rolled up into a sitting position. His stomach threatened again, but he waited it out. Once he felt he could walk he got to his feet and walked to the glass doors and slid them open.

The entire world was gray. Ash was falling, blocking out the sunlight. The sun was like a silver disc, barely seen, riding the horizon. As he watched, the ash began to drift in onto the carpet. He closed the door and stood staring.

His stomach had calmed down, whatever had been the cause of that, he was grateful it was easing. He didn't feel like putting anything on it, in fact the thought alone brought back the queasiness, but left alone it seemed as though it would be fine.

The day went on. The sun seemed to slide across the horizon rather than actually rise. The rains came back hard and the winds with them. In no time the ash was washed away and the city was back. Clean... Fresh looking. No dead to be seen in the driving rain. Apparently they didn't like the rain either.

Although he was positive he could not sleep, he drifted into sleep later in that day, lying on Amanda Bynes' carpet, watching the rain fall in sheets and wash across the glass.
FIVE

March 18th

Billy and Beth

She awoke with a gasp and sat upright. The movement caused pain to flare inside her head and her hands flew to either side of it as if to hold the pain inside.

"Here," Billy said from beside her. "Drink this... Coffee." He handed her the paper cup.

"Oh my God... Billy, my head is killing me," Beth moaned. She sat carefully for a few seconds longer, holding her head steady, before edging open one eye and looking around her. The blanket that had been covering her slipped down and she reached for it unconsciously, catching it before it could slip off and onto the floor.

She was laying on a table, soft blankets beneath her, her top had been stripped off. Her bra was stiff with dried blood. "Jesus," she said softly.

"Come on, Beth. Drink the coffee, and," He held out his other hand. "Aspirin... At least I think it's aspirin. Some off-brand, but it'll help that headache."

Beth tried a small smile on her face, took the aspirin and the coffee and managed to get the aspirin down.

"Billy, that really is coffee. Bad coffee, but real coffee." Beth said. Her eyes were traveling around the room. Vending machines, including a coffee machine with the front pried off.

"There was the powder that it's made from inside... I just liberated it and made it over a fire." He turned and pointed back through the glass into a garage are where she could see he had dragged a stove of some kind and hooked it up to some bottled propane. The small cook surface looked funny with the giant propane cylinder next to it. Billy laughed. "Yeah... Not exactly made for each other, but it's good enough."

Beth looked Billy up and down. He was dressed in clean clothes. "Where did you go shopping," she asked as she sipped at the coffee. She swung her legs off the table and a wave of dizziness swept over her. Her stomach clenched and for a moment she was sure the coffee and aspirin was on its way back up, after a short battle it decided to stay. For how long she didn't know, but she did know she had to take it slower.

"Slow, Beth," Billy said as if he had looked into her mind and stolen her words.

"Got you... Got you," Beth agreed.

"Clothes in the back, Beth. Lockers. I'm guessing this was some sort of ranchers place... Maybe a big operation... Cattle? Crops? I don't know. Bags of fertilizer, fencing, overalls, gloves, trucks, and about thirty lockers back there, most with clothes still in them."

Her fingers crept up her head and felt carefully under her hairline. "Are those stitches I feel?" She asked.

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "Had to. Used dental floss and a needle. You never budged, scared me, Beth."

"Well if I had moved I would probably have kicked you right in the sac..." She sighed, "Thanks, Billy... What happened... We were somewhere," Her face clouded, but she could not bring the memory.

"That housing project?" Billy prompted.

"Nope," Beth said.

"Nicer homes... Back toward Phoenix?"

"Nope," Beth said again.

"We were running at night..."

"That I remember," Beth agreed.

"Okay, so we stopped to check out this housing project. Like upscale houses out in the desert. It looked empty, but it was full of zombies. One got you through the window..."

Beth's hand went to her throat. It was bruised and yellowed in the bright light inside the room. Beth looked around and then up. The ceiling lights were on.

"Yeah... So you do remember," Billy said.

"Yeah... Fuckers." Her eyes went to the lights and then back to Billy's face. "So we got away."

"Barely," Billy agreed. He followed her eyes up to the lights. "Generator." He stopped talking so she could hear it.

"Okay... So that's that sound," Beth said. She cleared her throat, drank some more of the coffee and then cleared her throat again. "I didn't get bitten did I? You?"

"No... I would have done it if I had to, but no. They didn't get us." Billy said.

"Would have killed me?" Beth asked.

Billy nodded.

"Billy, it's okay to say you would have... It wouldn't be me... It would be one of those things and I don't want to be one of those things, Billy."

"I know... I would have killed it. No way would I have let you become that." Billy swallowed hard and the silence fell, just the generator chugging away.

Beth eased her feet slowly to the floor and tested her weight. Better than earlier, but she decided to sit awhile longer. She drained the cup and Billy took it.

"You want more?" He asked.

"I need water, just plain old water." She looked around hopefully.

"Got that. A water cooler. You can even have it cold with the power on." He was back just a few moments later with a new cardboard cup, this one filled with cold water.

"God. Cold water in the desert. I would not have believed that," Beth said.

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "Not much longer though. There isn't much fuel oil. That's what it runs on. It was meant for short power outages. It's been on two days now."

Beth choked on the water. Coughing bought the headache back, slamming into her forehead hard. She nearly passed out. Billy was right there, an arm around her, holding her. She took a breath, another, and she was alright again. She would just have to wait on the headache to retreat once more.

"Come on, Beth. Let me get you in a chair." Before she could argue he picked her up and carried her to a nearby chair. Not one of the plastic ones scattered around, a leather one. Beat up, but comfortable. She sank back into the chair and immediately began to feel better. "Jesus, two days here?"

"No. Three. It took a day to get the generator going. It wasn't designed to run after the initial time allotted. It would come on, run a while and shut right back off. I had to wire it directly. Maybe some safety feature so it wouldn't completely run out. I had to fill the tank from fifty five gallon drums, that was a bitch, but once I cut out the safety, filled her up, she started and stayed running. We're down to a quarter tank though... No more fuel oil... So I'm glad you're back."

Beth upended the cup and drained it. It was amazing how good the water could make her feel. Like new life and strength being poured into her. Billy bought her another and then another before she sat back into the chair. Her eyes fell on a vending machine with crackers, cookies and bagged chips. The door was ajar. Billy followed her eyes.

He laughed. "Cookies, crackers, chips?" He asked.

"Yeah," Beth said. Hunger had suddenly leapt up in her stomach. She was starved. Billy came back with a couple of packs of each and she ate greedily as he talked.

"Maps out in the garage. I can't tell exactly where we are though. Somewhere to the southwest of Gold Canyon is my guess. I didn't see anything here with an address on it, letterhead, no signs on the trucks. Nice trucks though, so it made money, whatever it was."

"I'm going by where I think we are. I know we crossed over water before we got here, a bridge across a viaduct, at least it looked that way in the dark. But we didn't cross a highway, and 60 is right there, couldn't have missed it. Of course we could be a little farther north or a little more south. But even so we have to hit 60, it's right there, so I'm pretty sure the next thing up is going to be 60."

Beth said nothing, the food was like heaven, but the crackers were a little dry so Billy left and came back with a cup of water and a Coke. The Coke was also cold. She nearly drained it in one pull. It was like her body was bent on a mission of replenishing itself in one setting. She made herself stop. "Good, but I don't want to get sick." She said to Billy's raised eyebrows.

He nodded.

"Any dead... At night? In here when you got here?"

"One dude... Took himself out in the office." He motioned through the glass. "Put him outside. Turned black in the sun in a day or so." He stopped and cleared his throat, left and came back with a Coke for each of them. "None of the others. Not one. Nights are quiet... Truck inside the bay runs good. I gassed it up, swapped better tires onto it too from the rack in the garage. Pretty easy to do. Extra gas cans, oil, a shit load of those blankets." He paused for a second.

"What," Beth asked.

"The nights... Days... It's been a blur," he looked up toward the ceiling, confused. "I don't know, it seemed like there was no day when there should have been... Like the night lasted a long time... Some earthquakes to, I think they were earthquakes at least. Sick... My stomach felt like it came unglued it was so bad."He took a breath and smiled. "Rained like crazy and then I swear it snowed... It was like a blur," He shrugged. "Like I said."

Beth just looked at him. "You were tired."

Billy smiled. "That's what I said... I said..." He looked at the ceiling again. "I said it was being tired... confused," Billy agreed.

"You look... _Clean._ " She had looked down a few seconds before at her gore stained bra and jeans. She'd been in these clothes for far too long.

"Shower in the back. Hot water too once I got the electric on."

"Christ, and I'm sitting here talking?" She stood from the chair, found her stomach did not intend to give her a hard time and turned to Billy. "Clothes?"

"Sure... I... I don't know if..." He turned red.

"Yeah," Beth said. She laughed. "No bra, panties?"

"Right," Billy agreed.

"Well I don't care if it's boxers, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Clean clothes, Billy" She looked around her... Soap... A towel... That's it. Where is it?"

"Um. Right here," Billy said as he stepped to the door and pushed it open for her.

Billy returned to the lunch room a few moments later and cleaned up the blankets and empty cups while he waited.

March 26th

Donita:

The hunger was terrible, all consuming, and it came in crashing waves. The impulse to feed seemed to be the only coherent thought she had. It was hard to think around, hard to think past. There were more things changing in her, and she did not understand them all.

A few weeks ago she had been... Been? But it did no good, she could not force the memory to come. A name came, Donita... she had been Donita, she knew that, but that was all she knew. And a name was not everything she had been. She had been something else... Something more, but she could not get to whatever it was that she had been. Something that did not wander through the woods. Something that was not driven by all consuming passions that she could not understand.

Her eyes wandered over her body. Her skin was tight, stretched across her bones, thin in places, but it was changing. It seemed to be growing thicker, changing texture. Her breasts with nothing more than suggestions, her stomach flat and sunken, except for a small rounded rise. It meant something to her but she didn't know what. She couldn't catch the significance.

She turned her eyes up to the moon. It pulled at her. Something in it spoke directly to something inside of her. Something deep. Something she believed had always been there, but there had never been a need to address because it lived under the surface. Out of her line of thought, sight... Below her emotions... Now it didn't. Now it ruled everything. It was all she could do not to rush from the trees and find the smell that tempted her and consume it. Eat it completely. Leave nothing at all. Oh to do it... To do it...

Her eyes snapped back from the moon and a low whine escaped her throat. Behind her the boy made a strangled noise in his throat. She turned, gnashed her teeth and growled. The thin, skeletal boy fell back, hungry, but frightened. She could feel his fear. It fed her, tempted her to taste him, but he was no food for her. She knew that much. It was a sort of instinct... Drive... Something inside of her. The boy was not her food. The boy was not her sustenance. He was one of her own. Corrupted. And corrupted flesh could not feed and sustain itself on corrupted flesh. Fresh flesh was needed, live flesh. Fresh Human flesh, she corrected. Whatever this change she was going through was, it scattered her thoughts. It left her confused more than it did not.

The boy trembled and grinned sickly, his one good eye rolling in his head. The other eye was a ruined mass of gray pulp sagging from the socket. A great flap of skin below that socket had curled and dried, hanging from the cheek. He felt at it now carefully with his shrunken fingers. She hissed at him and his hands fell away.

She desired human flesh. She needed it, but it didn't absolutely have to be that way.

Two nights ago it had been a rabbit, the night before that she and the boy had shared a rat. The night before that they had come upon an old woman.

The old woman had been good. They had bought her back here and her bones lay here still: In the weeds at the edge of the clearing behind them. She turned and gazed back past the boy into their makeshift campsite. Searching for what was left of the old woman. Finding her bones where they lay at the edge of the clearing they had made... She turned back to the moon, watched it as it slid across the sky for a few moments longer, then she stood and the boy followed her into the field. There was a town not far away. She could smell it. They would have to be careful on the way, there were others around. They fell into an easy lope, something these bodies seemed well suited to, and headed to the village to hunt.

She led the boy and herself into the small town. The town was empty, at least of people. She and the boy hunted rats for an hour or two. The rats had done well for themselves. Fat, sleek and gray. The size of a small dog. They had gorged themselves. The night made her feel alive, strong, whole. The boy followed and they hunted. Killed for the sake of killing, but it was good for the boy.

When morning came there was not a stray cat, dog or rat left alive in the small village and she was crazy with blood. They left the village, found an abandoned factory on the outskirts, and made their way into the dark depths as the sun began to rise.

Building The Army

She awoke before full dark. One second gone, the next twilight had released her and all of her senses were fully on. It was no longer like human senses. She couldn't truly remember any longer when she had been a breather, for how long, what she had done with her days and nights, but she regretted it. She wished she had always been numbered among the superior.

She thought of it that way, the Superior Race. Because these senses, they were completely there. There was no fogginess from the sleep. None. She was alert and ready. In every way the being she was now was far superior to the being she had been. Even though she could no longer precisely recall the being she had been, she knew it was true.

She reached over, touched the boy, and he was instantly out of twilight. Together they crawled from under the machinery and out onto the factory floor.

Her eyes bought her the scent of people. Without a sound or discussion she and the boy moved across the factory floor and out into the bright moonlight.

The smell of a wood fire was on the air, but the fire itself was out. Nothing but a low red glow some forty yards past the factory parking lot, still choked with long dead cars and trucks. They made their way quietly.

There were four sleeping close to the fire. One of them was old, useless to her. Two were young, and one was dangerous. Female. She slept with both hands around a rifle that rested between her knees, the barrel nestled alongside her face.

Donita looked at the woman for a long time. She would like to keep her, she was strong, she could be such an asset, but she knew it was not to be. She stared for a few seconds longer. The boy behind her, waiting.

She knelt beside the sleeping woman. The smell of her coming death was already a stink upon her. Billowing out of her lungs and filling up the night air. Her soul knew. Her soul knew and could do nothing at all about it.

Donita reached forward slowly. One hand wrapped tightly around the top of the barrel, the other, index finger extended, found the trigger. She paused a second longer, hands in place. Then in one smooth move she jerked the rifle down, jammed it under the woman's chin and squeezed the trigger. The top of the woman's head flew apart before her eyes were fully open. The live wire rigidness that had come into her body in that split second of time now drained away and she sagged back to the ground, one last breath rushing from her lungs in a low moan. The children began to scream...

~

The moon moved slowly across the sky. Donita sat watching the children as they lay dead before her. Soon the power would come over them and they would rise from death into the world of the living dead. Her world.

The boy sat waiting beside her. They had finished the woman, and then the old woman. Neither would rise again.

The boy was a good soldier. The two before her, twin girls by the look, or so close to twins as for it not to matter, should be good choices too. Strong. Intact. Their bodies would turn faster as the boy's was already doing. Her own body had taken much longer. Much longer before the rotting flesh had begun to change to something else. Something, not exactly living tissue, but that was nourished by dead tissue. This new flesh was stronger... More resilient... Self healing... Probably other things that she had not yet figured out.

The boys flesh already seemed to have made some of that change. He was completely devoted to her. Unquestioning. That is what she wanted. The girls would be as well. She knew that instinctively. She could smell it on them. They were meant to leave that world for this world... It was a gift really. It was so unnecessary to have to go through all the pleading and begging in the leaving of that life, she thought. This one was so much better. This one did not have an absolute end. This one could be forever. And forever could not even be measured...

April 1st

A small willing army

The twins awakened from the little death just as the moon had reached the middle of the black sky. She turned her attention to them. The twins were hers... For her...

The silvery light was bright, almost daylight in its intensity. The twins did not fight the changes as she had thought they might. Their eyelids fluttered almost in unison. Black liquid eyes shone out and took in their surroundings and each other. They looked around at the darkness making not a sound and then lifted their black eyes to the moon above. When they looked back down they gazed at her frankly. Seeming to accept their fate, looking to her to guide them, their eyes large, reflecting the cold, silvery moonlight. And she realized they were not the same. One was slightly taller. A streak of silver-white in her hair, falling across her forehead. She swept it aside.

Donita rose from her crouch and set off into the night at a fast walk. The twins fell in behind her, the boy bought up the rear. The twins walked obediently, quietly looking around at the trees and the woods with their newborn eyes as they followed. They reached out and linked hands as they walked, drawing closer to one another.

She led them out of the scrub and into the deep woods. The tall trees marching away in even rows. Absolute silence fell as they walked. The predators recognized them and left them alone. A small rabbit stopped, sniffed the air, and began to shake with fear, frozen on the path. Donita skirted it, but stopped and turned to see what the twins would do. The twins stopped when Donita stopped and looked down at the rabbit frozen on the pathway.

They moved forward slowly, unlinked their hands and squatted beside the trembling rabbit. The shorter one reached out one hand and began to stroke the soft fur of the rabbit. The other, with the streak of silver-white hair still fallen across her forehead, dangled her own hands between her thighs and watched, but she made no move to pet the rabbit or stop the other from doing so. The silence seemed to deepen. The time to crawl. The rabbit seemed to tremble less... Leaning into the girls hand as she stroked the fur.

Donita almost didn't catch the movement, it was so fast. The other girls hand flew from between her thighs and in one movement, closed around the rabbit's throat, pulled it into the air and then flipped it backwards with a fast snap, breaking its neck. She threw the bundle of fur back to the ground at the other girls feet. The rabbits feet kicked hard once... Twice, and then stopped. A thin trickle of blood flowed from one side of its pink nose. The smaller girl cocked her head to one side, raised her eyes to look at her sister briefly, then looked back down at the rabbit where it lay on the ground by her feet. She extended one hand, touched the blood that ran from the rabbits nose and then bought that finger to her blue tinged lips to taste it.

Her eyes closed and her body began to shake. Her twin leaned forward and rested one hand on her shoulder, a barely audible whisper coming from her lips. Words spoken strongly, but there was no air in her lungs to move across her vocal chords.

I Love You, floated on the dark forest air.

Her eyes opened and locked with her sisters. The red smear of blood on her blue-tinged lips seemed astonishingly bright in the moonlight. She looked down at the rabbit once more and then stood from her crouch, took her sisters hand and turned back to Donita. Donita held her eyes with her own for a moment and then turned and began once more to make her way through the rows of tall trees, the three children following quietly behind.

Billy and Beth

March 28th

Billy angled the truck off into a grassy median they had been traveling along Arizona 188, and followed a dirt road into the forested park area. About a half mile in they came to a wide calm lake. The area was completely deserted. No cars, no trucks, and only a few rustic buildings close by the water. A quick search confirmed the buildings were empty. They worked together to gather some dead-fall to build a small fire.

