DEAD COUNTRY

Bonnie Dee

Copyright © 2011 by Bonnie Dee

Discover other titles by Bonnie Dee at Amazon:

After the End

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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

* * * * *

Dead Country

* * * * *

Chapter One

Severing a human head isn’t like cutting roses. You have to saw through gristle and bone and the rose isn’t exactly holding still, waiting to be decapitated. Either way you could end up bloody—from the scratch of thorns or from clawing nails and tearing teeth. But with roses you don’t have to worry about contracting an infection that might turn you into one of them.

“Over here, Pasman. Don’t leave me hanging,” Fes bellowed from the other side of a pile of garbage.

“Coming.” I tugged on my axe buried deep in the throat of a zombie. The blade hadn’t quite severed the spinal cord so the creature thrashed like a landed fish, eerie in its silence as it fought to continue a semblance of a life.

At last I wrestled the blade free, my arms screaming in protest at the unexpected workout. Blood spouted from the severed artery in the zombie’s neck as he rolled to the side and pushed up on all fours, attempting to rise. I brought down the axe once more, grunting with effort. This time the blade cleaved through the back of it’s neck. The head dropped to the ground and rolled down the slope into the ditch. The body continued its awkward scramble to rise upright. I didn’t wait to watch it go still before running to aid Fes.

My patrol partner was pinned and wasting a lot of breath on swearing as he fought a petite woman with the preternatural strength of the undead. He was too close to her to wield the Japanese sword that was his weapon of choice. The antique katana used to hang in a display case, but had been pressed into active service with the advent of zombies. Fes’s attempts to slice his opponent were hampered by the woman’s tenacious grip on his arms.

The white-haired woman lunged up, snapping at Fes’s throat like an angry little terrier attacking a Golden Retriever. When I caught a glimpse of her face, my heart plummeted. The zombie was Mrs. Jackson, my second grade teacher, the lady who’d begun my lifelong love of books. Kind Mrs. Jackson, who’d already been cotton-haired when I was in elementary school, must be almost ninety now. Or would be if she were still alive. Her denture-less mouth snapped at Fes’s chin. I grasped her and tried to pull her off Fes, but her clawed fingers were stuck to his jacket like a burr.

“She’s got no teeth. There’s not a lot she can do to you,” I pointed out. “Pry her hands free.”

“Get her off me!” Fes screeched like a girl. “God, she stinks!”

It was hard to tell how much was the decaying odor of zombie breath and how much was the stench of the dump where we were fighting. Summoning reserves of strength, I seized the back of Mrs. Jackson’s cardigan, hauled her away from Fes and tossed her to the ground.

Before I could swing my axe, Fes swung his sword, nearly cutting me as it whirred through the air and severed the old woman’s neck. I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Jackson’s face, then her hair, then her face again, as the head rolled across the ground and came to a stop beside a car tire with weeds growing through the middle. My former teacher regarded me with wide-eyed surprise like she used to on the rare occasions when I couldn’t answer a question in class.

I looked at Fes. “You all right? Did she bite you?”

His round face was as pale as the moon instead of its usual ruddy color. “No bites, but damn, that was disgusting.” He wiped his hands along the sleeves of his jacket, smearing the bloody handprints the old lady had left behind.

As we trudged up the hill of garbage to the pickup, I glanced at my watch. “Another hour till our shift’s over. I’m starving. Did you bring anything?” It might seem callous to have an appetite after seeing a beloved schoolteacher get beheaded, but I’d developed a cast iron stomach since being bombarded with enough blood and guts to fill a war’s worth of battlefields.

“Yeah, I brought food. You shoulda thought ahead.” Fes retrieved his pack from the pickup and took out a paper bag containing a couple of sandwiches and apples. He proceeded to devour a sandwich with the savage intensity of a feeding zombie.

My stomach rumbled and I offered a sarcastic “Thanks” as I squatted beside the truck.

Fes tossed me one of the apples and, more reluctantly, the second sandwich.

“Thanks,” I repeated without the sarcasm before biting into tuna and soggy bread. Once upon a time you would’ve had to tie me down and force-feed me tuna. Now I demolished the smelly fish nearly as fast as Fes did.

“Enjoy it while you can. Nancysaid they’re planning on cutting rations again,” he reminded me. “Guess the council is starting to doubt we’ll get our share of the government bailout, but I know they’ll get to us eventually.”

I pictured faraway bureaucrats and military types who were supposedly getting things under control in our post-apocalyptic United States and highly doubted Durbinville was on their radar.

“Radio says order’s restored in some of the major cities now and they’re distributing vaccine to other parts the country. Our turn’s coming.” Fes continued his Pollyanna speech, but we both knew our town was off the grid.

I stared at the crumbs in the bottom of the sandwich bag before crumpling it and digging a hole in the dirt to bury the plastic. Fes let his blow away on the breeze like a transparent ghost. I tracked the bag’s flight up into the sky before the sun dazzled my eyes and the bag disappeared from view. For a moment, the rich gold of the late afternoon sun caught my heart with its beauty and normalcy. I could imagine I lived in the world I’d always occupied, unchanged and unremarkable.

But impossible. I glanced at Fes. In the old world, we never would’ve been together—not here, not anywhere. Maybe, back in the day, Fes and his buddies had come to the dump to shine and shoot rats on a Friday night when they weren’t out on the football field playing small town gladiators, but I’d never set foot here until recently.

I grunted as I rose on aching legs and reached into the pickup for my canteen. A long drink of tepid water emptied the container. I tossed it onto the floor of the truck. “Ready?”

“Sure.” Fes waved away a persistent deerfly as he walked to the driver’s side. He always drove. I didn’t mind. I was better at zombie-spotting and he liked driving.

Fes put the truck in gear and revved the engine. “I’ll cruise out to the reservoir. See if there’s any action there.”

“Why so far? Shouldn’t we patrol closer to town? Zombies are looking for food not water.” Conserving gas was crucial. Once our supply ran out we’d have to add more foot patrols to protect the ramshackle fence around Durbinville. The makeshift nature of the fence illustrated the town’s expectation this crisis would be short-lived. People believed the cavalry was just over the horizon and grumbled about the council’s insistence on rationing food, gas and oil for our generators. A lot of people were still in denial. I wasn’t one of them. I knew things were likely to get much worse before they got better.

Fes didn’t answer my question so I shut up and stared out the window, scanning the dump one last time. Nothing living moved in the mounds of garbage. Only trash fluttered past in the breeze.

I supposed the reason Fes headed away from town was because he didn’t want to have any more encounters that night. We’d done our job and earned a little peace after two kills. Besides, it wasn’t like it had been in those first weeks after everything fell apart. There were fewer zombies now. The isolation of living in a town plunked down in the middle of miles of cornfields had its advantages. With the closest city so far away, it was easier to get the zombie population under control.

Fes turned the truck onto Reservoir Road. “We used to come out here on summer afternoons or at night and build a bonfire. Me and Denise, Cal, Jimmy and the guys, and whoever they were dating at the time. Good times.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t add much besides “I imagine”. A guy like me hadn’t been invited to those reservoir parties. I’d spent most of my time with my computer even on the sunniest days. My friends had been online. My deepest wish had been to shake off the dust of Durbinville and never return. I’d escaped to college and freedom after high school, but here I was again. Fate brought me home just before the zombies attacked.

Fes glanced at me. “You were a weird kid back then.”

