RHIANNON FRATER

AS THE WORLD DIES

Untold Tales: Eric’s Story

Author’s Note:
    
    The original As The World Dies story was written over a two year span in a series of mini-chapters that were posted on a somewhat regular schedule. I accidentally began what would be my zombie epic when I quickly wrote down a zombie short story and posted it to two different forums. The response to the story was immediately positive and people wanted to know where the rest of it was.
    I hadn’t even considered that there was more to the story, but as the encouraging words continued to hit my email box, I realized there was more story to tell. I traveled far and wide over the great state of Texas for my job as a governmental consultant and spent many hours on the road. My experiences in small towns in Texas inspired me to write my zombie epic about a small town in the middle of nowhere Texas where a group of survivors band together to fight the undead and somehow pioneer a new life for themselves.
    Since the story was written in mini-chapters on my laptop as I sat in my hotel room at night, some of the characters did not get all the attention I wanted to give them. In rural Texas finding a decent Internet connection is sometimes impossible and I often couldn’t check on the forums to see what I had or had not written
    Eric was one of the characters that was swept to one side by my busy schedule and crazy writing spurts. Though I always saw him in my mind’s eye as a valuable part of the Fort and adored his character, he always seemed to end up just off screen.
    Now that As The World Dies is a trilogy and the first book is coming out in the Summer of 2008, I have decided to revisit that world and make things right with a few of the minor characters.
    This is the first of the untold tales of As The World Dies.
    I hope you enjoy it.
    
    -Rhiannon
    
    
Chapter One
All is Calm
    
    Eric’s eyelids slowly fluttered open as the full force of the morning sun struck his face. With a slow, painful moan, he turned his head away from the beam of bright sunlight that was reflecting off the stained glass edging the tall windows of the bedroom. Evidently the sun had been cooking his left arm for a few minutes. It felt hot as he laid it across his chest to get it out of the sun. His right arm was dead to him. Brandy was laying on top of it in all her tanned, smooth skinned glory. Her streaked blond hair was hanging over her face and she had shoved the covers off both of them in her sleep. She was naked, gorgeous and snoring loudly.
    
    It took some work to get her off his arm. He had to shove her a few times and she thrashed a little, striking his chin with one elbow before rolling over and continuing her snores. Struggling to sit up, he rubbed his arm and looked at the digital clock on the antique bed stand next to the four poster bed. It was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning.
    
    His movements reminded him of how much wine he had consumed the night before and his vision swam as his brain quivered in his skull. The annoying wine hangover was in full force.
    
    Leaning over, he managed to find his boxers in the heap of clothes next to the bed and pull them on. His legs were the pale, skinny, hairy opposite of Brandy's incredible gams. But then again, he slogged away in an office ten hours a day while she jogged and played tennis between her modeling jobs. It still amazed him that he was dating such an amazingly beautiful woman when he was a tall, gawky average looking guy.
    
    Scratching his thigh as he walked to the bathroom, he noted the three bottles of wine strewn next to the bed and the remains of their gourmet meal tucked away on a silver tray next to the door. The bed and breakfast wouldn't tidy up until they left for the day or set the tray outside the door. He opened the door and shoved the tray out with one foot and then added the wine bottles for good measure.
    
    Behind him, Brandy snored on.
    
    Outside the birds sang and the wind rustled the limbs of the huge pecan trees hovering over the reconstructed farmhouse. It was a comforting sound. He took a moment to look out the window into the garden and saw it was empty save for a cat gingerly making its way across the stone walkway.
    
    The shower was hot and refreshing and he was amazed at how sore he felt. But then again, it had been a sexual marathon the likes he had never done before. After weeks of working on a major project, he had finally had the chance to take time off and spend it with Brandy. It was obvious he had been neglecting her in a certain area and she had been demanding and exciting. As he soaped up his rather shabby chest, he once more vowed to work out and get into shape. Luckily, his clothes hid his slowly expanding stomach and still gave the impression of him being lean and long, but that would only last for so long before he headed into the uncomfortable world of being overweight. His head throbbed from the wine as he washed his medium brown hair that so perfectly matched his medium brown eyes. Everything about him was just medium, except for his girlfriend. She was exceptional.
    
    Most of his friends hated her, but he decided this was about jealousy. They complained she was spoiled and he knew, guiltily, that this was true. He always bought her the best of everything, from her car to her clothes. She kept their home immaculate and always made him feel wonderful. They did occasionally have fierce battles, but mostly because he was still uncomfortable with his growing wealth and she was not. He still tended to keep a penny jar and buy his clothes at JC Penny.
    
    Dressing in Dockers and a button down shirt (but he did roll up the sleeves and unbutton the collar), he stood in front of misty mirror in the bathroom and took a deep breath.
    
    Today was the day. He was going to ask her to marry him. He had been carrying around a 4-carat diamond (she had told him from day one she would settle for nothing less) for weeks now and last night he had chickened out. Or perhaps had just been distracted by her throwing off her clothes. Either way, he had not pulled out the little blue box with the diamond ring inside.
    
    "Okay, Eric, today. Today you're going to do it." He put on his glasses, nodded to himself, and walked out into the bedroom.
    
    Brandy was still asleep, still snoring and now had one long leg dangling off the bed.
    
    "When she wakes up," he murmured and let himself out of their room.
    
    The hall and stairway was empty as he hurried down to the kitchen. The proprietor of the bed and breakfast, a woman in her early forties with masses of red hair, was standing in the doorway as he approached. Mrs. Waskom was completely absorbed in the small TV resting on the counter and jumped when he touched her arm.
    
    "Oh, Mr. Hertzenburger, you gave me a start!"
    
    "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Waskom. I just wanted to see if I could get brunch for me and my girlfriend?"
    
    Mrs. Waskom nodded as her gaze slid back to the TV. "Of course. I can have it set up for you in the dining room unless you want to eat in your room or on the patio?"
    
    Eric glanced toward the TV and saw a scene of mayhem that made him inhale sharply. "Is that Iraq?"
    
    "No," Mrs. Waskom answered. "It's Chicago."
    
    The TV screen was filled with the view of a smoke filled street. Bloodied figures were stumbling through falling debris as a large building crumbled slowly into the crowd.
    
    "Oh, God," Eric gasped.
    
    "A plane crashed," Mrs. Waskom explained. "It just went down into the neighborhood."
    
    "Terrorists?" Eric swallowed hard.
    
    "They're not saying," the woman answered and wiped a tear away.
    
    Blackened figures struggled toward the news reporter giving her solemn take on the scene. Fire trucks continued to arrive behind her as the charred victims scrambled desperately toward the arriving rescuers. It was horrifying to behold.
    
    "Eric," Brandy's voice whined behind him.
    
    He quickly turned around to find her standing in the hallway, her silk robe wrapped around her. Her long hair fell around her face in a sexy mess and she pouted at him.
    
    "Brandy, I was getting us brunch."
    
    "I woke up and you weren't there," she said grumpily.
    
    "I'm sorry, baby." He rushed toward her then stopped and said to the distracted owner. "Brunch on the patio will be perfect."
    
    Mrs. Waskom again started at the sound of his voice then nodded. Flipping off the TV, she moved deeper into the kitchen. "It will be out in fifteen minutes."
    
    Brandy tugged at his belt and looked up at him through her thick lashes. "I don't like it when you just leave me."
    
    "I'm sorry, honey. I am. Why don't you get dressed and we'll have brunch?"
    
    Her lips were soft against his and she snuggled into his side. "Okay. But no more TV. You promised me I would have you all to myself."
    
    "Okay. No more TV," he promised.
    
    
Chapter Two
Not Quite Right
    
    “You said that you weren't going to ignore me," Brandy exclaimed as they entered their room. She spun about on her bare heel to glare at him.
    
    "I'm not, honey. I was arranging for us to eat. The TV was on and-"
    
    "Eric, you said no TV. No phone calls. No gaming. That is what you said."
    
    "The cell phone is off. I didn't bring my computer. And the TV in here is unplugged. I swear. This time is only about you," he swore. He was eager to placate her so they could move on.
    
    At times her anger at him not paying attention to her was a bit frightening. Once, she had deleted his primary World of Warcraft character after he had played all evening. In one fell swoop, he lost two years of endless grinding and all the gear he had obtained. It had been a huge blow, but as she sobbed at his computer that he didn't love her as much as the game, he understood that she needed to know he loved her. That was when he bought her a new car and swore off gaming except for one night a week.
    
    She sniffled a little and swept her hair back from her face. Her eyes were hazel and sometimes looked like amber. Thick eyelashes made her eyes sultry and intense. Her long brown hair had huge streaks of blond through it and its very expensive cut made it look amazing no matter how long she had slept on it. The smattering of light freckles on her turned up nose made her adorable.
    
    Taking her in his arms, he kissed her lips and said, "This is all about you. I promise."
    
    "Okay," she said with a little smile. "I forgive you."
    
    He kissed her again and held her close. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll go get Pepe and take him for a walk. We can meet out on the patio for brunch."
    
    "Okay." She slid from his arms and sauntered toward the bathroom. "Make sure he doesn't smell."
    
    "I promise," Eric answered and let himself out of the room and hurried down the stairs to the front door.
    
    The main draw to the Crystal Waters Farm and Bed and Breakfast had been that they allowed guests to bring their pets. For an additional fee, there was on onsite kennel so that visitors could enjoy their vacation and not leave their furry little companion at home. Eric strode out past the gardens and out the gate toward the old barn that loomed nearby. Next to it was a small building that was the kennel for the visiting pets.
    
    Gloria, a small Hispanic woman, greeted him when he entered the building. There were four kennels for the four available suites in the Bed and Breakfast and Pepe was the only dog visiting. The small Jack Russell terrier instantly jumped to his feet and ran to the door his tail wagging.
    
    "Has he been okay?"
    
    "A perfect angel," Gloria assured him. "I took him for a walk earlier and he was very excited to see the squirrels."
    
    "That's my boy," Eric said with a grin. "A rough and tough hunter of vermin."
    
    Gloria swung open the door and the tiny dog leaped into his arms. He was quickly covered in dog saliva as he was given the messiest of dog kisses, but he laughed and held the dog tightly.
    
    "I'm going to take him out for awhile and bring him back in a few hours," Eric said.
    
    "I work around the barn area, so just give me a call," Gloria answered.
    
    "I was wondering if-"
    
    Gloria's cell phone rang and she glanced down quickly. For a moment Eric almost checked his own phone, and then remembered it was in the glove compartment of the car.
    
    "I need to take this," she said to him with a smile and turned away. "Yeah, Joshua? I told you not to call me at work unless it was an emergency. What is it?"
    
    Eric hesitated then started toward the door.
    
    "What did Grandma say? Why would Mr. Sanchez be trying to eat Grandpa? Joshua, something else must be wrong. Did you tell her to call the police or an ambulance?"
    
    Eric looked back toward the woman as he began to step outside. The phone call was odd and it was hard not to want to hear the end of it.
    
    "Look, Joshua, Mr. Sanchez is a diabetic. If he didn't take his medicine, he might be having some sort of fit. You need to call Grandma and tell her to call the ambulance and the police. We're nowhere near San Antonio. We can't do anything. You're sixteen years old. You can handle calling her. Now don't bother me at work anymore. Use your head." Gloria hung up and noticed Eric lingering. "My mother has dementia. She calls my house all the time with wild stories."
    
    "That was some story," Eric said with a laugh.
    
    Gloria nodded and rolled her eyes. "Dad won't put her in a nursing home, so we have to put up with some weird stuff."
    
    "Gotcha. Well, thanks for taking care of Pepe."
    
    "No problem. He's a sweetheart," Gloria answered and leaned down to pet Pepe's little head.
    
    The dog licked her hand then trotted to the end of his leash and looked back at Eric expectantly.
    
    "I better go. See you later."
    
    Gloria smiled and moved to clean up the kennel.
    
    Stepping outside, Eric looked around at the brilliant blue sky full of billowing clouds and breathed in the fresh scent of the spring air. The world was blooming again and the nearby peach trees were stunning with purple and lavender flowers. It was a perfect April morning. Well, almost afternoon.
    
    Behind him, he heard Gloria's cell phone begin to ring again. Then another phone began to ring faintly in the distance. Curious, Eric turned to see a man in a cowboy hat fishing his phone out of his jeans as he lead a horse toward the stable. Then, even fainter, another phone began to ring and Eric frowned slightly.
    
    Pepe let out a little "arf" to get him moving and they began to walk as the third cell phone rang for a few seconds then was also picked up.
    
    The wind picked up the cowboy's voice and Eric heard him say, "Then call the police, honey. I can't do nothing from here. Look, if some bum is trying to get into the neighbor's house, call the cops. Get the shotgun out of the closet and if he bothers you, remember don't shoot until he's in the house. Now hang up, call the cops, and then call me back."
    
    Pepe gripped Eric's sock in his teeth and yanked on him a few times.
    
    "Okay, okay. Walk time. Sheesh," Eric said to the little dog.
    
    Together they began down the path.
    
    Somewhere, in the distance, another phone began to ring.
    
    
Chapter Three
The World Begins To End
    
    There was a distinct feeling of unease despite the bright sunlight, cool breeze, and beautiful surroundings. After brunch, Eric and Brandy had loaded Pepe into the car and driven down to the quaint Texan town nestled below the hill the B & B rested on. After parking and making sure Pepe's leash was secure, they set out for a long nice walk and window shopping in the restored downtown.
    
    His credit cards were hurting from Brandy's shopping spree the day before so they mostly gazed in the windows at the opulent displays and let Pepe explore. Every crack in the sidewalk seemed to entice the little dog.
    
    Brandy had settled down after their brunch and was smiling and sweet. It was a huge relief to Eric and he tried hard not to disrupt the pleasantness of the day. But still, he was greatly bothered by the sense of something terrible happening that he was not aware of.
    
    To Eric, the walk was far from relaxed. Brandy seemed oblivious of the tense expressions on the faces of the locals or the severe lack of tourists. It was a weekday and the busy shopping days were the weekends, but Eric noticed quite a few touristy looking types hurrying to their cars. Main Street seemed to be thinning out significantly as more and more people received calls on their phones then rushed off.
    
    "Things seem off today," he finally ventured.
    
    Brandy looked around. "What do you mean?"
    
    "People. They seem off."
    
    Brandy rolled her eyes. "It's because you can't get onto the computer or check in with work."
    
    "No. No. That plane crash in Chicago was a little scary. Maybe that's it. Maybe it feels too much like 9/11."
    
    "Gawd. I wish people would get over that," Brandy sniffed. "It was a long time ago. People need to let it go."
    
    "Brandy," Eric chided her softly. "That event changed our world."
    
    Brandy scoffed at this. "Yeah, like it didn't take forever at the airport before."
    
    "You do remember the war, right?"
    
    "It's not a war. It's nation building," Brandy said firmly. "Daddy explained it to me."
    
    Eric tried not to sound sarcastic, but he couldn't help but say, "Yeah. Mr. Staunch Republican."
    
    "Daddy is just older and wiser than you are. He says it’s natural for young men to be more liberal because you haven't gained wisdom yet."
    
    Eric felt Pepe nudge his ankle and looked down at the small dog. The dog regarded him with a somber expression and licked his lips. Feeling the need to change the subject, he said, "I think Pepe is thirsty."
    
    "He also smells. He was rolling in something again," Brandy sighed.
    
    Pepe had been bought for Brandy, but Eric had messed it up. When she had asked for a "small dog", he hadn't realized she wanted a teacup Chihuahua. The lack of her clarity on the subject had resulted in him proudly presenting the Jack Russell Terrier and her declaring, "He's so not fitting in my purse." Pepe had instantly ended up being his dog and Brandy lost interest in the whole concept of having a little furry thing to tuck into her fashionable purses. Sometimes Brandy was quite affectionate to Pepe, but she quickly lost interest if he did anything to overtly dog-like.
    
    "Look, there's a gas station on the corner. We'll stop there, I'll grab him some water and a Diet Coke for you," Eric said as he began to move on down the sun baked sidewalk.
    
    "Well, okay," Brandy said and reluctantly tore her gaze away from a dress in a window.
    
    Anticipating a nice cold drink, Pepe scampered ahead, tugging insistently on his leash and making Eric hurry. They reached the small corner gas station that was old fashioned in every way but its modern pumps and Eric looked back toward Brandy. She was sauntering along with her usual sexy model walk and he smiled at her realizing again how helplessly in love he was with her.
    
    The door to the building opened and a bell jingled merrily as a pale faced man and frightened looking woman hurried out followed by three tween boys.
    
    "Hurry, we got to go now!" The father grabbed the youngest boy's hand and yanked him along as the mother tried to run in her kitten-heeled flip-flops. The sound of those tiny narrow heels hitting the cement was a sharp sound and Pepe barked at her.
    
    Eric watched in amazement as the family piled into a SUV and tore out of the lot and almost hit another car as it tried to get onto Main Street.
    
    "What a total ass," Brandy said and flipped her hair over one shoulder.
    
    "That was weird. Here. Watch Pepe and I'll get our stuff." He handed over the leash quickly before she could protest. He was quite anxious now to find out what had everyone so rattled. If Brandy stayed outside, he could possibly get some word while inside the gas station.
    
    Brandy sniffed at the air over the dog and Pepe looked up at her with what Eric could swear was an annoyed look. "He needs a bath. They need to bathe him tonight."
    
    "Okay, I'll order one for him. I'll be right back." He kissed her cheek and quickly moved inside.
    
    The bell jingled over his head as he entered and he saw a tall, thin man standing behind the counter watching the news on a small TV tucked up on a shelf. The interior store was set up like an old general store and the wood floor creaked under his feet as he hurriedly grabbed what he needed. He could barely hear the voice of the news commentator over the sound of the old freezers turning on.
    
    "…as the fire spreads through that area of Chicago we are receiving continuous reports of mass looting, violence, and possible murder. The National Guard has been called in to quell the violence and we still have no report of what happened to the first emergency crews to arrive at the scene of the commuter plane that crashed earlier…"
    
    Eric moved up to the counter and looked toward the TV to see scenes of fire and mayhem being played out as the commentator's voice droned on.
    
    "The shocking video of our own reporter, Trish Kendrick, will be shown again in ten minutes. We warn you that the footage is disturbing and based on the brutality of the attack we believe that Trish and her cameraman, Arnold Franco, are deceased. The footage shows an attack similar to ones being reported in Chicago and in several other cities."
    
    "Was it terrorists?" Eric's voice cracked and he felt sick to his stomach seeing the footage.
    
    "Dunno,” the older man answered. “They're trying to figure it out. Said that some girl on the plane was attacking other people and they strapped her down. That was the last thing the air traffic controller heard before it crashed. Got some other riots going down in some other cities." The man began to check him out, carefully entering the prices into an ancient cash register by punching down the big black keys.
    
    "Is that why everyone is acting so odd?" Eric cast a wary glance toward Brandy. He was surprised to see her playing with Pepe.
    
    "Not paying attention to the news, huh?"
    
    "Well, we're on a little romantic vacation, so not really."
    
    "Yep. People are freaking out. Thinks its terrorist putting something in the water or in the air. Rioting in some of the big cities up North. Army and National Guard will get it under control. Some weird stuff going on today, that's for sure. News people can't decide what's going on. They say terrorists. Then they say race riots." The man shrugged. "They're probably making it a bigger deal than it is."
    
    "I hope so. How much do I owe you?"
    
    "Four dollars and fifty-two cents," the man answered and rested his huge hands on the counter to lean toward him. "You know, its time like this, I'm glad I'm in Texas. We got guns and balls, son."
    
    "That we do," Eric answered with a chuckle and handed over the exact change.
    
    "Take care," the man said.
    
    "You, too," Eric answered and headed back outside.
    
    Brandy was standing in the sun, probably trying to get a better tan, while Pepe dug into a flowerbed nestled against the side of the gas station. In some ways he felt relieved knowing that whatever was happening was far away, but at the same time he didn't like to think of another form of terrorist attack happening, even if it was in Chicago.
    
    Briefly, for a moment, he felt a twinge of terror skitter through his brain, and then he shoved it away and moved toward his girlfriend and beloved dog. Things would be fine. Chicago was far away and this was a time to enjoy themselves.
    
    It was a struggle, but he managed to shove his nagging fear away and enjoy the rest of his day and evening. When he finally fell into bed that night, he felt content and loved. With Brandy nestled in his arms, he felt confident that everything was going to be just fine. Tomorrow, he would give her the ring and it would be perfect.
    
    At 3 AM he found out how wrong he was…
    
    
Chapter Four
The Morning of the Last Day
    
    Eric woke from a very deep sleep and wasn't immediately sure why. The bed was deliciously warm compared the coldness filling the room and he drowsily raised his head to look at the clock set next to the bed. In big red numbers it read 3:00. Blinking, he slowly sat up and reached out to touch Brandy. His hand slid over the covers to find she was not there. It was then that he became aware of the low tones of her voice speaking in a hushed voice.
    
    Sliding out of the bed, he stood for a second trying to figure out where she was in the darkened room. Slowly, he realized she was not in the room at all, but the bathroom. Confused as to whom she could possibly be talking to, he moved toward the door, tilting his head to hear. As his awakening mind grew sharper, so did his hearing.
    
    "…cannot believe you went out with my sister. No, I haven't told him, but I already told you I'm not sure what is going on between us. I thought I knew, but this time with Eric has been so good. Oh, fuck you. No, fuck you. You took my sister out and got her attacked! You're at the fucking hospital with my sister. Do not tell me to calm down," Brandy's voice was whispering harshly.
    
    Eric felt an intense cold shiver through his body and his stomach rolled. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but he just couldn't bear to. Instead, he laid his palm against the door and listened.
    
    "Just tell me if she's going to be okay. Paul, a fucking bum bit the hell out of her neck and you're telling me to calm down? You fucking asshole. I can't believe I slept with you. I can't believe I was going to leave Eric for you. No, I don't feel bad that the bum bit you, too. No. No. It's over. No, it’s definitely over. You know how much my sister means to me. You fucking know it and you take her out on a date!" Her voice was growing louder and she realized this and caught herself. Her voice was much lower when she said, "You sleep with her and I'll fucking cut your dick off."
    
    Feeling numb, Eric turned and staggered back to the bed. Unable to completely absorb the overhead conversation or believe it, he pulled the covers over him and lay there staring at the clock. It read 3:02.
    
    In just two minutes, everything had just changed.
    
    At her request, he had left his cell phone in the car, but she must have hid hers in her makeup case. And while he had staunchly avoided all calls, she was on the phone with Paul, her womanizing friend that Eric had never liked. Not only on the phone, but ragging on him for taking her sister, Rachel, out. That would have been understandable considering Paul's reputation, but to hear that she had cheated on him with that bastard was too much for Eric to bear. He closed his eyes, tears spilling around his lashes.
    
    It was a nightmare and he just wanted to sleep. He would sleep and in the morning it would be okay. It would all be a nightmare. But his mind would not let him sleep and he could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest.
    
    A few minutes later Brandy crawled into bed and snuggled up to his back. He could feel the tension in her body and he tried not to shirk from her touch. He remained still, pretending sleep, but she was soon thrashing around irritably, trying to get comfortable.
    
    Sleep never came back to him and he watched the minutes on the clock changing then the hours. Brandy kept tossing and turning and crawled out of bed a few times to go to the bathroom. Each time he heard her voice faintly as she spoke on the phone. After the calls, she would return to bed to fidget even more.
    