Beth piled the dry wood next to a large stone fireplace, and Billy carefully arranged some wood inside the fireplace, over some smaller twigs and crumpled pieces of paper, while Beth opened the rear of the truck and pulled out the sleeping bags, as well as some metal camp utensils they had picked up earlier when they had passed through a small town. They debated on leaving the tent, but decided to set it up instead, close to the fireplace. The buildings were dark and deserted-looking, and not the least bit inviting to either of them. The tent would not offer anywhere near as much protection as the empty buildings, but to them it was much more appealing.

Once Billy got the fire going he began to set up the tent as Beth started dinner.

"What are you making?" Billy asked as he walked back to the fireplace.

A large steel pot sat directly over the metal grating of the outdoor fireplace, and the aroma from it was all he could smell as he finished setting up the tent. His stomach was growling.

"Well," she asked, "how does it smell?"

"Pretty damn good," Billy replied, "in fact about the best thing I've smelled in a long time. I mean I lived alone, strictly fast food. Burgers, tacos, you know. What is it?" he asked again.

"Well, it's nothing great, beans and corned beef," she looked at him and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, who knows? "Smells good though, huh?"

Billy nodded his head in agreement, and said aloud. "It's got fast food beat, that's for sure... It's going to be a few minutes, right?" Billy asked.

"Probably more like an hour," she replied, "That's why I've got it off the heat, simmering. Why?"

"Well," Billy said, "that lake looks pretty good. I'm thinking seriously about jumping in it and washing some of this road grime off."

Before he could say more Beth jumped up and said, "Race ya!" Billy stood dumb founded as she raced away towards the lake.

He caught up with her next to the water, slightly out of breath, and laughing. When she started to remove her clothes, he nearly choked on the laughter though. Beth seemed not to notice, and after she had stripped down to her bra and panties she dove gracefully into the water and swam out into the lake, toward a wooden raft that was anchored about fifty feet off shore.

Billy got over his initial shock, stripped down to his briefs, and also dove into the water. The coldness of the water shocked him, but it helped in a way to. He hadn't realized just how beautiful she was, and his body had begun unconsciously to respond. The cold water ended that, and he turned over on his back and floated as he kicked with his feet towards the raft. When he turned back over as he sensed he was nearing the raft he saw her sitting, looking back at him as he swam towards her. She smiled, and he couldn't help but smile back. Cold water or not, he thought, she is a beautiful woman.

He had guessed she must be in her late thirties when he had met her, but now he thought he might be wrong. Maybe it had been the dingy apartment building, which had contributed to his observation. Whatever it had been, he was pretty sure he was wrong. She looked like maybe she was only in her late twenties: Maybe, he thought, only a few years older than I am. It was more the way she looked now, he realized, that made him think she was probably a lot younger than he had initially thought.

In the apartment building, she had been wary and tired-looking. She seemed more alive to him now though, and the smile went a long way towards smoothing out the lines that had seemed to be embedded in her forehead. He supposed that to her he must seem awful young at twenty-two, maybe even immature. The few women he had gone out with in Watertown had been much younger than himself, girls really. He had been in a common law marriage in Mexico that ended badly, and that was his extent of knowledge when it came to women.

Beth sat on the wooden surface of the small raft and watched Billy turn back over on his back, as he continued to float towards the raft.

She had liked Billy almost from the first, when he had convinced her to open the door it had been a big deal to her. It was something she would normally never do at all, under any circumstances. Nevertheless, she had let him in. He seemed honest, she told herself, and reminded her of herself. She had started life honest anyway, it was just that she couldn't be as honest as she wanted too, she reminded herself. Life was just that way, she decided.

Billy was different. She knew it was stupid, here she was entertaining what she had told him to forget, but even as the thought entered her head she knew it wouldn't work. It was comfort she needed. It was sexual attraction. He didn't move her inside like she wanted to be moved. She wondered if she could be moved that way by any man and the thought caused her smile to slip away.

The meal was excellent. Billy's mind was not entirely impaled upon the world and what it had become. He thought they both just wanted to be part of the whole again.

He realized, on an unconscious level, that it was even more than that. He wanted some sort of security again. Some kind of normalcy, same old, same old, he thought. The thought made him laugh.

"What?" Beth asked.

"Well first, this is so good. And second I was thinking that as much as I used to hate the same old, same old of the world, I find myself wishing I had it back again. Ironic, I know."

Beth nodded. She felt the same way. In a world that was constantly cruel to her, she had held out hope that it would not always be that way that somehow, someday, it would all change for her. And it had, and for her this was even better than she had dreamed. She didn't have to pretend about her past, it didn't matter anymore. She didn't have to be anything, or anyone, other than who she had always wanted to be, herself, the woman that she had buried deep within her. She was happier than she could ever recall being in her entire life. It was as if she had been blind, and now through some unimaginable miracle could see. It was so much and so many feelings that it threatened to overwhelm her.

Billy spoke as they finished eating. He had been thinking non-stop about everything that had happened, in just the last few days, and he was no longer certain he wanted to risk traveling on.

"Beth?" he began, not quite sure how to proceed with what he had been thinking. "Do you want to go? I mean, do you want to go all the way across this country? It's just that, well, I'm not as positive as I was that it has to be done, or that we should."

She thought for only a brief second before she answered him.

"I think that we have to, Billy. It's not a question of whether we should. We have to," she paused. "I know it may be dangerous, and I suppose it could mean that we may even die, but to me it would be worthwhile. To me it would be, because I am not the woman for you... And she is out there." Beth locked her eyes on Billy's as she finished speaking, waiting for him to respond.

Billy thought over what she had said. It was not really a decisive thinking though, as he knew she was right. It was more of an acceptance of a decision he had already made, and not really wavered from. He nodded.

"I've changed a lot of that thinking," Billy told her. "I really have. I don't always pay attention, but I did when it came to you. I don't think I've ever had a friend like you. I don't want to lose that. And I thought... Well, I thought there must be a woman out there like you... Not one I would compare to you, I mean one that gets inside of me and hooks me the way you did, but where it works. I'm explaining it badly, I guess." Billy said.

"No... No you're not. I know exactly what you mean. How about some tea?" she asked.

"Tea?" he looked puzzled. "Where did you get tea from?"

She held up a small package, and said, "It was in the camping gear, a free sample package. Want some?"

"Sure," he said, as he smiled at her, "it sounds good, actually."

While Beth made the tea, Billy took the small tin cups, along with the plastic bowls that had also been in the camping kit, and walked down to the water to wash them. The moon had begun to rise and a silver trail spread across the lake, seemingly alive as it rode the small ripples of the water. When he finished, he stared off across the shimmering surface. It was calm and peaceful, and he listened as somewhere in the distance an owl hooted its greeting into the night. He walked back to the fire feeling good. The night was dark, but it held no fear for him. Beth looked up and smiled.

"Billy, where do you want to be when this is over? I mean to live?" Billy thought for a second and considered before he responded.

"I guess it would depend," he said. "I don't think I would want to live in a city though. I like it here... It's peaceful. I guess some place like this. Mountains, but this is a type of mountains I've never seen. I mean mountains like you would see in New York... Pines, Maples."

Beth lay on her back, staring up into the diamond studded sky. She rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow next to him as she spoke.

"This place, it used to be a state park, but now it's just a nice lake. Nobody owns it anymore. It would be a good place to be... Away from the city... Build a little community here... There are thousands of places like this now... All over the country. I would like a place like this." Beth said quietly. She removed the pot from the fire, setting it to one side so it would be there in the morning when they awoke. They crawled into the tent and were asleep within minutes.

The silvery moonlight shown down as they slept, the nearly full circle slowly traveling across the darkened sky.

Billy and Beth

March 29th

They awoke early to the chatter of squirrel-talk in the trees. Gray squirrels playfully leaping through the pine branches and running up and down the thick trunks, scolding as they went.

Beth set the water to boil, once she had rekindled the fire from the still glowing coals, as Billy broke camp and quickly loaded the truck. They ate a small breakfast of the leftovers of the meal from the night before, and sipped the hot tea as the sun began to slowly peek over the tops of the trees across the lake. After they rinsed the utensils in the lake, and doused the fire, they climbed into the truck and drove slowly back to the main road. They both felt an urgency to be under way, and once they regained the main road Billy pointed the truck north.

The going was slow, but the farther they traveled the less traffic there seemed to be, and, Billy discovered, if they stayed on the shoulder they could make pretty good time.

Towards mid-morning they turned off onto state Route 260, and began to angle towards the New Mexico border. The going was much easier and they found that they could keep to the pavement, most of the time, which allowed them to make even better time.

Late afternoon found them in the small city of Springerville just inside the Arizona border, and Billy drove the truck into the parking lot of a large shopping mall on the outskirts.

The mall served as an anchor for several large department stores, and a large grocery chain. There were several other specialty shops scattered throughout the mall. They stocked up on canned goods, as well as several packages of freeze dried meats from a sporting goods store in the mall. Beth wandered across the empty mall to a clothing store, and Billy walked off towards a small shop he had spotted as she picked out some clothing for both of them. By the time they had finished it was late in the afternoon. They left the small city behind, and continued into New Mexico on I60. Just before nightfall they reached the Cibola National Forest and Billy pulled the truck off onto one of the dirt roads of the park and found a place to park among the trees. He unloaded the truck and set up camp as Beth made dinner. She experimented with canned meat along with some freeze dried food, and the result was a tasty stew-like dish.

"Where did you learn to cook, Beth?" he asked, "this is really good."

"Oh it's just a little something I threw together," she joked, as she blew lightly on her finger-tips.

"All I ever ate when I was by myself was fast food," Billy said, "and it all sort of tasted like cardboard after a while. I can't believe you made this out of that stuff we picked up today."

"Well," she said, "I did throw in some canned meat. If you think this is good, just wait until I have some decent stuff to cook with." Billy bugged his eyes out comically at her, and said, "You mean this isn't the good stuff?"

"Not even," she joked back. They sipped at cups of hot tea as the fire crackled invitingly in front of them.

They were at the edge of the San Mateo Mountain range, and it was somewhat cooler at the higher elevation. They had both remarked though, on how much warmer it was than it should have been. Beth more so than Billy.

April 2nd

Donita

She was moving town to town. It was so easy with more help. The boy was far stronger than any human man, and the twins more than capable of taking down a full grown man. They seemed so fragile. So defenseless, innocent. She sent them forward and they easily took breathers with nearly no fight.

They were thirty now, and there were a half dozen laying on the ground who would be coming up out of twilight any minute. Killers. Or they had been in the old world. Being dead took the killer out of you, at least at first it did. But then it came back. You forgot all the little things of the old life. You nearly forgot your name. Where you had lived, what you had done. And then it changed. Every day you got a little more back. It wasn't exactly a memory, like a memory would be in the old days, like a breather would have. It was more like found knowledge. Not there one second, and then there the next. But it was clearer than the old memories she had had.

Donita didn't question whether that found knowledge was true or not. It didn't matter. Just like it wouldn't matter to these. What would matter to these was getting through the first bit of time. That time where heat still seemed like the only possible source of life and you struggled to find it only to realize it did nothing at all for you any longer. In fact it could kill you.

Then the cold came upon you, found you, along with its understanding and you were fine. You began to understand that life was just a short stop on the way to dead and that dead was just a way station to dead. And dead could be forever. Death was not something as trifling as life. But all of that took time. And these killers would be nothing more than babies for a few nights.

There was a process. She had gone through it, and the others had gone through it. She supposed any of the dead had gone through it. Everything that had to do with life, heat, that world had to come out of you... Sick it up. Shit it out. It had to go. It had to go because it had nothing to do with death. Nothing at all.

The dead used what they took in. There was no waste. So there was no need for a system to dispose of that waste. The dead did not heal in the same way that a breather did. There was no need for time to heal. You couldn't predict it. You weren't even precisely injured. You could lose a finger, or a leg, while you were turning and that was that. It was lost. But you could lose one after and it was back in a short time. Or most of it. She had not lost a leg, but she had lost a few fingers. One of the twins had lost an ear a few nights before. It was back. Those things could be. But they did not depend on any kind of healing like the living. No.

These were killers. For a few days they would be babies. Then for a few days they would get used to the gift they had been given. Then they would be killers again. They would be because that is what they were, and you could not change the basic truths of what you were whether you were a breather or dead.

The turnings were coming faster. Where once seven would pass in to death and maybe one would rise, now seven passed into death and five came to be. Soon it would be seven for seven. She knew that. And soon after that the whole world would belong to the dead. The breathers would be done.

She let her silvered eyes pass along the bodies that lay stretched out on the ground.

She was not weak. There was a strength that came with this life. A strength that came to your whole body once you embraced the cold. They had moved silently into the woods and taken these without a sound. They had carried them here. It had been no expenditure of energy at all.

Killers. Except one. One had not been a killer at all. But that one might not come back. If he did she would have to watch him anyway and she really didn't want to do that. She would leave him to the twins to teach. He would learn their ways or he would learn that even in UN-Death there could be death. Permanent death.

She looked him over. The night was getting along. They would come from twilight soon.

Billy and Beth

San Mateo Mountain range

_March 30_ th _\- April 8_ th

In the morning they broke camp before the sun was even up and headed out into the chill pre-morning air.

As they traveled, they encountered less and less stalled traffic, until the road before them opened up, totally deserted for miles at a stretch. Mid-morning brought them to the Oklahoma border, and if they had not had to slow down and find an alternate route around the City of Clayton, they probably would have entered Oklahoma by nightfall.

The stalled traffic had returned several miles outside the city, but once they were within two miles of the city limits, it had become impassable. Even the breakdown lanes were packed full, and the traffic had forced them into the fields that flanked the highway to find a way around. Once past Clayton however, the stalled traffic had once again given way and they spent the night camped beside the highway less than twenty miles from the Oklahoma border.

Noon of the following day brought them to the outskirts of Woodward and more stalled traffic. After taking several shortcuts across open fields, they eventually came upon route 412, which, Billy found by checking the map; they could follow most of the way across the country.

They spent that night by a quiet lake that reminded them of the one back in Arizona. They were just outside the small town of Cleo Springs Oklahoma. They were both becoming used to the traveling, and had each developed a routine they followed every night when they stopped. They had twice seen smoke off in the distance that day, as if to the east of them some great fire were burning. They had correctly guessed the reason long before they reached the fire. Someone, or something, had set the entire city to flame.

~

For several miles before they reached and successfully passed around and beyond the city of Enid Oklahoma, black oily smoke had hung over them in the sky. They had been forced to detour more than twenty miles to the south, running through the fields to get around the still burning city. Even from that distance they could feel the heat, and occasionally see the flames leaping into the sky.

When they stopped that evening at a small lake just off 412, the glow of the fire was still visible in the distance behind them. They were both tired and dropped off to sleep before the last vibrant colors of dusk had fully faded from the sky.

The next day they traveled steadily onward toward the distant mountains. The going was slower and they had to stop several times to move stalled vehicles out of the roadway, or take other routes that were less traveled. They kept on a roughly north east direction, rising only slightly up through the states.

They had finally been stopped by the wreckage of three cars that had collided on the Quachita river bridge on 270. The collision had taken out the concrete and the guard rail on one side of the bridge. There had been a fire after the wreck. And the heat must have been tremendous. Two of the cars were wrapped around the steel guard rail that had either broken on impact or in the fire after that had shattered the remaining concrete that was still connected to it. Billy managed to winch one of the cars out of the way, and together they had pushed the other two off the bridge and into the river.

They had both watched as the cars flipped end for end, and finally landed half in the river and half on a small island that split the river. At the expense of a small amount of paint, which was scraped from the truck as they passed the one remaining vehicle, they managed to get into the Quachita National Forest preserve before nightfall.

Two additional days of travel brought them just into the Alabama border and the small community of Ardmore. They found a logging road just off 31. After Billy had set up the tent in a clearing back in the woods, he walked back over to take a closer look at the truck while Beth started dinner.

Beth had surprised him earlier in the day when they had stopped by the side of the road to rest. A large buck had wandered out of the trees to their left and stood staring at them in the roadway. She had used the Remington, and carefully sighting, had brought the large animal down. Between them they had managed to dress it out, and had filled a large plastic cooler in the back of the truck with the venison. The smell of fresh steaks sizzling on the fire made the delay worthwhile.

The trip across the country had been tough on them, but it had been much harder on the truck, Billy saw now, as he looked it over.

Most of the damage was superficial, long scrapes down both sides of the truck, a small dent here and there. The big problem however was mechanical.

The brakes were borderline, soft and spongy, probably due to the rough terrain they had traversed. Billy had, had to constantly ride the brakes as they went down steep inclines to get around the road when it was hopelessly blocked. The other problem was the motor. It had developed a constant rattle deep within the block, every time it climbed even a small grade. He supposed most of it was due to the fact that they had been forced to use whatever gas they could find, and several times that had been low grade unleaded. That and the fact that the fuel injection system had not been set up for high altitude, it had been a desert truck up until it's liberation from the garage in Arizona. The truck was running better than twelve hours at a stretch, most days, and almost all of that was labored driving: As a result the truck had also developed several small oil leaks.

He walked around the truck and looked it over carefully. The tires were chewed badly from the rocks they had crawled over. It looked ten years old, Billy realized. He pulled the map out of the glove compartment, and after studying it, decided the truck would probably make it to Athens Alabama, and they should be able to pick up something to replace it there. He really hated to though, as he had grown to like the truck a great deal, even become attached to it. But he realized the truck would never make it the rest of the way.

He tossed the map back into the glove compartment, shut the door and walked back over to the fire. The smell of the cooking venison was maddening.

While he had meant it when he told Beth she had done wonders with the canned stuff, there was nothing like the real thing. He resolved to also hunt around for a case or two of Quick Cold to keep what was left of the meat fresh when they reached Athens.

Although they had seen plenty of wildlife, they had yet to see any people. They both felt, however, that there were people. For whatever reason they just weren't showing themselves. They both understood, to a point, what would make other people distrustful of them. They had seen a lot of evidence themselves, bodies horribly mangled, cities burned, and they had no wish to meet up with the people who had left it. They had found most of the bodies as they passed through the larger cities and towns, and most looked to have met with violent deaths. It was almost as if they were trying to finish the killing that the earthquakes had not been able to finish. And more dead meant more dead rising to whatever that new life was. It wasn't something either of them liked to dwell on too long. It was sobering to both of them, and Beth had taken to carrying the machine pistol with her whenever they left the truck. Billy had already gotten into the habit of keeping the Remington close at hand, but he too now made sure it was with him, and the safety off, all the time.

Billy walked back from the truck and sat down next to the fire.

"The truck's in bad shape, Beth. The one front tire's cut to the threads already." He had also checked the oil and other fluids. "She took two quarts of oil, last two we had, and it's still not touching the stick. Not good."