“It wasn’t that long ago. You sound like a forty-year-old looking back on his glory days.”

“Seems a lot longer than a few years.” He stared through the windshield, his face returned to its normal, rosy hue. “Hey, man, I’m sorry if I used to be a dick to you.”

I remained silent a moment, wrapping my head around the astonishing fact of Mike Fessenden apologizing to me. “You weren’t. I don’t remember you ever talking to me at all.” Some of his buddies, on the other hand, had given me shit on a regular basis. But he was right. A thousand years had passed since those days.

Fes changed the subject. “So you went to Caltech. What was that like? Lots of hot California chicks, am I right?”

“Not exactly. “

“But Pasadena, man. You must’ve gone to the beach sometimes and you’re not blind. Hell, even you must’ve gone to some parties.”

“I was pretty swamped with work. I can’t say I partied much.”

Fes clicked his tongue in disgust. “College was wasted on you. I would’ve known what to do with an opportunity like that.”

Flunk out? I bit my tongue and refused to point out the obvious—if Fes couldn’t make it through more than a year of community college, he probably wouldn’t have lasted a semester at a university.

He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “I should’ve left, seen some of the world before it fell apart. Instead all I’ve done is work for my dad. Now I’ll never get out of here.”

“I know the feeling.” Was it worse never to have experienced life outside Durbinville like Fes, or to have escaped only to end up back in the box? “I had a summer internship planned for this year, but my mom got sick with the A7 virus so I came home for the break.”

Stuck here and feeling guilty as hell for resenting it. But what if I’d been apart from my parents when disaster hit? I never would’ve seen them again. Besides, being anywhere near L.A. when it was overrun would’ve been horrific. I should be grateful for the way things turned out, grateful for the relative safety of a quiet place like Durbinville, but instead I felt restless and trapped.

“Fuck, we’re a pair of whiny bitches,” Fes said. “What we need’s a swim in the reservoir to clear our heads, then go back to town and have a few drinks. We earned ’em today.”

“Sounds good. Minus the swimming. It’s pretty cold.” The thought of plunging into the dark, seemingly bottomless water of the reservoir was not appealing to me at the best of times. With images in mind of rotting arms grabbing at my kicking legs, there was no way I’d go in.

Fes laughed and punched my shoulder. “It’s good for you. Like those Norwegian dudes who chop holes in the ice. Purifies the system.”

I smiled. Fes could be pretty funny sometimes, but there was still now way he’d get me into the water.

A flash of light in the distance caught my attention. I squinted and shielded my gaze from the sunlight. “You see that?”

“What?”

I pointed toward the road intersecting Reservoir Road on the far side of the rectangular body of water. Light glinted off metal—moving vehicles—a group of motorcycles.

Fes slowed the truck. “Shit. Looks like trouble.”

“Maybe you should turn around.” My heart beat faster as the cycles slowed at the crossroads and turned in our direction, swooping as gracefully as a flock of birds. Maybe the people were friendly, but they were strangers and anything new and different could be very dangerous these days.

Fes did a U-turn, spraying dirt and gravel from beneath the tires as they dug into the shoulder. He gunned the motor, heading back toward town. I looked out the rear window and counted over a dozen cycles. The approaching horde appeared ominous looming behind us, but I didn’t know if we should try to outrun them. We could probably make it to the gates first, but was scurrying back to our mouse hole the best way to deal with these strangers? There was no reason they should hurt us. We didn’t have anything of value except for the truck and a couple of weapons.

As the cycles drew closer, Fes pressed his foot on the accelerator. The truck rattled alarmingly as it bumped over desiccated remains on the rough road.

“Wait. Maybe we should stop and talk to them,” I said.

“Are you crazy? Take a chance on getting carjacked or killed?”

The truck hit an especially deep pothole and my teeth clicked together. I cursed and grabbed the door handle. “Slow down before you get us killed.”

I glanced back. Behind us, the leader raised an arm and gestured us to pull over. He flashed a peace sign, which didn’t signify a lot but made me feel a little better. As I took in the motley collection of bulky Goldwings mingled with sexier Harleys, I became convinced the caravan didn’t pose a threat.

“Seriously, Fes, pull over. Let’s see what they want.”

“Fuck that.” He swerved around an abandoned car.

One of the cycles zipped past the other side of the Fiesta and raced alongside us. I looked out the window at the rider. Long brown hair whipped from beneath a helmet as ruby-red and sparkly as Oz slippers. The visor hid the rider’s eyes but her lips as she mouthed Pull over were purely feminine. Not that a woman wasn’t just as capable of pulling a gun on us, but my interest was piqued.

Fes swore but eased his foot off the gas. “We’re going to regret this,” he warned while bringing the truck to a stop.

As the motorcycles surrounded us, engines purring like big jungle cats, exhaust fumes clouding the air, I tended to agree with him, but I climbed out of the truck.

The woman on the Harley pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair like an actress in a shampoo commercial. My heart, already racing in overdrive, did a barrel roll when she looked at me with eyes the color of ice chips and stuck out her hand. She wore fingerless leather gloves so her palm was covered, but her fingers wrapped around my hand, skin to skin, and sent a little charge through me.

“Hi. My name’s Ashleigh.” A smoker’s huskiness clouded her voice.

I froze for a moment, forgetting I needed to respond. “Brian. Pasman.”

“I’m Mike Fessenden. Can we help you folks?” For a moment he sounded just like his dad used to, a jolly salesman welcoming potential buyers to his car lot.

The man who’d appeared to be the leader of the group swung a leg over his chunky Honda and walked over to us, helmet hanging by a strap from one big brown hand. He held out the other. “Daylon Brice. Where you boys from?”

“Durbinville.” Fes nodded at the road before us. “Not too far from here. Look, we’d like to help you but the town’s rationing as it is.”

“Didn’t ask for a handout. But we wouldn’t mind a hot meal and bed for the night then we’ll move on.”

“Where are you headed?” I divided my attention between Brice and the girl I could hardly stop staring at. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful, but had a magnetism that made her impossible to ignore.

“South. We heard things are coming together in Dallas and we don’t want to winter up north.”

I was worried about winter too. Could we stick it out in Durbinville if the government never came to our rescue? Scenarios in which we got snowed in and ended up no better than zombies, cannibalizing our dead, had occasionally flitted through my mind.

With the bikers’ faces unhidden by visors or sunglasses, they ranged widely in age and appearance. None of them excerpt maybe Brice appeared remotely dangerous. I couldn’t imagine them riding in and taking over our town.

“We’ll take you to Durbinville but the town council will decide whether you can stay. I imagine they’ll let you inside the wall for a night or two.”

I glanced at Ashleigh. If any of them needed a host, there was plenty of room in my house. I wouldn’t mind sharing.

* * * * *

Chapter Two

The tall, gangly guy with the dark hair was the leader but didn’t seem to know it. His straw-haired, baby-faced friend looked to him to decide what to do with us, and he agreed to take us home to meet the folks. It was interesting how the big dude, Mike, seemed to think he was in charge, but it was the other one, Brian, who really called the shots when it came down to it. Like my mom used to say “the neck turns the head where it wants.” I could appreciate that since I’d kinda lived my life as the neck.

As the townie boys got back in their car, I turned to Daylon. “Whaddya think? Is it cool?”

He shot me a look. “They’re not gonna kill us and take our stuff or go Deliverance on our asses, if that’s what you mean. Yeah, Ashleigh, I think it’s cool.”