    Finally, the sun began to filter through the stained glass set in the windows after seven o'clock. Brandy slid out of bed again and went to the bathroom. When the door shut softly behind her, he sat up and slung his legs over the edge of the bed.
    
    All night he had been tormented by the thought of her cheating on him and he knew without a doubt he loved her. He just didn't know what to do and he needed to have her explain to him, ask for forgiveness, anything to make it better. After four hours of sheer torture, he was ready to talk.
    
    "What the hell are you saying? From a bite? My sister did not die from a bite! You're a fucking liar! I don't care if you're not feeling good. You're telling me my sister died? You're lying! You're lying!"
    
    The bathroom door slammed open and Brandy stumbled out. She didn't even hide her phone smashed up against her ear. She plugged in the TV and hit the button to turn it on not even noticing Eric standing nearby.
    
    "I don't understand. What do you mean? Why are you lying to me, Paul? What's on TV?"
    
    Brandy hit the buttons to change the channel and suddenly the TV screen was full of images of bloodied people storming through a city street. They were attacking everyone in sight and the police were firing into the crowd. Eric felt his stomach twist hard as he saw the Texas Capital building in the background and realized they were showing Congress Street in Austin. Their home was in turmoil.
    
    "Fuck you, Paul. I'm coming right now to take care of my sister." Brandy hung up and ran to the closet to pull out her luggage.
    
    "Are you seeing this," Eric finally said.
    
    "We're going back," Brandy answered firmly, her long streaked hair swinging around her face as she shoved her clothes into the suitcase.
    
    "Are you seeing what is going on in Austin?" Eric looked at the screen and winced as the reporter's voice droned on and more scenes of what looked like National Guard soldiers shooting what appeared to be rabid people trying to attack them played out on the TV.
    
    "The army is there. They'll fix it by the time I get there. Rachel is in the hospital. Some bum bit her last night and she's sick. She needs me," Brandy said. "Mom and Dad are in France and I need to be there."
    
    "Brandy, are you actually paying attention to the news. You can't go back," Eric said in a voice that sounded strangely calm despite the trembling of his hands.
    
    As she pulled on a pair of shorts, she glared at him fiercely. "Don't tell me what to do. The army is there. Get your stuff. We're going now!"
    
    Eric reluctantly began to pull on his Dockers from the day before. The local Texas news cut to the national news. A map of the United States appeared with red dots surrounding several major cities. He sat down hard on the bed in shock as the ticker at the bottom of the screen told of the growing violence in the cities. He reached over and snagged the remote and turned up the sound.
    
    "… continues as normal in some parts of the country this morning as growing violence develops in several cities. The government has issued a statement that all the violence has been isolated to only certain areas and that people should continue on with their lives. The violence in Austin, Texas this morning is being reported as the result of drunken rowdiness after a secret rave at a downtown nightclub and the National Guard has the situation under control. We are being told it is not associated in anyway with the race riots in New York, Detroit and Philadelphia nor the suspected terrorism in Chicago yesterday…" a very calm reporter droned on while the scenes of violence played out behind her.
    
    "They're lying. This much rioting happening all at once. And look at those scenes. People are biting each other!" Eric's voice sounded odd to his ears. Too high pitched. And his stomach rolled once more.
    
    "We're going. They said it’s under control and my sister is in the hospital and her drugged out buddy is being a shithead."
    
    "You mean the guy you slept with?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.
    
    Brandy was heaving her heavy suitcase off a chair and she hesitated at his words. "Fuck you."
    
    "Well, evidently you're fucking someone else," Eric said defensively.
    
    "My sister is in the hospital, dickwad!" She threw his shoes at him and his shirt from the day before. "If you love me, you'll come with me."
    
    "Brandy, are you even watching the news. What is going on? Something is wrong. They put PCP in the water or something. Or some kind of chemical."
    
    "Who?"
    
    "Terrorists or something," Eric said. "Don't you see what is going on? Look at where the red dots are. They're around major cities. Being in a major city is a danger right now. Your sister is in the hospital and that's a safe place to be. We need to stay here until they figure out what the hell is going on!"
    
    Brandy's lips set in a tight line and she shoved past him to barge out the door.
    
    "Brandy, don't!"
    
    Eric shoved his shoes on as fast as he could and ran out after her. Pulling his shirt on, he rushed down the stars as she dragged her suitcase down the stairs.
    
    "You can't tell me not to go be with her. If you love me you'll go with me and stop being a jerk."
    
    Brandy yanked the front door open and charged outside.
    
    "Brandy, listen to me, honey. People are attacking each other, biting each other, they're rioting. You can't go back to Austin until they tell us for sure its over."
    
    "The news said it was under control. I'm going to be with my sister and punch Paul in the face," Brandy snapped, barely glancing over her shoulder at him.
    
    "Why? Because he's trying to sleep with your sister, too?"
    
    "You were listening to my phone calls?" Brandy whirled around, her eyes burning bright with anger and her lips set into a tight, angry line.
    
    "Yeah, I overheard you." Eric felt his anger fill him once more, but then it burst inside of him and he felt a sob in his throat. "But I love you and I don't care. We'll get counseling. We can work through this. I've been working too much. Neglecting you."
    
    Brandy stared at him for a few seconds then turned around and continued her march toward the car. "Then if you love me, you'll come with me."
    
    Eric hurried after her. "Brandy, listen to me, sweetheart. I think if we go back we might die. Do you understand? We stand a good chance of getting killed. Those red dots are over the cities, Brandy. Don t' you understand. The more people there are the more dangerous whatever this thing is becomes."
    
    His girlfriend shoved her suitcase into the back of the car and once more turned to face him. "If you love me, you will come with me."
    
    Tears were threatening and he reached out and touched her cheek gently. She slightly turned her head away from him and it hurt him. "Okay. Okay."
    
    "Good." She pulled the driver side door open and leaned over and pulled out the small black case they kept their revolver in. They never traveled without it. "We've got this. We'll be fine. Let's go."
    
    Eric wiped a tear away and felt his nose quivering. He felt overwhelmed and afraid. But somehow, through the chaotic swirl of his thoughts he heard Pepe's tiny yap. Obviously, the little dog was in the fenced in yard of the kennel and had heard their voices.
    
    "Okay, but I need to get Pepe."
    
    "Leave him," Brandy said in a cold voice.
    
    "I can't," Eric protested.
    
    "We can come back for him, but right now we got to go and we can't waste time dropping him off at home. My sister is in the fucking hospital, Eric!"
    
    "And she's dead, Brandy. Isn't that what Paul said?" He regretted the words the minute he said them.
    
    Brandy's face flushed red and she hissed, "No, she's not and if you love me, you'll get in this gawddamn car right now!"
    
    Eric gripped the edge of the car door with his hand and struggled with his emotions. "I'll get Pepe, then we'll go."
    
    "Leave the dog, Eric."
    
    "No, I can't. I'll get him and be right back."
    
    This one thing he could not do for her. He would not leave Pepe behind. Turning, he ran down the path away from the house and the covered parking lot toward the kennel just beyond the garden. He ran as fast as he could, tears slipping down his cheeks. Brandy and Pepe were everything to him and he would not lose either one of them. Somehow, this all had to work out.
    
    The kennel came into view and Pepe was standing on his hind feet, his front paws resting on the fence as he barked anxiously. Eric rushed to the gate in the enclosure and fumbled with the latch until it opened. Pepe immediately ran and jumped into his arms. The feel of the warm, anxious little body in his arms soothed his shattered nerves a tad and he turned to hurry back to the parking lot.
    
    The sleek dark blue car he had bought Brandy was already pulling out of the lot and heading down the driveway that wove just past the kennel. Evidently, she had decided to pick him up. Holding Pepe close, Eric ran across the yard toward the road.
    
    Somehow, they would all be okay. They would get back to Austin and the army would have things under control and maybe Rachel really was alive and Paul was just strung out on drugs and…
    
    The car roared past him. Brandy didn't even turn her head to look at him. Eric frantically waved after her, but the car kept going. The wheels kicked up a thick plume of dust that engulfed him and he staggered to halt and stood in the middle of the lane in shock. Instinctively he fumbled in his pocket for his phone so he could call her and beg her to turn around, but it wasn't there. Instead, there was the tiny velvet box that held the diamond engagement ring.
    
    Pepe licked Eric's cheek and snuggled under his chin.
    
    It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning yet and his world was over.
    
    And far beyond the tiny bed and breakfast, the world was entering its final death throes.
    Eric sat on the front porch of the B & B in numb silence. Pepe sniffed around the steps, but stayed close. Eric couldn't even fully comprehend that Brandy had truly left him behind. He kept expecting the car to return once she calmed down, but the lane remained empty.
    
    
Chapter Five
Death on the Doorstop
    
    After an hour, Eric slowly stood up, called Pepe to him, and moved to enter the B & B. As he opened the door, he noted the lack of cooking smells or any sound at all inside the building. Since they had arrived a few days ago, Brandy and Eric had been the only guests. Usually Mrs. Waskom was in the kitchen cooking a delicious breakfast that was set out on the table around eight-thirty. Curious, he strode through the foyer and hallway filled with antiques toward the back of the house where the refurbished kitchen was located. He found it empty.
    
    Feeling uneasy, Eric walked back down the hall and checked in the parlor and the small office tucked off it. No one was in sight. The world seemed frighteningly empty and he walked over to the fireplace and snagged a poker from the ornate stand next to it. As he gazed down at the handle clutched tightly in his hand, he could see that he was trembling and he took several deep breaths. The unease he had felt the day before was swelling into an overwhelming fear and he struggled to gain control of it.
    
    The front door of the house suddenly slammed open and he let out a yelp and almost fell backwards over a chair. Pepe began to bark furiously and Mrs. Waskom appeared in the doorway to the parlor looking flushed and agitated.
    
    "You need to leave," she said bluntly. "Now. I'm leaving with my kids to join my husband at Fort Hood and I'm closing the bed and breakfast."
    
    "My girlfriend left without me," Eric said softly.
    
    Mrs. Waskom blinked then said, "Damn. You had a fight?"
    
    "Something like that." Eric picked up Pepe, but held onto the poker. "Why are you leaving?"
    
    "My husband called and told me its getting worse. It's spreading, whatever it is, people going crazy, attacking each other." She hesitated. "He said I needed to get to Fort Hood before this thing explodes. He says they can't get it under control."
    
    His throat felt painfully dry and he swallowed hard. "I noticed on the TV that the higher population areas are having a lot more trouble. You might be safer out here."
    
    She laughed in response. "Sorry, but I'd rather take my chances with a fort full of armed soldiers than stay out in the middle of nowhere."
    
    Eric shifted Pepe in his arms and said, "I don't have anywhere to go. I have three hundred dollars in cash and my credit cards. If you can let me stay here, I can watch over the bed and breakfast and the barn until you get back."
    
    Mrs. Waskom hesitated then said, "Look, you could come with us."
    
    He considered this for a moment, but the memory of the map that showed all the violence came to mind again. "I'd rather stay here. You can charge me for my stay."
    
    "I have Felipe putting the horses out in the pasture along with bales of hay. They'll be fine until I get back. But…" She pondered the offer again. "I guess you can stay. Seeing as you don't have a car and the bus that comes through town isn't coming today…"
    
    Eric sighed with relief. "Thank you."
    
    "Let me show you where everything is," Mrs. Waskom said and then held out her hand.
    
    He was confused for a moment then realized what she was waiting for. He quickly took out all his cash from his wallet and handed her two of his credit cards. Her fingers snapped around the items and she shoved them in her jeans.
    
    "I'll make this fast," she said.
    
    In ten minutes, he understood where all the food was, the emergency generator, the fuse box, the propane tank and the emergency gun.
    
    "I don't think you'll need it, but just in case," she said.
    
    Pepe curled up against his chest during the entire tour, looking pensive and a little sleepy. Eric felt much the same way. Finally, Mrs. Waskom ran out to her car packed with kids and Eric shut the door. He listened to the car roar away and then the world returned to a state of eerie silence.
    
    Slowly, he trudged back up the stairs to the bedroom and flipped on the TV. Holding Pepe tightly, he flopped down on the bed and turned on the TV.
    
    "…and the Fort Worth area report increasing violence and residents are advised to stay home, close your doors, and stay put until the authorities determine the safest location for you to go to. Emergency Rescue Centers are being set up, but as the infected escalate in numbers, it is becoming increasingly difficult to determine which areas are actually safe in the cities."
    
    Eric watched with morbid fascination as the footage of bloodied, crazed people rampaging through various cities flashed on the screen. A warning label in the corner of the screen that announced scenes of a disturbing nature amused him. The whole world was a disturbing nature apparently. Scenes of more mutilated, insane people attacking outside the Kremlin showed that this was just not happening in America. If it was terrorists, they had set off whatever it was all over the world.
    
    The scenes continued to play out, Brandy did not return, and Pepe fell asleep next to him and snored loudly. As the news reports droned on, Eric felt his numbed mind trying to cope with Brandy leaving and the horrors that now filled the outside world.
    
    And at some point, he fell asleep. While he was sleeping, a helicopter flew low over the town, veering crazily from side to side before crashing on the outskirts of town into the tall cedar trees.
    
    He woke up to Pepe barking hysterically near the end of the bed. By the shadows filling in the room, he realized it was late in the afternoon and the television was still on and the map of the United States was now filled with nasty little red dots showing where the infected continued to wreck their vengeance.
    
    Pepe was bouncing on all four legs, barking as loud as he could, crazed with anger at something downstairs. Gripping the poker tightly in his hand, Eric slid off the bed and stumbled slightly toward the bedroom door. His right leg was still asleep and he rubbed it hard to get the blood running.
    
    Then he heard the loud thump down below. It almost sounded like someone knocking on the front door, but not quite.
    
    "Brandy?" His voice cracked and he swallowed hard.
    
    He was hungry and thirsty and he realized he had yet to eat today. Pepe growled low in his throat and Eric slowly opened the bedroom door.
    
    Again there was a loud bang down below.
    
    Slowly, Eric crept out into the hallway. Pepe didn't care to be slow and tore down the stairs, barking loudly.
    
    "Pepe!"
    
    Eric gave up the pretense of caution and followed him down. The dog stood two feet away from the front door and barked loudly. Eric's gaze was drawn firmly toward the figure on the other side of the stained glass set in the heavy oak door. Dimly, he could make out the form of a person.
    
    "Hello?" His voice cracked again and he tried to muster up some saliva to coat his throat and give him more of a voice. "Who is there?"
    
    A very low moan was his answer then the form on the other side of stained glass slammed into the door again.
    
    Pepe grew even more crazed and Eric backed up the stairs toward a window up near the landing.
    
    "Pepe, calm down," he whispered, but the dog was growling and didn't care to obey. Carefully, he slid the curtain back to see onto the porch and view who was on the other side of the door.
    
    "Shit," he whispered.
    
    It was a solider or what remained of a solider. How he could be up and walking around was beyond Eric's understanding. He was stripped down to just his pants and boots and his shirt hung in long strips around his bloodied torso. Both his arms were missing and a good portion of the right side of his face. Eric sat down hard on the step and took several deep breaths.
    
    "This can't be happening," he said in a soft voice.
    
    Pepe darted up the stairs, hopped onto his lap, then launched himself up onto the windowsill to let the man on the porch know just how much he did not approve of his presence. The militated face of the solider swung about and he staggered determinedly toward the window.
    
    "Crap," Eric exclaimed, grabbed his dog, and bolted down the stairs.
    
    To his horror, the soldier began to bang his head hard against the window.
    
    "Okay, this is wrong. He shouldn't be able to do that or even walk around," Eric said aloud. "Hell, I should call 911. Or go outside and help him…"
    
    Pepe twisted around in Eric's grasp trying to see toward the window and growling viscously.
    
    The humane thing to do, he thought, was to go outside and try and calm down the solider. But if he was infected with whatever was making people violent, maybe he was contagious. And considering the solider was banging his head as hard as he could against the base of the window, Eric was guessing he was infected with whatever was making people insane.
    
    "Need to check the TV," he decided and started back up the stairs.
    
    As he passed the window, he heard the solider hissing and growling. He carefully pulled back the curtain an inch to see the man still banging his forehead against the base of the window. It was set high, so without arms, it was all the solider could really do to try and break in. The terribly wounded man saw him and began to howl, his twisted mouth opening so a gush of blood could froth out.
    
    Eric let the curtain fall back and staggered back up the stairs. Holding Pepe tightly, he turned and ran back to his room.
    
    
Chapter Six
Battling Death
    
    None of this makes sense, Eric thought as he watched the TV.
    
    The news was now filled with scenes of burning cities, horribly mutilated people filling city streets, even more disturbing scenes of the "infected" apparently eating other people, and clips from a CDC press conference where a very pale woman said, "the dead are returning to life and attacking the living."
    
    Pepe growled and clawed at the bottom of the bedroom door as the banging continued downstairs.
    
    Eric flipped the channel and an Asian scientist was in mid-sentence. "…unknown contagion is reanimating the corpses of those attacked by the infected."
    
    Another man seated next to the scientist scoffed at this. "That is ludicrous. It is obvious that this is a biological attack of terrifying proportions and whatever agent is being used is provoking people to acts of insanity."
    
    "Have you seen the footage," the scientist answered angrily. "Have you seen them eating each people? Have you seen the people with missing limbs, organs falling out of their bodies, walking down the streets? Have you? Because how can you not see that obviously-"
    
    The sound of glass shattering made Eric jump and he immediately turned off the TV. Tossing the remote onto the bed, he grabbed up the poker he had carried upstairs earlier. Pepe was in a snarling and growling fit now. His tiny body was bouncing all around as he prepared to do battle.
    
    "Okay, so, basically, that guy is dead and wants to eat us," Eric informed Pepe.
    
    The dog threw him a dark look as if to say, "d'oh" and continued barking.
    
    With a shaking hand, Eric reached out and turned the doorknob. He could still hear the pounding continuing downstairs. A low snarl echoed up toward him and he gulped hard. The shotgun Mrs. Waskom had for protection was down on the top shelf of the pantry in the kitchen. If he had been thinking straight and not about Brandy leaving him, he would have brought it up with him. Now he had to get himself down the stairs and get the gun before anymore of the living dead arrived.
    
    "Zombies," he said to himself. "Who would have thought it."
    
    He pulled the door open and Pepe rushed down the stairs again.
    
    "Dammit, Pepe," Eric exclaimed and hurried after the dog. If anything happened to his little companion, it would devastate him. But Pepe was fearless and that terrified him. He would have to keep a leash on him at all times.
    
    Pepe had stopped on a step above the window and was barking down at the dead solider still systematically banging its head against the now broken window. The pane had shattered in the corner and only a few large pieces had fallen out of the frame. The rest of the window was still intact. The pale dead eye of the solider fastened on Eric and it began an ungodly howl.
    
    "Crap," Eric muttered and scooted down the stairs, hugging the wall to keep far away from the bloodied creature. He had nothing to fear since it had no arms, but he just didn’t want to even get near it.
    
    He ran down the hallway of the slowly darkening farmhouse, feeling lightheaded and a little sick. He hadn't eaten all day and his brain was foggy and his body sluggish. As soon as he dealt with the creature outside, he would need to eat something and get his wits about him.
    
    The kitchen was dark and foreboding when he entered. The warmth and beauty of the room was now lost as the late afternoon shadows filled it. Swallowing hard once more, he glanced toward the back door and saw it was firmly shut with the locks engaged. Hoisting the poker up in one hand he slowly approached the closed door of the large pantry. Was there a window to the outside in there? He hadn't noticed before. What if something was in there waiting for him?
    
    Pepe skittered into the kitchen and rushed up to the pantry and waited for him expectantly.
    
    "Anyone in there, boy," he asked the dog.
    
    The dog yawned in response.
    
    "Okay, I'm trusting you on this," Eric said.
    
    He took a deep breath and whipped the pantry door open. It was filled with darkness and the dim light from the kitchen barely made a dent. With a trembling hand, he fumbled for the light switch and quickly flipped it on. Light flooded the pantry and revealed its many shelves nicely stocked, no window to the outside, and a huge case of diet cokes on the floor.
    
    With a little bark, Pepe darted in and began to chew at the bottom of a bag of dog food resting under a bottom shelf.
    
    "In a moment, Pepe," Eric told him.
    
    Reaching up, he fumbled for the shotgun Mrs. Waskom had shown him and drew it down. It felt odd in his hands and he took a deep breath. Breaking open the action of the shotgun, he checked the breach of the barrels to make sure the weapon was loaded. To his relief, it was. Snapping the action back into place, he took another shivering breath and tried to steady his nerves. A trickle of sweat slid down his nose and he brushed it away then pushed his glassed back up his nose.
    
    "Okay, Pepe, you stay here and eat. I'll go kill the zombie," Eric said to the dog.
    
    He stepped out of the pantry and meant to lock Pepe in it, but the little dog went running past him and down the hall. Within seconds he heard Pepe barking again at the zombie. He quickly followed, holding the shotgun tightly in his moist hands.
    
    "You can do this," he said to himself. "You can do this."
    
    His thumb played lightly with the safety catch as he moved toward the front door. He could see Pepe back on the stairs barking at the zombie angrily. He would step out, shoot the zombie to kill it, then head back inside to start boarding up the windows. It was a simple plan. It was an easy plan.
    
    The steady pounding of the zombie's forehead against the window assured him it hadn't moved. As a precaution, Eric looked out another window and scanned the front yard and porch. There was no sign of any other undead creatures.
    
    "Okay, Pepe, you keep him distracted and I'm going to shoot him," Eric said to the dog.
    
    Unlocking the door, he gulped hard and tried to steady his nerves. The sound of the zombie banging against the window ended abruptly and Pepe scampered down the stairs.
    
    "Shit!" Eric wrenched the door open and stepped outside in one swift motion.
    
    The zombie was staggering toward him. An eerie howl rose from its throat and it's tongue lolled in its open mouth.
    
    Pepe hustled his little body over to the zombie and grabbed the shoelaces of its combat boot and began to try and wrestle it as Eric fought the instinct to just run. He raised the shotgun with trembling hands and fired. The recoil sent him stumbling backwards a few feet.
    
    The buckshot hit the zombie's bare chest and it jerked back for a moment, then continued toward Eric determinedly. Pepe's growls distracted Eric for a moment as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong. The zombie was closing in and Eric raised the shotgun again, prepared himself for the recoil, and fired.
    
    This time the buckshot ripped through the thing's neck and the lower half of its face. The zombie kept coming.
    
    "Oh, God," Eric prayed and tried to fire again.
    
    The shotgun clicked empty.
    
    He hadn't brought any more shells with him.
    
    "Oh, crap,” he exclaimed.
    
    Pepe suddenly cried out in pain and Eric's gaze dropped quickly to the little guy. The zombie's foot had caught one of Pepe's paws and the little dog darted back, favoring its front leg.
    
    The zombie walked straight into the end of the shotgun and snapped its bloodied teeth at Eric. Acting on instinct, Eric shoved it hard into the creature’s mouth and pushed the creature back away from him. The zombie staggered back, struggling to keep its balance, but it had no arms to steady itself and it toppled over onto the porch.
    
    "Pepe, back!" Eric ordered the dog and to his surprise the little dog stopped in mid-attack on the zombie's shoelaces.
    