She screwed up her face and looked at him pensively. "Well, I suppose I could get a second job. Then I guess we could afford a new one," her humor caught him by surprise, as it usually did, and he laughed out loud.

"You are nuts, you know that?" he said. They laughed together, and then he told her that they should be able to get another truck in Athens the next day. After that she fished the meat, which she had wrapped in foil and placed over the coals at one edge of the fire, out, and they ate. They ate it with relish, and laughed at each other about what pigs they were, and then after a swim in a clear mountain stream that flowed nearby they crawled into the tent.

~

They were only three miles outside of Athens the next morning, when the truck finally gave up the ghost.

It died with one dreadfully long rattle deep within the block of the engine. Billy coasted over to the side of the road and they simply left it. He had tried to start it, but it would not turn over. Billy took the Remington, and Beth held the machine pistol as they walked along the road. It took better than an hour to walk into Athens, but when they arrived it was still early morning.

They had both been bothered by a feeling that they had been followed, or were being watched. It was unsettling, and they were constantly glancing around themselves as they walked, but they saw no one.

They were standing on the pavement of a car lot looking over a long line of vehicles, trying to decide which one to take, when the first shot came.

The windshield on the truck directly in front of them imploded, covering the interior in small jewel like chunks of glass. They both reacted almost instantly, dropping to the ground and rolling towards the rear of the truck.

When they reached the rear of the truck they both crouched low and sprinted deeper into the lot. Another shot rang out as they ran, and Beth watched as a wide hole was suddenly punched through the fender of a truck just a few inches ahead of her. She dropped to the ground and rolled over on her back, raising the machine pistol instinctively in front of her. It was all that saved her life.

Billy was still running deeper into the lot, not realizing Beth was no longer beside him. The sound of the machine pistols chatter behind him stopped him cold, and he turned and ran back towards the front of the lot.

When Beth had fallen, a tall dark haired kid had appeared from in front of the truck, and directly into the steel sight of the machine pistol. He raised what looked to be an automatic rifle, but before he could fire Beth began squeezing the trigger of the pistol, and it jumped and began to bark in her hands. Billy had just come up beside her, and watched as the man toppled over, nearly cut in two. The sound of screeching tires out on the roadway dragged his mind away from the still twitching body of the young man, and as Beth jumped up into a low crouch they both began to run towards the road. Billy stopped only long enough to pick up the automatic rifle from the ground where the man had dropped it.

When they reached the road a small Jeep was moving rapidly away from them, and a blond haired man, not much more than a kid, Billy realized, was crouched in the back aiming a rifle at them, while a dark haired young woman sat behind the wheel. They both dropped once more to the ground, and opened up on the Jeep as the young man began to fire. The slugs from the young man's rifle ripped into the pavement, tearing huge chunks out of it close to Billy's face as he fired back at the Jeep.

The blond haired kid suddenly bolted upright, and seemed to jump from the rear of the Jeep. He landed on the roadway, rolled, and then was still. Both rear tires blew out on the Jeep as Beth's gun continued to speak, and before it had traveled far the young woman lost control, and it flipped several times rolling down the middle of the road. The young woman fell headfirst in a heap on the pavement where she had been thrown, and had then been rolled over by the Jeep as it continued to flip down the road.

Smoke curled up from the overturned Jeep. Within seconds it attracted a small circle of flames from under the hood that grew and began to curl up and lick at the rubber of the still turning front tires.

"You okay?" Billy asked, in a panicked voice as he looked at Beth.

"Good... A little shaken," she amended.

They both walked slowly down the road to where the bodies of the young man and the young woman lay, they were perhaps twenty feet apart. Beth had thought that possibly the young woman might still be alive, but she was not. Her neck was broken, and they had quietly carried both bodies off the road and into a field. Billy put a bullet in each of their heads before returning to the lot. They had debated briefly whether they should bury them, but had decided not to. It was not a decision made out of spite though, but out of necessity. They had no idea whether the three were alone or not, and if they were not, and there were others close by, it might be best to get back to the lot, pick up a truck, and head back out to where the Chevy had broken down as quickly as they could.

They walked calmly back to the dealership, and went inside. They both felt safer inside despite the wide glass windows that fronted the road.

A huge four wheel drive Suburban sat on the showroom floor nestled in between other cars and trucks that surrounded it. It was obviously a heavy duty truck. It sat much higher than the pickup had, and the tires were much more aggressive: The open cargo space behind the driver's area would be an asset to them, Billy realized, much better than the open pick-up bed had been with its canvas cover. He walked around the truck, noticing that it was also equipped with a winch as the pickup had been, but this one looked to be a lot sturdier to him, strictly heavy duty.

He walked over to a slightly raised area, where a board filled with keys spanned most of the rear wall behind a small, but long counter top. He gave Beth the keys to a convertible that was between them and the doors, and she moved it while Billy jockeyed the truck around until he managed to get it aimed at the wide glass doors set into the side of the building. He drove it outside, checking the gas gauges as he did.

The truck had dual tanks, and both of them were full. Not that they'll last any longer than the pickups single tank, he thought, but he was still glad that they were full. They edged carefully around the still burning Jeep, and made their way slowly out of town and back to the pickup, watching the side roads as they went. They were both spooked.

When they were still more than a hundred yards from the pickup, they could tell that they'd had visitors while they were gone. Billy edged the Suburban up carefully to the truck and they searched the surrounding countryside, but decided whoever had been there was gone.

The truck was demolished. Someone or some-ones had attacked it with a vengeance. All the windows were smashed, and the canvas cover that had spanned the bed of the truck was slashed to ribbons. The tires had been flattened, and they had dented or punctured nearly every body panel. The camping gear, along with the rest of the venison, was gone. The map they had been using lay ripped and shredded across the front seat, which had also been slashed.

They only walked around the truck once, but it was enough. They both turned without speaking and walked back to the Suburban.

"Doesn't matter," Billy said once they were safely back inside the Suburban. "We can pick up more gear down the road. I saw a small sporting goods store about a mile back, it had a little shopping center right next to it."

"I guess we don't have to deal with the dead here because these people are here and killed or chased them off. But then we got to deal with people alive trying make more dead out the living... One or the other and no in between," Beth said.

Billy shook his head slowly as they drove away.

When they reached the small sporting goods store he pulled as close to the front doors as he could. The parking lot looked deserted, but the dealership had also looked deserted, and he was taking no chances. They looked the huge lot over for better than ten minutes before they left the truck. He wished they didn't have to stop at all. The sooner they were on the road the better, as far as he was concerned. He supposed it probably wouldn't be any better stopping somewhere else though. They entered the store and took turns watching the lot as they picked up what they needed. Besides a handful of dead, all head shot, the store was empty. Beth looked over the bodies.

"I guess some archaeologist is going to dig all this shit up in forty thousand years, if we all survive and have to come up with some explanation as to why so many skulls show evidence of bullet holes... Makes me wonder what they'll say... Religious practice? Sacrifices to the gods?" She asked.

"Hopefully they'll never know what the zombie plagues were really about," Billy said quietly.

By the time they had re-outfitted themselves it was nearly dark. The setting sun casting the lot in deep shadows, and Billy was glad he had parked the truck close to the doors. They debated staying. They could sleep right inside the small shop Beth argued, but Billy didn't want to, and Beth's argument was halfhearted at best. They both decided they would rather put as many miles as possible between themselves and the small town. In the end they left despite the descending darkness, and they did not stop that night at all.

Billy drove while Beth slept, and towards daybreak as they were nearing Fort Deposit the road disappeared into the water. They had stood looking as the sun rose higher into the sky. It was water as far as the eye could see. The air carried the tang of salt. They were both at a loss for words. Finally, Billy angled the truck down off the pavement, turned it around and drove back to an old logging road he had seen a few miles back. He dropped down off the pavement and followed the rutted road into a quiet, forested area and killed the hot motor.

They quickly set up a small camp in the sparse morning light, and then crawled into the tent. They held each other tightly as they drifted off to sleep.

~

Beth awoke long before Billy, and now sat outside the small tent, watching the last rays of light fade from the sky. It seemed to seep slowly away, and darken the sky above the pines. The wind kicked up briefly, blowing the dead leaves across the ground. They scratched and rattled as they went, making her think of small skeletons rattling in the wind. She felt afraid, and had since she had awakened earlier. She couldn't explain it to herself. She had been tempted to awaken Billy, but had decided after twice starting to do so, to wait until he awoke on his own.

She could tell now though, by the change in his breathing, that he would soon awaken, and she walked to the small fire she had built earlier to start some coffee brewing. She placed the small tin pot on the coals next to the fire.

She was sitting by the fire wondering how to approach the subject of what next, when Billy rolled out of the tent. She turned around to face him, and she saw the sadness etched into his face. He's worried too, she thought, and before she could complete the thought he proved her right.

They had been undecided for a short time after they had found the highway arcing down into the water somewhere inside what had been the border of Alabama. They would have to go back, but where? They had been heading south, not an absolute place, but south nonetheless. South was now out of the question., The water had stretched away as far as they could see to the south, east, and then arced away forming a new coastline to the west. They had starting backtracking the next day.

Beth poured coffee in the small tin cups for both of them before she spoke. "Where are you thinking?"

They had backtracked all the way into Kentucky. Stopping last night at what they assumed was the Ohio river, too tired to decide what was next.

He shrugged his shoulders as he responded. "I think we can start heading for the East coast. What do you think?"

"I guess so, I... I don't know. It certainly won't hurt, and where else would we go?" she stared into the fire as she spoke. "I think we should be a lot more careful though. I get the feeling that those people we ran into aren't the only ones around who would just as soon kill us, and I'm not kidding myself about it, I think it was pretty clear. They didn't want to talk, or even to just take us prisoner or something, they wanted to outright kill us. No sense pretending about that." She paused.

"I mean, I really thought there, for a second, that they were just scared or something, or maybe saw me and... Well, you know. But that wasn't it."

When she finished he nodded silently, and then sipped from the cup before he spoke. "You're right, I just didn't want to think about it, Hell, I couldn't think about much of anything except getting as far away as possible, and I kept thinking about the truck too. Did they do that before they tried to kill us, after, or was it someone else? There's no real way to tell, but even if they were alone I'm not kidding myself that there won't be others just like them. We do have to be careful," he paused, thinking. "In fact I think we need to get off the main road from now on. These parks, rural areas seem better. No dead... Few dead anyway... Fewer people. I never thought I would say fewer people was a good thing, but," he shrugged, "guess I just did. I don't think it's safe... You agree? I mean, there are lots of other roads that parallel the main highway. I guess it just seems like the smart thing to do, and it feels like the right thing to do. What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you're right. I've been sitting out here thinking about pretty much the same thing for quite a few hours, and you're right, we have to be careful, and you're also right about the main road... It just doesn't seem safe, or the safest way to get anywhere anymore."

"Well," Billy said, "if we're going to take side roads, we're going to have to get another map, and that means we're going to have to go into the next city to get one. I'm not thrilled about that, but we're also going to need to pick up more ammunition too. Either way, we have to at least follow the highway into the next town down the line. No way around it," he almost seemed as though he were hoping that she would come up with some alternative as he spoke.

"No other way," she said, "so... I guess we better get moving?" She allowed what she had meant to be a statement to rise at the end and turned it into more of a question.

"No," Billy said immediately. "No way. It'll be dark soon, and I really don't think that would be a smart move at all. No... I think we should wait it out here tonight, and get on the road early in the morning. We should be able to make the next town without a map. I don't even know what the next place is, but it can't be too far, can it?" he didn't wait for a response; he had asked more for himself than her. "No, I'm pretty sure it won't be far. We've been running into lots of small towns every twenty, thirty miles or so, and most of them at least have gas stations. We should be able to get a map fairly easily. After we do though, that's it. We get off the main road, and stay off it."

As darkness closed in, they had both turned quiet. Beth had begun a small dinner over the coals in the fireplace, they had hastily thrown together earlier that morning when they had arrived, and Billy had walked over to the truck and occupied himself with checking the mechanics, making sure that nothing had been damaged the night before as he had driven.

Several times he had driven over debris in the road, but in his haste to put miles between them, he had ignored it. He had also become convinced during the night as he drove, that they were being followed. He had kept glancing into the mirrors, sure that he would see glowing headlights closing in on them from behind. It had not happened though; the road behind them had remained empty all night as he had driven.

He had another thought as he stood looking over the truck. What if they had done something to this truck? He wondered. He knew it was irrational, there had to have been over a hundred trucks on that lot, and... How would they have known to choose this one? And if they had, wouldn't something already have happened?

In spite of how ridiculous it seemed, he checked the truck over anyway. There was one small gouge in the front passenger fenders paint, probably due to some debris flying up and hitting it, but other than that the truck seemed fine, and none the worse for the hurried trip. He pushed it from his mind as he walked away from the truck and back to the fire.

Beth was stirring a stew like mixture, to keep it from burning on the hot coals.

"I think it's ready," she said as he approached the fire, and squatted down beside her. "Hungry?" she gave him a small spoonful to taste.

"Oh yeah," he responded, and rubbed his stomach with one hand to show her it was true. He sat down close to the fire, and turned his thoughts away from the truck.

Billy tried a tired smile on his face as he took a bowl of the stew. Beth sat down next to him, and they began to eat as the last traces of light seeped from the sky.
SIX

April 15th

618 Park Avenue: Seventh floor 2B

Bear paced before the glass slider that opened onto the balcony. The apartment had been getting on his nerves more and more every day. Closing him in, making him jumpy, paranoid.

He had spent five full days scouring the streets, but he had found nothing. He had learned a great deal though. The city did not belong to the living any longer. Yes, the living were there. Gathered together, but the living were becoming the dead. Looking at it, it was inevitable The dead would grow even as the living shrank. Someday the dead would be more... Stronger... And they would take the city completely. He had wondered if it were like that everywhere.

He had come back to the Apartment, killed more of the dead that had taken over the lobby once more, broken the lock set, and made his way back up to the apartment. That had been days ago. He had lost track of how many. He had fed himself from Amanda Bynes' cupboards. The water supply at the taps was gone, but he had carried cases of water and sports drinks up to the apartment early on, so it was well stocked.

He had lost track of the days and as he had, he had sunk deeper into his depression. Donita had not come back. He had gone out searching two other times, but he had finally given it up. Where did you search for someone who was missing? She could be ten feet away or ten thousand miles away. There was no way to know. He had spent more and more time on the balcony, looking out over the dying city.

The dead had been giving him more trouble too. He had put a new deadbolt in the stairwell door that opened onto the lobby. He kept that door locked, but they had figured out how to force the lock. Not surprising since he had forced it himself to get back into the apartment. He hadn't been able to repair all the damage that he had caused to the steel door frame.

The really bad part about that had been that when he did return, he had found the key to the stairwell door, apparently all tenants had one, along with a key to the lobby front door, hanging on a peg above the kitchen counter.

He had finally scoured all the other apartments, taken what he could carry, and blocked off the stairwell with a jumble of couches, chairs and other furnishings he had scavenged from those same apartments. He had thought at the time that closing off the stairwell made perfect sense. What he had not thought out was the fact that he too would not be able to use the stairwell. Yes, it would keep the dead out, but it would also keep him in; had since he had closed it off, and that was not something he could take much longer.

At night he could hear the zombies working at the tangle of furniture in the stairwell. It was just a matter of time before they managed to fight their way through it and clear the stairwell: When that happened it would be the end of him.

And the Zombies were getting smarter. They had been coming at dusk and assaulting the stairwell. It was as if they knew he was there and they had to have him at any cost. But they had had no real thinking process. They simply threw themselves at the pile, clawing, trying to work their way over or through it, never making much progress. But the last two nights they had stopped simply assaulting the pile of furniture and junk Bear had tossed into the stairwell. They had instead begun taking it apart. Working at it. As though they had stood back and really looked at it, decided how to clear it, and then went about it. That was not dumb-dead-zombie thinking. Not at all. That was thinking like any man could do. They were thinking and that scared him. It scared him because the last two mornings before this one had shown progress. And this morning they had nearly made it. Another couple of hours of work and they would have been in.

He had decided the time had come to leave. It had, and, really, he should have left three weeks before. He should have left and headed south like he and Donita had planned to: Instead he had developed a suicidal side. He didn't care. How else could he explain barricading himself in the way he had? He couldn't.

It took three hours of the morning to make his way through the pile of furnishings and junk, and he had awakened three Zombies as he moved it, they had come out of the shadows in the bottom of the stairwell and stared up at him. Smart, but not smart enough. He had killed the first one and then the second one when it had come right up behind the first one. The third one was a little smarter.

The third one had waited in the deep shadows, silent as he finished moving the tangle of furniture and started down into the shadows. He stopped just a few steps down. He had taken a flashlight from Amanda Bynes' kitchen. He flicked it on now, gun out before him, before he took another step.

The third one was crouched six feet below waiting for him, and even though he had been ready he nearly blew it.

He was a young boy, or had been. He was coiled like a snake, and he came out of the coil and launched himself into the light.

Bear fired three times. His finger squeezing convulsively on the trigger. The boy landed in a heap before him, a wet splash on the steps. His mouth continued to work, biting at the steel step where his teeth now lay shattered, growling deep in his throat. Bear leaned forward and shot the boy in the head once more, and he stopped moving. Bear made his way around him and down the stairs into the first floor stairwell.

There were two more waiting in the lobby, but these were not the smart ones. These were slow and shuffling. He killed the first one as he stepped out into the lobby. The second one stood looking down at her companion. He walked up, placed the gun against her head and pulled the trigger. She collapsed next to her friend where she apparently had wanted to be.

Bear made the street through the same shattered door frame he had come through with Donita just a few short weeks before. The Zombies had shattered the windows on the delivery truck and torn the inside apart. He had hoped the truck would be intact and it was not. He looked around at the early morning quiet of the devastated city: Up and down the deserted street, scuffed the sidewalk with his gore spattered boots, and then walked off to the south.

Watertown New York

Pearl

Pearl stood shadowed by the edge of a pile of rubble. She had watched the three for several minutes now as they packed up their vehicle, obviously getting ready to leave the city. She needed to go herself, but were they the right ones to travel with? Two men and one woman, but the woman didn't appear to be anything more than an equal. It was probably the best chance she was likely to have. She stepped out into the sunlight and the conversation suddenly stopped as everyone froze.

"Just load it up and tarp it. We should be..." The man stopped in mid-sentence as Pearl stepped out into view. He swiveled quickly to face her, placing his body between her and the other woman.

Pearl raised her hands quickly, out and away from her body. "I've got nothing," she said. She remembered the small pistol she had tucked away almost as soon as she had spoken the words.