I bit back my annoyance. Daylon was a sarcastic son of a bitch most of the time. I was used to it. But I shared an eye roll with Maureen who straddled a cycle behind her boyfriend, Jake. The alpha male thing got old after a while and I’d spent way too many years putting up with that mocking tone from one guy or another. I was so over being treated like a dumb bimbo.

We revved our motorcycles and followed the locals. Soon some buildings popped up on the horizon. I wasn’t a big fan of these prairie states, but at least a person could see what was coming in such wide open spaces. In the city I never knew what would jump out at me from dark shadows…and that was before the zombies.

A fence had been erected around the town—or part of it anyway. There were abandoned houses outside the fence and rubble where others had been torn down. A section of chain link fence gave way to a stretch of wooden stockade. There was also cobbled-together plywood and planks, probably the remnants of one of the razed houses. The fence was topped by a line of barbed wire. The road went through a gate guarded by people in a tower erected on one side. A man trained a shotgun on us as we approached, which didn’t give me a comforting feeling.

We rolled to a stop in front of the gate and the town boys got out of their truck to talk to one of the guards. I braced my boot heels on the pavement and balanced the heavy cycle, enjoying the weight of the machine between my legs. Not too long ago I’d been like Maureen, riding in the bitch seat. Now I rode my own Harley and it felt good.

Jake and Maureen pulled up beside me. “Damn, these people are serious about safety,” Jake said.

Maureen leaned against his back. “They’re not going to let us in. Why would they? But maybe there’s an empty house near here where we can camp and scavenge supplies.”

The prospect was better than tents but not as good as a town that probably had generators. The idea of electricity, running water and refrigeration was heavenly and I was desperate to get inside and join the saints.

After talking to a guard, Brian walked over to us and spoke to Daylon. “Janice Myers and the council will meet with you before making a decision about whether the group can stay. If you want to ride in the truck, I’ll take you to them.”

Daylon didn’t argue but looked pissed as he got off his cycle and hung his helmet. I could imagine how well he’d deal with some small town dictator grilling him. Diplomacy wasn’t our valiant leader’s strong suit.

“I’ll go with you.” I quickly dismounted and headed for the truck before anyone could tell me no. Charm was my strong suit. Too bad the council leader wasn’t a man. That would give me an even better hand to play.

Brian got behind the wheel. I slid to the middle and Daylon rode shotgun. Mike Fessenden looked pissed at being relegated to riding in the truck bed along with one of the guards. A couple of people rolled open the gate—a slab of corrugated metal on wheels, and we drove into Durbinville.

The streets, storefronts and houses looked like other Midwestern towns I’d seen, tidy and a little smug. The grass in most of the yards was mowed which surprised me. Who’d waste time, energy and resources on lawn maintenance under the circumstances?

I glanced at Brian’s profile as he watched the road ahead of him. He looked like a serious type, although it was hard to say since everybody was pretty grim these days. But a crease between his brows suggested he’d already frowned his way through enough years to leave a mark and he wasn’t that old.

“How’d it happen here?” I asked the number one question of strangers meeting on the road. These days we were defined by that period of transition between the old life and the new. As different as the survivors’ stories were, they all contained their share of running and gore and death.

Brian glanced at me before returning his attention to the road. I noted a flicker of interest which might prove useful so I moved my leg until our thighs bumped together.

“We heard about the attacks on TV first and, after the networks went off air, on the radio. It seemed unreal. Nothing was happening here so we thought we might be safe.” Brian paused and his jaw tightened. “But some people who’d gone to the hospital in Topeka and received the A7 treatment relapsed and died. Then they rose. There were attacks. More people got infected. Things spun out of control fast. After exterminating the zombies, we built the fence around some of the town.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Now we live in an official zombie-free zone.”

“Somebody’s Aunt Edna came back from the hospital infected. Doesn’t take much to get an epidemic started,” Daylon said.

Brian remained quiet and a glance at his face told me he’d lost someone close to him Probably more than one. Probably family.

He changed the subject. “Have you been vaccinated? We heard they’re manufacturing as fast as they can but there’s still a shortage.”

“A pharmaceutical company’s what started this thing in the first place with their fucking ‘cure’ for the A7 virus.” Daylon snorted and stared out his window. “I’m not going to be a guinea pig for some new drug that’s supposed to halt the blood mutation. I don’t trust any of it.”

I understood. After living through the collapse of the world, it was hard to have faith in any organization claiming to know the answers, but I’d still take the vaccine if I could. I didn’t want to take a chance I’d somehow been infected even though I’d never been bitten. If the new vaccine ensured I wouldn’t become a zombie when I died, I was all over that.

Brian stopped the truck in front of a county administration building, as square and dull as the meetings that likely took place inside it. Daylon and I got out of the vehicle.

“Be polite,” I whispered to him before the townies joined us. “Show some respect and kiss ass if you have to.”

He glared at me, his dark eyes snapping. “I know how to handle myself.”

Brian, Mike and the gate guard marched us into a wide foyer. Several doors opened off the central area. We climbed a staircase to find a series of offices on the second floor. I drew a breath before they ushered us into the council’s meeting room. I felt like I was about to meet the great Oz and have my wish granted—although where I’d picture if I clicked my heels and asked to go home was beyond me.

In the meeting room, there were a few windows, some framed nature prints on the walls and a shelf of books. Two women and two men sat at one end of a conference table. A red-headed woman was fixing a cup of coffee on a little table in the corner. The lady at the head of the table rose to greet us. She had graying hair and a serene expression but calculating eyes.

“Please, sit down.” She gestured to the other chairs at the table.

Brian surprised me by pulling out my seat. An old fashioned gentleman. Who knew they still existed? I smiled at him as I sat. He looked embarrassed and turned to face the council members.

“Fes and I checked on the Wilkins farm. Everybody’s okay and they plan to start harvesting. We took down two targets at the dump. One was Mary Jackson. The other was a stranger.”

“That’s six out-of-towners in the past week.” The red-haired woman set her coffee mug on the table and sat. “Where are they coming from? Is this a new wave?”

The leader quelled her with a look then focused on us. “I’m Janice Myers, the interim town council president. I understand you wish sanctuary for the night. I’m sure you’ll understand if we’re reluctant to allow strangers into our town.”

“A few people in our group are older and there’s a child. We’ve been on the road for days and my people are worn out. They need a solid night’s rest then we’ll be on our way.” Daylon could be diplomatic after all. He presented his case with no trace of his usual disdain, but I could feel the tension simmering under the surface. He wasn’t a man who liked appeasing petty dictators and as pleasant as this Myers woman appeared to be, I got the vibe that she ran things in this town with an iron fist.

I smiled and leaned over the table to offer my hand. “My name’s Ashleigh. This is Daylon. We promise not to be any trouble. No wild parties, I swear. We’ll keep the music turned down and lights out by ten.”

Myers looked at me for a moment before taking my hand. She gave a firm politician’s shake before letting go, but her small smile never reached her eyes. My teasing didn’t put her at ease. She didn’t like me. As a matter of fact, the woman reminded me of a vice principal who used to ride me about wasting my potential before she finally expelled me from school. Guess I had my own problems with authority just like Daylon.

Myers resumed her seat at the head of the table as if it was a throne and she, a queen. “How are things out there on the road? Have you seen signs of improvement? We hear about vaccinations, the army exterminating zombies and government aide becoming available, but it’s hard to tell what’s true and what isn’t.”