    Grabbing up a heavy iron chair, Eric approached the zombie that was wildly thrashing, trying to get back up onto its feet. Grimacing, Eric tried hard not to look at its battered flesh as he brought the chair leg down hard on the creature’s head. There was a sickening sucking sound as the metal leg sank through one eye socket and into the zombie's head. Pushing down hard, Eric felt bone and brain matter give way as the metal sank all the way down into the thing's skull. The body spasmed a few times then was quiet.
    
    Eric staggered back from the dead solider, gasping for air, and collapsed onto the porch. Pepe sauntered over Eric looking quite satisfied with the whole situation. He wiggled onto Eric's lap and gave him a few licks with his pink tongue. His owner, overwhelmed at what had just happened, kept staring at the zombie's still form.
    
    "It's really happening," he said finally.
    
    Pepe looked at him with an exasperated look then skipped off back into the house to make a run at the pantry and the dog food.
    
    Eric slowly climbed to his feet and looked around. There was no one else in sight and the clouds overhead looked ominous. He had maybe two hours of light left and he realized he needed to do some serious planning. His eyes slowly swept over the farmhouse and he realized he had completely overlooked the old fashioned storm shutters locked in place next to all the windows.
    
    Excited at the discovery, he quickly moved to slam the shutters closed over the broken window and slid the securing bar into place.
    
    "Freaking perfect!"
    
    Deciding to hurry while he had no unwanted visitors, he closed the front door then ran around the bottom floor of the house closing all the shutters and securing them firmly. He wasn't too sure if zombies would figure out how to open them, but it would take some work for them to do so and he would hear them. Keeping a sharp eye on his surroundings, he made his way around the house. His heart was thumping so hard in his chest, it hurt, but it felt good to be actually doing something productive.
    
    Once the windows were all secured, he slipped back into the house and locked the door once more. The power was still on, which he hoped was a good sign, and he flipped lights on as he went to the kitchen. The house was very dark with all the windows shuttered and the gloom was a little frightening, but he knew the house was now secure.
    
    He exhaled slowly with relief and moved to the pantry. Pepe was still in the pantry eating out of the torn bottom of the dog food bag and Eric snagged the box of shotgun shells off the top shelf. Pepe barely acknowledged him and kept eating.
    
    After loading the gun, Eric laid it on the counter and took several deep breaths. He needed to eat. He was dizzy. He found a loaf of multi-grain bread in the breadbox; old fashioned peanut butter swimming in oil in the pantry and homemade strawberry preserves in the fridge. He could not make his sandwiches fast enough and he ate them down with desperate bites. He put a bowl of water down for Pepe and gulped milk directly from the jug.
    
    When the phone rang, he jumped and almost choked on his sandwich. He chewed quickly and swallowed then grabbed the phone off the hook.
    
    "Hello?"
    
    "Who's this," a gruff voice said. "Where is Mrs. Waskom?"
    
    "Fort Hood. She went to be with her husband. I'm one of the guests. Who's this?"
    
    "Sheriff Davis. I am trying to account for all the people not down here at the shelter."
    
    "The shelter?" Eric swallowed down more milk to clear his throat.
    
    "Yes, the shelter. We're at the community center. You should get down here as soon as possible. We got a doctor here to treat the wounded and we're armed and ready to stand until the army gets here."
    
    "Wounded?"
    
    "Yes, wounded. Army helicopter went down outside of town. Some of the soldiers were in a bad shape when the rescuers went out to get them. Some of our folks got hurt and some of the soldiers are not doing so hot."
    
    Eric's eyes widened a little. That explained the solider on the porch. He had a pretty good idea why the helicopter went down.
    
    "Look, sir, I don't know if you have been watching the news-"
    
    "I'm following the orders that FEMA handed down for our area. Gather everyone into one spot, treat the wounded, and wait for the National Guard or Army to come for us. Now, son, I suggest you get down here."
    
    "You can't keep the wounded in there, sir. The news says the wounded will end up just like those things attacking everyone. End up a zombie." Eric gripped the edge of the sink tightly. He couldn't believe that the infection of the undead had already reached this far out into the countryside.
    
    "Look, son, I don't look kindly at zombie talk. I suggest you get down here immediately. I can send a squad car for you." The voice on the other end was resolute.
    
    "I…would rather stay here," Eric answered and began counting out the shells in the box he had found.
    
    "I'm not coming to get you when the rescue team gets here," the Sheriff said darkly.
    
    Eric ran his fingers through his hair as he realized how little ammunition he truly had. "I…think I'd rather take my chances here, sir. If you got wounded in your rescue station, it is going to get bad really fast."
    
    There was a long, agitated silence on the other end of the phone, then the Sheriff said, "Suit yourself" and hung up.
    
    Eric hung up the phone slowly and then on impulse picked it back up and dialed Brandy's number.
    
    "We're sorry. All circuits are busy," a voice said.
    
    Eric should have known the cell phone companies were overloaded. He set the phone down again and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
    
    Pepe sat next to his feet and stared up at him pensively.
    
    "Oh, shit, " was all Eric could think to say. "Oh, shit."
    
    
Chapter Seven
The Day Worsens
    
    Eric gulped down more milk then looked down at Pepe. The dog responded with an enormous burp and Eric couldn't help but laugh.
    
    "Went a little crazy there, did you," he said to the little dog.
    
    Pepe wagged his tail with satisfaction.
    
    The house was dreary with all the windows downstairs shuttered. There was at least two more hours of sunlight and if the town was about to turn into zombie central, he needed to get to planning. He took the time to put everything back where he got it from and picked up the rifle. Reloading, it was his first priority. He fumbled around with it a little, but finally got it ready for the next encounter with the zombies. He shoved the rest of the shells in his pocket and looked down at Pepe.
    
    "Okay, this is the plan. We're going to go make sure there are no zombies around, then we're going outside-"
    
    Pepe thumped his tail hard at the word "outside" and Eric realized how long it had been since the little dog had been outside to do his business.
    
    "Okay, definitely that is a major priority. We're going to come up with an escape plan and figure out what we are doing next."
    
    Pepe yawned and strutted out of the kitchen in front of him and Eric followed.
    
    The second floor was awash with dim sunlight. The overcast skies made it a little darker than it usually was, but it felt better than the gloomy downstairs. He wasn't sure he was glad they had been the only guests or not. In a way, being on his own meant he had the final say. But it felt lonely being the only one in the house. Well, alone except for Pepe.
    
    In the room he had shared with Brandy, he pulled out his suitcase and tried to ignore the pain he felt as her sweet scent wafted up from the bed. She always slathered herself in body lotion before bed and the sheets still smelled like jasmine. Digging through his suitcase, he found the small binoculars he had brought for bird watching. Brandy have given him hell for bringing them and called him a nerd, but he felt smug at thinking how his little hobby gave him a tool to protect himself. He picked up the small book he had bought that had photos of all the indigenous birds in the region.
    
    "Think they have one for zombies?" Eric asked the dog. "You know. One that has photos of all the terrible versions of them."
    
    Pepe looked at him and tilted his head as if pondering the question.
    
    "Maybe we should make that book. Starting with the armless army guy," Eric said with a small, nervous laugh.
    
    He tossed the book back in the suitcase and pulled out Pepe's leash. The little dog did a flying leap onto the bed and scrambled over onto the suitcase with his tail wagging anxiously. Eric felt bad for making Pepe wait so long to relieve himself and quickly hooked the leash onto the small dog's collar. The second it was on, the dog jumped back to the floor and headed to the door.
    
    Slinging the binoculars around his neck and grabbing the rifle, Eric hurried to keep up with the dog. Pepe started down the stairs, but Eric pulled him back.
    
    "Check for zombies first," he said to Pepe.
    
    The dog gave him a nasty look, but followed him.
    
    Eric walked down the hall to the doors that lead onto the upstairs porch. White wicker chairs and a table were set out there so people could star gaze or just relax on a nice afternoon. He stepped out and looked over the rail. It was straight down to the ground and nothing lurked there. Raising his binoculars, he began to survey as much of the surrounding area as he could from his vantage point.
    
    The horses were far down in the pasture and were the only signs of life other than the sparrows overhead. Eric leaned over the railing as far as he could and looked down the hill toward the tops of the buildings in the far distance. He couldn't see anything in the town clearly from this point.
    
    "Okay, we'll check the other side then go down," he told Pepe. He was sure from the dog's expression that if he could have been doing the one legged dance, he would be.
    
    Eric dragged the poor dog down to the hallway that curved around the stairwell and lead to a bank of tall windows. Looking out, he could see down into the gardens, the parking lot and the off to the second barn used for farm vehicles. Again, nothing was in sight.
    
    Raising his binoculars, he tried to see if he could manage a view of the town. The trees were lush and green as spring took hold of the world and they blocked his view. But buy moving from window to window he finally he managed to see a little bit of one of the streets. It was empty.
    
    "Okay, let’s go down and check it out."
    
    Pepe immediately pulled at his leash and tried to get down the stairs. He wasn't barking, which was reassuring, but Eric didn't know if he could trust him since he was so desperate to relieve himself. Since the windows were secured, he had to resort to studying the front porch through the peephole. Pepe insistently scratched at the bottom of the door and finally Eric unlocked it and swung it open.
    
    A large cloud of flies hovered over the dead body of the solider, but nothing else was moving except the swaying treetops. Relieved, he hurried after Pepe who was straining at the end of the leash to reach the yard. The second the dog hit the grass, he let out a hard stream of urine and managed to poop all at the same time.
    
    "That's really impressive," Eric told him and was rewarded with a look that distinctively said, "fuck you".
    
    When Pepe was done, they both walked across the gravel parking lot toward the big barn that housed the tractor, mowers and other vehicles used on the property. Eric popped the safety off on the shotgun and looped Pepe's leash around his wrist. Fear was eating away at his stomach, but he set his jaw with determination.
    
    He really didn't have any sort of plan, but he knew that if the town went zombie, staying in the B & B was not the best idea. The storm shutters would only hold out for so long and he did not like the idea of not having a way to retreat or have a clear exit. Where he would go, he had no idea, but getting away from the infected area seemed like a good idea. He was hoping that maybe he could find a location further out that was more secure. But then again, it was tempting to just hole up and try and ride it out.
    
    He stopped in his tracks and looked at the barn warily.
    
    Pepe moved to the end of his leash and looked back at him expectantly. If the dog wasn't going nuts, that had to mean it was safe, but he couldn't help but stare at the half open door with a little trepidation. Finally, he managed to settle his nerves with a few deep breaths and opened it up.
    
    The barn was empty except for the farm vehicles carefully parked in their proper places. There was a mower, small tractor, and several small box trailers and dump beds up against one wall. But what made his heart beat faster was a four wheel ATV sitting nearby. It was grimy and well used, but it would easily spirit him and Pepe away.
    
    Rushing over to it, he began to study it intently, trying to remember how to drive the damn thing. He was pretty sure he could figure it out. His hand slid over the handlebars and he grinned down at Pepe.
    
    "These things go fast, boy. This will work for us."
    
    Pepe responded by marking the tire with a nice little stream.
    
    "I guess it’s ours now, since you marked it," Eric said with a laugh.
    
    He pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked back to see that there was a small box trailer attached to the back of the ATV. It, too, had sturdy wheels and a wide tread. He could easily load it up with supplies and tie them down.
    
    "Okay, this looks good. Real good. It's not a car, but it can maybe get us to one."
    
    The next hour was a rush of activity as he actually found the owner's manual in the desk in Mrs. Waskom's office and gave it quick read through. He gassed up the vehicle at the gas pump next to the barn then drove it over to the back porch of the house with Pepe perched on his lap. When he and had first been shown around the house, Mrs. Waskom had demonstrated how to use the inflatable slide that would whisk them down to safety in case of fire. He made sure to get the ATV set up so if he did make a quick exit from the house, he would slide right down to the ATV. Then he loaded up the box trailer with canned goods, water jugs, and food for Pepe. Tying up a pillow and comforter as a bedroll, he also added that to the load.
    
    He was just finishing knotting the last of the rope used to secure the load when Pepe went into a barking fit. His heart leaped in his chest and he slowly edged his way to where he could see past the house. To his amazement, he saw Brandy walking up the long winding road toward the B & B. Her hair was in her face and she was clutching her cell phone tight in one hand.
    
    "Brandy!" He couldn't believe he was seeing her again.
    
    Pepe continued to bark at her angrily. He couldn't blame the little dog. Brandy had been a total bitch that morning.
    
    "Brandy, baby! Oh, my gawd! Where is the car?" He started toward her, dragging Pepe behind him. The little dog at first resisted then changed his mind and began to dart in front of Eric’s legs, almost tripping him.
    
    "Brandy!" Eric waved at her, grinning, his heart bursting with happiness.
    
    Slowly, she raised her head and from the distance he could see that one cheek was gone and there was a deep gash in her forehead. Her exposed perfect white teeth snapped as her murky eyes fastened hungrily on him.
    
    Then with an ungodly shriek, she charged toward him.
    
    
Chapter Eight
Fighting Back the Dead
    
    Despite her torn face, blank eyes, and terrifying shriek, Eric could not believe that Brandy had joined the ranks of the undead. He stood and stared at her approaching form in a blank sort of shock. It was difficult for his brain to equate her torn visage with the one he loved so much. Her beautiful legs were splattered in blood and one of them was turned at a weird angle making her movement toward him jerky and inhuman.
    
    Yet, it was Brandy. Her gorgeous streaked hair, her heaving breasts, her immaculately manicured hands reaching for him, but her dead eyes and ruined cheek destroyed the illusion that she was his once more.
    
    Pepe was in a barking fit at his feet and as his survival instinct kicked in and his senses returned to normal, the little dog's warning finally registered and he raised the rifle.
    
    It was obviously hard for the undead Brandy to make it up the incline toward them and she was doing her best to reach them. Her leg kept twisting oddly under her, turning her body to one side with each step and she would have to swing her other leg around to redirect herself toward Eric and the little dog.
    
    Pepe strained at the end of his leash, putting himself directly between Eric and the zombie. His shrill barks of anger grew fiercer as she approached.
    
    "Pull the trigger," Eric whispered, but his finger seemed to have trouble responding. He became aware of the tears rushing down his cheeks and he sniffled loudly. "Pull the trigger."
    
    Another voice, maybe the voice of reason, whispered in his thoughts to flip off the safety and his thumb did so. The same voice urged him to raise the gun higher and he did. But still, his finger on the trigger would not obey.
    
    "Brandy," he wailed in a soft voice.
    
    She kicked Pepe aside as she had often did in life and the little dog yelped. Her lovely hands reached out to grip his shoulders and he felt them slide along the material of his shirt. That terrible wound revealed her lolling tongue and champing teeth and he gasped as she tried to pull him close. The gun was firmly between their bodies, holding them apart.
    
    With a whimper of despair, Eric shoved with the gun and she staggered back a few feet on her broken leg. Howling with frustration, Brandy launched her wounded body back at him, but this time he raised the gun a little higher and shoved the barrel into her open mouth. She didn't seem to notice as she pushed hard against it, her perfectly shaped white teeth grinding against the metal.
    
    Pepe hysterically barked at their feet and tried to pull on Brandy's shoe to get her away from Eric.
    
    "Brandy," Eric said softly as his heart broke even more. "I'm really sorry."
    
    At last, his finger obeyed his inner voice and the bark of the rifle going off filled the air and seemed to echo around him. He was able to handle the recoil a bit better this time and stood his ground as the gun fired again, but he had to look away. He could not stand to see Brandy's torn face or witness her final death.
    
    Pepe lapsed into silence and Brandy’s growls ceased as the echo of the gunshot faded away. Eric felt the shotgun grow heavy with her weight and he lowered the barrel and felt her slip off of it. Her body hit the ground next to him with a heavy thud.
    
    "Brandy," he sobbed softly. He turned his gaze down to her broken body and saw that her face was turned away from him and her hair had fallen to cover it almost like a death shroud.
    
    Pepe sat next to the body and whined sadly in his throat. For some reason that sound unleashed Eric's agony and he fell to his knees sobbing. Pepe laid a little paw on Brandy's arm and began to piteously howl. Together, the man and his dog mourned a woman that had been a part of their life for the last two years and despite everything she had done to them, they both had loved in their own way.
    
    Time passed as they sat together and mourned. Eric took off his glasses and wiped his eyes as he cried. At some point, Brandy had turned back and returned to the town. Obviously, something had happened on the road that resulted in her coming back.
    
    "She was coming back," Eric said to Pepe. "I bet she was sorry and was coming back to us."
    
    Pepe looked over his shoulder at Eric and whined a little.
    
    He would have forgiven her. He knew it. He would have forgiven her and together they would have faced the undead horde. It was easy to imagine their reunion, their stand against the zombies, their fight to freedom and safety with little Pepe at their side.
    
    It was too easy to imagine and too painful to realize it did not happen and would not.
    
    Instead, Brandy had died somewhere nearby and he had given her final, terrible death.
    
    Somewhere nearby…
    
    He scrambled to his feet and shoved his glasses back on. Pepe looked up at him in alarm.
    
    "There are more out there," he said to the little dog.
    
    Pepe hopped up to all fours and looked around.
    
    Eric quickly broke open the shotgun and began to reload it with the shells from his pocket. He was suddenly and terrifyingly aware of how exposed he was.
    
    Snapping the action back into place, he began to walk carefully toward the front of the house. He knew the front door was shut and therefore nothing could lurk inside, but the shadows were growing longer and something could easily be somewhere in the bushes or behind the trees.
    
    In actuality, it was standing in the parking lot looking one way then the other. Maybe it had heard him and Pepe and wasn't sure where the sound was coming from. Voices did seem to echo around the house quite a bit or be carried off by the wind coming up the back of the hill from the pasture.
    
    The zombie was very tall, with almost ebony skin, a shaved head and wearing army fatigues. The dead man's face and chest were smeared in blood and chunks of flesh and Eric felt his stomach lurch. It was probably Brandy's blood. Before he could even formulate a plan, Pepe charged forward on his leash and began to bark at the dead thing.
    
    The pale eyes of the creature scanned the area and found Eric. With an unholy scream, it began to rush toward him.
    
    "Dammit, Pepe," Eric said to the dog and began to run toward the porch.
    
    The dog ran next to him, still barking, but Eric realized halfway to the porch he was not going to make it to safety. Swinging the gun around, he aimed at the creature’s head and fired. The zombie was so close, the buckshot flayed its face opened and destroyed its eyes. It screeched in frustration as it was instantly blinded and continued forward. Eric realized that the buckshot was only going to be effective at close range.
    
    "Shit," he whispered.
    
    The zombie was still floundering in his direction and the porch was still not close enough to reach without risking the zombie's clutches. Looking around desperately, he spotted a shovel set aside with other gardening tools. They had the appearance of being abruptly abandoned. Probably this morning when it had all gone to hell.
    
    "Pepe, shut up!" He ordered the dog and was rewarded with a stunned look and silence.
    
    Not wanting to waste the ammunition and feeling a deep terrible anger at the murderous thing for what it had done to Brandy, Eric picked up the shovel. Letting go of Pepe's leash, he motioned to the dog to sit and began to circumvent the blind zombie, trying to get behind it. The dead man floundered through the garden, banging into trees and foliage, but it continued toward the spot that it had last seen Eric. Pepe sat uneasily in his spot, watching his master with bright eyes with his gaze flicking toward the zombie warily. Eric pointed at Pepe to stay once more and took his time to move quietly around some benches. The zombie banged into the side of the benches and staggered a few feet to one side. Correcting itself, it began to stumble again toward where Pepe waited.
    
    Eric set one foot on the bench and heaved himself up praying it wouldn't creak. It didn't. Then he stood, legs apart, and lifted the shovel over his head.
    
    "Hey, fuckhead," he shouted and his voice broke from his nerves.
    
    The zombie whipped around and started toward him.
    
    Eric screamed in anger and slammed the shovel down hard onto the zombie's head. There was a sickening sound, like a cantaloupe being dropped on the floor, as the shovel slammed into the creature's head, splitting apart the skin and bone. The zombie stopped in its tracks and wobbled on its feet. Eric managed to draw the shovel back and slam it down again. This time it sank deep into the zombie's head and the dead man fell to the ground, truly dead.
    
    Eric felt sick to his stomach, but jumped down off the bench and drove the shovel into the back of the man’s head a few more times. He could see now that the solider had been attacked from behind. Large chunks of flesh were torn from his shoulder and back.
    
    "Pepe, come here," Eric ordered as his nerves steadied.
    
    The little dog, which seemed properly impressed, trotted over trailing his leash.
    
    Eric pulled the shovel free of the zombie's head and wiped the brains and blood off on the grass. To his surprise, he saw the man had a revolver still tucked into his holster. With trembling fingers, he retrieved it then backed away from the body.
    
    "Okay, we're going into the house," Eric said in a quivering voice.
    
    Pepe waited for him to grab the end of the leash then together they hurried back to the house. Eric took one last long look around the property then slammed the door shut behind him, sealing him and Pepe into the safety of the old farmhouse.
    
    
Chapter Nine
Revelations
    
    That night was rough. He opened a bottle of wine and drank the whole thing while watching the news on the TV and sobbing. He had let Pepe up on the bed with him, something Brandy would never do, and managed to eat some roasted chicken he had found in the refrigerator and some left over pie. It was hard to do anything other than cry as the news continued to show the end of the world and Brandy's body lay prone beneath the bedroom window.
    
    Today was the day he was supposed to slip the big diamond ring on her finger and instead he had killed her. Well, killed her a second time. But still, Brandy was gone. Her beauty, her laugh, her smile, her kisses, everything. And though she had given him a rough time, cheated on him and had one of the worst tempers he had ever encountered, he had loved her. And she was gone.
    
    He fell asleep around midnight and didn't wake up until morning. Pepe woke him up with a cold nose to his forehead and an insistent whine. Pepe needed to go do his business.
    
    Eric's head throbbed with a wine hangover and he grunted as he sat up. "You do realize there are zombies outside. And me taking you outside might get my ass eaten."
    
    Pepe gave him an annoyed look and jumped down to the floor.
    
    "Gimme a sec," Eric muttered.
    
    He staggered into the bathroom, relieved himself, and then splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up all the way. Pepe waited impatiently for him in the doorway, looking pretty disgruntled that Eric's bladder was empty while his was still full.
    
    Eric snatched up the revolver and binoculars and began his rounds of looking out all the windows to make sure nothing was staggering around in the early morning. Brandy's body and that of the solider lay where he had left them and nothing else stirred except for the Waskom cat stalking a bird.
    
    "Okay, lets do this," Eric said in a voice that sounded a little stuffy from all his crying the night before.
    
    Making sure Pepe was secure on the leash, he hurried down the stairs and double-checked through the peephole before opening the door.
    
    The morning was glorious. The sunlight streaming through the trees was hazy and full of tiny motes. Spring flowers in all their colorful raiment flowed down the sides of the driveway and filled the garden. Birds sang in the trees and in the distance a rooster was announcing the morning routine. It was a perfect day.
    
    Except for the dead soldiers on the porch and in the garden and Brandy's body around the side of the house.
    
    Pepe skipped down the steps and began sniffing around for a proper place to go.
    
    "I like it better when you dump and go," Eric chided him. "You know. Zombies."
    
    Pepe gave him a dark look and continued to nose around a birdbath.
    