The woman stepped around the first man, and the other man had shifted to face her more fully, probably while she had been paying attention to the first man. A well oiled team, she thought. They had spent time together, it was obvious.

The woman motioned to the first man, "Go ahead, Scott." The man stepped forward, pushed his own weapon around to hang from his back on the leather strap that held it. His hands settled roughly on her shoulders and he began to pat her down.

"There's a bulge there," Haley said quietly. She motioned at Pearl's jeans where the crotch bulged slightly.

Scott's hand stopped suddenly, just below where the shirt overhung Pearl's waist. He felt her tremble. "It's small... I've been scared. Just something for safety," Pearl told them.

"But you said you had nothing," Scott said as his eyes held her own.

"What is it?" Haley asked.

"Says she's got a piece in her... I guess, her panties," Scott lowered one hand and carefully felt the small gun. Haley was at his side when he looked up. "Really small," he said and shrugged. Haley passed him her pistol. "Keep it on her."

Haley reached forward and freed the buttons that held the fly of Pearl's pants. She reached in and came out with a small .22 pocket pistol. She looked it over.

"Five shot... .22 Mags," Pearl said.

Haley looked up. "I can see that. So why didn't you say something?"

"Your mate was on his way down. You spotted it." She shrugged. "Look. I'm alone. I had to have something. This town may look dead, but it's far from dead. I'm just looking for a way out. The road. Leave this place. It's been... It's been bad." her eyes seemed to cloud at the end. "Mind? It's a bit cold." she looked down at her open fly.

"Go ahead," Haley said.

Pearl buttoned the fly back and then took a deep breath. "So?"

"So, What's your name," Haley asked.

"Pearl... You?"

"Haley... Joel, Scott," she nodded to each with her head. "I guess she's okay," she told Scott. Scott lowered the gun and then handed it back to Haley a second later.

"We're headed for the city," Joel told her.

"Syracuse?" Pearl asked.

"No... When people say city around here they usually mean New York... Manhattan," Joel said quietly. "Why should we make room for you, Pearl. Especially since you didn't want to tell us about this gun?" He had taken the pistol from Haley and was turning it over in his hand. It was very small and didn't seem capable of doing much harm.

"It will kill you well enough," Pearl said as if reading his thoughts. "It's a bad world. You need another shooter. Who knows what you're going to run into between here and there." She paused and then nodded at the pistol. "You can see I'm resourceful." She met Joel's eyes when they swung suddenly up to her own. "I'm not dangerous unless someone is tying to hurt me," she finished quietly.

Joel raised his eyes to Haley and Scott. They both nodded. He looked back at her. "Guess you are in, Pearl," he told her. He tossed the gun and she caught it in one hand.

"I like it, but here," Haley said retrieving a rifle from the back of the truck. She tossed it to her lightly.

"Zero to sixty?" Pearl asked as she looked over the rifle.

Haley pulled a clip from a pouch at her side. She frowned. "Guess so," she said as she tossed the clip to Pearl. "I guess so." Pearl socketed the clip home as she nodded.

"Okay," Joel said. "Looks like we need another truck."

Haley nodded and they all piled into the truck. Joel turned it around and started back out to the strip.

Bluechip

Richard Pierce.

Richard pierce watched the two trucks pick their way around the wrecked pavement. Lately he had found himself wondering what the outside world smelled like? Was it sterile the way the air here smelled? Slightly burned? Something like that. It had a constant smell of hot steel. He really didn't notice it unless he concentrated on it.

He had watched the three become four. So Pearl had made her way out. He could only hope she would remember what he had done for her. How he had cut her loose. Anyone else in this place would come unglued to find out he had not only let someone go, but that the natural containment of the project, encased over a mile deep in stone was now breached. He had let her out through the air ducting. It had taken two days of looking over the schematics to be sure that there was a way out and where it was, but he had found it and sent her on her way. She had found her way out, and that could only mean that project Bluechip was not a secure facility any longer. Air was being exchanged with the outside. Air sucked in from that same ducting, directly through the opening she had cut into the duct work, and then drawn into their clean air supply. So, he thought now, why does it still smell like hot metal? He had no answer, except, maybe it took time. Maybe the small amount of air was not so noticeable. No matter, he knew it had been breached, he knew the truth.

Of course they would know. He had very little time, maybe only minutes before she was discovered missing. He felt cowardly about the way he had worked it out. He had sent her first, she had made it and so he knew it was safe for him to go. He had no intention of going along with the ones she had found though, He had his own plans, His own ideas, He had waited a long time to get out of here and he had, had a long time to think about what he wanted to do once he was out: Where he wanted to go. He punched up a camera view in one of the tunnels. The hole was obvious immediately. Ragged sheet steel curled away from the side of the pipe. So she had done it. She hadn't found some other way, she had done exactly what she was supposed to do. The duct was breached. All he had to do was go.

He leaned forward and punched a series of numbers and letters into his keypad. Hiding it with the forward movement of his body. A second later the system switched over to a camera loop that it had released no more than an hour before, and once more the tunnel looked untouched: The duct piping solid and whole once more. He stood from his console and stretched.

"Christ," he complained loudly, as he fisted his hands and worked at his eyes. "This shit is about to put me to sleep, Graham."

Graham looked up and smiled. "Not you. Usually you're a bear for this shit."

"Yeah, yeah, but not today. Not enough sleep. I'm going to the cafeteria... Get some of that shit that passes for coffee," Pierce told him.

"Yeah, but what if Weston comes around?" Graham asked. He seemed alarmed, Pierce thought, and well he should be. There was no leaving the monitor station during a shift.

"Cover for me... Tell him I had to use the can," Pierce told him quietly. When he looked doubtful Pierce added, "Come on, man, I'd do it for you, Graham. You know I would."

"Yeah. I know." He looked around the room quickly. "Okay... Just not too long, okay?"

"Not too long," Pierce agreed. He clapped Graham on the back as he walked past him. "Not too long at all, buddy."

Bear

April 15th

The Taxi was in the middle of the road. Bear toted a heavy shotgun and wore two 45 Automatics he had liberated from a pawn shop. He had used them more than once. A heavy pack on his back held extra rounds for the shotgun and the pistols as well as food stuffs and other essentials he had picked up during his outings.

He had settled himself into an old factory down along the river, and life was becoming more predictable. He looked over at the taxi. A vehicle would be useful. The entire city wasn't a wasteland of abandoned vehicles. Most of it, but not all of it. There were places a vehicle could get him in an hour or two that would take a day or longer to reach on foot.

He had wandered through most of Manhattan before finding the factory. Most of the city was dead, dying, burned, or in need of burning.

The taxi sat in the middle of the street. All four tires were up, Bear noticed as he walked closer to it. The balance of the street was littered with garbage, other debris from the surrounding buildings, and little else. There were four other vehicles, all of which were parked sedately at the curb. He pulled one of the pistols as he approached the side of the taxi.

The windows were up, the partition between the seats blocking his view until he was nearly even with the drivers window.

The driver sat behind the wheel, a browned and shriveled mummy behind glass. Bear staggered back against his will, shocked for a moment. The driver grinned back at him with his permanent, yawning smile. He was leaning against the door. Bear stepped forward, levered the door handle, and the driver spilled out with a dry rattle, shattering on the asphalt. Bear jumped back again, glancing up nervously at the surrounding buildings. A few pigeons, disturbed by the noise, took flight: Nothing else. A few seconds later the silence came back and the street was once again as it had been.

Bear shoved what was left of the driver aside with one foot, and leaned closer to the inside of the car. He pulled his head back out quickly and backed away, his face pale. He had thought that since the body had seemed dried out, shriveled, that maybe there would be no smell. He had been wrong. He pushed the smell out of his head so he could hang onto the meal of stale peanut butter crackers he had, had for lunch. He walked off down the street. Sucking the cool air into his lungs as he went. He almost missed the three people watching him from the doorway.

A young dark haired man had been at the front. He held what turned out to be a fully automatic machine pistol in one hand. Loosely: Pointing at the ground. Bear had bought up his own hands and they seemed to be indecisive. Hovering over the pistols on either side. He forced them to drop.

The young man nodded. "No harm, no foul," he said aloud.

Bear's eyes lifted to the two women behind him. He nodded and they nodded back.

"We're going a little further out," the young man said. "Couple of car dealers out there," he motioned vaguely toward the East. "Get some wheels... Try to get the fuck out of here."

Bear nodded.

"Why don't you throw in with us then," one of the women asked. She stepped forward and then down off the walk, and walked over to Bear. "Damn... You're a big guy," Madison said as she offered one hand. The other held her own machine pistol down to her side.

Bear chuckled. "Bear," he said. "Got a place nearby... Staying for a while yet, maybe..."

She nodded. "John... Cammy," she said pointing. They both nodded and then stepped down off the pavement and walked over.

"Put us up for a while, maybe?" Madison asked Bear.

"Glad to," Bear agreed.

A few minutes later they had been walking through what was left of Union City heading towards the outskirts; talking as they went.

~

They had met no one along the way: Before nightfall they had been driving a pair of new pickup trucks. John and Bear in one, Madison and Cammy in the other, weaving in and out of traffic heading back into the city.

They had ended up in the factory with the gas lanterns for light. The windows boarded up.

April 16th

Bear pulled Donita's tattered notebook from his pocket and read it once more in starts and fits as he thought about the last few days. Eyes rising to the factory walls, the entrance, and then back down to the notebook. Occasionally a fat tear drop rolled down his cheek unseen and fell to the cold concrete floor.

Tarps overhung the shattered factory entrance. The building itself was solid. He had checked it with a flashlight. Why it had survived the earthquakes he did not know, but he was glad it had.

It was even stocked with canned goods. Someone had gone through the trouble of building a fireplace. Rock from the nearby river, most likely, Bear thought. The fireplace occupied a central part of the floor. Wood piled by it. He had almost passed on it, thinking that whoever had set this up would be back, but the fire was cold, the tarp had blown partly off the door too, and there were too many of the dead now, wandering the streets and alleyways. They seemed to shy away from daylight, but at night they roamed freely. He needed the protection of a solid building and a fire.

He had heard the screams of their victims more than once over the first several nights as he huddled in this doorway or that. He had found a second floor factory to call home for two nights, but there were too many ways into it, too many entrances to guard. The dead had found him on the second night and he had only escaped because they were too slow to chase him. He had found a shallow cave a few days before along the cliffs that faced the river. He had fled to it, hoping that nothing else had claimed that small space. It had been empty and he had spent the night snapping awake every time there was a strange sound. The next morning he had found the factory. The windows bricked up long ago, the entrance a crumbled ruin, but that was the only way in. He had learned that first night that the dead were afraid of fire. They would not come near it. He could hear them out in the night, moaning, stumbling from one place to another, but they never approached where he could see them, and in the morning there were none to be seen. They had secreted themselves away in the dark places that they passed away the daylight hours in.

He had built the fire in the pit, and then another outside the entryway that evening and had managed to get his first night of real sleep the next night, when it was clear they would not come near the fire under any circumstances. He paused, thinking back, and then began to write out his own story.

Bears Notebook.

I've heard gunshots more than once. And the nights are alive. Screams, the dead walking about, stumbling and crashing. I've heard a dog barking too. And I've seen a few dogs, cats, squirrels. I've also heard what sounded like a car or a truck, but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Everything is so quiet during the day; it could be anywhere.

The sound of the river drowns things out. I've seen few live people until yesterday. At least very few that didn't already seem as though they had crossed over into crazy-town. These three I met yesterday seem okay. _Mostly_ okay.

I have no idea what has happened, even here in Manhattan. It doesn't really matter either, except to tell you, whoever you may end up being, what happened from my point of view, I guess. Maybe it's the same for you. Maybe writing this out is a waste of time. But it keeps my mind off shit.

There were more planes overhead in the night. I know that sounds crazy, but I awoke to hearing them. It took me back to the day in the park when they overflew us and sprayed us.

I mentioned people. I have three people with me. I'm not sure how long they'll be with me or if these are people I can form a group with. I hope so. I would hate to think that all of this time has slipped by, I found other people, or they found me, and we aren't compatible with one another. I guess time will tell. I'm going to start looking for other people though. I think there are dozens of people close by but they're all hiding. I'm going to walk down by the river, all those lofts, warehouses. I figure that if anyone is still alive that is where they would be. Hiding in all of those buildings. The more of us the better. There is safety in numbers.

I'm warm. I'm dry. I'm pretty much okay. My fingers are sore and I'm tired, so I'll pick this up tomorrow.

Bear closed his notebook and slipped it into his shirt pocket. He sat quietly for a few moments and then lifted his eyes looking around the factory floor. The longer he was here the more convinced he was that someone had been here for a length of time directly after everything fell apart. His eyes fell on the three where they had settled in.

There was some sort of tension there that he couldn't quite define. For the last few hours it had seemed as though a whispered argument of some sort had transpired between Madison and John. Bear didn't think much of John, but he was surprised that Madison was with him. She seemed too strong to need someone like that. He turned away and shook his head to clear it. People belonged to themselves, maybe more now that they ever had. The wrong thing for John to be thinking is that he could tell a woman like Madison what she could or couldn't do. He stared back into the fire for a moment and began to think once more about his own losses, wondering where Donita might be. It was always like that. _'I need to get some batteries, maybe some more ammo too, and I wonder how Donita is?' ... 'Looks like rain today, but I can still get some things done, and I wonder if Donita is safe and dry somewhere.'_ Her memories kept sneaking up on him. His feelings, his longing for her, something like that, kept it absolutely fresh and ever present. It made his chest ache almost instantly and so he turned his thoughts in a different direction.

Bear had been sitting out front of the factory building a few days back when he had met a guy that said he had worked at the Army base over in Jersey. He said he knew what it was. He said the planes came from somewhere down south, but stopped there on the way back to re-fuel. What he had said was that the blue stuff was designed to strengthen the survivors, keep them alive a little longer, make them stronger somehow. Some dip shit scientist's idea. The guy had, had a bad twitch on the right side of his face, and he kept turning away in mid-sentence to check the shadows amid the foliage of the river bank. He had never even said goodbye, just walked away.

Bear supposed it could be true. That it was meant as a boost for human kind, a help. The world had fallen apart; everything stopped working. They knew the government couldn't get to the survivors to help them. They would die. So they sprayed the blue shit on everyone, and Bear supposed further that some of them had survived the first few months because of it. He couldn't prove it, but he suspected it did help them evolve into...

He didn't know. Whatever the hell they were now. He knew they we're alive. He knew his heart beat. He still felt human, and he truly thought he was still human. If it made changes to the living, they are very small changes... at least so far.

But the dead - oh, the dead. That was a different story. It did something else to the dead.

He sat now thinking his thoughts. He was lost in them for a few seconds. But he came back fast when he caught a disturbance across the factory floor.

Madison had been watching him from across the factory floor where she had made a clearly defined space for herself and Cammy a few feet away from John. John hadn't liked it at all. But she didn't really care too much about what John thought. He was all right, but he was not her leader... She wasn't sure what kind of leader she needed, but not a leader that didn't respect the boundary lines of a relationship. She looked over at Bear where he sat close to the fire. Maybe she had found her leader, or at least someone she was willing to follow. She hadn't wanted to interrupt him while he was writing, but now that he seemed finished. She got to her feet, dusted her palms.

"Baby?" Cammy asked.

Madison squatted back down beside her. She smiled and then leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "You know I love you, right?"

Cammy smiled back. "I do..." Her smile slipped. "But?"

"Just got to have a conversation.... See if this is someone we can travel with... I'll be right back." She leaned forward and kissed her again, and then stood. She caught John's eyes as she straightened.

"Him?" John asked. He shook his head and turned away. Madison shook her own head and then walked over to where Bear sat.

"This was really nice of you," she said as she walked up. "We were staying in that old school building. None too stable. Last night was the best sleep I've had in a while."

"Funny," Bear replied, "I was thinking the same thing. For me it was just having companionship."

Madison smiled. She caught his eyes and smiled again.

"Mind?" She asked, gesturing at the ground beside him.

"Not at all," Bear smiled.

The silence stretched out for a few seconds, each of them looking around the factory floor waiting for the other to begin.

Madison fixed her eyes on him. "I was just wondering what you were planning on doing. I mean, have you thought about leaving? I know you spoke a bit about it yesterday when you were talking to John. Seemed like you two don't really see things the same way." She let the last words rise like a question.

Bear looked at her levelly. "Yeah... I guess it does show. We just don't click. I wondered if you were coming over to tell me that the three of you might light out... I guess it's obvious we don't see things the same. I guess I also wondered what you thought as an individual... You don't seem like the kind of woman that follows." Bear shrugged. "I know I can't be nobodies soldier."

Madison nodded. "It's the same with me. I do my own thinking."

"Exactly," Bear agreed.

Madison nodded. She fixed him with her serious eyes once more. "So what will you do?"

"Probably like I said, like everyone else is doing. I don't see them, but I can feel it... It's like a drain on the city... The living moving out, the dead moving in. So I guess that's me too... I'll leave. Get out of this city... That's first. It's bad here." He raised his arms to encompass the factory. "I've been here a few days... False security. They won't come near this place, but that isn't getting me out of the city either. I have got to quit procrastinating."

"What's next do you think?" Madison asked.

"As this goes on?" Bear shook his head "I guess I'm just waiting to see how this goes too... Like everyone. But.... I think the dead are getting smarter... Faster too. I know that sounds like bullshit, maybe even paranoia, but I've been paying attention. I saw three the other day that seemed to be working together to break a door down to a building." He nodded when Madison raised her eyebrows. "Back on Park Avenue with my woman, Donita? ..." He blinked and stumbled with his words. "It was after she was gone."

"I see that... Sorry," Madison said softly.

"So I had to leave... Couldn't stay there..." Bear swiped at his eyes, embarrassed at the instant tears that had appeared. He cleared his throat. "The dead... The dead had been attacking every night. It's like they knew I was there. At first they just stumbled against the stuff I had piled up in the stairwell to keep them out, made a racket all night long, but after a while it was like they saw it for what it was and began to work to remove it. The morning I left they had nearly made their way through overnight." Bear raised his hands, palms out and shrugged his massive shoulders.

Madison hung her head and shook it slightly. "That's the last thing we need," She said as she scrubbed at her face with her palms.

Bear nodded. "So, what happens next? I'll probably leave," he smiled. "I guess that was a long drawn out answer."

"No. Not really," Madison answered. "I'm in the same place." She looked around.

Bear shrugged his shoulders. "Jersey's looking better and better, huh?" He laughed a little.

Madison looked up from her contemplation of the floor. The laughter had caught her by surprise. She laughed too. "It is starting to look better." She smiled at Bear.