Daylon leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out before him to let our hosts know he was at ease and not in a hurry to go anywhere. “From what we’ve seen, it’s mostly local people getting organized. The government doesn’t have as much control as reports make it sound. The army gains ground then loses it again. This thing isn’t over yet and winter’s gonna be tough, which is why we’re heading south.”

The red-haired woman frowned. “I don’t know why they can’t mow them down with machine guns or drop a few bombs. The undead aren’t fast or unkillable. These boys do it.” She gestured to Brian and Mike who stood near the door since there weren’t enough chairs at the table.

“Sheer numbers make them hard to exterminate,” a white-haired man who looked like Santa Claus said. “Military bases got overrun. The armed forces were the first to receive the faulty A7 vaccine. Half the damn zombies out there probably come from army bases.”

“But there are some remnants of the military supposedly regrouping,” Red Hair insisted. “The point is they need to take drastic action now, even if civilians get in the way.”

“Nancy, you’d be the one complaining about civil rights if they started bombing populated areas. You can’t have it both ways,” Santa said.

“We’ve had this discussion too many times.” Myers crisply interrupted. “We have no control over what the military is doing or should have done. What we can control is what goes on in Durbinville.”

She turned her attention to Daylon and me. “I’m sorry to refuse your request, but we can’t take a chance on letting strangers into town. We don’t know if any of you is infected.”

Daylon leaned forward, looming closer to Myers. He was a big man and his dark eyes were intimidating when he focused them on you. I cringed as he turned The Stare on Myers. She wasn’t the type of woman who’d crumble. He’d only piss her off and we wouldn’t get what we wanted.

“There’s nobody sick in our group,” he lied.

The councilwoman eyed him coolly. “Most farmhouses in the area are empty. You might find shelter at one of them.”

“All we want is a night someplace we don’t have to worry about posting guards, where there’s running water and electricity. We’d be happy to do some work for you in payment,” I spoke up.

Brian stepped away from the wall and approached the table. “There empty houses on either side of my parents’ house, and a few of them could stay with me. I’ve got extra rooms. I’ll look after them.”

Myers paused, her lips pursed as she considered. “I suppose if you’re willing to do some work for your bed and board it might be a satisfactory exchange. There are a number of tasks we need accomplished. I won’t lie to you. They’re not pleasant chores. Do any of your people have skills that might be useful? Perhaps a plumber among you?”

The direction she was headed, I imagined she’d have us swabbing out sewer drains or something, but I grinned like crazy. “We’re hard workers.”

“Richard is an electrician,” Daylon added.

The councilwoman nodded as if that decided it. “In that case, I think we have an arrangement.” As an afterthought, she addressed the rest of the council. “That is if all of you agree.”

The other four murmured an agreement, although the redhead, Nancy, appeared doubtful at the prospect of allowing outsiders in town.

“Brian, thank you for hosting them,” Myers continued. “I’ll let the ladies know and they’ll bring over extra food. And I’ll stop by later with your work assignment. I need to talk to a few people first.”

As I rose to leave, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d be enjoying a warm bed and maybe even a bath tonight. Life didn’t get sweeter than that. I flashed a smile at Brian. His offer had weighed in our favor and I was deeply grateful. In fact, I wouldn’t mind showing him how grateful a bit later that evening since I was pretty sure I’d be spending the night at his place. I liked his quiet, steady manner and the shy smile that occasionally flitted across his wide mouth. He was kinda cute in a nerdy way and I was kinda horny—a good combination.

* * * * *

Chapter Three

The motorcycles roared into town drawing people to the streets as if it was a parade. We’d had a few stray motorists pass through town in the months since disaster hit, but nothing to compare with this. After Janice greeted the strangers at the front gate, giving her blessing, the cyclists followed me and Fes in the truck to my street. Two groups of six people each took over the adjacent houses and four roomed with me.

I’d gotten used to solitude in the weeks after my parents died so it was strange to have extra people there. While some families had moved into the protection of the stockade, others had left town or been killed so there were still some unoccupied houses. We were supposed to share living space so as not to waste resources, but I’d ignored the council’s recommendation and continued to live alone. Now my home was invaded by strangers.

Daylon strode inside as if it was his house and took over the living room, tossing his duffel near the couch. “I’ll sleep downstairs in case one of my people needs me. The others can take the bedrooms.” The proprietary way he said “my people” reminded me of Janice. Those two had a lot in common.

I offered the couple, Jake and Maureen, my parents’ room which I could hardly stand to enter. Although I’d cleaned up after the attack, it still smelled like blood to me. I usually kept the door closed and pretended the room didn’t exist.

I showed Ashleigh to the guest room which my mom had done up like some bed and breakfast with lots of lace and ruffles. She dropped her bag on the bed then walked across the hall and looked into my room. “This where you sleep?”

“Uh, yeah.” I looked at the dirty clothes on the floor and the unmade bed and wished I’d opened the window to air the room. It kind of smelled like a zoo cage.

Ashleigh walked over to the posters on the wall, unchanged in the years since I’d left home. She regarded the images so long it made me squirm. “Pretty.”

“Computer-generated fractals,” I explained succinctly and forced myself not to babble about the geometric principle fractals represented. Math nerd was not a quality I wanted to display right now. And I wished I’d done something, anything, to change this bedroom from a shrine to my youth but redecorating had hardly been a top priority over the past few months.

“I like them. You could get lost looking into them. Remember those Magic Eye posters? I used to love those things.”

She surprised a smile out of me. I could picture her as a girl searching for unicorns in a field of flowers. Then she turned toward me and the image of a little girl was blown by the seductive look in her heavy-lidded eyes. I figured it was my imagination that her charisma was directed at me. Ashleigh was simply the kind of woman who oozed sex appeal without trying, maybe without even being aware of it.

I went to the bookcase where I found an old Magic Eye book sandwiched in between a Neil Gaiman and a stack of mangas.

Ashleigh took it from me with a smile and flipped through the pages. “Fun. I haven’t seen one of these in years. So, is this the house you grew up in? My mom and I never lived anyplace for more than a couple of years at most. When we moved to new towns, I used to make up stuff about myself to sound cooler than I was.”

I considered the luxury of reinventing yourself in a new place. “Living in this town there wasn’t any escaping your past. If a kid happened to eat too many strawberry gummy dinosaurs and puke red in second grade in front of the whole class, nobody ever forgot it.”

She sucked in a breath between her teeth. “Ouch. You were that kid.”

“I was that kid. Growing up in Durbinville pretty much sucked, but at least knew I wasn’t going to be here forever. After high school, I went to Caltech. I would’ve graduated this year.”

“What field?” Ashleigh sat on the edge of my bed then leaned back on her elbows. Pretty girl reclining on my unmade bed—a hard image to ignore.

“Physics with a focus on group theory and probabilities.”

Her pale blue eyes caught the light and sparkled. “And what exactly does that mean?”

I sat down on the bed beside her to show she didn’t make me uncomfortable. “That I can understand esoteric equations and calculate probabilities of any given situation on paper. Useful knowledge in the old world but not very practical now. I’d have been better off learning plumbing.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. They’ll need brainiacs like you to put the world back together again.”

“What about you?” I asked. “What were you doing before.” No need to define “before”.