    Eric's gaze slowly slid down the drive and he began to wonder where the car was. Obviously, Brandy had made it to an area nearby. It was hard for him to believe she had walked miles and miles to get to the house. So far, the zombies didn't seem capable of deductive reasoning. He seriously doubted they even remembered their lives. So that meant the car was nearby.
    
    He could feel his legs getting wobbly with the thought of taking the risk, but no zombies had shown up last night. If things had gone down badly in the community center, they would be trapped inside the building.
    
    He took a deep breath and rubbed the side of his nose nervously.
    
    He could walk down the driveway and see if the car was somewhere along the way. If it was intact, they could use that instead of the ATV to escape. It would be safer.
    
    Maybe Brandy had seen the solider, not realized he was dead, stopped for help and…
    
    That was always a possibility.
    
    Right?
    
    Pepe finished his business and kicked his back feet over the mess. It didn't do much to cover it, but Pepe seemed to think it helped. Skipping to the edge of his leash, the dog looked around then began to sniff at a statue.
    
    If the dog seemed calm, then it should be okay.
    
    Right?
    
    Eric took a deep breath and looked down at the revolver in his hand. This was a better weapon. Faster. More destructive. He would aim for the head and it would be fast.
    
    His stomach coiling into knots, he looked back at the closed door to the farmhouse.
    
    Yeah.
    
    The car would be good.
    
    He started walking down the stone path to the parking lot. Pepe groused a little as he was pulled away from his smelling, but he followed. Eric's loafers crunched across the gravel parking lot as Pepe skipped along, his tiny feet expertly maneuvering over the rougher parts. Once they hit the paved road, Pepe began to dash about excitedly, sniffing every spot on the road it seemed, but he didn't bark and he didn't seem alarmed.
    
    Eric walked briskly, the cool morning air soothing against his fevered flesh. His nerves were on edge and he could feel his body temperature rising. Swallowing hard, he tried not to panic and kept focused on moving down the walkway. The trees lining the road were full of singing birds and the branches swayed with the breeze in a soothing dance.
    
    But he knew he could not relax, he could not drop his guard.
    
    Pepe suddenly growled and Eric spun around, the gun raised instantly.
    
    A squirrel tittered angrily at Pepe then scampered up a tree.
    
    Pepe barked after it with satisfaction then looked at Eric's tense face as if to say "What?"
    
    "No barking at squirrels, Pepe. Zombies only!" Eric lowered his hand and took a deep breath.
    
    Pepe looked a bit disappointed with this order and turned and kicked his feet up at Eric in disapproval.
    
    They moved on down the road, along the curve, losing sight of the house. Eric's heart began to thud harshly in his chest and his hands felt cold and clammy.
    
    "A car is a good thing," he muttered and kept walking.
    
    He had to keep focused on the goal. The goal was safe passage.
    
    They rounded another corner and the trees on the right hand side of the road gave way to a long sloping view down a field full of bluebonnets to the town at the bottom of the hill. Fumbling for his binoculars around his neck, he took a deep breath.
    
    "Lets see what is going on," he said.
    
    The main street swam into view as he peered through the magnifying lenses and the street was devoid of any life. He scanned it carefully, studying every doorway to the shops, the shadows, and the visible parking areas. Nothing moved. He slid his gaze along the street up to the old church that was a landmark in the town and the old city hall. If he remembered correctly, the community center was between them.
    
    A squat building, from maybe the seventies came into view and he adjusted the binoculars just a tad to zoom in on it. Long, glass windows were set into the pale orange bricks and enormous glass doors were set under a portico. Obviously that was the entrance. Objects seem to be pushed up against the doors from within and Eric bet those were tables. He moved the binoculars slowly down the side of the building. He could see shadowy movement beyond the long windows. The last window was being hit directly by the sun and he dropped his binoculars the second he looked at it.
    
    Blood. It had been splashed with blood.
    
    His hands were trembling and he tried to steady his nerves. It was hard to breathe and he forced air into his lungs. They were inside the community center. Trapped. That was a good thing. He had to remember that. It was a good thing.
    
    The wind rustled the wildflowers and tall grass and he looked around once more. The world seemed serene and lovely this morning. Pepe was busy scratching at the dirt next to the road and not seeming the least bit worried. The road curved just ahead of them to meet the main street into town. He wasn't sure he wanted to go any further. He was about to turn back when there was a glint of light off of something down off the road and in the trees.
    
    Taking a few steps forward, he raised his binoculars and adjusted the settings quickly. The dark blue car was nestled under the trees, the front hood bashed up against the battered windshield. The driver's door was buckled, the window smashed out and covered in blood. It was his car. It was the car Brandy had died in.
    
    He lowered the binoculars and took a breath. His mind was whirling with the possibilities of what had happened.
    
    Brandy had realized she was wrong as she drove back to Austin and turned around. She was driving up to the bed and breakfast when the solider lunged out at the car. She swerved to avoid him, slammed into the tree, and broke her leg. The zombie reached through the broken window, grabbed her and…
    
    Eric let out a strangled sob and took another breath.
    
    Maybe that had happened.
    
    Or…
    
    Brandy had made it part of the way to Austin, suffered an attack, and wounded, tried to make it back to the bed and breakfast. But she died of her wounds before she made it up the hill and crashed into the tree.
    
    Maybe.
    
    He rubbed his nose and pushed his glasses up.
    
    Pepe began to eat some grass and Eric pulled him back up onto the road.
    
    It didn't matter what had happened to Brandy. She was gone. Dead. Forever. And he and Pepe were alone in a town full of the dead. The only safe place for now was the house. Of course, how long that would be safe was a whole other story. But he didn't have the heart to move on just yet.
    
    There was still work to be done before he and Brandy could be at peace and he knew that he may not have much time to do it. Burying the dead was now a luxury. Brandy had always loved luxury.
    
    She deserved it.
    
    He would do it.
    
    Fighting down his fear and feeling his determination giving him strength, he walked back up the hill to the farmhouse to bury his love.
    
    
Chapter Ten
Despair
    
    Despite himself, despite everything he had planned, despite all that he feared, despite the knowledge that the community center was full of the undead, Eric stayed in the B & B. At first it was because he was in no condition to travel, but after three days, it was because a deep malaise had sunk into his bones.
    
    The night he put Brandy into her grave was the night he fell into bed drunk from three bottles of wine and slept through most of the next day. He woke up dizzy, sick and unsure of where he was for a moment.
    
    Pepe, desperate to relieve himself, was good enough to do it in the bathroom next to the toilet and Eric felt a pang of remorse for letting the dog to suffer. But he could hardly bring himself to crawl out of bed that day. All he wanted to do was lay in the bed, listening to the air conditioner hum, and watch TV.
    
    The day after Brandy's death the networks continued with their live feed. From the expressions on the newscasters' faces and the continuing terrible news, it was obvious there was no going back. The world was ending and the dwindling TV audience, locked up in their homes and rescues centers, watched just like Eric did: in numb silence.
    
    He tried calling his brother in Fort Worth, but the phone rang endlessly and the voicemail never kicked on. His parent's phone in Galveston had a busy signal. His sister's cheery voice exclaimed "hi!" when he called her, but then immediately launched into telling him to leave a number.
    
    Finally, needing food, he had ventured downstairs. The darkness was unnerving and he turned on all the lights to soothe his nerves.
    
    After a meal of leftovers, he sat down at the aging computer in Mrs. Waskom's office and tried to find any other news on the Internet. His email was actually full of messages from friends, but they were now a day old. He answered every email and explained in detail where he was. In his heart, he knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but he had to try. After an hour of responding to emails, he logged onto his IM service. None of his friends, co-workers or family members were logged on.
    
    On his MySpace page he found a message from his sister saying that she was on her way with her kids to his parents' home to ride out the plague. He felt sick to his stomach when he read her message and the busy signal he had encountered whenever he called his folks tormented him. He tried hard not to think of what may have caused the phone to be off the hook even though in his heart he knew what was most likely the truth.
    
    That night, he opened another bottle of wine and tried all night to call his family over and over again.
    
    No one ever answered.
    
    By the next day, the major networks began to carry the feed from the emergency broadcast system. All the channels looped the same information endlessly and the news never seemed to be updated. He checked all the news websites again to find them unchanged. His emails remained unanswered. No new messages were on his MySpace.
    
    A random message came through on his IM service just as he was about to log off.
    
    It read: Are you really there?
    
    His hands trembling, he typed back that he was.
    
    There was a long pause then more words spilled across the text box: I’m afraid. They're outside the door.
    
    Eric let out a long sigh then typed as he spoke aloud, "Are you alone?"
    
    The words from pinkgrrl16 made him sigh sadly: I'm alone. They're all dead. I'm scared. Can you come get me?
    
    Despite himself, Eric typed back, his voice a whisper, "Where are you?" Maybe he was giving her false hope, but if he could do something…
    
    Pepe looked up at Eric with concern. He had been chewing happily on a stuffed toy, probably an antique, he had found on a low table when he noticed the trembling in his human's voice.
    
    "It's a girl, I think, somewhere else. Trapped by the zombies," Eric explained.
    
    The dog continued to chew on the toy's foot, his eyes looking up at Eric thoughtfully.
    
    Pinkgrrl16 wrote: St. Louis. Are you nearby? Can you get me? I can crawl out the window and jump down from the roof.
    
    Eric let out a long, strangled sigh of remorse. "I'm in Texas," he said softly as he typed. "I'm sorry, Pinky."
    
    It seemed painfully long before words in bright pink text wrote out: It's okay. At least I'm not alone.
    
    For thirty minutes, they chatted back and forth. He found out that Pinky was really Stephanie and she was now eighteen, not sixteen, and she was home visiting from college when it had all gone to hell. He told her about Brandy and how Pepe was with him and she told him she was worried about her cat that had run away when the zombies first stormed the house. She was in the attic, behind a thick oak door, on her laptop, hoping the Wi-Fi from the neighbors’ house continued to hold up. Alone, scared and hungry, she was trying to find help when she had found him online via the news forum he had logged onto.
    
    "She's so scared," Eric whispered to Pepe. "I can't do anything."
    
    The dog whined a little and started chewing on the toy's other foot.
    
    He was typing out a message to her when suddenly the word "bye" appeared in the box.
    
    Feeling sick to his stomach, he pressed ENTER to deliver his message and waited.
    
    Despite her online status, she didn't answer.
    
    He typed to her a few more times, but there was no response.
    
    Her status remained online, but idle.
    
    The next morning, groggy and hung over again, he checked online to see if she had ever answered. Her status was still online, but idle. Gibberish filled the text screen. He logged off.
    
    Overwhelmed, he fell to the floor and wept.
    
    
Chapter Eleven
Hope
    
    Eric woke up with a cold nose pressed against his own. He groaned and ran a hand over his face feeling the scrubby nastiness of three days of no shaving scrape his palm. He opened his eyes and Pepe's worried expression came into view and he mumbled that he was okay and the little dog jumped down. The sun noon sun was pouring through the bedroom windows and the stained glass threw vibrant colors of the walls.
    
    He had been dreaming about Stephanie and as the last threads of sleep faded from his brain, he let out a soft moan. Rolling off the bed onto the floor, he crawled to the bathroom and threw up. It was probably the best thing for his tired body considering how much he had drank the night before.
    
    Pepe regarded him with a very serious expression on his little face through the whole process and when Eric half fell, half climbed into the shower with his clothes on and turned on the water full force, Pepe actually looked relieved.
    
    Sitting under the slowly warming water, Eric sighed sorrowfully and thought of all that had happened the last few days with a startling amount of clarity despite how much he had been drinking. The despair he had felt overwhelming him the last few days as Brandy's death, the probable deaths of his family, and the end of the world became a reality was still lingering, but was now fought back by his growing determination.
    
    Stephanie had just been a girl home from college. Ten years younger than he was, she had been on the cusp of her great college adventure and the beginning of her adult life. Instead of enjoying her spring break with her family, she had ended up barricaded in an attic trying to escape their hungry undead assault. It had hurt him to know he was her last friend in this life and that he had not been able to help her. But her bravery, her determination, even to the end, to reach out and somehow find help, had touched him.
    
    After he had accepted she was no longer at her computer or safe and perhaps not even alive, he had drank too much and had fallen asleep. He dreamed of her scrambling out the attic window and away from the zombies breaking into through the door. He had watched her through his murky dreamscape climb up onto the top of the roof and sit there, clutching a wind vane as the dead moaned all around her house. And just when she had given up all hope, a helicopter had zoomed down out of the sky and plucked her to safety. As dreams have a tendency to do, his had quickly shifted and he was sitting with Stephanie in the helicopter as Brandy turned in to the pilot's seat to say, "See, we're safe now."
    
    He let out a soft moan and leaned his forehead against the wet tiles.
    
    Pepe set his paws on the edge of the tub and stared up at him with concern.
    
    "I'm okay," Eric assured him and stripped down to take a decent shower.
    
    Now that his drunken binge was over and his head was clearing, he realized that he needed to decide right here and now if he wanted to live or not. The world was in its death throes, his family was most likely gone, Brandy was dead and even his very last friend, Stephanie, was gone. All that was left was he and Pepe.
    
    He looked over at the little dog anxiously watching him and felt a pang of guilt. How could he let himself go this far? Pepe needed him. The Jack Russel Terrier was faithful and loved him. Eric often called him "my furry little boy" and the small dog was all he had left. To some people, that would mean nothing, but to Eric, it meant everything.
    
    "We're going to be okay," Eric said to Pepe. "I promise. Somehow, someway, we'll make it."
    
    Pepe wagged his tail and that made Eric smile.
    
    "We'll even go for a walk if there are no zombies around," Eric added.
    
    Pepe wagged his tail even harder at the word "walk" and Eric found himself laughing despite everything.
    
    After shaving, changing into fresh clothes, and a lunch of sandwiches and what was left of the fresh fruit, Eric felt better and a little more clearheaded than he had in awhile. His dream, though disturbing, had reminded him that fighting for his life to the bitter end was something he could do.
    
    He was a good Episcopalian and he believed in God and the afterlife. The ruined bodies of the once living did not hold the souls of those people. Just the ravaged shells. He had to believe that the souls of his folks, Brandy and Stephanie were in a different place. Free of pain and fear. But he was still alive and he could fight for that life. For what reason, he wasn't too sure. He believed that his life had a purpose. He always had. What it was now, in this new dead world, he wasn't sure.
    
    "I feel like Job," he said to Pepe as he finished his strawberries. "Like God is testing me to see if I will curse His name or keep going."
    
    Pepe looked up from where he was chewing on the antique toy. It was pretty much destroyed now, whatever it had been. It had looked like either a cat or weird cow.
    
    "Maybe this is Satan's big plan to take over the world from God," Eric mused. He hadn't really thought about spirituality in a long time. He went to church on occasion with Brandy, but for the big holidays. Though he had remained faithful in his belief in God, Satan, demons, angels and other spirits seemed fanciful. But now that the dead walked the earth, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was just a bit more to it all than he had considered.
    
    "Maybe all of humanity is Job. Being tested by Satan to see if we turn on God." He chewed a blueberry thoughtfully. "Maybe this is some kind of big reset."
    
    Pepe yawned dramatically and flopped next to the ruined doll. He had tinkled in the bathroom again and Eric felt bad for making the dog rough it. He needed to check the perimeter of the house before they ventured out. Clearing the table, he took a deep breath.
    
    Maybe Stephanie had climbed onto the roof. Maybe she had only enough time to type "bye" before plunging out a window to scramble to safety. Maybe she was already rescued. Of course, she was most likely dead or undead. But that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she had made it out of that attic made him feel more hopeful for himself and Pepe.
    
    He did his regular routine that he always did before they ventured out. Checked out all the windows, off the balcony, studied the view through the peephole, looked at Pepe to see if he was alarmed, then finally opened the door. It was a lovely afternoon and perhaps deceptively calm. Pepe skipped down the walk to find a suitable place to do his business and Eric yawned loudly.
    
    Above them birds soared on the spring breeze and the insects buzzed in the garden. It was hard to believe that the world as he knew it had ended.
    
    Once Pepe was done with his business, they walked down to the parking lot together. Eric held the revolver in his hand and had the shotgun slung over his shoulder.
    
    "Okay, boy, are any zombies around?"
    
    Pepe looked back at him, kicked up his back feet, and trotted to the end of his leash. Eric wasn't sure why he trusted the dog so thoroughly, but he felt himself relax as the started down the drive. The walk was uneventful and despite his trepidation, Eric walked down far enough to take a look through his binoculars at the community center.
    
    Shadow figures lurked inside, but none were in the streets.
    
    "We're still safe," Eric said to Pepe.
    
    The dog skipped along the edge of the road after a bug, ignoring him.
    
    The walk back to the house was tranquil. Pepe trotted along without a care in the world and Eric felt comforted by that. They were lucky the entire town was locked away in that center or else everyone had taken off to other places to be with their family. He wondered about Mrs. Waskom, but he had a bad feeling about her fate.
    
    Once back inside the house, he locked the door and let Pepe off the leash. The little dog skipped down the hall to the kitchen to take a long drink of water from his bowl. Eric went back to Mrs. Waskom's office and turned on the monitor.
    
    On the screen was another IM. It wasn't from Stephanie but someone calling herself texaspeg.
    
    The message simply read: If you're alive, lemme know.
    
    Eric immediately wrote back: I'm here. Safe and sound.
    
    There was a very long pause then more words appeared: where in texas, hon?
    
    Eric quickly typed out his location, his hands trembling with excitement and nervousness.
    
    When the words popped up in the box, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
    
    I'm in Ashley Oaks. We're holed up in city hall and inside a construction site. You're not too far from us. Thirty miles.
    
    Eric quickly typed, explaining his situation and asking if she was safe.
    
    Got lots of people here. Got a wall put up. Got supplies to last awhile. People are off getting guns. Lots of zombies though, hon. Keep where you are til we clear them out.
    
    Eric laughed with delight and quickly typed back that he would do just that. To just let him know when the coast was clear.
    
    We'll come get you when we can. Just gotta kill a whole lot of zombies first. We got a plan to do it and it shouldn't take long.
    
    Pepe skipped into the room with the toy in his mouth and plopped down next to the chair.
    
    "We're not alone, Pepe. There are other people out there and they’re safe. They're in a safe place. They actually think they can take out a whole crowd of zombies."
    
    Pepe didn't look too impressed by this and kept chewing on the doll.
    
    Eric looked back at the screen. The words that glowed there made him feel a little less alone in the ugliness of the world.
    
    The words read: My name is Peggy. And I'm glad to meet ya.
    
    
Chapter Twelve
Clones, Aliens and Amazons
    
    Hope is a wondrous thing. After typing back and forth with Peggy most of the afternoon, the malaise and depression that had threatened to overwhelm Eric shrank back from the glory of his newfound hope.
    
    Before his conversation with Peggy he had decided to fight for his life and Pepe, but after realizing that there were more survivors out there, he felt a renewed sense of community and drew strength from it. He wasn't alone. There were others. And they had a place saved for him in their "fort".
    
    That night, he actually made himself dinner instead of eating a sandwich or eating leftovers. Using the last of the fresh vegetables and thawing out some chicken, he made a meal that left him feeling sated and a little more normal.
    
    Afterwards, he sat upstairs in his room with a cup of coffee and the last piece of pie. Bored and curious to see if anything was changing, he began flipping through the TV channels one by one. The major networks were gone and running the emergency broadcast feed. It was looping the same old news. All the other cable networks were gone now.
    
    Channel after channel, there was nothing but static.
    
    Pepe trotted into the room dragging the nearly destroyed toy and flung it down in front of the TV to begin his mutilation. Eric grinned and leaned down to pet Pepe's head as he continued to flip channels.
    
    "…and they knew it…"
    
    His finger automatically hit the channel button despite hearing the voice. He quickly hit the return button. An old man's face filled the screen. It was a craggy face with deep wrinkles in the sun worn flesh and a big nose. His eyes were wide and very intense under his wiry eyebrows and he wore what appeared to be an army helmet with foil glued to it.
    
    "…think its coincidence that the President was at Camp David and the VP was out in East Texas hunting when this all went down? I tell you no! No, no, no, no! How many stories did they cover up? Stories about people biting each other? Or killing so they could…could…" The old guy backed away from the screen and he pantomimed a zombie eating a person quite well. "You know…eat!"
    
    "Whoa, what a crazy old geezer," Eric said in awe.
    
    The old man was standing in the middle of a long, narrow room that appeared to be made of cement blocks and concrete. There was a cot in one corner piled with blankets and pillows, a very beat-up sofa was filled with all sorts of dog that were watching the old man with rapt attention, and a table was shoved up along one wall and full of all sorts of computer and electronic equipment.
    
    "So they covered it all up. Hid it. Pretended they didn't fuck up the clones and that the clones got out and started eating people. Cause the clones were all fucked up!" The old guy pointed to his head and then leaned close to the camera again. "All fucked up in the head. And you know why?"
    
    Eric and Pepe looked at each other then back at the TV.
    
    "Aliens."
    
    "I kinda knew he was going that way," Eric said.
    
    Pepe barked in agreement.
    
    "They're making deals with the Amazonian queen. They want this planet. They want its resources. So by letting those clones out, they get what they want. And you know what I say?" The old man leaned closer to the camera so only his mouth full of gnarled teeth was showing. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Fuck you, aliens!"
    
    Eric fell back against the bed and began to laugh.
    
    The old guy looked quite indignant and a cat sauntered past the camera and looked into it for a long moment, then walked on. Once the screen was clear of the cat, the old guy came into view sitting at his mish-mash of equipment.
    
    "I'm watching them, survivors. Oh, yeah. I’m watching them. I know what's going on. I can't keep broadcasting forever to you ‘cause they'll find me sooner or later, but I'm telling you, I got my eye on them. Oh, yeah," he said reassuringly.
    
    Suddenly the lights in the bunker turned bright red as an alarm started to peal.
    
    "Gawddamn, clones!"
    
    The old guy sprang to his feet, ran to the camera, picked it up and ran back to his desk. Propping up the camera so it was filming what appeared to be a security monitor, the old guy's long dirty finger came into view as he pointed out what was happening.
    
    "See, there come the clones again. Always coming up on the east side of my property. I'm telling you, they know where I am. And they're sending their damn messed up clones."
    
    On the screen a bunch of the dead were pushing against a barbwire fence.
    
    "Hate those guys," the old guy muttered as he pointed to each zombie individually on the monitor. "All screwed up and spilling guts on my land."
    
    Though Eric couldn't see what he was doing, he could hear the old man typing away on a keyboard.
    
    To his amazement, on the monitor screen, what looked like some sort of robotic arm made out of farm equipment rose out of a haystack and opened fire on the zombies with an Uzi.
    
    "Gawdamn clones," the old man was muttering angrily. "Good thing I got my security system up before it all went to shit. And that is where they fucked us, didn't they? They didn't tell us they were out there. The clones. Doing what they do. They hid it ‘cause that's what they were supposed to do. But I knew! I knew!"
    
    The camera continued to film the scene on the monitor as the robotic arm swept back and forth with the Uzi strafing anything standing outside the fence. In just a few short minutes, all the zombies were dead.
    
    "Gotta go, kiddies. Gotta go put more ammo in the Uzi. Gotta keep alert. Don't let the government do nothing for ya. Don't go to those rescue shelters. Keep hiding. Stock up on food and ammo, cause boys and girls, them clones are doing the work of the Amazonian Queen and her alien overlords and we gotta be ready to fight back." The old guy swiveled the camera so his face filled the screen again. "Calhoun, over and out."
    