"Been over there," Bear told her. "Wandered all over for a few days. It's not so bad. Thinking it might be time to at least spread out a little. I thought that was what John was suggesting at first. Get a truck and get out, but then he wants to come right back. I don't really get that."

She nodded and then continued. "Me either... Anyway, I..." She raised her head level with his and locked her eyes on his own. "I just wanted you to know I'm seeing it the same way as you. I mean... I mean I want to be on your side of it... Me and Cammy both" She gave a nod, then firmed her mouth, set her jaw and spoke once more. "I have Cammy to think of," She blushed and turned away, and then turned right back.

"I see," Bear said.

She nodded and smiled carefully, "Didn't know what side of this you might fall on... John is against it... Thinks I need a man. I'm taking you at face value, I guess." She smiled.

Bear laughed. "What a dick."

"I just wanted you to know the deal... I don't want to mess this up.," she said quietly, her eyes serious.

"So we'll go looking tomorrow," Bear said. "We'll decide things between us." He turned toward John "Him too if he wants."

"I don't see that working for him, but it works for me, Bear" Madison said.

"Okay Madison," Bear agreed. Tomorrow it is."

"Maddy," Madison told him. "We'll be with you tomorrow."

Bear nodded, "Maddy it is," which caused a huge smile to spread across her face. His own smile answered it. But he thought, did she really mean it? He didn't complete the thought as she stood and walked across the factory floor to where she had put her things and spent her first night. Cammy followed her and then her eyes came up and seemed to question Bear. She turned and looked back at Madison. Bear stood and walked over to help them move their things to their own area. Bear saw the tension in John's shoulders as he helped them move, but John said nothing.

~

John watched as Bear helped the girls move their sleeping bags and back packs over to a clear space on the factory floor. He didn't see what Madison saw in Cammy, but it was her choice, and she wouldn't get a second chance with him. He came close to slamming his fist into the cement floor. Not frustrated at all, he told himself. Not even a little.

He was about to roll out his sleeping bag and go to sleep, maybe tomorrow would have a different spin, he thought briefly, when Bear walked over and dropped down in a squat next to him. He moved so fast and easy for a big man. "Hey," John was startled into saying.

Bear smiled. "Didn't mean to startle you... Thought you saw me coming."

"No... No, you didn't startle me at all," John lied.

Bear nodded. He cleared his throat a little. "Maddy and I talked a little... This place is safe, but it isn't where we need to be, so we thought we'd light out... Maybe tomorrow... Jersey, maybe further, either way, out of the city is the goal."

"Maddy?" John asked. "So it's like that."

Bear kept the smile on his face. "Listen," he leaned close, too close, but it was a tactic he reserved for situations just like this back in the old world. "She wants to go... With Cammy," he spread his hands, huge hands, "It is what it is, man."

John shook his head. "I don't see it. It's a new world... Who knows how many of us may have died off... If you look at New York alone it's got to be millions."

Bear nodded, not really sure where John was going.

John leaned close. "So how do you build a population back up if the women are only fucking the women?"

Bear shook his head. "You know what I said to Maddy a few moments ago?" He didn't wait for John to answer. "She said something about the way you have a tried to impose upon her that she needs a man, and I said, 'What a dick.' That's what I said, 'What a dick.'"

John just glared from under his lowered brows.

"Grow the fuck up, John, or go your own way. But as for those two?" He looked over at Madison and Cammy. "Don't fuck with them anymore... I understand your thoughts might have gotten fucked up... It's tough times like this that can do that. But they are their own, not your own." He patted one huge hand against John's shoulder, smiled and then stood and walked away.

April18th

Billy and Beth

Beth awoke a few hours before dawn and sat just outside the small tent, lost in thought.

Billy had mentioned the day before, that it was probably not safe to use the main road any longer. She knew now that he was right. At first she had thought that his reasoning had been influenced by the previous attack they had experienced, but now she was not so sure. Now she was convinced that he had already known, that he had somehow seen what was ahead, and knew that the only way for them to travel safely was via the back roads.

As she sat in the darkness waiting for the sunrise, she realized that she too had known. She had only to recall their conversation of the previous night. She sat and tried to make sense of all the thoughts that seemed to be running loose in her mind.

She slowly became aware that the sky was beginning to color with the first rays of sunrise. The silent, night-black forest surrounding them began to awaken. Birds began to whistle in the pre-dawn air. Their whistled conversations flew back and forth, and were soon joined by the chatter of a multitude of squirrels who also called the forest home. The symphony created by the forest inhabitants began to break apart her troubled thoughts as she listened, the black mood that had begun to descend upon her finally lifted as the first brilliant rays of sunlight began to stream down through the thick pines of the forest.

She rose slowly and began to re-kindle the fire. When Billy awoke a few minutes later, she had coffee heating, and had already prepared a small breakfast from the left over dinner of the night before.

Lazy curls from the wood fire drifted slowly up through the trees into the morning air, the smoky scent hung in the air, and invoked nothing but good feelings in her. When Billy crawled out of the tent, the black mood that had threatened to envelop her was completely gone, and had been replaced with a deep feeling of peace that calmed and soothed her soul. She knew they would have to be careful on their trek east, but she was no longer overpowered by the sense of foreboding that had washed over her earlier.

"Morning," Billy said, as he sat down next to her and took the steaming cup of coffee she offered, "Sleep okay?"

She considered her answer only briefly, "No," she replied, "I woke up a couple of hours ago and couldn't get back to sleep. I kept thinking about things, Billy. Like what's ahead for us, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we have to be careful, but I shouldn't spend my time sweating this stuff," she looked into his eyes as she finished speaking.

"I know how you feel. I feel the same way," Billy said, "I spent a long time thinking about it last night before I could finally get to sleep. I guess I just don't care anymore. We could drive ourselves crazy trying to reason it... whatever happened, happened, and we'll just face what we have to as we go," he paused for a second. "I think truthfully that we'll be okay, I really do. If I didn't I would say so. We'll just keep going."

Billy finished speaking, and when he did he pulled Beth to him and held her.

"Are you afraid?" he asked her.

"No," she replied, "not afraid of death anyhow, maybe just afraid of turning... I don't want that, Billy, I really don't," she began to cry as she finished, and Billy held her, comforting her as best he could. I won't let that happen, he thought, not at all.

Aloud he said, "Beth?" he waited until she looked up at him. "I think that we just have to be careful so that doesn't happen, you know, like if we just went ahead with no thought to what we were doing, we could find ourselves in a bad situation, or we might not be able to think quickly enough if something happened. But I don't, and can't believe that we will. Not if we're careful, Beth, and that's probably what we're being made to see." He was looking over the top of her head as he spoke. "I think," he said, changing the subject, "that those stitches need to come out... Might hurt a little."

She looked up at him from his arms. "Might?" She asked.

The surrounding symphony continued as the rays of sunlight fought their way deeper into the forest to awaken its inhabitants; they held each other and allowed the calls and whistles of bird-talk to dispel their fears. Its calming effect soon overcame the fear and apprehension thinking of the trip had heaped upon them. Billy worked with a pair of nail clippers, tweezers, and peroxide, pulling each piece of dental floss from her head.

"Put some iodine on it too," Beth told him as he finished.

"That's gonna hurt like a bitch," Billy told her.

"Really? Like a bitch?" Beth asked.

"I didn't mean it exactly like that," Billy told her. He let the dropper suck up some iodine and then squeezed small drops on each small hole that the dental floss had slipped out of.

"Oh," Beth said. "That does hurt like a bitch," she gritted her teeth as Billy continued until each hole was done. A few minutes late he was done and Beth got up to walk it off. "The hard part is that I want to itch it," she told him.

Billy nodded his head and looked into the eyes of a small gray ground squirrel that sat watching them on a gnarled limb of an older nearby pine. Its tiny hand-like limbs were clasped together across its white belly, and to Billy it seemed as though the squirrel were an old and wise man, sitting and watching them from his pine perch. The squirrel chattered briefly, adding its voice to the bird-talk of the forest, and then scampered across the limb, into the upper reaches of the pine, out of sight.

Beth came back a few moments later. "Well, I guess we should get moving if we're going to." Billy nodded his head in agreement, and said. "We need to go into the next city or town and get a map, Beth."

"I was wondering about that," she answered, "Wouldn't the park office have maps?" She lowered her head. "Itches a lot less... How's it looking?"

"I didn't think about that, but yeah they should. We can check on the way out, and if they do it'll save us having to travel the main road into the next city, we'll still need a state map eventually though." He looked her head over. "Looks good. Your head probably won't get infected."

"Right," she replied as she stood upright once more. "But if it gets infected you are the first son of a bitch I'm eating."

Billy looked comical for a moment and then burst into laughter.

A few moments later, after they had both quieted down, Beth spoke. "The map... Even if it's not a state map it should at least get us heading in the right direction, Billy. And maybe we should avoid the main roads... Just in case someone is following us... Sounds crazy, I know."

"Even if we don't find a map we can get ourselves pointed in the right direction anyway, and eventually we'll have to come to some sort of small town, or village, and then we'll get a map, okay?" he asked.

"Just so long as you don't think I'm being stupid, or foolish," she said.

"You don't have to explain it to me, I know. I feel it too, and I have no intention of not listening," Billy stated calmly. "In fact I intend to listen to whatever either of us feels. I think it's probably the only way to make sure we stay alive..." He paused briefly, and then changed the subject. "We do need to pick up ammunition though, you need it for that machine pistol of yours, and I think I'll pick up some for that machine gun I took from that guy. It seems a lot better to have that in my hands than the Remington..." he shrugged his shoulders, "You think?"

"Yeah, I do, if I hadn't had the machine pistol, I think we would've been in deep trouble. That Remington is nice, but... it just can't match that machine gun, no way, and I really think we'll need it before we get... Well, wherever it is we get to," she finished lamely.

With that they both got up and began to break camp. Together they loaded the Suburban. Billy drowned the small fire and they edged the truck through the trees and out of the camp site to the accompaniment of the bird-talk and the chatter of the squirrels.

When they reached the small park office, just before the main road, they stopped the truck and went into the rustic log building to search for a map. They had only hoped for a simple map of the region surrounding the state park, but were instead rewarded with a selection of state maps.

"Kentucky?" Billy asked.

Beth nodded. "Otherwise we'll need a boat."

Billy found the next large city, Sturgis, and was surprised by how far they had traveled during the night. When they were back in the truck, Billy checked the gas tanks. One was full, but the other was barely above a quarter. He switched to the full tank, and said, "We'll have to get gas soon, does the map show any small towns?" Beth studied the map before her as Billy drove slowly out of the park to the main road.

She traced out a route on the map with one finger as she spoke. "Follow 1508, Billy. That should bring us to route 109. That runs right into Sturgis," she paused briefly as she continued to trace the route. "Morganfield is north on 60. We should be able to get gas and ammunition there, If not in Sturgis."

"Well, it's not a small route, but it is smaller," he said, "and that's a help."

Route 109 was not clogged with stalled traffic they found when they reached it a few minutes later. Less than an hour of driving took them into Sturgis, it was not as large as Morganfield, but, Billy reasoned, it should fill their needs.

They had both decided that it would be unwise to split up for any purpose at all, and so when Billy eased the Suburban into a paved area in front of a sporting goods store, they locked the truck, and taking their weapons with them, headed in the direction of the store together. Billy had reasoned locking the truck up simply enough, if someone did try to get into it, they would have to break the glass, and hopefully they would hear that from inside the store. He would have liked to park closer, and not risk leaving the truck in the lot, or being so far away from it, but all of the spaces in the front of the store were full.

As they left the truck and began to walk across the asphalt, Beth suddenly stopped short. When she did, Billy automatically raised his rifle.

"What?" he asked in a near whisper.

Instead of answering she pointed with the machine pistol, she had also raised, toward one of the vehicles in front of the store. Billy hadn't noticed when they had exited the truck, but the low rumble of the trucks idle suddenly came to him in the clear morning air. Stupid! I should have been paying attention. Before he could take the thought any further, a tall gray-haired, older man stepped from the store, and, after seeing them frozen in position in the parking lot, quickly ducked back inside.

Billy and Beth

April 19th

The sight of the man broke the paralysis that had held them, and they both quickly took cover behind an old station wagon parked in the lot. Billy continued to mentally berate himself for not hearing the sound of the running truck when he had gotten out of the Suburban. _Stupid-Stupid-Stupid!_ He thought as he dropped to the ground and tried to crawl under the old car.

He couldn't get all the way under it, but he did get under it far enough to be able to look into the open doorway of the sporting goods store. What he could see of it was empty, but he could not see far enough into the gloom of the interior to see whether there was just the old man, or others waiting with him in the shadowy store.

"Hey!" a young sounding male voice called from within the store. "Don't shoot, okay? We don't want any trouble with you."

The voice let Billy and Beth know that there were at least two people in the store, and a few seconds later, they could hear the soft weeping of a woman coming from the store as well.

"We don't want trouble either," Billy called.

From under the car he could see a jeans-clad pair of legs separate from the shadows, and cautiously walk toward the open doorway. "What do you think, Beth," Billy whispered, "you believe 'em?"

"Only one way to find out," she replied, as she backed out from under the car and stood slowly.

A young man was standing framed in the doorway, a shotgun resting in his hands. He saw her rise from behind the car, quickly followed by Billy. His shotgun remained in his hands, but he did not turn it in their direction, instead he seemed to be purposely holding it away from them, and they could both see that he was frightened.

Billy and Beth both kept their guns turned away, but still they were on guard, as Beth spoke into the silence that had descended on the parking lot.

"Look, we really don't want any trouble either. We only stopped because we saw the truck running," she lied. She thought it probably wouldn't be a good idea to let them know they had stopped for ammunition. "We haven't seen any... many," she corrected herself, "people. We'll leave, if it's what you want," she finished.

The young man's grip on the shotgun seemed to loosen as she had spoken, and he seemed to be not as fearful as he had been.

"We haven't seen any good people," the young man said, "but we have seen a lot of bad ones." He seemed to be asking them which group they belonged to.

Beth and Billy both relaxed a small amount, and Billy spoke. "We've run into some bad ones ourselves," he said. He considered for a moment, and then moved from behind the old station wagon, and out into the open. "Can we talk?" he asked. He was careful to keep the machine gun pointed down as he had moved from behind the car, and he forced himself to keep it pointed at the pavement as the young man seemed to consider what he had said.

The young man had lifted his shotgun from the pavement as Billy had stepped from behind the old car, now he dropped it back toward the pavement, and answered. "Well, come on, I guess," he replied. The older man they had seen initially and a young red haired woman stepped out of the shadowy interior as he finished speaking. They were both armed, but both kept their weapons pointed down at the pavement.

Billy looked at Beth. "Well?" he asked. She nodded her head, and they walked slowly toward the front of the store. Once the two groups were facing each other, Beth spoke. "I'm Beth, and this is Billy," she said, pointing at Billy.

"Delbert," the older man said, stepping forward, "and this is John," he said pointing at the dark haired young man, "and Peggy." He paused for a few seconds. "Might've over-reacted a bit, I guess, but we haven't seen nothin' but bad the last few days. Thought you might be some of a group we ran into yesterday... things is awful balled up, ain't they? It's hard to tell who you can, or can't trust." With that the man seemed to consider them briefly, and then set his rifle aside.

The man's fear, that had been so evident once Beth and Billy were standing face to face with him, seemed to melt away. Beth stuffed the machine pistol into her jeans, and Billy slung the rifle over his shoulder before he stuck out his hand. "Good to meet you," Billy said, "I think we were beginning to think we wouldn't meet anyone at all who wouldn't try to kill us." Beth stuck out her hand as Billy finished speaking, and the young man and woman put their own weapons aside and stepped away from the sidewalk and shook the offered hands.

"You from here?" Delbert asked, as he also shook their hands.

"L.A.," Beth replied, "heading east, how about you?"

"Texas," Peggy, the young woman said, "You headin' east for the same reason we are?"

"Kind'a feels like we're drawn in that direction," Delbert said, "can't explain it a lot better than that I guess."

His accent was slight, Billy noticed, not thick like some he had heard. "We feel the same way. Tried South... South is no good," Billy said. He looked at Beth who nodded before he continued. "We could all make the trip together," he offered, "It might be a lot safer that way?" Beth echoed the invitation.

"See no reason not to," Delbert said slowly, as he turned his eyes to the couple beside him. "Peggy, John?"

"I'm for it," John agreed. He had a slightly thicker accent, Beth noticed, well, maybe not an accent really, she told herself, he just talks somewhat slowly.

"Me too," Peggy said, and a smile lit up her face as she spoke. "No lie. I've been pretty scared, and it'll be good to have more of us, I think."

"I lied," Beth said, and then hastily continued, "We didn't stop because we saw you. We stopped because we need ammunition. We got ambushed, sort of, and... Well, we got out of it. I didn't mean to lie, I just wasn't sure we could trust you, and I didn't think it would be a good idea to tell you we were running low, not knowing if... you know..." she finished lamely.

"Don't give it a thought," Delbert said, "can't say as I blame you. In fact," he said reaching for his shotgun, and opening the breech. "We did too, but there isn't any here. I hoped to scare you off, but the truth is, we're out of ammunition ourselves. If you had been... well, bad, I guess we would've been screwed." He finished by setting the empty shotgun against the door frame, resting butt down on the pavement.

"You mean," Billy said, "you're out completely?"

"Oh yeah," John said, "I've been out since yesterday, and whatever was in this shop is gone. Somebody cleaned it out."

Billy and Beth followed the others into the small shop. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the sparse light inside, but once they did they could see that the shop had been ransacked. Two large glass display cases that had probably held, who knew how many handguns, Billy thought, were empty. The glass fronts had been shattered into the cases. Racks that had once been likewise protected by lockable glass sliding doors had also been broken into, the thick glass that had once protected them lay inside, but the rifles they had protected were gone. Nothing had been left. The floors were strewn with empty boxes, wads of packing paper, and literature on several types of guns that had been discarded. The glass from the cases was everywhere, Billy saw.

"Looks as though they didn't leave anything at all," Billy said.

"Told you," John said, as he shook his head. "Somebody got here before us, and it looks as though they weren't about to leave anything behind," he sighed.

"You have any ammo at all?" Beth asked.

"I do," Peggy answered, "I've got seven rounds for this 30.06, that's why... well, that's why I hung back when we saw you, you know. I could see you through the window, and... If I had too, I was going to shoot," she seemed embarrassed as she spoke.

"She's about the best shot between the three of us," Delbert said, "my eye's is going, and John just never learned to shoot."

John turned red, but nodded his head before he spoke. "Just never saw a real big need to learn," he said, "course now I wish I had."