She shrugged. “A lot of different jobs. I’ve been a waitress, a maid, a bartender, a dancer, a hostess—basically any job you can think of in the service industry.”

I nodded, then my mind did an abrupt U-turn back to “dancer” as I realized she probably didn’t mean ballet. Images of G-strings and tassels—or no tassels—flashed through my mind. I concentrated on looking like I wasn’t thinking about what I was thinking about. “How’d you meet the people you’re traveling with?”

“Hooked up with a guy named Denny who’s dead now. We met Daylon in Vegas and picked up some of the others along the way. Nobody in the group knew each other before. It’s funny how fast you can get really close on the road.” She stood up. “Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Sure, just please keep it short. There’re towels in the hall closet.”

I caught a whiff of gasoline and perfume and girl as Ashleigh walked past. She paused at the door. “By the way, thanks for speaking up for us today. We really appreciate you letting us stay here. Even Daylon. He acts tough but he’s a good guy. He’s led us this far.”

“No problem. Glad to have you.”

“Well, that Myers woman wasn’t going to let us stay, so thanks for vouching for us.” Ashleigh leaned against the doorjamb and gazed at me. “If you need anything—like help with cooking dinner or something—let me know.”

She smiled and disappeared from sight, leaving me to wonder if her stress on the word “anything” had been my imagination or a different kind of offer.

I spent the rest of the evening getting our out-of-town guests the supplies they needed. Fes stopped by with extra blankets, pillows and sleeping bags, which Daylon said he’d distribute at the other two houses. Jake went along with him, carrying a hamper of food some of the women in town had provided. The ladies of Durbinville were always quick with a casserole or cookies in any crisis and you had to appreciate that engrained hospitality.

Meanwhile, in my kitchen Ashleigh and Maureen were making soup on the small propane stove I used now that there wasn’t gas for the full-sized one. Fes lounged against the counter and flirted with them. I chopped vegetables and listened.

“It’s a pleasure to see new faces, especially such pretty ones. Where are you ladies from?” Fes asked.

“I was working in a club in Las Vegas when the zombies hit,” Ashleigh said. “We met Jake and Maureen on the road in a town called Echo Springs.”

“But we started out in Red Lodge, Montana,” Maureen continued. “When the zombies attacked, Jake and I drove up into the mountains. We thought maybe we’d be safe in the wilderness until things got back to normal. So we camped in Yellowstone for a while, but when the weather started to get colder we realized we couldn’t keep hiding out there. The day we saw zombies attacking a buffalo we knew it was time to move on.”

“A buffalo? Seriously?” Fes said. “Damn. I’ve seen them eat small wild game or dogs but trying to bring down a buffalo. That’s desperate.”

“They weren’t very successful.” Maureen laughed as he put a lid on the pot of soup and turned down the gas. “The thing tossed its head and sent ’em flying. Then it charged and trampled some of them underfoot.”

The mental image brought back too many memories for me to join in the laughter. No matter how many zombies I killed, I could never forget they’d been real people once. Maybe it was easier when the undead were strangers, but most of the ones I’d faced were folks I knew.

“It seems pretty quiet around here. Not too many undead.” Ashleigh took a hunk of cheese from the mini-fridge and began to cut it.

“No,” Fes agreed. “After we fought off the attack and built the wall, it’s been mostly clean-up. We come across a couple here or there, mostly locals, although lately we’re seeing more strangers.”

“It must be hard to kill people you know,” Ashleigh echoed what I’d been thinking. “I don’t know if I could do it.”

“If they’re coming at you, you can take down just about anyone.” I sliced through a stalk of celery that was a little limp and lifeless but still edible.

Fes pushed off the counter and finally began making himself useful, taking beers from the cooler he’d brought and popping the tops. “But we’re not killing anybody because they’re already dead. That’s what you have to remember to keep yourself sane.” He handed the bottles of barely cool beer to the two women. “Have either of you had the vaccine?”

Ashleigh shook her head. “We haven’t been near any distribution centers. Daylon’s convinced it’s not safe, but I think we would’ve found out by now if the vaccine is flawed like the A7 cure was.”

“’Flawed’ that’s a kind word for it.” I didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but the near destruction of the world because of rushed testing pissed me off a little bit. Frustration led to a case of the “if onlys” which I usually tried to avoid. If only the scientists had waited a little longer, checked the results a little more carefully, they would have known the blood of subjects treated with the anti-A7 drug had mutated. If only a better system of checks and balances had been in place. If only the government hadn’t gotten involved and pushed the drug through, making it available at hospitals nationwide. If only those who initially recovered from A7 hadn’t relapsed, died and turned into flesh-eating monsters who in turn infected others. If only no one from Durbinville had returned home from the hospital with their blood already changing. If only I hadn’t had to cut off the heads of my undead mother before she ate me.

“If onlys” could drive you crazy if you let them.

Daylon and Jake returned from the neighboring houses and soon there was a party going on my kitchen with feasting on lukewarm beer and slightly stale chips. Fes entertained everyone with stories of his football glory days. Then the talk turned to great games in NFL history which pretty much excluded me from the conversation because I’d never followed sports even when there were sports to follow.

Carrying a handful of silverware, Ashleigh nudged my arm. “Come on.”

I picked up as many glasses as I could carry and followed her to the dining room. I hadn’t eaten at the table since before my parents died. I usually sat in an armchair in the living room with the radio receiving either static or a weak signal from Topeka. If it was a static night or the news update was too depressing, I’d listen to my music instead, close my eyes and float away.

Ashleigh dusted off the table and laid out seven placemats, the hand woven ones my mom had picked up on some vacation. A clear memory of her describing that vacation while setting out the mats sent a pang of grief through me that made me wince.

“Not much of a football guy?” Ashleigh said as she placed the cutlery. “Me either. I was on cheer team one year in high school, but I never cared much about the game. What’s your thing?”

“Killing zombies,” I answered dryly. “Literally now, of course, but I used to do a lot of gaming and killed virtual demons and monsters. What about you?”

She paused. “Music. Used to think I’d be a singer but that never really panned out. I went out to Vegas with a band, but the gig a friend of a friend promised us fell through and then the band fell apart. So there I was. I waitressed and sang with a couple of other bands that went nowhere.” She shrugged. “Dancing pays a helluva lot better than serving so I did that for a while. But with all the ex-showgirls in Vegas, competition to dance, even as a stripper, is fierce. The club where I worked was pretty crappy.”

I followed her around the table, putting glasses at the place settings and trying to think of how to respond. You used to be a stripper. Sorry, that sucks, or, Cool. Which was appropriate?

Ashleigh paused and I nearly ran into her. “It sounds awful, but in some ways this disaster is the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It changed me, forced me to be tougher and more capable than I thought I could be. You know?” She looked up at me.

I nodded. “I get it.” And I wasn’t just being polite. I knew exactly what she meant. While I hated what had happened and the things I’d had to do, it was good to learn I possessed reserves of strength I never realized I had. Character-building I guess you’d call it.

Our moment of connection was broken as the rest of the group came from the kitchen, bearing dinner and filling up the room with their chatter. Daylon held court and the rest of us fell in around him. Although it was my house, I didn’t mind giving up the seat at the head of the table since I was right beside Ashleigh and she kept bumping her leg against mine. Halfway through the meal, she rubbed my ankle with her foot. Warmth crawled all the way up my leg and settled in my groin as I realized the leg-bumping hadn’t been an accident. She couldn’t be more obvious in signaling her interest.