    The screen switched to what looked like a cardboard box that had the words "Truth is Here" written in magic marker on it.
    
    Eric sat on the floor for a long moment then began to howl with laughter. He didn't stop for a long time.
    
    
Chapter Thirteen
An Unexpected Turn
    
    The hope that was born in Eric when he first made communication with what was being called "the Fort" in Ashley Oaks, Texas, grew each day that his surroundings remained zombie free. It was also a relief to talk to Peggy on the Internet. She was funny and warm in her chat and he felt comforted by the fact she was out there. When she told him the fort was actually talking to quite a few people that were holed up in their part of Texas, it was an enormous relief to know that pockets of humanity was still surviving. Even though the phones were down in the area of the fort, the cable was still working and Peggy explained they had a communication center up where they were talking to survivors over CBs and ham radios as well as the Internet.
    
    At one point, Peggy grouped all the survivors that still had access to the Internet into a chat room to explain what was going on at "the fort" and Eric was amazed to see twenty different people pop onto his list. After that, he never felt alone again as he chatted occasionally with the others. But mostly, he talked to Peggy. She was obviously the town gossip and had all the news about what was going on in the fort. She began to feel like an old friend as they chatted on and off during the day.
    
    "You still free and clear over there," she asked one morning.
    
    "Yeah, so far," Eric typed back. "They're all still in the community center. I don't think they're getting out any time soon."
    
    "That's good. When we come pick you up, we shouldn't have any major problem there. Some of the other survivors are surrounded and that ain't going to be an easy rescue," Peggy wrote back.
    
    Even though he had a renewed sense of hope, he felt overwhelmed at times with the loss of Brandy and his family. He would sit at Brandy’s grave while Pepe did his business and tell her how sorry he was. Sometimes, he could not even speak he was so overcome with emotion, but he knew in his heart that she was at peace now even if he was not.
    
    He kept trying to call his family, but no one ever answered at his sister or brother's place. The phone's busy signal at his parent's house told a sad story he did not want to consider for long. None of his friends wrote back and his email box remained empty. A few messages from old school chums were posted on his MySpace, but most of them were holed up and fighting to survive. The questions on the boards and chat rooms for survivors were the same.
    
    Was the army coming soon?
    
    How long before FEMA would open secure shelters?
    
    Was the government up and running?
    
    Was anyone getting updated news reports in their area?
    
    He watched Calhoun's regular broadcasts every night while eating dinner. The old guy always rambled on about clones, aliens and Amazons, but he was highly amusing. His instructional video on how to kill a zombie was fairly disgusting, but darkly humorous at the same time.
    
    "Cutting off their arm does you no damn good if they got the other arm," Calhoun said at one point during the demonstration. He danced around a zombie caught in the barbed wire fence surrounding his property as chickens and a dog wandered past not seeming to notice the moaning, hungry zombie. "See?" Calhoun whacked off one arm with a machete and the zombie kept reaching with the other one. "It still gots the other one to get ya. You gotta smack em in da damn head." With a deft whack of the machete, the zombie was no more.
    
    "Public access was never this exciting back in the old days," Eric decided and looked down at Pepe who was still hell-bent on destroying the antique toy.
    
    The dog eyeballed him for a moment then went back to gnawing.
    
    The next day, Eric made sure to find a machete in the tool barn and rig a holster for it.
    
    Every day he took Pepe on a walk down the driveway. He was always sure that Pepe was calm and not bothered by their surroundings before they would start down the road that would take them to the accident site where Brandy had died. It bothered Eric to see the car, but at the same time, it was a good location to take a look at the community center through the binoculars.
    
    Despite the danger that he knew lurked near by, he was growing bolder. One day, he and Pepe rode down in the ATV to load up at the corner store on supplies. He had broken out the window with an ax he had taken with him and hurriedly grabbed things he needed. He had been terrified the entire time, but when no zombies ever appeared, he began to sincerely believe they were all trapped inside of the community center. Pepe had enjoyed riding on his lap and Eric made sure to gas up the ATV before returning it to where he had it parked under the window where the fire retardant slide was rigged.
    
    "Travis and Katie are due back tomorrow with the guns," Eric said to Pepe one day as they took their walk. "Peggy says they went to Ralph's store to get more ammunition and they are coming back tomorrow because Juan corralled all the zombies somehow so they can get in. That means we can get in soon, too."
    
    Pepe glanced up at him nonchalantly as he trotted along.
    
    Speaking of the people he would soon meet was reassuring and made him feel less alone. "Peggy says this girl named Jenni got all the zombies to move to one spot on the road and they dropped containers down to make this t-shaped corral so Travis and Katie can drive in safely on the other side of the containers." Eric paused, trying to imagine this in his mind. "Not quite sure how that works, but sounds interesting."
    
    The names came easily to him. He imagined faces behind the names and wondered what it would feel like to be a part of that community. Peggy seemed positive that once the zombies were cleared out around the fort someone would come out to get him and Pepe. Speaking to her each day gave him a sense of community. Though the conditions did not sound as nice as the farmhouse, they sounded much safer and he was more than willing to rough it to be part of the fort. Besides, Peggy said there was a massive old-fashioned hotel to one side of the fort they were planning on occupying in the near future.
    
    As they walked along toward the accident site, he felt a pang of remorse and guilt that he had not somehow rescued Brandy. It was hard for him to know she had died so close to the bed and breakfast as he had obliviously gone about his life. He tried hard to console himself with the fact he had released her from her undead state and she was at peace, but it was hard when he saw the crashed vehicle and the broken window covered in dried blood.
    
    At least he knew what had happened to her. Chances were, he would never know what had happened to his family.
    
    Pepe began to tug harder on his leash as they neared the curve and Eric hurried to catch up with the little dog. Pepe suddenly began to bark loudly and fiercely and Eric immediately pulled out the revolver and flicked the safety off.
    
    As they ran past the tree line and the field across from the town came into view, Eric felt his throat constrict.
    
    Running across the field was two men and one woman. They were shouting at each other to run faster and began to call out to Eric when they saw him. They were quite a distance away and he could barely make out their expressions of terror.
    
    Behind them was a large crowd of the dead. The less mutilated ones were fast on their feet, rushing after the living, while the brutally mauled ones staggered and stumbled behind.
    
    Eric could barely breathe and he raised his binoculars to the spot he was so used to looking at. The community center swam into view. The dead were pouring out of an open window and a few were clustered over fresh bodies shoving bits of flesh into their mouths.
    
    He dropped his binoculars and they painfully banged against his chest.
    
    "Oh, shit," he said as the enormity of what was happening hit him.
    
    With Pepe snarling and barking at his heels, he ran up the hill.
    
    
Chapter Fourteen
Racing Death
    
    Eric ran up past the edge of the tree line and into the shade of the leafy boughs hanging over the drive. He could hear the moans and howls of the undead and the shouts of the living behind him.
    
    "Help," he heard the woman's voice screaming in the distance.
    
    He hesitated and Pepe pulled hard on the leash. Eric felt tears well in his eyes and turned to look back down the road. His first impulse had been to run, but those people were alive and he could help them.
    
    But what if they had been bit?
    
    He hesitantly began to walk back toward the open field, but Pepe pulled hard on the leash and barked at him. He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath.
    
    Pepe was right. He had to survive. Eric's hand tightened on the revolver and turned to run back to the safety of the bed and breakfast.
    
    "Help," the woman shouted again.
    
    This time her voice was much closer. Eric turned back in surprise. She sprinted onto the road at an amazing speed. Dressed in athletic shorts and a tank top with the world "coach" written on it, she was petite and muscular with deeply tanned skin and pale blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.
    
    "Please," she called out with a ragged gasp. "Help!"
    
    Despite Pepe's snarls and persistent tugging on the leash, Eric stood and waited for her.
    
    "Hurry," he yelled at her.
    
    "Coop and Sean are right behind me," she called out. "Just run!"
    
    "Right!"
    
    Eric bolted up the road as fast as he could, wishing he had worn something other than loafers. He was not as fit as the woman racing up the road behind him was and he struggled to find a rhythm in his out of shape gait. Frantically, he tried to regulate his breath and find a fast, steady pace. He was just finding a steady beat to his breathing and his speed when, to his surprise, the young woman caught up with him. Her breath was not nearly as ragged as his was already becoming.
    
    "Do you have shelter? A place for us to go? Is the farmhouse ok?"
    
    "Yeah," Eric huffed. "Yeah. That's where I've been."
    
    "Keep running," a voice called out behind them.
    
    Eric glanced back long enough to see an older man, also incredibly fit and in a coach's uniform, and younger man clad in jeans and a T-shirt, coming up over the embankment and onto the road far behind them. The girl ran faster than he did and she took the lead with her short ponytail bouncing behind her and her toned arms pumping hard.
    
    Eric struggled to keep moving at a quick pace despite the burning in his calves and his breath coming short and hard into his lungs. Walking up the hill had been moderate exercise the last few days, but running was a whole other story.
    
    The young woman hesitated in her steps to look back and once more the man's voice rang out, "Keep running."
    
    Eric looked back again to see both men gaining on him. But so were the fast, blood covered creatures behind the men. He had a vague impression of football uniforms and what was maybe army fatigues under all the blood and gore. Crap! The zombies hadn't done much damage to what appeared to be the more physically fit people in the community center. Terrified by what he saw, Eric ran harder and tried to gain speed. Pepe scampered ahead of him, almost to the end of his leash, his nails clicking against the asphalt.
    
    "The door is open," Eric choked out to the girl running in front of him. He realized with her quick pace she would get there first. He was beginning to doubt he would make it with his body feeling like it was about to explode.
    
    The girl looked back at him, nodded and sprinted across the gardens toward the safety of the bed and breakfast. Eric followed in her wake the best he could, but he was now breathless and struggling to keep his exhausted limbs moving. The blond woman reached the porch, jumped over the steps to land firmly on it, ran across the whitewashed wood effortlessly and shoved the front door open.
    
    Following in her footsteps, Eric leaped onto the end of the porch and felt his legs quiver. They almost buckled under him, but he forced himself to keep moving.
    
    "Get in! Get in!"
    
    Again the older man's voice shouted out from behind him. It sounded much closer now: as did the growls and howls of the dead. Eric's feet pounded across the wood porch as Pepe strained at the end of his leash to get into the house. Eric caught the edge of the doorway with his hand and hurled his body inside. The girl was standing in the shadows of the foyer with her hand on the door, ready to shove it shut. Pepe whipped around and began to bark frantically at the open door.
    
    Eric barely managed not to collapse, gasping for breath. He heard footfalls on the porch and the girl tensed.
    
    "We're almost there," another man's voice shouted. "Keep it open!"
    
    Eric stared at the doorway in terror as he listened to the sound of more feet leaping onto the porch. The two men suddenly filled the doorway and jostled each other getting into the house. Once they both cleared the doorway, the girl shoved the door to close it. It was stopped on the ghastly, bloody stump of an arm that was shoved into the doorway just before it slammed shut.
    
    "No!" Her voice was raw with terror.
    
    The older man immediately turned and shoved his shoulder hard into the door, bracing his feet to keep it from opening. More hands, some missing fingers, all covered in blood, shoved into the gap trying to reach the living people within the house. The second man, his shirt splattered in blood, also braced his shoulder against the door as it vibrated under the pounding onslaught of the zombies. Eric lurched forward and placed his hands on the wood and pushed as hard as he could. Just beyond the barrier of wood and leaded glass, the dead moaned with desperation and Eric could feel the door beginning to move inward.
    
    "Push harder," the older man ordered.
    
    "Coop," the girl sobbed in terror. "They're coming in!"
    
    Pepe darted up the stairs, his leash dragging behind him and Eric felt a moment of panic for his little companion. The dog stopped at the first landing and barked down at Eric.
    
    Straining to lock his legs in place and shove the door shut, Eric looked up at Pepe feeling overwhelmed with the futility of it all. Pepe barked one more time, looked at the slowly opening door, then raced up the stairs.
    
    "It's still opening," Sean, the younger man, exclaimed, his dark eyes flashing with fear.
    
    "I got an ATV out back with a trailer hitched to it. We can escape on that," Eric blurted out.
    
    The door pushed in another inch as more dead reached the house and joined their brethren in assaulting the door.
    
    "Go, Stacey," Coop ordered.
    
    "Dad!"
    
    "Go! Go with him!"
    
    Eric let out a gasp as he felt the door sliding inward a few inches. "The back door opens up to face the road. They'll see us. But the fire escape slide upstairs will put us on the other side of the house away from them!"
    
    "Stacey, go," Sean yelled at her. "We'll hold the door!"
    
    The woman looked at him with a terrible expression that broke Eric's heart.
    
    "Dad, Sean…"
    
    "Go!" The older man groaned as more hands shoved into the house past the end of the door. "Go! Sean and I will follow."
    
    Stacey looked at Coop and Sean with tears in her eyes. She kissed the older man's cheek and grabbed Eric's hand.
    
    "Let's go!"
    
    Her slick, clammy fingers in his, Eric bolted up the stairs, pulling her along behind him.
    
    "Brace it, brace it," Coop's voice ordered and Eric heard the door scrape open a little further.
    
    Together, Eric and Stacey reached the second floor and ran down the hallway. Eric was relieved to see Pepe waiting for him at the window with the fire escape ladder. He unlatched the window and shoved it open as Stacey yanked the slide out of its box and hooked it over the windowsill. The slide was barely in place when she ripped the cord and it inflated.
    
    Without hesitation, Stacey heaved herself out the window and slipped down the slide to the ground below. She immediately sprang to her feet and dashed to the waiting four wheel ATV. Eric snatched Pepe up into his arms and followed her. He gasped as he slid down far more quickly than he anticipated and almost didn't catch himself as his feet hit the ground.
    
    Ahead of him, Stacey reached the ATV and straddled the seat. He ran with Pepe in his arms and was relieved to see her twist the key he always kept in the ignition.
    
    "I'll drive," he said and thrust Pepe into her arms.
    
    She hastily slid back on the seat to make room for Eric. Holding down the brake, he quickly turned the killswitch on and hit the starter. The engine grumbled to life and he gripped the handlebars tightly.
    
    "You can't wait to let it warm up!" Stacey looked back toward the house as tears streamed down her face. "Just go."
    
    Eric nodded and pulled on the accelerator and the ATV lurched forward. He aimed it toward the route he had already planned just in case this sort of thing ever went down. Of course, he hadn't anticipated anyone being with him. Sweat was pouring into his eyes and his heart was thudding so hard, it felt like it was about to explode, he drove the vehicle away from the house alongside the fenced in pasture.
    
    "Wait!"
    
    It was a desperately barked out word.
    
    Stacey looked back as Eric hit the brake.
    
    Sean was at the window.
    
    "He's still alive!" Stacey almost dropped Pepe in her surprise. "Hurry, Sean!"
    
    Eric grabbed Pepe from Stacey's grasp and shoved him into his light jacket and zipped it up.
    
    In a panic, the young man flung himself out of it as greedy dead hands grabbed for him. He landed on the slide too far to one side and he fell off it onto the ground. The zombies scrambled out the window after him. A few slid down the slide to land hard on the ground, while a few others fell near Sean.
    
    "Get up! Get up!" Stacey's voice was shrill.
    
    Sean managed to get to his feet and deftly avoided the grasp of the zombies lunging toward him. Hobbled by his fall, he rushed toward the ATV, dragging his one leg behind him. The zombies continued to fall out of the window and land hard on the ground. A few busted open their heads or broke their necks. The zombies sliding down to the ground piled up in a heap of twisting arms and legs. Luckily, they didn't seem to know how to untangle themselves and get up.
    
    Sean was almost to the ATV when some faster, fiercer zombies rounded the corner of the house.
    
    "We gotta go," Eric exclaimed and the ATV lurched forward.
    
    There was no time to wait for Sean and they both knew it.
    
    With an unbelievable amount of willpower, Sean pushed his body to the limit despite his pain and managed to throw himself onto the trailer behind the ATV. The hands of the pursuing zombies grabbed for him and one or two managed to snag his clothes. Sean twisted his body in an attempt to get free from the grasping creatures and shouted for Eric to go faster. He kicked his legs to dislodge the zombies while trying to hold onto the edge of the trailer.
    
    "Sean! Sean!" Stacey's arms were painfully tight around Eric's waist and she screamed as one of the zombies tried to pull itself onto the trailer as the ATV gained speed.
    
    The scarily fast, still fresh zombie tried to use its handhold on Sean's shirt to pull itself onto the trailer. Sean managed to get one foot on the creature’s chest and shoved it as hard as it could. It tumbled away into the high grass as the ATV turned onto the dirt road that led into the wooded hills.
    
    "He made it," she gasped with relief. "He made it!"
    
    Eric kept his gaze steady on the road ahead of them. He wasn't sure if he felt relief or not. His body was tight with fear and frustration. He felt Pepe squirming around in his jacket and took a deep breath to steady his nerves and his hands. The dog poked his head out of the collar of the jacket and Eric felt the comforting softness of the dog's fur underneath his chin.
    
    Stacey laid her head against the back of his shoulder and he could feel her body shuddering with her sobs. In the rear view mirrors, Eric saw the more fleet footed zombies trying to chase after them, but slowly, they began to drop away as the ATV rode faster up the dirt road and away from the bed and breakfast that had been his safe haven. Behind them, on the trailer, Sean curled up in a tight ball, exhausted and overwhelmed.
    
    "Where are we going," Stacey asked.
    
    "I don't know," Eric answered.
    
    
Chapter Fifteen
War Stories
    
    As the ATV grumbled up the dirt road dragging the overloaded flat trailer behind it, Eric took deep breaths trying to soothe his frazzled nerves and bring his heart rate down so it wouldn’t feel like it was about to burst out of his chest.
    
    Stacey clung to him, her head still on his shoulder, her sobs fading as she gained control. They were both soaked in sweat and the warm breeze did nothing to soothe their hot flesh. Pepe adjusted himself so he could rest his chin on the edge of Eric's jacket collar and snuggle against Eric. His little heart had been racing, too, and Eric could feel the small dog slowly relaxing.
    
    "I don't see any following," Stacey said in his ear. Her voice sounded ragged with emotion.
    
    Eric checked his mirrors again. The roof of bed and breakfast was dropping away from view beneath the treetops as they climbed the hill. He still couldn't believe it was over. His safe haven had been destroyed so quickly it did not seem real. How he could have ever believed that he could stay in relative comfort until the rescue team arrived? In this world, nothing was truly safe anymore or stable.
    
    "Can we stop? My brother is in a lot of pain." Stacey's voice was very strained.
    
    Eric shook his head. "Not until we crest the hill. Not until we're out of sight of them for sure. I don't want to risk us, okay?"
    
    He glanced into the rearview mirror on his right side to see that she had turned to look back on the form on the trailer. Looking forward, she caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Their gaze met in the reflective glass and she nodded slowly.
    
    "I understand," she answered and her voice was full of despair.
    
    Eric could see that her brother, Sean, was lying in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position on the blue plastic tarp Eric had used to cover his boxed up supplies. He quickly returned his gaze forward as they climbed higher up the bumpy dirt road. The trees thinned out as they traveled and one side dropped away to reveal the colorful carpet of wildflowers in the pasture far below.
    
    Again, Eric was struck by how beautiful the day was and yet so deadly. At last they crested the hill and the amazing panorama of the Texas Hill Country came into view.
    
    Pulling over to the side of the road, Eric shifted gears and the ATV grumbled low as it idled. Stacey immediately slid off the back of the vehicle and ran back to the trailer. Eric followed, unzipping his jacket and pulling Pepe free. The Jack Russell Terrier looked around with interest but did not fall into a barking fit. Eric took it as a good sign. He set Pepe on the ground and slid the loop at the end of the leash onto his wrist.
    
    Pepe immediately began sniffing the tires, the ground, his shoes, Stacey's shoes, etc…
    
    Stacey leaned over her brother and he awoke with a start. He had passed out from the pain. For a second he didn't recognize her and drew back sharply, and then he realized where they were and relaxed.
    
    "We made it?"
    
    "Yeah, Sean. We made it. But you're pretty banged up," Stacey answered, relief slowly filling her voice. "We need to stop the bleeding…" Her hand hovered over his bloodied arm.
    
    "What happened?” Eric untied some of the rope holding the blue tarp in place and fumbled for the First Aide kit.
    
    " To get out of the community center, we had to bust out one of those damn extra thick Plexiglas windows," Sean explained wincing as his sister studied his still bleeding wounds. “Who makes windows five inches thick? That was freaking crazy.”
    
    "I only saw dead things through the windows. Where were you guys?"
    
    Eric pulled open the big tin box and Stacey grabbed up some cotton and alcohol.
    
    "There is an office block in the back. It's where the Chamber of Commerce folks are. There are these huge old metal doors between that area and the Community Center. We've been on the Chamber of Commerce side," Sean explained. He winced as his sister began to clean up his arm so she could see where he was bleeding from.
    
    "So you couldn't get out?" Eric asked.
    
    "Nope. They chained all the doors shut," Sean answered then gasped as his sister found what she was looking for and began to apply hard pressure to staunch the bleeding.
    
    "To keep us safe," Stacey said sourly.
    
    Eric handed Stacey some gauze and she took it gratefully. Her fingers were red with her brother's blood and Eric felt a little lightheaded by the sight. It made him think of all the blood in the car where Brandy had died.
    
    "So we couldn't get out once it went bad. The Sheriff had the keys and he was the first one down when those…those…"
    
    "Zombies," Eric offered helpfully.
    
    Sean looked at him and Eric could see the disbelief in his eyes at the sound of the word despite all he had seen. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, zombies. The soldiers from the crash and some of the rescue guys were mauled by one of the…we thought he was just crazed from his injuries…one of the survivors of the crash. They were being treated in the main room of the community center and the Sheriff was questioning the pilot when suddenly one of the soldiers just got up off his bunk and bit into the Sheriff’s face."
    
    Stacey grimaced at the memory and checked the wound. It was still bleeding. "It went bad fast."
    
    "Real fast," Sean agreed. "About half those wounded guys started getting up and attacking people and those people started attacking people."
    
    "And we were trying to get out but the doors were chained."
    
    "So my Dad and another guy started herding everyone toward the doors to the office area. It was a mad crush and…" Stacey faltered. She shrugged and continued to press down hard on her flinching brother's arm.
    
    "How many got into the office area?"
    
    "Twenty-three," Sean answered softly. His dark eyes glittered with tears. "Two died of wounds and…"
    
    "Got up. Coop bashed their brains in with a fire extinguisher."
    
    "Your dad?" Eric swallowed hard thinking of the strong older man who had sacrificed himself at the house.
    
    "Yeah. Everyone, even us, called him Coop. He's the town football hero and the coach of the Blazing Riders high school football team," Stacey answered. "Or…he was."
    
    "He gave his life for us to get away," Sean said to his sister and laid his hand over hers. "He held them off on the stairs so I could get up to the fire slide. He was brave until the end."
    
    "I know." Stacey blinked and tears fell down her dirty cheeks. "I know. But I'd rather have him here than gone."
    
    Sean nodded and was unashamed of his own tears. “He just wanted us to live.”
    
    Eric looked down at Pepe who was sniffing around the edge of the trailer. "I…lost someone, too."
    
    "Yeah, well, we lost the whole damn town we grew up in," Stacey answered him pointedly and gave him a hard look. "The whole damn town."
    