"Been anywhere else in town?" Billy asked, "Maybe there's another sporting goods store around."

"Didn't have the time," Delbert said, "we got here only ten minutes or so before you did."

"Well," Beth said, as she counted up what ammunition she had left for the machine pistol, "I've got one full clip of sixteen, and... Looks like two in this clip, and I'm done."

Billy had checked over what he had while she was speaking, "Looks like this one is down to ten in the clip, but I've got better than a hundred rounds for the Remington in the truck, that should help a little. We need to find a place to get our hands on more, especially for that machine pistol," he gestured at Beth's weapon, "and this one," he said holding up the machine gun they had taken from the kid who had tried to shoot Beth, "this is a..." he held the machine gun up so he could read the writing on the side, "Hey, Beth, this say's it'll take nine millimeter slugs like yours, let me see one," he waited until she handed him one that she took out of the full clip, and then compared them side by side. "Yeah, same thing," he said, "this doesn't have a brand name on it though, just says what sort of bullet it takes, everything else has been ground off, see," he held the side of the machine gun up so that Beth could see it.

"That's been converted," she said, "and that's probably why they ground off the serial number, and most likely the model and make at the same time. That's been converted to full auto," she finished.

"Gee, does that mean it's illegal to carry?" he asked, "you're not going to arrest me or something are you."

"Ha-ha, mister funny man," Beth said smiling. "It does explain something that has been bugging me though. When that guy popped up and let loose on me, I thought he was squeezing those rounds off pretty quick. You can buy that gun, or could, I should say, and you could even order the conversion kit, but if you got caught, big trouble. I've seen a few though...Just the same, and I'm glad that one fell into our hands, and not someone else's."

Billy turned the gun over in his hands; his appreciation for it was much greater than it had been. "So what is it?" he asked.

"It's called a Sixteen Nine on the Street," Beth said. "I don't know what it's really called," Billy looked confused. "Sixteen for the clip," she said, "and nine for the ammunition size. See?" she held up her own pistol, comparing the two side by side. "They're nearly identical, except for that long wire stock on yours. Makes it look more like a rifle. Mine's semi, that one's full."

"And we can swap back and forth on ammunition?" Billy asked.

"Just on the ammunition," Beth answered, "the clips won't fit."

"Well, with just sixteen bullets wouldn't it run out pretty quick?"

"Not pretty quick, babe, damn quick, like immediately. I think the attraction was speed, sixteen bullets in less than half a second. You can get a larger clip that'll hold two hundred."

Billy turned his head back to the other three who had been listening to Beth talk. They all seemed impressed. "I guess," he said looking around the destroyed shop, "we better get going. Is that truck of yours in pretty good shape Delbert?"

"Junker," Delbert said, "it was nice when we left Dallas, but it's on its last leg for sure now. That's why I left it running; bitch-kitty won't start if you don't, and to be honest, I been too damn scared to stop and get another."

"Well," Billy said, "leave it. We got room in ours for all three of you."

Beth was staring around at the wrecked interior of the shop, it wasn't the damage that bothered her though, it was all the missing rifles, and guns. "Yeah, let's get out of here," she said, "this place gives me the creeps, and I for one don't want to be here in case whoever took all of this..." she gestured at the empty shop, "...returns."

Everyone, Billy included, looked apprehensively around the empty shop.

"Yeah, let's go," Billy said hastily, as he turned and walked out the door.

They all scouted carefully around the parking lot, as they walked to the Suburban. Anyone could be hiding in this lot, Billy thought, as he looked around at the packed parking lot, anyone, anywhere. They reached the truck, Billy unlocked it, and they all climbed quickly inside. Several sighs of relief were released once Billy started the Suburban, and drove from the lot.

A half mile down the road, Delbert spotted another store and Billy cautiously pulled into the lot to have a look. He was able to drive up close to the shop, without getting out of the truck. The glass store front, including the doors, were barred by a segmented aluminum pull down door, and the store looked as though no one had as of yet been in it.

"What do you think?" Billy asked of no one in particular.

"Don't look as though it's been broke into yet," John replied, "gonna have to leave the truck to be sure," he finished with an apprehensive shrug of his shoulders.

Beth pulled the nearly spent clip from the machine pistol, and clicked home the full one. "Stay here, I'll go see," she said, and she was out the passenger door before Billy could protest.

Billy shut off the truck, and got out. No way, he thought as he jumped from the truck, no frigging way.

Delbert looked from John to Peggy. "I don't know about you, but they got the guns, and I ain't keen on staying in here without one," he said, as he opened one of the rear doors, and stepped out. He carried the empty shot gun with him as he went: Peggy and John brought their guns out of the truck with them as well.

Billy was staring through the segmented burglar door into the interior of the small shop, as Delbert walked up. "What's it looking like, Billy?" he asked.

Beth was back on the sidewalk, the machine pistol in her hands, sweeping the parking lot with her eyes, Peggy and John beside her.

"Looks like nobody got to it," Billy said, "what do you think, Dell?"

Delbert squinted into the shop. "Hard to tell, but I think you're right, Billy, it looks good to me. But this door is gonna keep us out, just like it's kept out ever one before us."

"Uh-uh," Billy said, "not me it isn't." He turned face and walked back to the Suburban.

"Look out, Dell," he said, as he started the truck, and cramped the wheel around to bring it up on the sidewalk. "Saw this on a cop show once, here goes..."

Billy lined the truck up even with the front doors in back of the aluminum burglar door, backed up, and punched the gas pedal. The rear tires screeched briefly as the truck bumped up over the curb and hit the door. The truck passed through the aluminum door as if it were made of paper and barely tapped the inside glass doors before Billy locked up the brakes. The light tap on the doors was all it took to shatter the safety glass. Billy reversed the truck, and backed down off the sidewalk. He cramped the wheel once more, and shut off the truck, leaving it almost where it had been in the first place. He got out and looked over the front of the truck; there was not even a single scratch to show where the massive bumper had connected with the aluminum door and then the glass. He stood up from his examination of the bumper, and was surprised to see everyone staring at him.

"What?" he said. "I told you I saw it on a cop show once. Of course I didn't know it would work so well," he finished grinning.

"You're an animal," Beth said, grinning back.

"Well folks," Billy said as waved his arm at the store, "looks like the store's open after all."

Delbert, John, and Peggy, were all grinning too, and Delbert said, "If I ever lock myself out of my house, I guess I won't be asking you for help, Billy," he broke into a hearty laugh when he finished speaking, and within seconds they all found themselves laughing along.

"Well, let's go get that ammo," Beth said laughing, and they all walked into the shop.

They spent no more than an hour in the shop, before they had completely re-outfitted themselves. They were able to obtain new camping gear, ammunition, and three more of the nine mm machine pistols. They all reasoned they were much more effective than the old single-shot rifles, and shotguns that Delbert's group had been carrying, and the fact that they would all now be able to use the same caliber ammunition was appealing.

Billy picked up a canvas strap for the machine gun, that allowed him to keep it suspended from one shoulder, yet easily accessible to him if he needed it. The machine pistols fit easily into leather shoulder holsters, and there were more than enough in the shop for everyone. Billy debated briefly, and then took one more of the machine pistols, along with one of the leather holsters as well. He had a vague, uneasy feeling about the weapons. He felt as if he had joined some weird sort of commando outfit, instead of belonging to a group who had been nothing more than average citizens just a few short weeks before. He pushed the thought away, and after adjusting the leather shoulder holster, slid the fully loaded machine pistol into it, and fastened the small chrome push-catch across the blued steel grip of the weapon.

They loaded all the gear into the back of the Suburban, including every round of nine mm ammunition the store had in stock, which, Billy thought, amounted to enough to wage a small war with. After consulting the map, they set out once more.

The shop had contained a great deal of pre-packaged freeze dried foods, and that had also found its way into the rear of the Suburban.
SEVEN

Bear

April 20th

They had risen early and made the trek out to the strip area where car lots and small business dotted the sides of the feeder roads for what seemed like miles.

They had met no one along the way. Before nightfall, they had been driving a pair of new pickup trucks. John and Bear in one, Madison and Cammy in the other, weaving in and out of traffic heading back into the city.

They had ended up in a house over in Harlem, with gas lanterns for light, the windows boarded up. They had decided it was too late in the day to head out so a place in the city would be safer. The house was close. The factory was out of the question, too deep in the city and its clogged streets to get to.

They had been sitting around. Spirits raised, talking easily, but sometimes seriously about the world and the changes they had encountered. What it meant to them as individuals, as a society.

"I can't help but wonder what it feels like," John said. "To be dead, I mean."

"Fuck that," Bear said. "Feels like dead. Look at those fuckers. I mean you can see it... Listen..." They all fell silent. The windows were solidly boarded over. The dead scratched and cried and pleaded, but they could not get in.

Madison shuddered. "It fucks me up... It really does." Cammy's head lay against her breast, her arms around her holding her.

"Yeah," Cammy agreed, "I do not want to be dead." She raised her head from Madison's breast. "If..."

"Go on, baby," Madison said after a few moments of silence.

"Well if we have to we should have a pact. I mean... I mean I know you wouldn't let that happen to me," She looked at Maddy with wide eyes, "But," she raised her head. "We should have a pact to not let that sort of thing happen to any of us, right?"

"Right," Bear agreed. "Right."

"Oh bullshit," John said.

"If I ever have to, I won't hesitate," Madison had said, "Once I'm dead, I don't want to come back." She had shuddered and grimaced at the same time. "I'll do it myself, but it would be nice to know if I couldn't one of you would."

"Absolutely," Bear agreed. "Same as I would expect one of you to do it for me."

"In a minute," Madison agreed.

"I would," Cammy agreed. I wouldn't like it, but I would."

"In-fucking-credible," John said.

"Dude," Bear said. "Why in fuck is it that you have to always be on the disagreement side of shit every time?"

"Oh, I didn't know black men used dude like that." John shot back.

Bear's tongue came out and licked at his lips. He spun the cap slowly from a pint of whiskey he carried, and took a drink. "You got that one. One is what you get. Don't forget I said that."

John's mouth opened and then snapped shut.

Silence held momentarily and then the conversation restarted between Cammy and Madison and soon John and Bear were drawn back into it.

They passed the small bottle back and forth. Nobody wanted to really get wasted, it was too important to have your wits about you, but the constant scrabbling of the dead against the boards was enough to make anyone crazy.

"Gotta piss... Has to be a bathroom here somewhere," John said as he got up from the kitchen floor.

"Thanks for sharing," Cammy said from beside Madison.

"Any ti..."

The sound of splintering wood and a heavy crash came, cutting off his words, as he fell through a rotted section of floor in the house, impaling himself on a pipe in the basement.

They had all scrambled quickly to their feet and then slowed down as they came to the hole. Holding the lanterns over the abyss to see better.

There were a half dozen dead in the basement, one by one they had shot them. There seemed to be no way in.

"More?" Cammy asked.

"I doubt it," Bear answered. "Probably been there from the start."

"What about, John?" Cammy asked.

Bear looked him over. His eyes were shut, his chest rose and fell, but the blood was leaving his body at an alarming rate. He had stopped moving, probably passed into unconsciousness. Death had to be close. Even if they could get him off the pipe without killing him or he himself dying from the shock and blood loss, he would die from massive infection at the least.

"Think any of them bit him before we got them?" Madison asked.

"Just was looking," Bear agreed. "What about his arm... See his arm?"

"Could have been from the fall," Cammy said.

"Maybe," Madison agreed. "But his pants are also ripped... That could have been them too."

"Yeah... Yeah," Bear agreed.

John's eyes suddenly fluttered open and he turned his head slightly to stare at Madison. His jaw worked, but he said nothing. His eyes slipped closed and he let his last breath out in a shuddering groan.

"Oh my, God," Cammy sobbed. She lowered her head into her hands.

Madison leaned forward and shot him in the head nearly as soon as he stopped his struggles. Cammy bent double and vomited.

Bear held it in, but barely. John had been alive, he had still been with them as they listened to the sounds of the dead that were trying to get to them. To kill them. To eat them. To satisfy their ceaseless hunger: Earlier that night in the flickering light from the gas lanterns, when Madison had said what she would do, and John had disagreed. And Bear had not. To Bear it had been a real thing because of what he had already gone through on his own. To John it hadn't been real until now, a few hours later when he had found himself dying and she had wasted no time. None. Bear had seen his eyes fall on Madison as the life flowed out of him. He couldn't speak, but it was obvious he was trying to make her understand something. Whether it was a last plea not to kill him or a first plea to make sure she did, his eyes slipped shut with it unspoken

"He would have expected it," Madison said later as they sat silently waiting for morning. Bear had the small bottle of whiskey out again and they were passing around. Trying to numb themselves more completely.

"I swear, if they come for me, if they get me? I'll put a bullet in my own head. I will. I swear I will. If I ever fuckin' have to, I won't hesitate," Madison said, "Once I'm dead, I don't want to come back."

Cammy began to cry. "Don't say it, Maddy. Don't say it." And she didn't say it again, but it didn't matter. She had already spoke it into truth. Bear heard it. He heard it, and he knew she meant it.

In the morning Bear had packed up the truck he and John had been using. He intended to go whether Madison and Cammy came with him or not. But there was only follow in Madison in the morning.

They headed back out of Harlem. Madison knew the area.

Near nightfall they had found another old factory, and they had settled in once more. Bear had begun to feel as though a cloud were hovering over them... maybe even just him.

Donita

The fires burned bright, freshly banked for the night. She could not say what it was in fire that still frightened her, but it did. It touched something deep inside, something that she could sense had not always been there. Like at one time she had embraced fire the same way the breathers did. Now it only frightened her.

Behind her several thousand hid themselves in the woods. She had collected them through the south, across the vast desert, into the mountains, and she had bought them with her as she made her way back toward the city

She looked back to the fires. She should have gone already. There was a dog with the breathers and the dog kept coming around, sniffing at the wind. It could smell them, of that Donita was sure. Another dog had been coming around too, but she had caught that dog and given it over to the twin. This dog was smarter, or at least smart enough not to come too close.

The terrible fires burned, sending their stink into the air. Creating heat...

She stood, her legs flexing easily. Behind her the big man stood also; soundlessly, and although she did not see him, hear him, she felt him.

She had taken him back in the mountains. He had become her right arm. Strong. Loyal. More.

She knew he stood. Knew he was waiting for her to move. Knew that he believed the entire world revolved around her. All this with no words, touches, conscious thoughts. She looked off through the trees to the opposite side of the road. Across from where the breathers were camped.

Her new eyes saw more than her old eyes had ever seen, though not precisely as she had seen with those other eyes. This sight was not suited to daylight. It could see, would see in daylight, but not well. The lesser light of the moon was the light she needed. She stood now, looking across the field to where something else had captured her attention.

She had seen the woman far across the field, past the other road, and she had known she was on her own. She watched those who were camped out in the field, and she debated about approaching them. She was wondering whether this group was right for her. Hanging at the edges. Checking them out. She had no idea that she was now being checked out.

She carried a pistol in a holster at her side. Donita would have to be careful.

She was alone. It was a thing that Donita knew. She was not a part of the other breathers that were camped not far away. There were no others back in the shadows waiting for her. She was a loner, and she had managed to avoid the other dead like herself that must have scented her, followed her. She had also avoided the others, the breathers, like the ones that were camped in the open field. Donita scented the air and drank in the information.

Alone... Hungry... Mistrustful... Donita said nothing, simply flexed her legs and leapt into the tall grass. The big man behind her.

~

The woods ended at a small creek running down the side of a ravine. The woman never heard them until they were nearly on her. The big man had circled and purposely rustled the tall grass behind her. When she turned quickly, Donita leapt, the full weight of her body crashing into the woman before she even knew she was there, and taking her to the ground. Donita took her slim neck in her hands and snapped it before she could react. The power in her own arms still surprised her. The woman's neck broke like a dry stick. Her feet kicked at the ground as the man came from the grass and watched.

Silver-blue moonlight painted her face as she held the woman until she stopped fighting. A second later it was over, she lay dead. Donita stood briefly and then moved to the man where he stood, his eyes reflecting the same moonlight that had bought so much life to the woman's eyes just a few moments before. He cocked his head sideways and then came to her. His body settled down next to the woman. He seemed to be waiting on Donita. His fingers tented, holding his body weight as he waited.

There was still warmth in the woman, and it both excited and repulsed Donita as she squatted and her thighs settled on either side of the woman's ribs. She bent forward and lowered her mouth to her throat, finding the hollow. She tilted her chin with one hand and then turned her neck to the side. Her teeth found the artery below the skin and closed over it. A second later the passion took her and she lost herself. The Man scrambled up onto the woman's body, whining low in his throat as he did.

Later...

The moon was bloated and silver bright. The man stood nearby, the last remaining twin was curled into her legs, arms wrapped around them.

They knew. The people nearby knew. The other dog, the one in the camp, the one she had not been able to get, had been barking most of the night. One of the breathers kept looking over to where they were. He would come. He would not come until morning, but he would come and he would bring others with him too.

She could take them all easily, but this was not her fight. This is not where her fight would be. This was not what the army was for. They were purposed for something else entirely.

Her hand fell to the twin. She had taken her and her sister in the south. They had been her favorites. She had lost one not long before, but she had made those that had killed her pay for it. The touch of her hand raised the twin to her feet.

A few minutes later they were all on the way. Running through the night at a fast lope, running down the moon.

Billy and Beth

_April 22_ nd

Noon found them just outside of Owensboro, Kentucky. Route 60. Billy hoped Route 60 would by-pass most of the moderately sized city. Beth had studied the map, but couldn't tell for sure whether it would. One thing's for sure, Billy thought, it's certainly less traveled.

They had all noticed, and remarked on the fact that there had been no appreciable stalled traffic at all, and that had seemed good at first, until they had all begun to notice that someone had been at work either towing the cars off the roadway, or pushing them into the ditches along the side, where they still sat.

"It don't necessarily have to be bad," Delbert said from the back seat, "could be some good folks."

"Yeah," Beth agreed from the front seat, "could be. But also might not be."

They were less than a mile from the city limits when they saw the road block.

Billy bought the truck to a screeching halt, more than a half mile away at the crest of a slight rise, nearly as soon as it had come into sight. They could see better than a half dozen heavily armed men standing along the sides of two Kentucky State Police cruisers, pulled crosswise nose to nose blocking the road. The men had immediately snapped to attention when they spotted the truck, and were now staring in their direction. One of the men had quickly jumped into one of the patrol cars, and Billy assumed, after seeing him speaking into a hand held microphone, had probably radioed someone about them. Not good at all, he thought.

"Them's the same bastards we saw the other day," Delbert said, "see that red pickup off the shoulder?"