What was I supposed to do with this information? Kiss her the first opportunity we had to be alone? Casually invite her into my bed later that evening? I didn’t even know the girl. After the desert wasteland of my teen years, I’d had a few sexual experiences at college, but I could hardly be considered a player. Nervous, tense and excited, I was thinking of something besides zombies and death for the first time in weeks. The future of the world might still be bleak, but my life had definitely taken on more color, if only for now.

“So are you people going to ride out the winter here?” Daylon asked over dessert, a paint can-sized container of peaches scavenged from one of the local restaurants. “Do you have enough supplies to make it to spring?”

Fes glanced at me. It wasn’t wise to let strangers know about our meager stockpile. “The town will be all right for a while,” he answered. “Besides, we expect government aide to come through soon, probably by next month.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Daylon took a pack from his pocket and tapped out a cigarette.

“You should think about heading south,” Maureen added.

I’d constantly considered the prospect of hitting the road versus staying in Durbinville. On the road there’d be more zombies, maybe armed gangs, and an uncertain future. I wasn’t quite ready to commit to leaving the known and the safe just yet no matter how restless I felt.

Daylon pushed back his chair and rose. “I’m gonna check on the others.” He strode from the room trailing smoke.

The rest of us lingered over instant coffee and a discussion of what the future might be like. There wasn’t much small talk these days. Water cooler chats about sports or movies were a thing of the past.

Soon after, I made my own excuse to leave the table. I decided to follow Daylon to the neighboring houses to see if everyone had what they needed. Plus, I needed some time alone. There were too many people in my house, too much talking, too much distracting leg-rubbing underneath the table. I just wanted to breathe for a few minutes.

With the sun down, it was cold outside. As I crunched through fallen leaves under the maple tree in my yard, I looked around the neighborhood where I’d grown up and thought of the people who used to live there; the Grovers with all their kids, the Baileys whose dog used to run everywhere and drive crotchety Mr. Henderson crazy. Almost everyone was dead now. Weak light spilled from only a few windows, barely illuminating the deserted street.

The hair on my neck rose as I scanned the shadows for danger, but the comforting weight of the scabbard holding my long knife bumped against my thigh. These days I didn’t go anywhere unarmed. The town may have been zombie-free for months, but I didn’t think I’d ever fully relax again.

I walked to the Henderson house first, up the pale stone pathway the old man had always kept impeccably weed-free, now stained a deep brown from dried blood. No one answered my knock on the door so I pushed it open and went inside.

A murmur of voices drew me down the hallway, past the formal dining room where remnants of a meal littered the table, to the living room, a place as stiff and formal as Mr. Henderson had been. I hesitated in the doorway. The tense postures of the people grouped around the sofa warned me there was something wrong. They weren’t aware of my presence and my instinct was to melt back out of sight before I was caught spying. Spying? Why was that the word that came to mind?

Daylon’s leather-clad back blocked my view. “All we can do is wait and see. These folks don’t have a doctorWe’ll have to take care of the boy ourselves.”

“He needs medical help,” a woman’s voice protested. “Maybe there’s someone with a little experience who can do something—or at least tell if it’s A7 or not.”

Daylon shifted aside and I saw the woman sitting by the couch. She saw me at the same time and her eyes widened. Then everyone turned and looked at me.

“I came to see if you need anything.” I decided not to pretend I was ignorant that something was going on. I approached the couch and glimpsed the top of someone’s head on a pillow. “You have an sick person in your group.”

“Didn’t think your council lady would let us in if she knew so we kept it to ourselves.”

“You’re right. She wouldn’t have.” I met his stare, letting him know I could be just as hard-assed as he. “And she’s right. You got a sick person you should be in quarantine or outside the wall.”

“With no running water, electricity or food,” the woman said. “He’s just a little boy. He deserves to lie in a clean, warm place. All we know is that he has a fever. It could be some normal virus, meningitis or God knows what.”

A thin, middle-aged woman put her hand on the other’s shoulder. “Lainie, the boy was sick when we picked him up. And he’s been bitten. There’s every chance he’s infected. These people have a right to be afraid. We all should be.”

“Quiet. If the worst happens, I’ll handle it. I’ll do what needs to be done.” Daylon turned his attention to me. “What are you gonna do? Go tattle to your council?”

I glanced around at the other people, none of whose names I could recall. There were a couple of big guys who could probably stop me from leaving if they wanted to, although they didn’t appear ready to lunge and grab me. The situation was serious. We’d all had firsthand experience of how quickly things could spin out of control. Group safety was more important than the welfare of a single person.

Then I looked down at the boy who was about eleven or twelve. His dark brown hair was plastered to his pale forehead and he was breathing through his mouth, shallow breaths that barely lifted his chest. He looked pretty much like my mom had just before she’d died—the first time.

“You don’t want to hesitate when the time comes,” I said.

“I won’t,” Daylon replied.

I nodded then walked from the room.

Daylon followed me out of the house. “Don’t lose any sleep. I’ll take care of this. I swear.” He held out his hand.

I stared at it, not feeling much like shaking and sealing our unspoken agreement. Just then the front door of my house opened and Ashleigh hurried down the steps and across the lawn toward us.

“There you are. I didn’t know you’d gone out.”

“Were you supposed to keep me distracted?” I asked, seeing her flirting in a whole new light.

“He knows,” Daylon said. “He’s seen the kid.”

“The kid has a name. Jeff.” She gazed into my eyes. “You’re not going to say anything to anyone, are you?”

Before I could answer, the sputter of an engine interrupted our conversation and two vehicles turned onto the road, headlights playing over the houses. The motor-scooters pulled up at the curb looking like clown rides beside the hulking motorcycles. Janice Myers and her yes-man, Barry Jensen dismounted.

Janice smiled as she walked toward us. “How’s everything? Are you settling in okay? All your people doing well?”

Ashleigh looked at me and I paused, considering what to say next.

* * * * *

Chapter Four

I held my breath and watched Brian, waiting for him to rat us out to that annoying Myers woman with her fake smile and her shellacked hair. Would she drive us out tonight? They had armed guards policing the town, but our people were armed too. It might come to a stand-off. Daylon wouldn’t want to back down and since we were already squatting, it would be hard to get us to leave. My mom and I had occupied more than one apartment after being supposedly evicted.

I cringed at the threat of confrontation. We’d all been through enough horror without indulging in this kind of drama and power games. God, I just wanted to crawl into a warm soft bed and go to sleep. Was that really so much to ask for?

The moment passed. Brian said nothing and Daylon walked toward Myers with an equally fake smile on his face. He threw off his gang-leader persona and reverted to the high school history teacher he used to be—something he could’ve tried earlier when we were attempting to make a good impression on the council. “We appreciate your hospitality. Everyone’s enjoying the amenities. You don’t know how precious running water and electricity are until you’ve lived without them.”

“I’m glad you’re comfortable. How about that older couple? Sytek I believe their name was. Traveling must have taken a lot out of them. I’m sure they’d appreciate resting up for several days.”

Daylon gestured toward the house on the other side of Brian’s. “The Syteks are staying there if you want to meet them.”

“That’s all right. It’s been a long day and I’m anxious to get home. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’ve been taken care of. You mentioned earlier you’d be willing to help out,” Myers continued. “A local farmer could use help with his harvest. George Wilkins has made a deal with a rancher a few counties over. He’ll trade feed corn for the man’s cattle and the rancher will supply beef for the town this winter. But acres of corn must be picked by hand since we can’t afford gas to power the harvester.”