    Her brother reached out to calm her and she sniffled loudly.
    
    Eric felt sickened by his own selfishness and sat down on the edge of the trailer. "I'm sorry. I am.” He looked at her apologetically. “I know seeing so many die is horrible and…”
    
    Stacey shook her head. “I’m sorry. I have no right to snap at you. We’ve all lost so much.”
    
    Eric let out a slow breath. “I didn't know anyone was alive in the community center. If I had known, I would have tried to rescue you."
    
    "How could you know we were there?" Sean shook his head. "Don't feel guilty."
    
    "When did it all go wrong?" Eric stared at his dirty fingers and tried not to think too hard about Brandy.
    
    "The first night we were in there, believe it or not. The Sheriff rounded up everyone that had not left town into the community center," Stacey answered. "But the wounded got up and started eating us up like we were a buffet. And like Sean said, we barricaded ourselves into the offices, lived off the vending machine and the lunches the staff had brought and put in the refrigerator in the lunch room."
    
    "Coop…our dad…kept trying to get us out, but the Sheriff had us locked in real good. All these heavy damn storm doors chained shut. Super thick windows… We started on one of the windows and it took forever to chip through that stuff."
    
    "Built during the cold war. I think they thought it was A-bomb proof." Stacey rolled her eyes. She peeked at Sean's arm and looked satisfied. Reaching out for the First Aid kit, she gave Eric a slight smile.
    
    He felt she was trying to apologize for earlier and he smiled back.
    
    "We were almost through when those things finally broke through our barricade. We locked ourselves in the office where we were busting out the window and it was a race to get the glass broken out in time. Once the opening was big enough, we started evacuating. The plan had been to go to the high school and get into a school bus, but it was just a crazed scramble at the end." Sean winced and made a terrible face as his sister began to dress his wounded arm. The deeper wound was no longer trickling blood and the smaller wounds seemed to be closing. "The football players tried to hold the door shut."
    
    Eric flashed back on the mad pursuit up the hill. The fastest of the undead had seemed very fresh and looked like football players. "Oh. Wow."
    
    "Yeah. We evacuated the old people, the women and the kids first. But those things got in and were already…" Sean lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. "They were…"
    
    "Coop realized what was happening and shoved me out the window. Sean was trying to help and our dad told him to get out just as a bunch of them busted in through the damn wall! Some add on modern wall made of cheap materials. Their weight must have done it in." Stacey's hands were a shaking as she slowly wrapped her brother's arm.
    
    "Dad and I were the last ones out. Some of them grabbed for me and I did this crazy dive out the window and fucked up my arm." Sean shook his head. "We got outside and Coop was trying to get everyone rallied together when those fast ones started coming out the window after us. Coop shouted for everyone to run. And those still alive…"
    
    "We ran," Stacey said in a tremulous voice. "We ran. But they ran us down. The fast ones. The new ones. The ran down the old folks, the kids…the…the…" Stacey let out a strangled sob and turned away from Eric and Sean. Her shoulders trembled and she sniffled loudly as she tried to regain her composure.
    
    Sean reached out to stroke her back gently. "It just…we tried…there was really nothing to use as a weapon. I tried to shove a few of them off this one…kid." He shook his head as more tears flowed. "Coop always made me and Stacey run with him every night. We used to do sprints for fun. He got us into marathon running. Hell, Stacey was a college track star. That's the only reason we were able to keep ahead," Sean looked at Eric with a tormented look on his face. "But we couldn't do anything for the rest. We just ran."
    
    "Coop told us to run to Mrs. Waskom's place. So we did. Then we saw you," Stacey began to run her hands lightly down her brother's leg he had hurt leaping from the window. "And you pretty much know the rest."
    
    "I'm sorry about Coop," Eric said in a low voice. "He seemed so strong."
    
    "He was," Stacey said in a steadier voice. "He was the best."
    
    Sean winced and let out a small cry as his sister's hands examined his leg.
    
    "I'm guessing a couple of fractures. Which you probably fucked up more by that crazy sprint," Stacey lightly chided Sean.
    
    "Yeah, but I’m here, ain’t I?" Sean grinned then grimaced again.
    
    Suddenly Pepe's head shot up and his ears perked. He let out a tentative "woof".
    
    "I think its time to go," Eric said.
    
    Stacey nodded and shoved the First Aid kit back under the tarp. "Sean, you hold on tight," Stacey ordered him.
    
    "Damn bossy twin sister," Sean grumbled. "Just cause you were born first by two minutes…"
    
    Eric could tell it was an old argument, said in love, and Stacey seemed to relax a little at her brother's teasing.
    
    A human howl of hunger sounded down the road.
    
    "They're following," Eric said and swept his growling dog into his arms.
    
    "Dammit," Stacey cursed and climbed onto the ATV.
    
    Eric quickly got on and felt her arms come around his waist as he shoved Pepe back into his jacket.
    
    "You guys! Hurry it up!" Sean shouted as down below several of the faster things broke into view. "Seriously, let’s go. Those things bite hard!"
    
    Eric shifted gears and the ATV roared louder and sped down the other side of the hill toward the county road in the distance.
    
    "Where are we going?" Stacey's voice was close to his ear and he could feel her body pressing against his back.
    
    "A construction site in Ashley Oaks is being built into a fort. They said they planned a safe way to approach it and I'm gonna try and find it." Eric looked into the rearview mirror and saw the bloodied dead following them down the hill. "Dammit. Those guys do not give up."
    
    Stacey looked back over her shoulder and her arms tightened around him. "Just keep going. At the rate their going they're going to blow their joints at some point. That'll slow them down."
    
    "Trust me," Eric said in a resolute tone. "I'm not stopping until we're safe."
    
    "Or out of gas," Stacey added.
    
    "Got spare gasoline in the trailer," Eric assured her.
    
    She was silent for a few minutes and he felt her head rest on his shoulder again. Finally, her voice said, "Coop liked to be well-prepared. He would have liked you."
    
    Eric smiled slightly at this comment and was surprised when he felt his eyes welling up. "Yeah, I think I would have liked him, too."
    
    As the sun slowly began its descent across the Texas sky, the ATV roared on down the dirt road and the dead followed.
    
    
Chapter Sixteen
On the Road
    
    The drive down to the country road was tense, but uneventful. If the zombies were still pursuing them, they were now far behind the ATV and its trailer. Eric maneuvered the vehicle onto the paved road the dirt one dead-ended onto. The smooth surface was a relief to their weary joints.
    
    Stacey glanced back to make sure her brother was still okay. Sean was asleep and Eric worried about how much blood he had lost. There was no way they could go to a hospital or clinic.
    
    "He looks pale," Stacey decided.
    
    "He lost a lot of blood. He needs to rest," Eric answered. He wasn't sure if this was true or not, but it sounded right.
    
    The narrow road was completely clear of vehicles and Eric shifted gears and let the vehicle idle. He climbed off and headed to the trailer for his map. Sean stirred a little and blinked his eyes.
    
    "We there?"
    
    Eric shook his head. "No. Not yet."
    
    "Where are we going again?" Sean sat up slowly. He looked pale and maybe a little dehydrated.
    
    "A construction site they are making into a fort." Eric opened up the map and began to look over the route he had highlighted in yellow maker days before.
    
    "Did you tell me that?"
    
    "No, he didn't," Stacey said to her brother and forced him to lay back down.
    
    "Okay. 'cause I was feeling a little hazy there," Sean confessed.
    
    Stacey touched his brow and frowned a little. "I think you need some water."
    
    "Painkillers would be good. Seriously. Got anything in that first aid kit?"
    
    As Stacey pulled out the tin box again and began rummaging through it, Eric slid Pepe out of his jacket and placed him on the ground. The little dog had been sleeping and looked up at him groggily.
    
    "Do your business," Eric ordered him and looked at the map once more.
    
    Pepe, obviously feeling cranky about being awakened, lifted his leg and tinkled right where he stood.
    
    "Cut dog," Stacey said and actually smiled. "What's his name?"
    
    "Pepe." Eric looked down at the dog. The little guy flopped down on the ground and yawned. "And I'm Eric. I don't think I said that before."
    
    "If you did, I forgot," Stacey answered truthfully.
    
    "I'm Sean. That's my twin sister, Stacey," Sean said and sounded a little out of it.
    
    "Wish we could have met under better circumstances." Eric rummaged under the tarp and pulled out a warm bottle of water and handed it to Sean. "I usually try and treat company much better than this."
    
    Sean laughed: the sound thick and a little pained. "Yeah, well, your hospitality sucks. Seriously, who invites zombies to a dinner party?"
    
    “Ha. Ha, very funny.” Gently, Stacey stroked her brother's hair. "Take the aspirin. Drink all the water."
    
    "She's so bossy. Did you notice?" Sean giggled and gulped the warm water. “Yuck. It’s warm. Where’s the ice?”
    
    Ignoring him, Stacey looked toward Eric. "I need some water, too. I’m parched."
    
    "Oh, sure. We probably all do." Eric quickly got out two more bottles and poured some into a cap for Pepe after handing one to Stacey.
    
    Stacey gulped down her water and then poured the last bit over her reddened face. Her blond bangs hung in her face and her ponytail looked scraggly. "How far?"
    
    "Well, if it were a straight shot, we'd be there fairly soon, but there are some towns that I think we should avoid. I have mapped out a very roundabout way to get there to avoid more populated areas. I think we'll get there close to sunset."
    
    "It's about five now. We need to get to shelter before dark."
    
    "How do you know its five?" Eric noticed she didn't even look at her watch.
    
    "Position of the sun."
    
    "Coop taught us that!" Sean giggled.
    
    Stacey leaned over him and laid her hand on his face again. "I think he's delirious."
    
    "He lost a lot of blood," Eric reminded her once more.
    
    Biting her bottom lip, she nodded. "Yeah. I know."
    
    Pepe yawned loudly again and leaned against Eric's leg.
    
    Stacey began to rummage around under the tarp, pushing the securing ropes aside and trying not to bother her brother too much. She pulled out the rifle and checked to see if it was loaded.
    
    "Mind if I hold onto this?"
    
    "Can you handle it?"
    
    "Coop always took us hunting. She was the best shot," Sean said in a drowsy voice and tossed the empty water bottle into the grass beside the road.
    
    "Hey, no littering," Stacey chided him and went to retrieve the bottle.
    
    "Like the big bad cops are gonna get me," Sean mumbled.
    
    "If you can handle the rifle, take it. I got the revolver and Pepe."
    
    “Yeah. He’s a tough little guy. Zombies wouldn’t be smart to mess with him,” Stacey said with a grin. She wandered into the grass to find the bottle and Pepe followed her looking quite pleased with her commentary on his prowess.
    
    Eric finished looking over the map and tucked it away. He felt he had his bearings now and he fished his small pair of binoculars out of his lightweight jacket. Lifting them, he scanned the area. Nothing stirred in the trees or the tall grass. Birds sang in the trees and the insects hummed around them, but he didn't see any zombies.
    
    "It looks like we'll be fine on this road until we turn off on this little road here," Eric decided.
    
    Stacey returned with the bottle in one hand and Pepe in her arms. The rifle was slung over her shoulder and she looked tired.
    
    Now that the adrenaline rush was over, Eric was feeling exhausted, too. But despite his weariness, he knew he had to stay focused on things other than his aching legs from the mad dash earlier and his bleary eyes. Grabbing up one of the extra containers of gas, he turned off the ATV and began to top off the tank.
    
    "We don't need to run out of gas at the wrong time," Eric explained.
    
    Stacey nodded and snuggled up Pepe. He licked her cheek and chin happily. Eric was surprised at how easily the dog and the young woman were getting along. Brandy had rarely picked up Pepe.
    
    Once he was done fueling up the ATV, he twisted the cap firmly back onto the container and reloaded it onto the trailer. Sean moaned low in his sleep and the sound sent a trickle of fear up Eric's spine. Stacey's twin looked comfortable enough, but his color was off.
    
    "Let's go. Please,” Stacey said. "Pepe's ears are up."
    
    Eric looked toward his dog to see that the little guy was looking around anxiously and sniffing the air. He immediately climbed back onto the ATV and tucked Pepe into his jacket as Stacey slid behind him and grabbed hold of his waist firmly with one arm.
    
    The four-wheel drive vehicle surged forward again and it hummed down the paved road dragging the trailer behind it. A half-mile down the road, Eric saw an old woman standing in the middle of the road.
    
    "This doesn't look right," Stacey said loudly into the wind so he could hear her.
    
    The woman's housedress was splattered with bright red designs that Eric suspected was actually blood.
    
    "Don't slow down. Just go around," Stacey urged him. “We can’t risk it!”
    
    Eric nodded and made sure to give wide berth to the woman. As they passed her, she reached out her hands to them in silence. She was too far away to snag them and Pepe barked at her once as they passed.
    
    Stacey twisted around to look back at the woman. The gray haired old lady just stared after the vehicle with her gnarled hands held out toward them. "Eric, I think she's alive."
    
    After a quick check of his mirrors, Eric had to agree. The old woman would be charging them if she was undead and the big red splotches on her dress looked more like a deliberate design than blood.
    
    "Okay, we'll head back for her."
    
    Pepe burst into rapid fire barking and Eric hesitated as he began to pull the ATV about.
    
    Abruptly, the old woman dropped her arms and turned slowly toward the tree line. Four zombies rushed out at her and she didn't even cry out as they tackled her to the ground.
    
    Stacey screamed and Eric pulled so hard on the accelerator that they both jerked backwards as the vehicle took off.
    
    "Oh, God. She was alive! She was alive! We killed her!"
    
    Eric grabbed Stacey's hand firmly and squeezed it. "Listen to me! Listen to me! We didn't know!"
    
    Stacey buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed loudly. "Why won't it stop? Why won't it stop, Eric?"
    
    Caressing her fingers, Eric felt at a loss as to what to say. Dread filled him and his stomach clenched as he realized their chance for survival was growing slimmer. "I don't know. But we have to keep going. We have to keep trying to get to a safe place."
    Stacey nodded and laid her head against his back. "I know."
    
    They lapsed into silence and didn't speak for some time. At one point, Eric was sure she had fallen asleep against his back. She felt heavy against him, but instead of it bothering him, it comforted him. She was strong and he admired that. But she also trusted him and that touched him.
    
    The sun continued its steady downward path toward the horizon as they traveled on. It began to grow cooler and Eric worried about Stacey since she was in shorts and a tank top. He glanced into his rearview mirror to see if she was awake and he saw Sean rise to his knees. In the reflection, he could clearly see the twin's back and Eric felt his hair rise on his neck. Something wasn't right.
    
    "Stacey, wake up," Eric said and grabbed hold of her hand. "Stacey!"
    
    Pepe woke up and immediately began to bark as Stacey's head suddenly jerked up and she gripped hard onto Eric.
    
    "They're here?"
    
    "No," Eric shouted back at her and gripped the handlebars tightly. "It's Sean!"
    
    Stacey turned around as her brother struggled to turn around on the trailer. His face came into view and Stacey began to scream. Sean’s were eyes milky in death and his mouth contorted grotesquely as he let out a bloodcurdling screech.
    
    
Chapter Seventeen
Nowhere is Safe
    
    His first impulse was to slam on the brakes, but an image of the now zombified Sean flying off the trailer and into them quickly changed his mind. Instead, he accelerated and saw Sean lose his balance and fall backwards onto the blue tarp.
    
    "Oh, God! Oh, God! No! No! No!"
    
    Stacey's agonized voice was torn away by the wind, but Eric could feel the harsh trembling of her body against his.
    
    "You're going to have to shoot him, Stacey," Eric yelled at her.
    
    "I can't! It's my brother!"
    
    Pepe was twisting around inside Eric's jacket, barking loudly. His little claws scrabbled against Eric's chest as he tried to get leverage to bark at the zombie.
    
    Meanwhile, the zombie that had been Stacey's twin brother managed to regain its balance and heave itself up onto its knees. Its hands gripped the ropes holding down the tarp and it began to crawl along the trailer bed toward the two humans on the ATV.
    
    "Stacey, shoot it!"
    
    Eric accelerated once more, hoping the wind sheer would knock the zombie over and hopefully off the trailer. It didn't work. The creature had its fingers hooked firmly around the ropes and was moving closer.
    
    "Sean, please stop it! This isn't funny! Stop joking!"
    
    "He's not joking, Stacey! Look at his eyes!"
    
    She let out another agonized wail of despair and Eric didn't blame her. He remembered his own horror at seeing Brandy stumbling toward him. It had been almost too much to comprehend or accept.
    
    "Stacey, shoot him! Shoot him or he's going to jump onto us and then we're going to die!"
    
    Pepe kept barking and growling below his chin and Eric felt his stomach knot even more as Stacey remained unmoving behind him.
    
    "I can't use the shotgun," she finally said.
    
    Eric grabbed her hand that was around his waist and guided it to the revolver tucked into his belt. Her fingers were shaking and he squeezed them for a second, then let go. He didn't dare take his eyes off the road.
    
    The sun was moving behind the hills now and the world was darker and colder. The headlights of the ATV illuminated the darkening road before them as the world entered the twilight world of dusk. Stacey pulled the revolver free and tightened her grip on Eric's waist with her other arm as she turned backwards to fire.
    
    The zombie reached the end of the trailer and began to pull itself up to its knees. It would be easy for it to launch itself over the trailer hitch and onto the back of the ATV. Eric tried not to keep checking the mirrors, but the terrible fear that the creature would leap onto them gripped his heart in a vice grip. It was too easy to imagine the creature jumping onto Stacey.
    
    "Shoot him!"
    
    He could feel her body heaving with her sobs and her arm tightened even more around his waist. Glancing into the mirror, he saw the creature rising up and preparing to leap onto Stacey. It opened its mouth and screeched an ungodly sound that ripped at Eric's ears even over the sound of the ATV’s engine. It's hands reached out for Stacey.
    
    Just as the creature began to launch itself over the hitch, the gun flashed and the creature jerked backwards as the bullet punched through its shoulder.
    
    "In the head!"
    
    "I missed! Okay?"
    
    The road was climbing and winding around the hill and Eric tried to keep his hands steady as he guided the vehicle.
    
    “Shoot him, Stacey! Do it!”
    
    The creature that had once been Sean struggled to get back onto its knees and Stacey fired again. The zombie jerked to one side as the bullet grazed its arm, but it did not stop it. It leaped across the trailer hitch howling as it made a grab for Stacey.
    
    Eric jerked the ATV to one side and Stacey crushed him as she tried to avoid the creature's clawed hand and not fall onto the asphalt rushing under the wheels of the four-wheel drive. Pepe yelped as they were all whipped to one side as the ATV swerved.
    
    The zombie's hand managed to only grip Stacey's shirt for a second then it fell and tumbled down the road behind them.
    
    "I'm okay! I'm okay!" Stacey's voice was strained.
    
    Eric made himself slow down as they continued down the winding road and tried to breathe normally. Pepe, seeming to understand how close they had come to disaster, hunkered down in Eric's jacket and shivered.
    
    Night was coming fast and as they roared around a curve in the road in the distance a town came into view.
    
    It was Ashley Oaks.
    
    "That's it!" Eric said excitedly and slowed the ATV to a stop. "I need to double-check the map now."
    
    Stacey nodded and climbed off the vehicle, the revolver still in her hand. Shaking, she touched his arm.
    
    "Check my back. Tell me he didn't infect me."
    
    Eric felt his gut churn at the thought of losing her. He barely knew her, but she already felt like a friend. "Okay."
    
    Stacey turned around and Eric saw blood on her shirt. He reached out slowly and nervously. Pulling her shirt up, her long, lean, and muscled back came into view along with the thick band of her sports bra. Her skin was unmarred.
    
    "It's okay. You're okay. He didn't even scratch you."
    
    Stacey whirled around and threw her arms around Eric. She sobbed loudly and he felt her tears on his neck and shoulder.
    
    Gently, he held her close and whispered, "You're okay. You're okay."
    
    Pepe began squirming, not liking to be squished between the two of them, and Stacey stepped back.
    
    "I thought for a moment…when my shirt was wet…"
    
    "It’s his blood. Not yours."
    
    She wiped her tears away and looked toward the brilliant pinks and purples decorating the horizon as the night unfurled across the wide Texas sky.
    
    Eric reached out and smoothed her bangs back from her damp forehead. "Stacey, I'm sorry."
    
    Her lips trembled and her nose ran as she nodded mutely. Tears streamed down her dirty, reddened face and she wiped her nose on the back of the hand still holding the revolver.
    
    "I just want to be safe. I just want it to end," she said in a soft voice.
    
    "I know. I do." Eric sighed wearily. "I thought I was safe until today."
    
    "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "We did that to you."
    
    "No. No. I was never really safe in the farmhouse. Not really. I always knew that those things could get out of the community center. I was just too scared to take a risk and go somewhere else. I got too comfortable." He laughed a little. "So much for comfort now, huh?"
    
    She wiped her nose again and said in a quivering voice, "But you had an escape planned. You saved us."
    
    Eric looked down at the map, blushing a little. He hadn't expected to be a hero. He had just wanted to be ready. "Well, we're not completely safe yet."
    
    Down below there was light in one central position. Eric checked the map then lifted the binoculars. It took him a moment to figure out exactly where the lights were coming from, but suddenly a construction site in the middle of town swam into view. Apparently a new building was being constructed near a ten-story red brick building and a smaller building from the same era. Construction trucks that appeared to have sandbags or cement bags shoved under them and between the cabs to form a massive wall surrounded it.
    
    "Shit," Eric whispered.
    
    "What is it?"
    
    Eric handed her the binoculars. "Train it on the lights down there."
    
    Stacey lifted the small binoculars with one hand and studied the construction site. "Oh, my God. That's like…what…a hundred zombies? Two hundred?"
    
    Eric took back the binoculars and checked again. He could see how they had used large storage containers to block off the two side streets and corral the zombies directly in front of the construction site. The approach along the side streets was probably safest, but he couldn't be sure. The undead throng was massive.
    
    "We're going there?"
    
    "Yeah," Eric answered. "Yeah."
    
    Suddenly, Pepe began howling loudly and startled Eric by popping his head out of the jacket collar. Stacey turned and looked down the road. The expression on her face said it all. Eric twisted around in the seat and saw Sean running up the road. His head was lolling to one side and one arm was obviously broken in multiple places, but he was racing toward them with one hand held out.
    
    Stacey raised the gun and fired once.
    
    The bullet sliced through Sean's forehead and blew out the back of his head. His body fell forward, was carried by his momentum and slid to a stop.
    
    Sniffling, Stacey turned back to Eric and said, "Please, let's just find someplace safe. Please."
    
    Eric reached out to her and she handed him the gun. Sliding onto the ATV behind him, she laid her head against his shoulder and wept.
    
    
Chapter Eighteen
Refuge
    
    The ATV idled at the outskirts of the town. Now that night was coming, it was clear to them that going into the town was maybe not the best idea. Darkness would take away their ability to see what was coming. The going into a house or a building for shelter was also risky. They were at a loss as to what to do.
    
    Stacey shivered from the coolness of the Spring night and Eric slid his light jacket off and handed it to her. She took it silently, pulled it on and stuffed Pepe inside. The little dog curled up and yawned. Eric didn’t blame him. He was exhausted, too. Eric's gaze swept over the road leading to town and he pushed his glasses up on his nose. Sitting in the middle of the road was certainly not a good idea. They needed to be out of sight and safe.
    