Billy nodded his head.

"They was driving that truck, I recognize it, Billy. Was only two of 'em then, so I expect they didn't want to mess with us. Looks like they found some like-minded company though and that ain't good at all."

Billy forced his heartbeat to slow down so he could think clearly. At first he had been positive that the men would get in the cars and come screaming down the road after them. They hadn't, and in fact seemed to be just watching the Suburban to see what they were going to do. "I'm open to suggestions," Billy said.

"First thing," Beth replied, "is to get the hell off the road, if they did radio someone they're probably on the way. I saw a dirt road that cuts off to the right about a half mile back, might be smart for us to get down it so we can think this thing out, before we're forced to fight it out right here."

"That group could kill," Delbert said, "I saw the way they were looking at us, and especially Peggy, we don't need to let them get the upper hand, and right now we're on their terms. I expect they would just as soon kill us... well most of us, and I hate to think what they'd do to the girls."

"This is one girl they don't want to screw with," Beth said angrily.

"How far?" Billy said as he punched the gas and squeezed the wheel of the Suburban. He bounced the truck down off the road, and the rear tires threw up rooster tails of dirt and grass as the truck slewed around and came back up onto the road. The tires spun momentarily dislodging the grass and mud, then found their purchase and propelled them back down the road, away from the road block. Behind them they could hear the low pop of rifle fire from the direction of the road block.

"Half mile, no more," Beth said.

They were no more than a hundred feet down the road, when a blue Bronco appeared ahead of them moving toward them. A blonde haired man leaned out the driver's side window holding what looked to be a sawed off shotgun.

"Shit," Billy muttered, "Dell?"

"Got it," he heard from the back seat. He heard the wind suddenly rushing into the truck's interior and realized that Delbert had opened the window, just before he heard the loud chattering of one of the machine pistols.

The blonde haired man fired the shotgun at the same time Delbert began to fire from the back seat. Billy saw the flash from the gun, and heard a rattle from the front of the Suburban that sounded like hundreds of stones hitting the front bumper.

The machine pistol continued to chatter from the back seat, and Billy watched as dozens of holes appeared in the body of the blue Bronco, almost in a straight line along the driver's side. The front driver side tire blew out, and the truck veered sharply toward their lane.

"Hold on!" Billy yelled, as he spun the wheel and they left the road. The truck bounced when it left the road and entered the ditch, but Billy kept the truck under control, and without letting up on the gas angled it back toward the highway just as the Bronco began to flip into the ditch. A line of trees flew by on the passenger side of the Suburban, scant inches from the glass, and then the truck lurched once more, left the ditch and rocketed back up onto the highway. The two trucks missed by only inches, and Billy had found himself looking into the lifeless eyes of the blonde haired man, hanging loosely out of the window, for just an instant before the truck was by him and rolling into the ditch.

Billy brought the Suburban back up onto the road, and floored it. When he came to the dirt road he almost blew right by it, but managed to slow enough to slide into the entrance somewhat under control. He barreled through the first curve at better than fifty miles an hour. Once he was around it, and hidden from the road, he slowed down. He rounded two more curves before he stopped the truck, and turned around facing back toward the main road. Thick choking dust from the dirt road rafted up into the air. No way are they going to sneak up on me, he thought, as he watched the road and strained his ears to listen. A few seconds later he heard the high whine of a vehicle on the highway, but it didn't slow down, and the high pitched whine of the motor dwindled away to silence in a few seconds as it continued onward, apparently, Billy thought, looking for them.

"Must not have seen the dust we kicked up," John said.

"Or pretended not to see it," Beth said, as she spoke they heard a muffled explosion in the distance.

"Think that was that Bronco?" Peggy asked.

"Could've been, probably was in fact," Delbert said, "hope so anyhow."

Beth was studying the map once more. "It's a good thing we didn't break off to the left," she said.

"Why?" Billy asked.

"River," she stated calmly, "about a mile or so in the opposite direction, we would have been trapped if we'd gone that way. It looks like we got open land ahead here. At least it looks that way, it's hard to tell."

Billy looked back along the dirt road. Thick dust still hung above it. "There's no way they missed us," he said, "unless they're blind. They had to see that dust hanging in the air, and if we keep going we're going to kick up even more, and they'll be able to follow it right to us."

"I think you're right, but what the hell else can we do?" Delbert asked.

"Turn around and go back," Billy said. He held up his hand to silence the outburst that erupted at the suggestion. "Listen; if we sit here they're going to come back, probably with more men. If we head back to the road block now we have the advantage. I would bet the sound we heard of a passing car was one of the police cruisers. If so that leaves only one, and fewer men to contend with back there, if we wait the odds will only get worse. See?"

"He's right, I think," Beth said, "I don't want to die any more than any of us do. Sitting here isn't going to help us at all, going back before they have a chance to regroup might."

"Only thing to do," Delbert sighed from the back seat, "if I gotta die, I'd rather die fighting than get trapped and slaughtered like an animal... There's just no place we can go down here."

"So?" Billy asked.

"We go back," Peggy said decisively. John grunted a short "Yeah" which they could all tell he was not enthusiastic about.

Billy dropped the Suburban back into drive and they began to move down the dirt road, gaining momentum as they neared the highway. Billy slowed to turn onto the highway after looking in both directions and seeing nothing. Ahead, approximately where the Bronco had wrecked, they could see greasy black smoke billowing into the hot still air.

"Could be some of 'em there too," Delbert said, as he stared toward the greasy smoke in the distance. "If so, I'll be ready for 'em." Billy nodded his head, and brought the truck up to speed slowly to hide the whine of the motor, which would hopefully allow them to take whoever might be at the Bronco or the road block by surprise.

As they neared the burning Bronco Billy could see one of the patrol cars off to the side of the road, along with the red pickup that Delbert had pointed out to them. "Looks like it," Billy said calmly, as he leaned back into the seat to give Beth a clear shot through the driver's side window.

The young blonde haired kid from the Bronco was lifeless on the side of the road along with two other crumpled forms that Billy assumed must have also been in the truck. A small group of three men stood over the bodies. They heard the approaching truck and suddenly jumped for cover as Billy roared by. Beth's pistol chattered briefly, directly in front of his face, and the tires of the red pickup exploded with a loud popping noise. Billy pressed the gas pedal as close to the floor as it would go as they passed, and almost simultaneously heard the sound of breaking glass from the rear of the truck, along with a steady, plunk, plunk, plunk, as bullets slammed into the rear of the fleeing Suburban. A sudden cry of pain came from the rear a split second later, as several small crystals of glass flew forward striking the dashboard, and the back of Billy's head.

"What happened?" he shouted. "You guy's okay?"

"Got John," Delbert shouted back. "It don't look good, Billy."

"Shit," Billy muttered, as he tried to press the gas pedal further into the floorboard. "Shit."

The intersection, where the road block had been, appeared in front of them a few seconds later. Whatever had gone by them on the highway had not been the second patrol car. It still sat across the road, blocking the right hand lane. The left hand lane was blocked by four men, who were not armed with shotguns, Billy noticed as they neared, but some sort of machine pistols similar to the ones they themselves carried. He was just about to slam on the brakes and try to turn around once more, when a quick glance in the mirror showed the other patrol car coming up behind them. Its blue bubble light pulsing as it came. What the hell, Billy thought these guy's must think they're playing some sort of fucking game with us. Aloud he said. "We're screwed they're in front of us and behind us... To hell with it, we're going through. Hold on."

Peggy pushed John aside, and took his place at the rear passenger side window. She leaned out facing back, and began firing at the closing patrol car, as Beth leaned out and began to fire at the four men blocking the left hand side of the road. Delbert was aiming at the four men as well from his side of the truck. Two of the four dropped immediately, but the other two were returning fire even as they ran for the cover of the patrol car, and Billy could feel, as well as hear, the bullets slamming into the Suburban, both front and rear.

The patrol car behind them suddenly swerved and then flipped, and Peggy let out a scream of triumph as she turned back to the front, knelt on the rear seat, and began to fire over Beth's head at the other patrol car. The side of the car began to take on a chewed-appearance within seconds, as all three machine pistols were trained on it. Still, the men behind it returned fire.

They were now less than a hundred feet from the car, Billy saw.

"Sit down!" he suddenly yelled into the truck, "Now!" As he yelled he swung the Suburban toward the cruiser, just close enough so that he could clip the front end of it as they went past. The two men behind the cruiser realized what he intended to do too late.

The Suburban hit the front of the cruiser harder than Billy expected, so hard in fact that it sent it spinning into the ditch like a toy. The collision ripped the front passenger's fender from the truck, along with most of the passenger door. The heavy bumper of the truck, torn half off in the collision, let go with a shower of sparks and the Suburban bounced over it leaving it behind in the road. Billy kept the gas pedal jammed to the floor boards, even though steam was beginning to pour from the front of the truck, and the motor was starting to wheeze ominously. A heavy vibration ran through the truck, and as the Suburban gained more speed the vibration became a heavy shuddering, that threatened to shake the truck to pieces. Two miles down the road he spotted a Dodge dealership and slid the dying truck to a stop in the wide asphalt parking lot.

" _Out!"_ he shouted, as he quickly jumped from the truck. The others piled out behind him, and Billy dropped back to help Delbert who was struggling to drag John along. Beth and Peggy reached the glass doors of the showroom, and quickly held them open to allow them to hurry inside with John.

Billy stared back out at the wide parking lot expecting to see the remaining patrol car come screaming in, he did not know that Peggy had taken care of that problem.

"The ammo," Billy said turning toward the doors, "no way should we leave it in the truck, that other car will be along any minute."

"I don't think so," Peggy replied icily, "it flipped. I blew out the front tires, and I'm pretty damn sure the driver was dead at that point."

"Okay," Billy said, he didn't question what she said at all, "Dell, let's go get the ammo. Beth, can you and Peggy see what you can do for John?" Beth nodded her head, as Billy turned and ran back out of the showroom toward the Suburban, with Delbert right behind him.

The truck was totaled Billy saw.

The plastic grill-work was gone along with the bumper, and he could see now why Beth had jumped through the window when they stopped, instead of opening the door. The door was crushed shut. Along with that both of the front tires were rapidly going flat. Probably from running over the bumper, he thought, a bullet would have blown them out immediately. A huge puddle of oil was spreading from under the truck, and green anti-freeze dripped from what was left of the radiator.

Billy opened up the rear of the truck, and Delbert held out his arms as Billy piled the first three boxes on them, and then managed to take the remaining three himself. They trotted back to the showroom and Billy mentally wished he had thought to pull the truck out of sight. The wrecked Suburban, with steam still rising in the air from the hood area, would almost serve as a beacon if there were others behind them. There were, he knew, remembering the sound of a vehicle screaming by on the highway when they had been hiding on the dirt road.

He reached the relative safety of the showroom just behind Delbert, the glass door whooshed shut behind them as they entered and set down the boxes. Beth stood and slowly shook her head as he approached her. She and Peggy had been kneeling beside John on the floor. "He's gone, Billy," she said.

He could see she was close to tears, and Peggy was more than close, she was openly weeping. Delbert walked over to John's body and covered it with a carpet runner he had taken from near the front door. The old man seemed close to tears himself, Billy realized. Billy said a quick mental prayer to God, before he spoke.

"Listen, I don't want to sound hard, or as if I don't care, but we can't fall apart now," he struggled to keep his voice calm as he spoke. "Right now, unless we want to just give up and die, we need to get ourselves in gear. If it wasn't one of the patrol cars that blew by us while we were on that dirt road, and we also know it wasn't that red pickup... someone is still out there, and once they get their shit together they'll come back for us. I for one don't want to be here, and if we intend to be gone I need help. Crying isn't going to bring John back..."

"What do you need me to do, Billy?" Delbert asked.

Billy looked around the showroom. "We need another truck, Dell, and I don't see any here, which means we're going to have to go back outside to find one. Which means," he looked at Beth and Peggy, "I need you both to keep watch in front. We're going out the back." He walked over to a small plywood board to one side of the double doors, and began to search through the key-tags that hung from it. "Dell, take a quick look out front and tell me whether you see a light green Durango out there, a new one," he continued to search through the keys as Delbert looked.

"Yeah, out next to the road," he replied.

"How about a two-tone red and white one?"

"Nope, not out here anyhow."

"Good," Billy said, as he dropped the remaining keys in a heap by the board. He had kept two sets, apparently there were two two-tone red and white Durango's out back somewhere. "Okay Dell, let's go find it," he said, as he turned and walked down a hallway in the direction of the back of the building, he turned back. "Beth?" he asked.

"Go, we'll be fine," she told him.

He nodded, turned, and Delbert followed him down the hallway through a set of double steel doors and into a large garage area. Billy searched the garage quickly with his eyes, but no red and white, two-tone Durango's resided in the shadowy interior. They walked to a set of double steel doors set into the back of the garage, Billy pressed the bar handle, and they walked out into the back lot.

They found the first Durango directly behind the rear of the garage, Billy checked the stock numbers and after determining which set of keys went to it, he opened the door and got in. A low chiming greeted him as he opened the door. The Durango was one of the upper level models he saw, and it was also not four wheel drive. The tires were not much more than passenger tires, and when he turned on the ignition to check the gas gauge, the needle stopped just above empty.

"Let's see if we can find the other one," Billy said, "this one isn't going to do us a hell-of-a-lot-of good, Dell."

They found the other truck farther back in the lot. It was a low end model, built more with a hunter, or some other type of sportsman, in mind, and much better suited to their needs. Plain stark vinyl interior and the gas gauge leveled out at half when Billy checked it. Not great, he thought, but a lot better than the other truck, and he felt they didn't have the time to pick and choose.

"This is her, Dell," Billy said, "let's go." Delbert climbed in as Billy started the truck and drove out of the back lot toward the front of the dealership.

Billy had been tensed, expecting to hear the chatter of machine pistols while they were out back, and when he drove by the glass encased showroom and saw Beth and Peggy crouched by the side of a car on the showroom floor, he breathed a sigh of relief. He just caught Beth's waving hands out of the corner of his eyes, before two men jumped out from behind one of the trucks in the front row and opened fire.

Too late, he thought, as he realized he had left the machine pistol lying on the front seat instead of keeping it in his right hand where it should have been. Delbert had held on to his though, and nearly kicked his side door open as he leaped from the truck and opened up on the two men. Billy could hear the sound of machine pistols behind him as well, as Beth and Peggy also opened up. He aimed the Durango at the two men, levered the door-handle and jumped from the truck, just as the windshield, hit by several of the rounds fired by the two men, was blown inward.

As the truck lumbered toward them, the two men opened up on it in an effort to stop it. Billy rolled, re-gained his feet, and opened up on the two men. They were both dead before the truck rolled over them, dragging one of the men with it, as it crossed the road and crashed into the ditch on the opposite side, a long red smear marked its trail across the road.

Billy turned to look back for Beth, but she was already stepping through the shattered front windows of the showroom and running toward him with Peggy close behind. He turned to look for Delbert. He had lost track of him after he had jumped from the truck. The old man was walking toward him, limping Billy saw, an alarming amount of blood seeping from one leg, staining that leg of his jeans nearly red. He became aware of a stinging sensation on the side of his cheek, and just as he raised his hand to touch his face, Beth raced up.

"Let me see," she said, pushing his hand away from his face, "Damn, Billy, you got hit."

He thought at first that it had been the flying glass from the windshield, but Beth quickly crushed that train of thought when she said. "Looks like one of the rounds that took out the windshield got you, Billy. It's gonna scar, but you'll live." She sounded calm as she spoke, Billy was surprised when she suddenly burst into tears, and threw her arms around him as she spoke. "Billy, it could have killed you, j-just a-a l-l-little b-b-bit..." she broke down and couldn't continue. He held her as Delbert walked up.

He raised his eyebrows, and said, "Dell, you okay?"

"Took one in the leg, I think," he replied.

Beth let go of Billy and tried to stop the tears as she turned to Delbert. Billy looked over Beth quickly with his eyes, and then moved on to Peggy, finally allowing his eyes to fall on Delbert's leg. Beth and Peggy appeared to have only a couple of minor cuts, probably caused by flying glass, Billy told his questioning mind. Delbert, however, was losing blood at an alarming rate. The entire right pant leg was shredded as well as being soaked with blood, and as Beth carefully pulled the material away from his leg to get a better look, Billy could see the torn flesh beneath. It doesn't look good, he thought. He had Delbert lean on him as they hurriedly headed back toward the showroom.

The one side, closest to the side lot, was untouched. They entered through the double doors, and Billy helped ease Delbert down onto the floor. He pulled out a small pocket knife, and quickly cut away the remainder of the pants leg.

The wound was bad, he could see, but thankfully it didn't look life threatening. With all the blood, he had been convinced he would find that one of the large arteries of the leg had been nicked, or even severed. That wasn't the case however, and the flow of blood was already beginning to slow. Beth folded the pant leg into a small square, and held it over the wound to further slow the bleeding. "Billy," she said, "I need the first aid kit from the truck."

"Going," he said, as he trotted out the side doors and headed toward the wrecked Suburban. He kept his eyes searching as he went, but he saw nothing, and the only sound was of the Durango which was still running in the ditch across the road. He pulled the first aid kit from the back of the truck, and ran back into the showroom. He handed it to Peggy who was kneeling with Beth beside Delbert.

"Damn," Delbert said, "makes a man wish he could get shot everyday so he could have two pretty women fussing over him," a small smile appeared over the tight set of his teeth.

Billy smiled back, surprised that he could, but a glance over at the covered form of John's body quickly wiped away the smile. "I'm getting us another truck," he stated, as he turned and walked over to the small pile of keys. And not from the back either, he told himself. He searched until he found the set of keys to the green Durango that Delbert had said was out in front, and then headed toward the front of the lot. He could still hear the other truck idling in the ditch, but all else was quiet and he saw no one at all.

This Durango was another stripped down model, with a bare interior, and aggressively tread tires. He thanked God mentally, got in, started it, and pulled over to the wrecked Suburban. Fifteen minutes later the contents of the Suburban were loaded into the rear of the Durango. The Durango was smaller, but he managed to make it all fit, and when he was finished he pulled the truck up next to the side doors, glancing at the gas gauge as he shut it off, which was resting between half and full, at three quarters of a tank. "Thank you God," he said aloud, as he exited the truck and walked back into the showroom.

Delbert was sitting up, resting against the bumper of one of the cars in the showroom. "How are you feeling?" Billy asked, as he looked over the bandaged leg.

"Not bad, and I'm about to feel a lot better," he said, raising a small pint of whiskey, "Beth found this in one of the managers drawers. I think it'll do the trick just fine."