Daylon nodded. “No problem.”

“You’re welcome to stay in Durbinville as long as the harvest takes.”

“We’ll stay as long as we can, but if the weather changes we’re heading south.”

“Fair enough.” Myers extended her hand and the two leaders shook on the deal without bothering to consult with the little people who followed them.

We all watched until Myers and Santa had ridden away, then Daylon spoke to Brian. “Thanks for holding your peace.”

Brian stared back at him. “You’ve put the entire town in danger by bringing that boy here. I suggest you stay right by his side tonight because it doesn’t look like he’s going to make it till morning. I have an axe you can borrow.”

“I’ve got a weapon. I’m good.”

Brian dipped his head. “All right then.” He headed back toward his house.

I trotted to keep up with his long-legged stride. “I’m sorry about lying. You can understand why we did it.”

“I do and you’re right, Janice wouldn’t have let you stay if she’d known.” He paused on the doorstep. “I just wish you hadn’t lied to me after I vouched for you. You could’ve told me the truth.”

“But we don’t know you. We didn’t know what you might do.” I rested my hand on his arm, trying to recapture the earlier connection between us.

Brian looked at my hand then pulled away to reach for the doorknob. “You don’t have to be my babysitter anymore and I don’t expect any kind of ‘payment’ for letting you stay here so you can stop the games.”

He strode inside. I trailed after him, feeling as tacky and cheap as a Dollar Store Barbie knock-off. He’d read me right. I was back to my old games of manipulating a guy for my benefit. Recently I’d tried to stop doing that and stand on my own, but old habits die hard. Like mother, like daughter.

I followed Brian upstairs. Freckle-faced Fes had gone home and Jake and Maureen were already in their room. Brian closed his bedroom door without another glance at me.

I entered my little slice of Americana, stripped to my underwear and crawled underneath the wedding ring quilt. But as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep thinking of Jeff dying next door and what poor Daylon might have to do to him afterward. Also, if I was being honest, thinking of Brian across the hall. He seemed to be a genuinely nice guy, the kind of guy I’d never been attracted to or dated. Unfortunately, an edge of danger and roughness in a man had always beckoned me. Yet here I was wishing I could cross the hall and climb into bed with good-guy Brian.

The simple truth was I didn’t want to sleep alone. The night was cold, dark and lonely and the landscape inside me was as bleak as the endless Midwestern plains. I turned on my flashlight, picked up the Magic Eye book from the nightstand and stared at a picture of blue waves until I could see dolphins swimming through them.

Jeff was still alive the next morning. All of us gathered in the house where he lay breathing in, breathing out, holding on to life by sheer willpower. Most of us were convinced he’d be dead soon and that he’d rise and have to be put down. Only Lainie, who’d been mothering the kid since we found him wandering by the side of the road, still clung to the idea that he had some other illness. As if that would be any better with no hospital or doctors to treat him.

Our group’s mood was low. We huddled, talking and snacking on coffeecake some kind soul had sent in our care package yesterday. I spotted Brian passing out cups of instant coffee and made my way over to him, intent on trying to patch thing between us, but before I could say anything Daylon made an announcement.

Darkness shadowed his eyes from his night-long vigil. He looked worn and older than his forty-some years. “We’ve been asked by the town council to work on a nearby farm today. I’ve agreed—work in exchange for the town’s hospitality. Hope nobody has a problem with that. But somebody has to stay with the boy. I volunteer to do that unless any of you is prepared to follow through.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Lainie said. “He might regain consciousness and need me.”

I suspected she also wanted to make sure Daylon didn’t jump the gun. Not that he’d kill Jeff, but he might behead him afterward as a preventative measure. Lainie would rather see the boy buried intact.

No one else volunteered. Who would rather sit a deathwatch than be outdoors on a cloudy October day? There was nothing more to say so we filed outside, leaving Daylon, Lainie and Jeff behind.

“Fes will give some of the group a ride,” Brian announced. “We’ll be working for George Wilkins. His family chose to stay on their land rather than move into town. Now their crop’s ready and they’re harvesting and trading it for beef for the town.”

Fes’s dusty pickup turned the corner and pulled up to the curb. Jake and Maureen, the Syteks, Mary, the other Mary and Tanesha all piled in the truck bed. The rest rode their cycles. I rode in the cab between Fes and Brian and with the hamper of food for lunch clasped in my arms.

“Where’s the big guy, Daylon,” Fes asked.

“He’s sick,” Brian answered.

“Sick?” Alarm bells went off in his voice.

“Just a stomach bug. Maybe food poisoning.”

“Oh.” Fes turned the wheel, heading for the main road. “I heard this morning that two of the patrols took down out-of-towners again yesterday. The Winchells killed one and George and Jim bagged three. With our two that makes six in two days.”

“You don’t usually have that many?” I asked.

Fes shook his head. “After those first weeks, things died down.”

I smiled at his unintentional pun and looked out the windshield at the guard tower by the gate. The guards waved us through with smiles far too chipper for so early in the morning. Then the open road was before us with fields of corn rolling by on either side. Those acres of corn were daunting. The idea of a little over a dozen people making any kind of dent in harvesting it was ridiculous. But there were worse things to do with a day then pick corn. I wouldn’t complain. The labor was worth the soft bed and hot shower I’d enjoyed.

“How’s the farmer going to transport the corn?” I asked.

“Get ahold of a semi and figure out a way to gas it up, I suppose. He only has to drive as far as the next county.”

“This is corn for cows not people, right?” I knew little about anything green and growing.

A small smile tilted Brian’s mouth and I felt a spark of happiness at the break in his somber expression. Maybe I was forgiven. “That’s right. Feed corn is fed to animals or ground into cornmeal or used for a lot of other products. Ethanol for one.”

“In the future I suppose we’ll all be planting gardens and hunting if we want to eat,” I said. That’s a bit too Little House on the Prairie for me.”

“It might not come to that,” Fes replied. “Things could be back to more or less normal by next year at this time.”

I bit my tongue. Denial was clearly Fes’s drug of choice. Who was I to take it away from him. But I exchanged a look with Brian in which we both silently acknowledged that things would never be anything close to the old “normal” again.

We drove about a half mile out of town before pulling up in the yard of a farmhouse that looked like it had stood there since pioneer times. The siding was weathered gray wood and the shingles were a patchwork of colors. There were about a half dozen coops and barns, silos and storage sheds and more rusty vehicles than should be seen anyplace outside of a junkyard. The only thing that looked new and shiny about the whole place was a bright green machine parked near a pole barn. I guessed it was a harvester and that Farmer Wilkins polished the machine daily and maybe even slept with it on occasion.

“How does that thing work?” I asked after we climbed out of the truck.

“The combine blades mow the stalks. The corn gets separated from the cob, goes up the conveyor and comes out that chute into a wagon or truck,” Brian explained.

“God bless technology.” I looked beyond the farmyard to the field that stretched out forever. I wasn’t looking forward to this back-to-our-roots experience.

A chunky, bald man wearing stereotypical overalls and a cap with a feed store logo on it came out of the house. He was followed by a couple of young men who looked pretty much just like him and some women who must be the sons’ wives. The family shook hands with us all around.

“How are you doing? I’m George Wilkins. Thanks for working today. Sorry I can’t pay you—not that money means anything these days, but my wife, Ann will have a good lunch ready at noon.”