    He lifted his eyes and suddenly knew what they had to do.
    
    "The water tower."
    
    "What?"
    
    Eric turned to Stacey. "The water tower. It's like a block away. We can climb the ladder and hang out there tonight."
    
    "That's like one hundred and fifty feet up!"
    
    "Exactly."
    
    She looked toward the quaint old water tower. In the dark it looked strangely homey. "Can they climb it?"
    
    "I don't think so. They don't seem all that smart the longer they’re dead. Remember them pitching head first out of the window?"
    
    She nodded and rubbed the top of Pepe's head thoughtfully. "Okay. I'm cold and I just want to be safe.”
    
    "We'll use the tarp to rig a tent or something. I got bedding on the back of the trailer. We'll take supplies up there with us and hang out there tonight or until we can figure out how to get to the fort."
    
    Stacey rubbed her nose and nodded. "Okay."
    
    Eric shifted gears and Stacey took the revolver from his belt. It was better to be safe than sorry.
    
    The water tower was not far up a side road that was unpopulated by buildings. The darkness hovering between the trees was intimidating, but Pepe remained quiet and they took it as a good sign. The moon was full and the light helped Eric maneuver to the tower over the uneven ground.
    
    A large sign that read "Any Unauthorized Climbing of the tower is a violation of trespassing laws. You will be arrested” was set up in plain view.
    
    "Guess they had a problem with the kids," Stacey decided.
    
    "Probably the place to hang out in a town like this," Eric joked.
    
    "Yeah, in my town it was the school stadium bleachers. Or under them, I should say," Stacey answered. "Not that I was ever under there!"
    
    Eric laughed and parked under the tower. "Of course not."
    
    Stacey forced a little smile and slid off the ATV. Holding Pepe tight, she stared up at the water tower. Eric turned off the ATV and hopped off. Walking over to the ladder he made note of the chain wrapped around the ladder several times over the rungs about five feet up. Another sign hung from the chain. It had the same threat as the big sign.
    
    "Okay. Let's get this done."
    
    Eric moved quickly to the trailer and tried to ignore the bloodstains on the blue tarp. He quickly untied the rope holding it in place and slid the tarp off. His luggage and luggage from the lost and found were carefully arranged on the trailer. Bright green tote bags that were used for grocery shopping were filled with food staples and water. He had been lucky enough to find them in the pantry.
    
    "Should we take it all up?"
    
    Eric looked toward her and considered this. "I don't know."
    
    Stacey looked up at the tower again. "Not that I want to carry things up there."
    
    Eric rubbed his nose then said, "Well, we're in the town we want to be. We just need to figure out how to get into the fort. That could take a few days. Peggy says they are going to clear out the zombies."
    
    "But if we take it all up with us and we have to leave fast…"
    
    Eric sighed. "Just half then?"
    
    Stacey bit her bottom lip then nodded.
    
    Eric began slinging some of the bags onto his shoulders and groaned at their weight. "This is not going to be easy."
    
    "We can use the rope to pull them up."
    
    Embarrassed, Eric blushed. "Oh, yeah."
    
    He grabbed the huge coil of rope he had packed along with the rope he had used to hold down the tarp.
    
    Stacey grinned at him. “Mr. So Well Prepared doesn’t know how well prepared he was.”
    
    “Shush, you,” he playfully said. “I maybe an engineer, but sometimes the simple things confuse me. You know if it’s not something I have to spend hours on and make a dozen designs for, I get confused.”
    
    “Somehow, I believe you.”
    
    Eric grinned and headed for the ladder.
    
    The climb to the top was not easy. Getting past the chain had been a little tricky, but not really hard. But he was tired and had not eaten since morning. His legs and arms burned as he pulled himself up the metal ladder. The cool night air was a welcome relief as sweat poured off his brow. Below, Stacey kept watch with the revolver in hand and Pepe's leash in the other.
    
    Finally, he reached the top and gripping the handrails firmly, pulled himself up over the edge and onto the catwalk. Turning, the night sky filled his vision and he felt awed by the sight. He was relieved he wasn't afraid of heights as the wind buffeted him and he looked down. The lights from the ATV illuminated Stacey's fit form and Pepe was barely visible.
    
    The catwalk was around three feet wide and quite sturdy. The water tower was from the turn of the last century and very old fashioned. It had a peaked roof and the edges of it partially stuck out over his head giving slight shelter.
    
    Shivering from the cold air, he tied the rope around the sturdy wood railing and dropped it down to Stacey. Thankfully, with the second rope tied to it, it was long enough to reach the ground. Immediately, she began tying bags onto it and Eric hoisted them up.
    
    It took longer than they expected to get everything up, but Pepe remained calm the entire time. Evidently all the dead were at the construction site. Finally, Stacey killed the lights on the ATV, shoved Pepe into the jacket, and made the long climb up. When she reached the catwalk, Eric reached out and helped steady her. She looked tired and overwhelmed in the moonlight.
    
    "Welcome home," he quipped.
    
    She rolled her eyes, but thankfully slid down to sit on the walkway. Pepe peeked out and looked around with fear in his eyes.
    
    "It's okay, Pepe. Just don't get near the edge," Eric said and stroked the little dogs head.
    
    Stacey gently lifted Pepe out of the jacket and set him on the catwalk. The little dog nosed around and dared a brief look over the edge then darted back to the wall.
    
    Though he was exhausted, Eric knew they needed shelter from the wind. He had been a very thorough packer and pulled out duct tape and wet wipes. Leaving Stacey to recover from the climb, he wiped down the blue tarp she had folded and sent up earlier. He hated to litter, but he dropped the wipes over the edge so she wouldn’t have to see the blood. He commenced to use duct tape, the tarp and some of the rope to construct a makeshift tent. It formed a long narrow shelter for them to sleep in.
    
    Stacey pulled the wet wipes over to her and pulled one out to clean her face and neck.
    
    "Brandy never went anywhere without packing those," Eric said softly. He began to wrap the rope around the railing posts. He basically wove a safety net for them by threading the rope back and forth then finally tying it.
    
    "What was she like?"
    
    "Beautiful," Eric answered and tested the rope to see if it was secure. It held and he was comforted that neither of them would roll off in the middle of the night.
    
    "What else?" Stacey pulled another wipe out and began on her arms.
    
    Eric sat back in the shelter and thought for a second. The first word that had come to his mind was "demanding", but he was loath to say that. He fumbled for something to say that sounded good, but he was surprised to come up empty.
    
    Stacey looked toward him curiously. "I guess I shouldn't have asked. Sorry."
    
    "It's not that," Eric admitted. "I just…she was very high maintenance. My friends called her a bitch and worse. But I loved her. She was so beautiful and stylish and…" He faltered again. "That sounds so shallow."
    
    Pepe scooted along the side of the water tank and into the shelter. Out of the wind and away from the terrifying view, he relaxed.
    
    Stacey crawled over to the edge of the shelter and he saw her lips were trembling from the cold. "Sometimes we love the wrong people for all the wrong reasons."
    
    Eric felt his throat constrict as he realized her words were true. "I did love her. And, yeah, it was for all the wrong reasons. But…"
    
    Stacey gave him a little hug and crawled over him to sit out of the wind. "I know. I had one of those boyfriends."
    
    Eric sighed. "Sucks, doesn't it?"
    
    "Oh, yeah."
    
    Eric smiled and began to go through the bags. He handed her some cans of food and a can opener while he searched for the bedding and something for her to wear.
    
    In an hour they were settled in. The comforters from the bed and breakfast were folded over and laid end to end to make a bed for each of them. The king-size pillow would have to be shared and it was set in the middle of the two beds. Stacey stacked some of the bags up at her end of the shelter to keep the wind out and Eric kept the other end open just a bit.
    
    "I didn't think cold beanie weenies could taste so good," Stacey said after a long moment. She sat with her back against the water tank clad in one of his T-shirts and his pajama bottoms. Pepe was curled up on her lap and she gently stroked his fur.
    
    "Yeah. I think it’s the best thing I've eaten in forever," Eric agreed.
    
    He lifted the water bottle he was clutching and sipped the warm water. The moonlight illuminated the world and he could clearly see the outline of the trees and the edges of the town. They were so close now.
    
    "It doesn't seem real," Stacey said. "Any of this."
    
    "I know."
    
    "If anyone told me a week ago that I would be trapped in the community center with zombies for days, then have to run for my life, shoot my undead brother, ride an quad bike with a guy and his dog, and sack out at the top of a water tower, I would have told them they were freaking nuts."
    
    "I had to kill Brandy," Eric said after a beat.
    
    Stacey looked toward him. "Really?"
    
    "Yeah."
    
    "I'm sorry."
    
    Eric let out a long sigh. "At least she's at peace now."
    
    The young woman nodded and then said, "I have to think that way about Sean, don't I?"
    
    "It makes it easier," Eric admitted. "Better they be at peace then wandering around like that."
    
    Stacey slowly lay down and Pepe curled up behind her back, squeezing between the water tower and her body. He was obviously afraid of the fall.
    
    "I know you're right, but…" She curled up and sighed.
    
    Eric lay down, too. They were head to head, lying in opposite directions. She smelled of baby wipes and it was a strangely comforting smell.
    
    "We'll be okay," he said softly. He believed it now that they were so close to the fort. "We'll find a way to join the others. We'll be safe."
    
    She reached her hand out over the top of the pillow and his fingers closed around it.
    
    It took some time, but finally, they both fell asleep.
    
    
Chapter Nineteen
Where It All Goes To Hell
    
    Eric woke up to the sound of gunshots in the distance. Pepe began to bark and Stacey sat up sharply. The steady pop pop pop of small arms was interlaced with the crack of rifles being fired. Eric scrambled to his feet and shoved past the bags in the opening of the tent. Reaching down, he fumbled through the bag he had shoved his binoculars into and moved along the catwalk to try and see if he could get a view of what was going on.
    
    "They must be clearing out the zombies at the fort," Stacey said as she joined him. Pepe was in her arms and his ears were perked up at the sounds in the distance.
    
    The morning light had washed away all the shadows and the town was laid out clearly before them. The downtown area was full of old red brick buildings; several were close to four stories tall. Most appeared to be abandoned. A tall ten-story red brick building towered over the downtown area and the construction site was huddled up against the base of it. Eric could barely make out one area of the fort. What he saw made his heart leap.
    
    A man and a woman were dangling from what looked like a pulley system over the outer rim defense made up of construction trucks. Under them on the trucks was a mass of the undead that were trying to grab them.
    
    "Are they bait?" Eric lowered the binoculars and handed it to Stacey.
    
    She took them and trained them where he pointed. He could see her mouth tense then she handed the binoculars back. "I don't think so. I think something has gone wrong."
    
    Eric returned to gazing through the binoculars at the fort. He tried to figure out exactly what was going on, but the scene was pretty chaotic. The gunshots continued and he could see the zombies toppling over. "I wonder if the zombies figured out how to get in."
    
    Stacey held Pepe closer, snuggling him protectively. The little dog's ears were twitching as he listened to the sound of the weapons firing in the distance. "Eric, if they are getting in where are we going to go?"
    
    Eric looked toward Stacey, hearing the tremor in her voice, and reached out to touch her shoulder gently. With all the grime wiped off her face and her hair hanging around her face, she looked very young and fragile. "We'll be okay. I promise. Somehow we'll find away." He was surprised that he firmly believed his words.
    
    She smiled slightly and nuzzled Pepe. "What's happening now?"
    
    For the next thirty minutes, Eric narrated what he saw. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening with his limited view, but it did seem like the Fort was winning. The zombies that had clustered under the dangling people were wiped out. The woman undid her harness and dropped down out of view while the black man was drawn back and lowered out of sight.
    
    The gun shots died away.
    
    "They’re lifting a blond woman over the wall. She looks unconscious. And they're lifting a man over, too," Eric said.
    
    "Do you think they're bitten?"
    
    "No. Peggy told me it was the bite that was dangerous, so I think they know better than to bring in bitten people. Maybe they got hurt some other way." Eric rubbed his brow and looked toward Stacey. "Let’s get some breakfast than I'll check and see what's up. If it’s clear, maybe we can get to the Fort today."
    
    "Okay. Sounds good," she answered and set Pepe down.
    
    The little dog stayed close to the wall as he trotted back to their tent.
    
    They ate ravioli from a can and drank some water. Pepe munched on the kibble Eric had packed for him. Stacey sat in silence through most of the meal and Eric didn't blame her. Even though they had slept well, they were both emotionally and mentally exhausted. He had to admit he felt the urge to lie back down and sleep. His entire body ached from yesterday and he rubbed his shoulder with one hand.
    
    Stacey's body was covered in bruises and he felt terrible for her. Her expression was rather empty and he suspected she was trying hard not to think about the loss of her father, brother and entire town. He left her to her silence and went back to studying the fort.
    
    The activity was calmer now and it looked like the zombie assault on the fort was over. In fact, everyone he could spot through the binoculars was grinning. Feeling relieved, he moved back to Stacey's side. Pepe was lying on her lap getting his ears scratched.
    
    "I think we should try and go to the Fort. It seems to have calmed down. This may be our best shot," Eric said to her.
    
    Looking up at him, Stacey said, "I'm scared."
    
    "I know. But we need to try and make it."
    
    Leaning forward a little, she peered down at the ground below. It was empty of zombies.
    
    "I just want to feel safe," she said to him, tears in her eyes. "I'm tired of running away."
    
    "I can try and go alone and send them back for you," Eric offered.
    
    "No!" She grabbed his wrist tightly, tears springing to her eyes. "Don't leave me alone! I'll go with you."
    
    "Stacey, if it’s too much for you-"
    
    "No, Eric. I don't want to be alone," she said firmly. "Please. Just let me get my nerve up."
    
    "Okay, Stacey. We'll go when you're ready."
    
    It took her two hours to get her nerves steadied and he let her have the time. There were no more gunshots and every time he checked on the Fort, things seemed calm. Stacey changed into a pair of his jeans and one of his undershirts. He was surprised that she managed to make it look almost cute on her when she rolled up the pant legs and tied the shirt at the waist. Brandy wouldn't have been caught dead looking like that.
    
    "My feet hurt so bad." She pulled on her running shoes and she managed to tie them despite her shaking fingers.
    
    "Yeah, I'm pretty sore from everything. I've never worked out like this before."
    
    "Do you work out?"
    
    Eric looked at her strong arms and powerful legs and then down at his own thin, but mushy body. "Um. Nope."
    
    She laughed a little. "Then I bet you're really hurting."
    
    He couldn't help but blush. "Yeah, well, you're like an Amazon or something. I'm just a mild-mannered engineer."
    
    She motioned to the tent. "Thank God for that."
    
    "I've done much better work than that," Eric assured her.
    
    She smiled and seemed to relax just a tad. "I'm sure you have."
    
    After a little discussion, they decided to leave their camp on the water tower as a precaution and just take what was still loaded on the trailer. Pepe was stuffed into Eric's jacket once again and they slowly descended the long ladder. Eric went first, the revolver tucked into his belt where he could grab it quickly, and Stacey followed him with the shotgun slung over her shoulder.
    
    Pepe kept quiet throughout the ordeal, occasionally peeking out, and then ducking back out of sight. He was obviously unnerved by the height.
    
    When they reached the ground, they were relieved to see the coast was still clear. Eric started up the ATV and Stacey slid on behind him. Eric noted that they were both much more relaxed now that they were on the ground and no zombies had appeared.
    
    The morning coolness was giving away to the noon heat. The jacket was a little warm, but Pepe seemed comfortable enough. Stacey rode with the rifle in her hand and Eric felt reassured by her determined expression. She was strong despite all they had endured.
    
    They were just two blocks from the water tower when they heard the motorbike.
    
    "Eric!"
    
    "I hear it!" The excitement welling inside of him was intense.
    
    Then the motorbike came rushing around the corner and Eric swerved to avoid it. The growling bike came to an abrupt stop a few feet from the ATV. There were two men on it and they stared at Eric and Stacey in shock. One of the men, pasty white and hollow eyed, slipped off the motorbike and walked toward them slowly. His companion stayed on the bike and looked uneasily over one shoulder. He was a huge guy with masses of dark hair and golden brown skin.
    
    "Hey," the younger man said to Eric as he approached. "You from that construction site?"
    
    "No, no. We're from out of town. Are you from there?"
    
    The other man shook his head. "No, man. We're like holed up nearby, but we gotta move on. Got company after us," the kid answered and laid a hand on the handlebars.
    
    Eric suddenly felt uneasy. "We're heading to the fort."
    
    "That's cool," the man said. "Nice ride."
    
    "Ritchie, you better fucking hurry it up," the other man said.
    
    "Shut up, Sergio. I’m dealing with this."
    
    Suddenly, Pepe lifted his head out Eric's jacket and began to bark angrily.
    
    "Eric," Stacey whispered.
    
    "Ritchie, they're coming!"
    
    "Gimme the quad, bro," Ritchie said to Eric, his eyes growing cold.
    
    "No," Eric answered and shoved Ritchie's hand off the handlebars.
    
    Ritchie drew his gun quickly and aimed it at Eric's head. "Yeah. Gimme the quad. I need it. We've gotta move on and I need it."
    
    "Eric," Stacey said in a terrified voice.
    
    “It’s okay,” Eric said to her softly and hoped she would just stay calm and not try anything rash.
    
    Pepe was in a barking fit and it was not directed at Ritchie.
    
    "Dude, they are coming!" Sergio looked back over his shoulder.
    
    "We need the quad to move the others," Ritchie snapped back.
    
    "Just go with us to the Fort," Eric said, trying to ignore the gun. "It's safe there."
    
    "No, man. It's full of old people and losers. We're doing our own thing," Ritchie answered tersely.
    
    Eric could see the man's eyes were fully dilated and knew then that he was not dealing with someone in the state of mind to reason with.
    
    "Don't make me shoot you and the girl," Ritchie continued.
    
    Eric was tempted to try and draw his weapon, but he wasn't sure he could shot anyone still living. Plus, Ritchie could shoot him much faster than he could draw. Reluctantly, he slid off the quad. Stacey slid off with him.
    
    "They're coming!" Sergio whipped out his own gun. "Let's go!"
    
    Ritchie slid onto the ATV and quickly turned it around.
    
    Eric and Stacey both made grabs for the bags on the back of it and both managed to snag two each before the trailer was drawn away. The two thieves then rode off, whopping and laughing.
    
    Pepe was still in hysterics.
    
    "We need to run," Eric said to Stacey and began to race back toward the water tower.
    
    "Not again," she wailed and followed.
    
    They were a block away from the water tower when they heard the howls start up behind them. The slap of feet against the pavement spoke of a good number of the dead. Eric dared to look behind him and saw a throng moving rapidly toward them. They looked freshly dead.
    
    The bags full of water and food were heavy and Eric considered dropping them. Stacey managed to get ahead of him and rushed down the side road toward the water tower. He was slower than she was and he felt panic rising in him as Pepe's barking became more frenzied.
    
    He saw Stacey make it to the ladder and start to climb. Pumping his tired legs as hard as he could, he dared another look behind him to see that the dead were gaining. Pepe bounced around in his jacket and Eric tried to hoist the bags onto his shoulders as he got closer to the ladder.
    
    "Hurry!" Stacey's voice was frantic.
    
    His heart felt like it was going to burst from exertion, but he forced his body to move faster and he managed to reach the bottom of the ladder. It was hard lifting his arms up with the bags on his shoulders and he struggled to get up over the chains.
    
    Stacey was above him, the shotgun aimed downward. The bags she had managed to grab were dangling off one of her shoulders and forced her a little off balance.
    
    He struggled to get over the chains and not get caught as Pepe continued to bark furiously.
    
    "Eric!" It was more a shriek than a word.
    
    He had just hoisted himself up onto the rung above the chains when he felt a hand grab his ankle.
    
    "Eric! No!"
    
    Eric grabbed tightly to the rung above him and began to pull himself up. The weight of the creature clinging to his leg made it hard to climb. Pepe scrambled out of Eric's jacket and onto his shoulder and barked fiercely down at the zombie. Everything was happening to fast to process and Eric struggled to even have a rational thought.
    
    Then the worst happened. Pepe fell off his shoulder toward the raging zombie below. His foot slipped off the rung. And the bags he had put on his shoulders put so much stress on his grip he began to slip.
    
    
Chapter Twenty
The Beginning of the End
    
    "Pepe!" Stacey and Eric's voice were a chorus and they both watched in horror as the little dog fell.
    
    With a sharp yelp, Pepe's harness caught at the end of the leash and the small terrier dangled at the end right in front of the zombie. It snarled at the frenziedly barking dog and reached up its other ravaged hand and batted the dog away like a gnat. Pepe went flying outward with another sharp yelp, swinging high to Eric's left.
    
    As the dog arced away from him on the end of the leash, Eric's heart was beating so hard in his chest that he could feel it thumping against his arm as he managed to get a tighter hold on the rung.
    
    In about that same moment, a bag fell straight past him and slammed into the zombie holding onto his foot. The force of the bag full of cans hitting it knocked its arm free and it staggered back from the ladder. Eric gasped and quickly got his foot back onto the rung just as Pepe came swinging back into him and bounced off his ankles.
    
    "Climb!" Stacey's voice was a sharp order.
    
    "You shouldn't have dropped that bag! We need to eat," Eric exclaimed.
    
    "Shut up and climb! It's getting up!"
    
    Eric blinked and struggled to move higher up on the ladder as Pepe swung back and forth below him dangling from the leash attached to his harness. The added weight of the dog on his wrist, where he always kept the furry boy's leash attached to him, made it hard to lift his arm. The little guy continued to bark hysterically at the zombie struggling to its feet.
    
    The rest of the zombie pack arrived snarling and hissing and Stacey let out a scream that sent shivers down Eric's spine. She moved down the ladder toward him and he blinked in confusion as she hooked one arm around a rung and turned to face outward. Lifting her shotgun, Eric realized she was going to fire at something behind him.
    
    "Don't hit Pepe!"
    
    "Hurry up!"
    
    Eric was now a good ten feet off the ground and he kept struggling to climb despite the acute pain in his shoulders from the heavy bags and Pepe dangling from his wrist. The little dog was twisting and thrashing in a barking frenzy at the zombies below.
    
    "One of them is climbing!"
    
    "Oh, shit!" He pulled himself up a little faster, struggling to move under the items weighing him down. He reached Stacey's ankles and she reached down and grabbed the leash and hauled Pepe upwards.
    
    Eric dared to look behind him to see the fastest of the zombies struggling to figure out how to climb the ladder. The chains wrapped around the base of it were a determent to its ascension and it was having trouble maneuvering. Behind it, the rest of the zombies were hitting the first zombie and clawing at it, trying to push past it to somehow get to the humans above.
    
    Stacey held Pepe tightly against her side and aimed past Eric. He flattened himself against the ladder and the shotgun barked. The buckshot slammed into the zombie and it fell back, one leg strung through a rung and one hand tangled in the chain. The other zombies surged around it, their hands slapping against the ladder, but unable to figure out how to climb.
    
    Stacey, struggling with the last bag on her shoulder, Pepe clutched in the same arm, her other arm wrapped around the ladder and holding the shotgun, stared down in awe at her handiwork.
    
    "Um, move. Before I drop everything or fall," Eric said to her.
    
    "Oh." She realized she was stuck and it took a few precious minutes as the zombies jostled each other below for her to finally figure out how to maneuver so she could climb once more. Once she was situated, she began to move upwards and Eric, his arms now tingling and painful, struggled after her.
    