Billy smiled, "Damn, Dell, I had no intention of getting you shot. I'm sorry, Dell, truly I am."

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" Delbert asked, his voice serious. "That ain't no way to lead, Billy. You did the best you could, we're all damn lucky to be alive, so don't go beating yourself over the head about it. You ain't got nothin' to apologize for as far as I'm concerned."

"Billy, I need to see your face," Beth said walking up, "now hold still, this is gonna hurt." He gritted his teeth as she first cleaned and then poured peroxide directly over the wound. When she was done with that, she taped it up as best she could, and kissed him. "Don't leave me, Billy," she said.

"Wouldn't, and couldn't," he replied, "and don't want to either." He turned to Delbert and helped him to his feet as the four of them walked to the Durango. None of them spoke of leaving John behind. They didn't like it, but they all realized they had no choice.

Billy turned the truck around and eased up onto the roadway. It was clear in both directions, and his eyes swept over the drying smear of blood in the road, that was now drawing flies, as he turned right and headed out of Owensboro.

By the time they were under way again, it was late afternoon. The road ahead was clear, and after several miles of checking the rear-view mirror and seeing nothing, Billy began to relax a small amount. The mood in the truck, however, was somber, and no one seemed to be able to strike up any conversation and keep it going for more than a minute or two, before it fizzled.

Billy and Beth

_April 24_ th

Two days of travel bought them to the Ohio river. They crossed into Indiana over the Ohio river at Hawesville, and by nightfall they had followed route 66 into the Hoosier national forest. The two women had somehow managed to overcome the mood, and were talking excitedly about stopping and being able to get out of the truck. Their mood helped to swing Billy's mood around, and Delbert, who had more than a mild buzz from the whiskey, was sleeping with his head in Peggy's lap.

Billy pulled the Durango into the park, and drove down next to a small stream and parked. Beth and Peggy began to search for wood to build a fire as Billy helped Delbert from the truck.

"How are you feeling, Dell?" Billy asked.

"No brain no pain," Delbert responded, "but I expect I'll have a hangover tomorrow."

"Well go ahead and have one," Billy said, "long as that helps you get through the night," he said pointing at the bottle. "But make sure it's a small one, Dell, because tomorrow I need you wide eyed and bushy tailed, there's no telling what's ahead."

"Yeah, today was sure fun," he said glumly.

Billy helped him sit down at an old green picnic table, before he went back to the truck and unloaded the camping gear.

They had picked up two additional tents, and he debated about whether to set up the third one. Peggy settled it when she walked over by telling him not to bother. "I'd prefer to have Dell next to me," she said slightly embarrassed, "well, in case he wakes up in the night, or his leg bothers him," she finished.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that neither Billy nor Beth intended to make any objections.

Peggy had met Delbert back in Texas the day after the first earthquakes hit, almost at the same time she had met John. She and Delbert had just been drawn to each other, there was no other way to put it, and although their age difference was vast, it didn't bother either one of them. It had bothered John a great deal however. He had been of the opinion that since he had found her first, she belonged to him. It pissed her off, and the tension between them had been growing steadily.

She was sorry that John had died, and had at first even felt guilty about it, but she didn't now. It could have been any of them, she realized, it could have been Dell.

She was through making pretensions about how she felt too, she realized. She had been embarrassed, not only because she was afraid Beth and Billy would disapprove, that was only a small part. The big part was John. She had become accustomed to his cutting remarks, and had braced herself for one, before she had realized it wouldn't, and couldn't, come. She walked over and squatted down beside Delbert.

"How do you feel, Dell?" she asked.

"I'll live, Peg, you worry too much," he said smiling. She kissed him quickly, and then straightened up. "I'm going to help Beth with dinner then. If you need me say so, okay?" Delbert nodded his head and smiled once more to reassure her, and she turned and walked away.

Billy walked over, handed Delbert a cup of coffee, and then sat down next to him.

"You know much about Indiana?" Billy asked, once he sat down.

"Not a lot," Delbert replied, "came through a few years back driving truck, what's on your mind, Billy?"

"Well, how big are the cities we have to pass through, for starters, and, I guess, what do you think our chances are of getting into Ohio in one piece?"

"Probably ought to stay away from the cities," Delbert answered. "Even if it takes longer. I know a couple of ways around, cheat routes I used a couple of times when I knew I was too heavy for the scales. If we're careful, _real careful_ , we should be able to do it, but I ain't about to drop my guard none at all," he finished.

"Me either," Billy said, "me either, not one bit."

"How'd that gal of yours learn to shoot that way?" Delbert asked, "I never seen somebody react so fast in my life."

Billy cleared his throat. "It's not like that, Dell. She's not my gal... Rough life," Billy continued, "I imagine she'll tell you someday. I'm damn glad she can though...Looks like Peggy can handle herself pretty damn well too, Dell," he finished.

"Oh yeah, John was about to find out how well, I think." He continued with no further explanation. "I think she probably had a pretty damn rough life too, Billy," he said. "It made her one fine woman though."

They sat and sipped quietly at the hot coffee in silence for a few minutes before Billy spoke.

"Well, all we can do is try our best, Dell, just that, and nothing more... I think it's best we stay put for a while... Maybe a few days, a week or so... Let that leg heal up," He locked eyes with Dell. He had already spoken about it to Beth, but they were four now, four voices, four votes.

"I think I don't have much choice." Dell looked around. "We could do worse," He looked back up at Billy.

Billy smiled. "What I was thinking too." He smiled and outstretched his hand. "How about we go get some food, what do you say?"

"Smells damn good, don't it?" Delbert asked as Billy helped him to his feet. They both walked off toward the small fire where the two women sat quietly talking.

May 1st

New York

Billy and Beth: The Camp

They had gotten on the road just a few days later, as soon as Dell had healed enough to travel.

After everything they had gone through on their flight from L.A., the trip across the top of the country to the East coast had been uneventful. They had stuck to side roads, avoided the major cities. They had had their run ins with the dead more than once, and for the last hundred miles or so toward the end of the trip they had known they were being followed, but they had made the outskirts of New York unmolested.

The city rose before them, several miles off. Fires burned by night, black smoke hung above it during the day. New York was no refuge. It had seemed to be the end of everything after all they had been through, but a few days of rest and they had begun to see things for what they were. It was not a maybe any longer. Whatever had happened, had happened nationwide... Probably worldwide they had agreed.

Billy squatted now before one of the fires warming his hands. The horizon to the east glowed with occasional bright flares erupting. Sometimes the sounds of explosions reached them out here as soft pops on the night air. A few times those pops had been much louder though and they had wondered what had blown that could be that big, but they had no answers and no desire to venture into the city by daylight to find out.

Billy rubbed some heat into his hands. The nights were getting warmer, summer was on the way and he couldn't help but feel they should be somewhere else by then, preparing for the coming winter that would surely follow this first new summer, but it was still cool.

The fire burned hot, but low, the heat feeling good as the temperature of the air dropped. The fires were many. A small group had been sitting, watching the stars come out, when one by one, nearly all the others had come to sit and watch with them.

There were well over a hundred people here now. They had driven out of the city in whatever they could find that would drive and was not boxed in or frozen in traffic. Taxi cabs, huge delivery trucks and a few city police cars littered the field they were camped in. The others had come in, some the same day, more as the days passed.

Out here, twenty five miles from anything, it sometimes seemed lonely, empty, but not as oppressive as the cities. Death did not seem as though it were only waiting for them. There were no dead, zombies, whatever they were, at least so far. Still, he was uneasy. He felt an itch to go. Maybe there were dead here, maybe they just weren't making themselves known yet... Waiting for the right opportunity. There was no protection here, and they needed a warmer climate too. The same reason they had headed south in the first place when they had left L.A., he told himself as he stared out into the darkness.

Within the first month, two dozen had joined them.

They had thirty shotguns, better than fifty rifles and dozens of handguns between them. They had banded together and journeyed into the surrounding suburbs, broken into gun shops and pawn shops to get them.

Jamie, Winston and the others had found them just a few weeks earlier. Scotty had not been with them. None of them wanted to talk about where he was or what had happened to split them up.

That had solved the mystery of feeling as though they were being followed. Billy and Beth had both wondered how long they might have been following them across the country. But nobody seemed to want to ask or answer those questions. Had they been the ones that had destroyed their truck? He found himself skating up to the edge of asking several times and then failing. It had seemed to be personal though. It bothered him that they may have been the ones who had done it.

He and Jamie had fallen back together even though he had done his best to discourage it. In truth, he thought now, looking out at the gathering gloom of early evening, he should have tried harder. He didn't love her. Couldn't imagine a life with her, and every day he spent with her made the trip from L.A. with Beth more and more unreal. A fairy tale that never happened.

He was weak. He had been weak back in L.A. And he was weak now. Jamie had sensed that Beth had said no, or something like no. That a trip halfway across the continent had not been able to change her resolve. Scotty was not with her, so she had picked things up where they had left off. Like it was the natural thing to do, Billy had thought. And who knew, maybe it was the natural thing to do now. Just pretend it didn't matter. Nothing had happened. He had met enough people who were doing that same thing and making it work, he supposed he could to. So he had fallen right back into it too: Said nothing as the relationship picked back up where it had left off.

Billy stood and watched night come down on the trees. The fires in the city seemed to suddenly burn hotter. Nothing moved anywhere. Jamie came and stood beside him for a moment before she slipped her arm around his waist and managed to capture his attention. He bent slightly and kissed her forehead.

"Wow. I can't believe you just did that. I'm already getting the forehead kiss," She told him. She smiled up at him, teasing as she said the words.

"You know it's not like that." He kissed her once more, this time fully on the lips, a longer kiss.

"That was better," Jamie told him. She looked out over the emptiness. "What are you thinking?" She asked.

"I'm thinking we can't stay here forever... A few more days, a week or two..." He looked down at her. "But we'll have to leave soon. We need to get south. Summer is coming down. It doesn't seem possible, but it is. It's warmer every day." He turned to her. "We should be somewhere right now... Planting crops, getting food set for winter." he turned back to the distant fires. "We can't stay too much longer." He looked back at the clearing in the middle of the vehicles where the others sat and talked before the fires. There were dozens of kids. Three babies and their mothers.

He had hoped Beth would lead. She had seemed the logical choice, but she had not taken it directly. It was not a responsibility he was comfortable with. He guessed she must feel the same. Beth was there, in the background, listening, approving or disapproving silently, letting him know with her eyes what she thought, what she would or wouldn't approve of.

"That it?" Jamie asked from beside him.

He smiled and shook his head. "No. But who isn't thinking deep thoughts?" His smile faded a little. She answered it with a serious look of her own.

"Come, eat," she said at last. She took his hand and pulled him away toward the others.

"I have to talk to Beth," Billy told her. She let go of his hand immediately.

"Beth... It's always Beth, isn't it?" she asked.

"Jamie," Billy started.

" _But it is!"_ Her eyes squirted tears, hot and fast. "Why?"

"Jamie... We crossed two thousand miles together."

"I would have... I would have, Billy."

"But you didn't... Why is that, Jamie? Why didn't you? And when did you find us and start to follow us, when? And what happened to Scotty?"

"I'm not talking about that, Billy. I'm just not," Jamie told him. Her eyes were bloodshot and red rimed. She turned her back on him.

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Billy threw his hands up in frustration and then forced them to his sides.

She turned back to him, her jaw set in a rigid line. "I didn't mean that," she said, obviously meaning she did mean it, but wished she hadn't said it. She turned her eyes away. "Go on. It's okay." She turned back to him, "Come back later on?"

Like it never even happened, Billy told himself. The new world order. He gathered his temper and thoughts. "Just a few minutes, really. I only need to ask her about staying or leaving," Billy told her.

"I'll wait eating... until you come." She turned and walked away without another word. Billy sighed and then turned and walked off through the campground.

Quiet conversations passed back and forth between people as he walked, a few murmured greetings he acknowledged with a smile to hide his worries, but it seemed as though there were still too many other things on everyone's minds, and the conversations began to die down after a short time.

The dark blue was rapidly bleeding from the bowl of the sky, and the conversations beginning to break up as the people who didn't have the first shift of the watch began to drift away, crawling into their vehicles to sleep. Billy found Beth and dropped to the ground beside her.

"Bad?" Beth asked. She smiled.

Billy shook his head.

"I told you before. That woman is fucking crazy.... That whole little group around her is crazy... That's why they're with her... You need to stop fucking her, Billy. I hate to put it like that, that starkly, but, I mean that's what it is. That what keeps putting the hope in her heart. A lot of this is your own fault." She cleared her throat, pulled a few grass blades from the ground and fed them into the fire.

"I know," Billy said. His voice was muffled, head hanging between his hands. He felt her hand nudge his elbow. He looked up and it was outstretched. He looked puzzled. He took her hand and she pulled him from the ground. They began walking away, out past the circles of firelight.

"You're my friend, Billy. You're not the one for me. But you're fucking that woman because you think it's the best you can do, like it's what there is for you, what you're supposed to do, and that is bullshit, Billy. Bullshit."

"Jesus, Beth."

She laughed. "I got a mouth on me, I know, but Billy, tell me I'm wrong... Tell me I got it all wrong."

"I can't... I can't."

They walked as she talked, the softness of her hand pulling him farther. Within seconds they were beyond the circle of firelight and she stopped, her arms coming around him as she kissed him softly, fully on his lips.

"Beth," he breathed.

"Just come with me... Stop thinking, Billy," she told him. Her mouth found his again and he stopped thinking.

Her hands worked at his pants zipper and he found his own hands had already solved that problem as he pushed her jeans down past her knees. His mouth found the hard plane of her stomach a second later, and her hand began to stroke the hair of his head, pulling him closer as he planted little kisses up across her breasts, teasing her nipples, and then back down.

"Don't you take this the wrong way, Billy Jingo," she breathed. "Don't you do it," she whispered as she pulled him down to the ground. "Come down here with me..."

~

Jamie watched them walk from the firelight into the darkness. Her heart sank with one huge jolt. She had been tempted to chase after them, but she knew that Beth did not want Billy in the way that she wanted him, needed him, so she was sure that it was not for that reason they had walked away. She did not know the reason though and it bothered her as she thought about it. What other reason could there be? Did you walk off into the darkness to discuss leaving this camp? Is that how it worked? Really? She stood, arms folded and watched the stars do their slow dance as her tears began to spill across her cheeks.

As the minutes passed she became more convinced that Beth did want him, always had. That it was all some sort of evil joke they had decided to play on her. On the wind she heard a woman cry out, nearby a couple laughed softly. A sob caught in her throat as she realized the truth. She tried to get her emotions under control, but she failed. She stood, head bowed, one hand across her eyes.

" _Jamie?"_ A barely spoken question.

She raised her eyes to see Winston standing close to her.

"Are you okay, Jamie?" he asked in his halting old man's voice: A slight quiver mixed with a raspy edge; a voice that seemed nearly used up.

She caught herself as fast as she could. "Okay.... I'm okay.... Overtired," she brushed at her eyes and tried not to look directly at him. "I'll be fine..., A little sleep," she told him as she turned and walked away. She patted his arm affectionately as she passed by him. A few moments later she pulled the canvas flaps shut on the tent, tied them from the inside, blew out the lantern and lay down on her sleeping bag. She let the tears come full force, losing herself in them.

For a moment she told herself that she had no one to blame, save herself. That Billy had told her time and time again that he didn't feel the same for her as she did for him, but she convinced herself just as quickly that it couldn't be true. Could not, because a man didn't sleep with a woman he didn't love, did he? At least care for? Of course not. It was stupid to think that he didn't care about her. Beth had done this... Beth had taken him away.

Winston stood outside the tent looking down at the small pile of belongings Jamie had placed outside before she had pulled the canvas opening shut. He stood for just a few moments wondering what it might mean for him, for all of them, and then he walked away into the night.

~

The stars were hard diamond chips in the sky as they lay close together in the grass. Billy sat up and lit a cigarette. His heart was a slowing hammer in his chest. He rolled his own cigarettes, everybody did it seemed. There was still plenty of tobacco just lying around behind glass doors and in locked cabinets. Funny how stress made you pick up the poisons again. Gamblers did it, alcoholics did it. Smokers too, he guessed. He wondered briefly how many people had quit smoking, to live, only to be killed by what had happened, or the dead, or circumstances from all the fall out. He laughed lightly.

"What," Beth asked.

"I was thinking millions of people quit this shit to live... They're all dead and here we are."

"Yeah, well, irony was never lost on the arts... Better give me one of those too," she said.

"This is bad shit, you know. It'll kill you deader than a cockroach." Billy told her. Cockroaches had not fared well in the rising of the dead and so it was joke among them if something wasn't doing well. The dead ate cockroaches like they were popcorn. Bad time to be a cockroach.

"Damn, well I hadn't intended to live forever, cowboy. Now give me one of them damn things," Beth told him.

Billy passed her his own and then lit himself another.

"My, God. There is nothing that feels like that," Beth said as she drew the smoke into her lungs.

"Reason it gets you," Billy agreed. "Hey... I guess we should at least decide to stay or go," he laughed a little.

She looked up at him. "I hate to make decisions."

"Me too... We have to get moving, I think," Billy said.

"Yeah... But not now. Let's let things settle out a little more. Did you notice how things weren't quite as bad the latter half of our traveling?"

"Yeah... How long... People ask me every day."

"I don't know... It's like the feelings along the way... It says stay, when it says go, we'll go. I know how that might sound. I wouldn't say it like that to anyone else but you, but I really feel, inside I feel, that we should stay put right now," Beth said.

Billy nodded, "Then we will."

"Hey," she waited until Billy looked at her. "Whore or good girl?"

Billy felt his eyes tear up fast. "Dammit, Beth, never a whore, never."

She curled into him. "That was my fear... What was yours?"

"What do you mean?" Billy asked.

"What was yours all those nights when I looked at you and I could see you wanted me and if you just asked one more time I would have said yes. Why didn't you?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I didn't know that. You said no, I took that as no. I didn't want to mess up this thing we have. This friendship we have. I have never had that with any woman, ever... I didn't want to lose that." He looked at her for a second longer. "Still don't want to."

A single tear slipped across her cheek.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, Beth," Billy told her in a near whisper.

"Stupid," She told him. "It's for a good reason." She buried her face in his chest. "You are not the one, Billy Jingo, but I love you and I don't know if I can ever feel that for another man or not, not that deep. Whatever it is I don't want to lose it either."

"You won't," Billy told her.

She looped one arm across his chest and pulled herself closer. "Better not."

He pulled her close with one arm and took a deep drag of his cigarette with his free hand. The stars continued their slow journey across the blackness. He felt her breathing change a few moments later and he held her as she slept.