    A few times he checked down below to see that the zombies still had no idea how to climb and the dead one, tangled up at the bottom of the ladder seemed to confuse them. It was a relief and he forced himself to climb as his fingers went numb and his back ached.
    
    Stacey reached the top and quickly ditched the bag and set Pepe down. She climbed down to him and reached down for one of the bags. He let her hoist it off his shoulder and sighed with relief as she carried it back up. She was more physically fit and stronger than he was and he felt a little embarrassed by it. He finally got to the top and pulled himself up. His shoulder was screaming with pain and almost felt dislocated, but he had gotten the precious supplies to the top.
    
    Below, the zombies screamed and shrieked in frustration as they pushed at each other, gathering around the ladder. Another one had managed to step through the bottom rung and was now tangled up with the dead zombie. It kept slamming its fist against the rung above it, but seemed unable to figure out what to do.
    
    "Thank God they're dumb," Stacey whispered.
    
    Eric watched for a moment then slowly rolled up to sit with his back against the tank. Pepe crawled onto his lap and shivered against him.
    
    Too exhausted to move, Eric laid his hand over his dog's back and sighed.
    
    The storm hit two hours later. The dark ominous clouds had been enough warning for them to secure the tent and get their possessions organized. They climbed inside and huddled together with Pepe between them and listened to the wind howl as the rain splattered the tent. Below them, the zombies were unaffected by the rain and continued to moan.
    
    They were quiet and Eric knew they were thinking the same things. How long could they survive up on the water tower? Would the zombies figure out how to climb? Would anyone find them? How long would the food and water last? There were more zombies below than bullets and they were stuck.
    
    The rain poured off the top of the tent and the wind pulled at the edges, but Eric had done a good job securing it. They remained safe, warm and dry, but their spirits were low.
    
    "The Fort is close," Eric said at last. "Peggy said they would send out rescue teams."
    
    Stacey sat next to him, her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms folded across her knees. She looked toward him and sighed. "They don't know we're here."
    
    "Yeah, but we can signal them somehow."
    
    "How?" She looked at him pointedly. The tension in her body said it all. She was terrified.
    
    "I brought duct tape. We'll write the world ‘help’ on the water tower with it. We'll keep a watch for them heading our way and figure out a way to signal them. Fire the gun or something."
    
    "How many shots do we have left in the revolver?"
    
    Eric sighed. "Three."
    
    "And we have six shells for the shotgun."
    
    Eric rubbed his nose and fiddled with his glasses. "You're right. Can't waste the ammo unless we’re positive their close."
    
    "I think we can make the food last three weeks," she said after a beat.
    
    "Water is going to be harder once it’s gone."
    
    "We're on a water tower."
    
    "It's empty I think. For show now." Eric tapped the old-fashioned tank. "But we can rig some water reclamation device for the spring storms. There will be more. Besides, we have to keep positive that they will find us."
    
    Stacey sighed softly and reached out to pet Pepe. "I want to believe you."
    
    "Then do," Eric said firmly. "We'll live through this. I promise."
    
    The next few days they did all they could to secure their little home and make sure the supplies were rationed out. After some exploration, they realized there was no way to access the water tank and make sure it was without water without taking a huge risk to their safety by climbing on top and they abandoned the idea. After Eric studied the wind currents and how the surrounding trees broke up the airflow, he picked out a spot on the walkway that would be their lavatory. It was much easier for Eric to relieve himself, but Stacey was terrified at first to position herself between the rails. Eric rigged up a safety harness for her with ropes. He felt bad for her and he made sure to cut all the wet wipes in half to make them last as long as possible. Pepe, meanwhile, had trouble going at first, having been used to going on the grass, but he finally figured out what was expected of him.
    
    The simple things in life suddenly seemed so hard.
    
    Using bottles, some plastic bags and the rest of the tape, Eric managed to come up with a way to trap rainwater. This seemed to reassure Stacey a little. Their food stores concerned them the most and seeing cans of food littered at the bottom of the ladder was a reminder of Eric's close brush with death and the sacrifice Stacey had made.
    
    Every day Eric watched the Fort through his binoculars. It seemed so close and yet so far. He watched them clear out the zombie bodies, begin to expand the wall, and go about their daily business. And yet no vehicles came near their position and they seemed far away and terribly cut off from the hub of activity and life that was the Fort.
    
    It rained often and if there wasn't lightening, Stacey would stand out in the rain as a form of a shower. Feeling silly, Eric joined her, but then it was rather nice standing in the warm rain watching the sun pierce through the dark clouds above. One day, he looked over at her to see her face turned rapturously upward. What he had at first considered a plain face with a tiny rosebud mouth, rounded cheeks, turned up nose, and big eyes, suddenly looked quite pretty. Prettier than Brandy had ever looked with her immaculate makeup and fancy tresses. He felt humbled by this revelation. His old world was now long gone and Stacey made the life he had now bearable.
    
    “The rain is great,” Stacey said and grinned at him.
    
    He blushed at her catching him staring at her and nodded slightly. “It feels good. And makes them stink less.”
    
    She laughed and he joined her and it felt wonderful.
    
    The rain did dampen the smell of the zombies below and made it harder for the creatures to move around, as the ground became muddy. The dead zombie stuck in the bottom rung continued to confuse the dead and the one that had managed to tangle himself with it thrashed and moaned.
    
    Eric found himself growing fond of Stacey the more he got to know her. She was actually very nice and sweet. He discovered she liked a lot of the movies and books he did and seemed genuinely interested in his job. Since there was nothing else to do, they would talk for hours while Pepe lay between them getting lavished with attention.
    
    At night, they slept head to head, Pepe taking turns sleeping with each one of them.
    
    The days slipped by.
    
    They grew hungrier and weaker as they carefully rationed out their food and water. Stacey made both of them exercise each day to keep some level of fitness, but they both began to be more inclined to just sit and watch the clouds float by as they shared their life stories and their former dreams.
    
    The zombies continued to linger at the base of the ladder, trampling the precious cans of food into the ground. Their numbers increased to nearly thirty and the hope of escaping grew dimmer.
    
    Days became weeks.
    
    One night they heard a motorbike nearby and the sound of a girl screaming. The wail, moans and shrieks of a large pack of the dead followed this sound. Eric and Stacey stood and watched the headlight of the motorbike glide up the street then disappear from view as it swerved toward the fort. The dead following caused enough commotion to pull some of the zombies that had been lingering below to follow. They heard gunshots for a short period of time in the distance and Eric tried to see what was going on using his binoculars. He was able to figure out that something big went down, but the Fort fought it off. He stayed watching the fort for a long time. At one point, it looked like a party was happening on top of city hall and he felt a lump in his throat.
    
    So close, but so far away.
    
    The crowd below was down to fifteen zombies after that night, but they were not badly mutilated and seemed quick on their feet. At times, Stacey and Eric would stare down at them and discuss each one individually. They tried to give the zombies a story, even a name, but they eventually stopped when it became too painful to see them as anything other than a zombie. To see them as human only made their own losses more acute.
    
    The food became scarce. Pepe's bag of food was emptied. They began to feed him the meat from the beanie weenies.
    
    The days slipped on. Their rations became smaller.
    
    "We're starving to death," Stacey said one day. "Pepe is, too."
    
    The little dog lay on his side, his ribs showing, looking as weak as they both felt.
    
    "We can't give up," Eric said to her.
    
    "No one is coming," she whispered.
    
    "They will."
    
    "But if they don't, we'll die up here."
    
    She looked at him with sunken eyes and his heart broke a little. He hadn't realized how hollow her cheeks were now and he realized he had been in a strange denial despite his terrible hunger pangs and constant thirst.
    
    "What do you want to do?"
    
    "We have enough bullets to…” She covered her face and sobbed.
    
    Pepe whined and scooted closer to her.
    
    "I don't want to die," Eric said to her in a soft, firm voice and reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder.
    
    Stacey drew in a deep breath and looked toward him. "Either we do it ourselves or we risk running for it. Go down there, shoot them, kill them anyway we can and run for the Fort."
    
    Eric looked at the remains of their supplies. His small machete was there and the luggage. He could possibly make another weapon out of the metal from the frame of one of the suitcases. Maybe.
    
    "Before we're too starved to move or do anything,” Stacey added.
    
    Eric felt tears pricking his eyes and looked down at Pepe. The little dog looked fragile and his energy was low. He couldn't bear the thought of his dog starving to death. He couldn't bear the thought of raising his gun and shooting him.
    
    "Okay," he said finally. "Okay. Let's plan. We'll go tomorrow morning."
    
    Stacey let out an agonized sob and nodded her head.
    
    The rest of the day Eric worked on a makeshift hatchet using the remains of the cans and a metal rod he got out of a rolling suitcase. Stacey practiced swinging the machete as hard as she could and kept double-checking their bags for anything else they could use against the zombies. Pepe watched them with sad eyes, but didn't move much.
    
    That night, they ate an entire can of chicken soup and put the last can aside for breakfast. They fed Pepe the chicken bits out of the soup and savored the broth. Finally, they lay down and Stacey reached out to interlace her fingers with Eric's.
    
    I'm going to kiss her tomorrow, Eric thought and surprised himself with the notion. But it seemed natural. They had bonded to each other and she was one of the sweetest, strongest people he had ever met. She was only twenty-two years old but was more stable and confident than the older Brandy had ever been. In the last few weeks he had grown to admire her and consider her a friend. And now, he wanted to give her just one kiss, to show her how much he cared for her. How much she meant to him.
    
    A first and last kiss. It seemed silly and romantic, yet reassuring.
    
    He wasn't a fool. He knew the reality of the situation. They were going to die tomorrow and he had finally accepted it. But they would go down fighting.
    
    As Eric closed his eyes, he listened to Pepe’s breathing and sighed.
    
    Strange, he thought. I finally found some sort of happiness in this world. And now it’s over.
    
    
Chapter Twenty-One
How It Ends
    
    Eric woke up that last day on the water tower from a hazy dream about Brandy talking to him on the phone being angry at him for hanging out with Pepe and some girl while she needed a manicure. She kept screaming at him, "Are you even there? Can you hear me?"
    
    He blinked at the sunlight streaming in from the opening in the tent and felt confused as he heard a voice call out.
    
    "Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me?"
    
    It was a woman's voice and Eric sat up swiftly. Shoving aside the flap of the makeshift tent, he stumbled out onto the walkway and looked over the railing. The zombies screeched and reached up toward him.
    
    A short bus was idling on the street beyond the trees and the thick bushes that lined the area around the water tower. A woman was sitting on top of the roof waving at him.
    
    The morning was crisp and he shivered as the cold sank into his skin.
    
    "Stacey, someone is here!"
    
    He began to wave at the woman on the bus. "We're here! We're alive!" Then he mumbled, "I hope I'm not dreaming."
    
    Stacey crawled out of the tent clutching Pepe. She blinked her eyes and stared at him drowsily. "What?'
    
    "How many are with you?" The woman's voice was loud, but the zombies were still more interested in Eric and Stacey.
    
    Maybe they had to see the person to hone in on them, Eric thought.
    
    The bus was barely visible through the trees and Stacey stared at it incredulously. "Am I dreaming?"
    
    "No, I don't think so. Or we both dreaming," Eric said with a grin.
    
    Stacey squealed and flung her arm around his waist. "We're saved!"
    
    The woman dressed in jeans, a red sweater, and a hunting jacket stood up and waved to them. "We're coming to get you! Hang tight. We can't hit them through the tree branches, so we're gonna rush them!"
    
    Eric would never forget the sight that followed. Three men and the woman exited the bus and fearlessly charged into the clearing. The woman, dark hair braided and pinned to the top of her head, came first. She shot a zombie point blank in the face and immediately turned to fire at the next one charging at her.
    
    Meanwhile, a big teddy bear of a man with a round face dressed in what looked kind of like a sheriff’s uniform, opened fire with a shotgun blasting the nearby zombies clear off their feet.
    
    A young black man wearing a loud red and yellow tracksuit had two revolvers in his hands. With one of the toughest looks on his face Eric had ever seen, he systematically fired at the zombies near the bottom of the ladder.
    
    "I do not appreciate your behavior," the tracksuit guy said in quite precise tones and shot the head off one of the female zombies.
    
    The last guy, a wizened old guy in a hunting jacket, stood at the edge of the clearing and fired at the zombies rushing at him.
    
    "Jenni," the black guy called out. "Behind you!"
    
    The woman jerked around as a zombie rushed her out of the trees. She was in the middle of reloading. "Shit!" She dropped to her knees just as the zombie slammed into her and it flipped over her into the mud. Jumping up, she pulled out a machete and slammed it down hard into its head splitting it open.
    
    "Felix, to your left," the bigger guy shouted.
    
    Felix turned smoothly and nailed a child zombie moving toward him. "Got it, Bill!"
    
    Eric watched in amazement as Jenni rushed after the zombie stuck in the ladder and began hacking away at it with her machete. Bill and Felix and the unnamed man continued to fire. It was more infested than Eric had imagined as zombies continued to come out of the trees.
    
    Jenni finished hacking the zombie to pieces and looked up at them. "Climb down now! Hurry!"
    
    Immediately, Eric and Stacey obeyed her, not bothering to grab anything other than Pepe, the revolver, and the shotgun.
    
    "Ed, cover the east side," Jenni ordered and ran back to grab her gun. She quickly reloaded it then fired two shots into the head of a zombie crawling toward her.
    
    The wizened old hunter nodded and reloaded smoothly before continuing to fire.
    
    Felix and Bill covered the north and west side as Jenni watched the south. The group had obviously worked together before and moved seamlessly as a team.
    
    Eric couldn't climb down fast enough and he felt Pepe trembling against his chest in excitement. The little dog even managed to get out a few weak barks. The gunshots continued below and Jenni motioned for them to hurry. Jenni shoved and kicked at the dead zombie and chopped away at its hand until it dropped off the ladder.
    
    "Gawddamn, fucking, no good, stupid shit eating…” she swore as she kicked it away from her.
    
    "Jenni don't like zombies, Bill. Did you know that?" Felix grinned and reloaded one of his guns quickly.
    
    "You know. I heard that," Bill answered. "Rumor is she may even hate them."
    
    "Fuck you both," Jenni said with a grin and kicked the zombie's hand away.
    
    There were fewer zombies rushing into the clearing now, but in the distance, they could hear the screech of more coming.
    
    "Hurry up! We haven't cleared this part of town!" Jenni stepped around the ladder and blew the head off a legless zombie trying to untangle itself from a bush.
    
    Eric finally reached the bottom rungs and leaped down the last few feet. Stacey dropped down beside of him and clutched his hand.
    
    Their four rescuers surrounded them quickly. It was easier to pick off the zombies now that they had some distance between them and the undead. Eric held Stacey's hand tightly and cuddled Pepe close.
    
    "Move toward the bus, keep close, don't panic," Jenni ordered.
    
    "Never fear! Super Jenni is here,” Felix assured Eric.
    
    "Felix, I'm gonna kick your ass," Jenni promised him.
    
    "Bring it!"
    
    "My money's on Jenni," Bill decided.
    
    Ed scowled. "Let's get focused and get out of here, kids."
    
    "Gonna get my ass kicked Jennikillingzombiekungfu-style," Felix singsonged playfully.
    
    "I am so not going to give into your sick fantasy," Jenni assured him, but she was grinning.
    
    "I'm gonna tell Juan," Bill teased.
    
    "He knows she's his loca. None of us has a chance with the zombie killing machine anymore," Felix decided with a dramatic sigh.
    
    "Like you ever did," Jenni laughed. "Besides, I just rescued your ass last week."
    
    "Enough joking!" Ed looked terse. "Get in the damn bus!"
    
    Eric actually liked the joking. It showed him that the group was confident and sure of what they were doing. The guns continued to fire around them: zombies of all sizes, shapes falling. Their rescuers reached the bus and the doors opened. Eric pushed Stacey in first then followed her.
    
    The driver was a woman with lots of bushy red hair and there were only two other passengers on board. One was a surly looking black girl in possibly her late teens and the other was a very effeminate young man.
    
    "Took you bitches long enough," the young man decided.
    
    "Ken, behave," the girl beside him drawled.
    
    "I'm just kidding, Lenore. Sheesh. Welcome on board the Zombie Rescumobile. I'm Ken and this is my bestest girl, Lenore."
    
    The girl rolled her eyes.
    
    "Eric and Stacey," Eric said as he slid into a seat next to Stacey.
    
    "We just got rescued, too. Though, not as dramatically as you guys. It was like a movie out there," Ken said and was obviously impressed.
    
    The doors shut behind their rescuers and Eric jumped as several zombies reached the bus and began to bang on the side. There was no way that he and Stacey would have survived. He felt immense relief that they had been rescued and he squeezed Stacey's hand tighter.
    
    "Katarina, let's roll," Ed ordered the driver.
    
    "You got it," she answered and shifted gears.
    
    Jenni slid into the seat in front of Eric and Stacey and smiled at them. "Glad we found you guys. It was a fluke. Katarina took a wrong turn and we saw the big 'help' on the tower."
    
    Eric sighed with relief and reached out to touch Jenni's arm. "You have no idea how grateful we are."
    
    A shadow passed over Jenni's expression for a second then she took Eric's hand and squeezed it. "I was rescued once. I do know. I'm glad we found you." She quickly slid out of the seat again and returned to the front of the bus as it rumbled on down the road leaving the zombies and the water tower behind.
    
    Stacey laid her head on Eric's shoulder and sighed softly. Pepe yawned dramatically and snuggled deeper into his jacket. Feeling relief like he had never experienced before, Eric relaxed and enjoyed the drive to the fort.
    
    They were safe at last.
    
    The Fort was nothing like Eric had imagined, but it was still wonderful. The makeshift lock system that was under construction that let the vehicles entering and leaving the Fort move through a series of paddocks was clever, but obviously still needing work.
    
    When the bus reached the interior of the Fort, Jenni quickly disembarked and leaped onto a tall Hispanic man that was waiting for her. She was carried off in his arms, both of them talking in Spanish, and Eric couldn't help but smile at their affection.
    
    Bill and Felix escorted them along with Lenore and Ken to city hall where they were given a lunch of vegetable soup, fresh cornbread, and jello. Nothing had ever tasted so good to Eric. He was relieved to see Pepe eating some soft dog food and slurping down water. Stacey was quiet and ate quickly, but he could understand her apprehension.
    
    They would have died this morning if not for their rescue. They had been so close to the edge of death and now they were safe. It was both a shock and a relief to be at the Fort and they were both trying to adjust. People kept stopping by to say hello and Eric was touched by the warmth and friendliness of the Fort's inhabitants.
    
    It was Peggy that assigned them their new living quarters and had them bumped in line for shower that was in the basement of the janitor's office in city hall.
    
    "Peggy? It's me! Eric!" He had stared at the woman in shock.
    
    "Oh, Lord. I thought you were dead when you never logged back on!"
    
    They had embraced tightly for a few moments and Eric felt tears in his eyes.
    
    He was separated from Stacey for awhile. Peggy lead her away to find clothes and take a shower. Eric was lead by Bill to meet with Travis, the architect behind the Fort construction, and Juan, the head of construction. Both of them were excited to hear he was an engineer and shared some of their plans with him. Eric was amazed at how quickly he absorbed what was going on and made a few suggestions that both Travis and Juan were impressed with.
    
    Finally, he was able to go take a shower. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful in his life despite the dank surroundings of the janitor’s office and the plumbing banging away in the wall. He dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that Peggy had put aside for him. He had been told a Wal-Mart truck had joined the Fort on the first day and its inventory had helped the Fort significantly. His new clothes were from that stock and he felt awkward in his new Wrangler jeans. It was a far departure from his old khaki pants and button down shirts.
    
    It was like moving through a dream as he walked through the construction site that was neatly organized into living areas and work areas. Travis had shown him the plans to go into the hotel looming over the site and he looked over to where they were building a small wall and gate against the back of the hotel. They were going to have to break through the wall to get into the hotel and fear of zombies on the inside had inspired Travis to build a gated entry just in case of trouble.
    
    He slipped into his new home; a tent made of blue tarp, and found Stacey lying on a cot with Pepe. They were both sound asleep and he sat across from them on his own cot and watched them. Both were peaceful in their slumber and he felt relieved that they were both safe and with him. Later, he fell asleep and when he awoke, he found Stacey and Pepe gone.
    
    By evening he had met the people behind the names he had heard from Peggy. Katie was a warm, generous person with beautiful blond curls and a wide smile. She had met him in the lunch line and he liked her immediately. Travis joined them at their table and they spent most of the time talking about construction. Katie stuck around and Travis seemed pleased with this. Eric wondered if everyone in the Fort was finding connections with each other and he couldn't really blame them. This new deadly world forced everyone to move on and embrace what they had left in life. He had found himself doing that very thing for the last few weeks.
    
    Stacey and Pepe kept appearing in his peripheral vision, but he kept being distracted by Travis, the Mayor, Juan and Peggy. They pulled him into their planning session that afternoon and he loved the feeling of being back at work and part of the greater picture.
    
    The sun was setting when he finally made it back to the tent. Stacey and Pepe were not there and he felt lonely without them. Sitting on the cot, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
    
    In one short day, his whole world had changed again. He was safe in the Fort. Pepe was going to be okay. Stacey was still alive. They had made it. But he felt lonely without them near him and he sat in silence in the blue tent that was bigger, but just as makeshift as the old one on the water tower.
    
    "You're popular," Stacey said from the entry.
    
    She stepped in and let the flap fall back behind her. Pepe bounced over to Eric and wagged his tail. Already he looked so much better.
    
    "They're picking my brain for the construction of the Fort defenses," he answered her as he plucked Pepe off the ground to pet him.
    
    She looked at him with an expression that was hard to fathom. Dressed in a white summer dress, her short straight hair falling to her shoulders, she looked pretty, fresh, and young. She folded her arms over her breasts and sighed a little.
    
    "Is something wrong?"
    
    She shrugged her bony shoulders and then shook her head. "I'm glad to be here, but it feels weird now."
    
    "Weird?" He looked up at her curiously, but he thought he understood.
    
    "It was just us out there. You, me, Pepe. We felt like a little family or something. But here…"
    
    Eric set Pepe aside and stood up. "Stacey…"
    
    "Look, I know I'm like six years younger than you. I probably seem very stupid and young compared to Brandy. And I know you were taking care of me because you're a good guy. You don't have to share-"
    
    He kissed her.
    
    Startled, she stopped talking then wrapped her arms around his neck. They clung to each other for a long moment and when they parted they were both crying.
    
    "Why didn't you do that before," she asked softly.
    
    "I didn't want you to think I was doing it because we were going to die," Eric admitted.
    
    Stacey laughed at this then wiped her tears away. "Well, you did promise me we wouldn't die. And you were right."
    
    Eric stroked her hair gently then said, "I promise I won't leave you."
    
    She looked up at him through her tawny eyelashes and smiled slowly. "Promise."
    
    Eric laughed and kissed her lips again. "I promise."
    
    Pepe whined at their feet and Stacey stooped and picked him up. Eric wrapped his arms around both of them as Pepe squirmed around trying to lick them both at the same time.
    
    As the sounds of construction continued around them, the chatter of voices wafted on the evening breeze, and the distant sound of thunder rumbled, they looked at each other, smiled, and knew they were finally home.