One of the women passed out burlap sacks with a strap to hang from one shoulder. “Sewed these myself so I hope they hold. We’ve never harvested by hand before.”

The elder of the two Wilkins boys explained how to pluck the ears of corn efficiently. He told us to fill our bags then empty them into the wagon at the end of the row. I began to think the entire harvest was a pointless exercise. It would take hours and a lot more people to fill the enormous wagon. We were lost, helpless babies without our machines, fuel and electricity.

“I’m running the harvester on the next field over,” Old Man Wilkins informed us. “Tank’s almost full so I’m gonna run it dry and get some acres covered. Myers and her crew can go fuck themselves.”

“No argument here,” Fes said. “We’re not her police force.”

I put the bag’s strap over my head and onto the opposite shoulder so it cut across my chest then pulled on the pair of work gloves I’d been given. Wilkins powered up the harvester while the crew of hand-pickers headed toward the field behind the house. I noticed that there were no townspeople other than Brian and Fes to help out. Fine. We’d slave for food and shelter then be on our way.

Walking into the tall corn stalks was like entering a dry, dead jungle or maybe the set of a horror movie with eerie little children. All that was missing to complete the mood was an evil-eyed scarecrow. A breeze rustled through the leaves making an eerie sound like rattling bones. I tripped over a clod of dirt and grabbed for a stalk to keep my balance. I was surprised by how crispy and brown the leaves were.

“What happened? You have a drought here?” I asked Brian who was walking a couple of rows over.

“Seed corn isn’t harvested until late in fall. You don’t pick it when it’s green like sweet corn.”

I snapped off my first ear of corn the way I’d been shown and stuffed it into my bag. One. I reached and pulled again. Two. Three. We were ants moving a mountain grain by grain. Four.

This was the first hands-on hard labor I’d ever done, except for bussing tables. Trays could get pretty heavy. Dancing around a pole, showing off my tits and shaking my ass couldn’t count as hard labor although it more physically demanding than people thought. Five.

I scanned the rows on either side and couldn’t see anyone. Was I moving too slow? Falling behind? No. Through the leaves I caught a glimpse of Brian not too far ahead.

“Hey,” I called out. “Should’ve brought my mp3 player. What’s on your playlist right now?”

His voice floated back to me. “Preacher’s Kin, Life Fail, and some other bands you’ve probably never heard of.”

“What’s that? Like Christian rock or something?” I guessed.

“No. Alternative.”

I recalled the high of standing under stage lights with Jeremy setting the beat behind me, Ry and Paul sandwiching me between solid bass and whining guitar. There I was, in the middle, screaming till my vocal cords were shredded, whispering seduction or nearly weeping, letting everything inside me flow out.

“The band I used to sing with was called Never a Dull Day,” I told Brian. “We weren’t bad, just not good enough to keep it together and make the right moves. Maybe if we’d had a real agent.”

“Sing something. I’d like to hear you.”

I glanced around. There were other people within earshot. I could hear snatches of conversations floating through the air. I’d never been shy to perform before yet suddenly my cheeks burned at the thought of singing out loud. It had been a long time since I’d sung anyplace besides the shower.

“Okay. Here’s a ballad one of my band mates wrote. Most of our songs wouldn’t sound too good without a band backing the vocals, but this one’s slow and kinda pretty.”

I began to sing Ry’s ode to his girlfriend Shelly. The girl had been a bitch and broken his heart, but at least he’d produced this great song. The melody reminded me of some old-time Appalachian tune. The words were pretty good, nothing too cliché, just raw pain from Ry’s gut.

I searched for the second verse in my mind, found it and spilled it out while continuing to mindlessly pull corn. “And if you ever make a plan, and if you ever see your way clear, and if you ever find your road at last, you know I’ll be… I’ll be someplace else.”

“That’s beautiful,” Brian said when I finished. “You have a really good voice.”

“Thanks.” My face heated more and I was glad he couldn’t see me blush. “What about you? It’s your turn to entertain me.”

“I don’t sing.”

“Then tell me something interesting, a story about yourself as a kid, or explain algorithms or something. It’s either that or we sing Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

“Algorithms, eh? Do you know what they are?”

“Obviously not or I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Basically an algorithm is a problem-solving method, a list of very precise instructions for completing a task. The computation proceeds through successive states resulting in a final ending state.”

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer,” I interrupted.

He laughed, a nice warm sound amidst the cool whisper of leaves. “You asked.”

“Maybe steer away from the math stuff and tell me something about yourself instead.” I picked a little faster to catch up with Brian. It seemed he’d slowed down too, because now I could look through the leaves directly at him. “Tell me more about gummi dinosaur-eating Brian. I bet you loved Jurassic Park as a kid.”

“It was one of my favorite movies and I read everything I could get my hands on about dinosaurs and paleontology. Name me any dinosaur and I could tell you what period it was from, the landscape it lived in and what it ate. The idea of mass extinction freaked me out though. I used to dwell on the idea of meteors or volcanoes causing solar winter. I was kind of morbid, fascinated by earthquakes, tidal waves and tornados.”

“And now you’re living through a disaster. Maybe you were mentally preparing for it even then.”

“I don’t think you can ever be prepared for something like this. You just survive it. Some better than others. It all depends on whether you’re willing to shift paradigms.”

“Huh?” My fingers were going a little numb as I plucked and stuffed the ears into the bag bumping against my hip.

“A paradigm is a concept or pattern. When presented with a new reality, some people are better at rolling with the punches and changing as needed. Others keep waiting for things to return to the pattern they recognize and are comfortable with. They’re stuck.”

“Like your pal Fes and that council lady, both thinking the government’s going to ride into town and fix things. Seems like your whole town is waiting for someone to come rescue them.” I shifted the strap which was starting to dig into my shoulder from the weight of the corn.

“While you and your group are moving toward something. Maybe it’ll be better or maybe not, but you’re accepting the change and being proactive.” We stopped picking and stood looking at each other through bands of tawny leaves.

“I’ve always lived more in my head than in the world,” Brian said. “ Dealing hands-on with zombies forced me to be more…present than I’m used to, but that doesn’t mean I’ve accepted the new paradigm. I guess I’m still waiting along with the others, stuck in place.”

“Huh,” I repeated. “You think a lot. It’s sexy.”

Light sparkled in his brown eyes before he looked away and resumed picking. “Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-eight bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall,” he sang.

I smiled and joined him on the next verse. Soon other voices chimed in from across the field. I trudged toward the wagon to empty my first sack of corn, grunting as I lifted the heavy load and dumped it. But the group singing made my heart lift. This shared moment felt strangely significant as we worked together under a sky full of gathering clouds. Here we were, leftover remnants of humanity still singing, laughing, eating, drinking, fucking, loving and just keeping on. It was really pretty moving.

But by the time a few tired voices reached twenty-three bottles of beer on the wall, with my back aching and my hands sore from stripping corn, the happy feeling was long gone. I was exhausted, ready for a break and it wasn’t near lunch time yet.

An hour later, I stopped picking, let my bag drop to the ground and braced my hands on my hips to crack my back. Then I sat between the rows on the dirt. Let everyone leave me behind. Let them think I was a lazy slacker. I didn’t care. I rubbed my sore neck and gazed at the sky which had gone from partly sunny to lead gray over the course of the morning.

Another breeze rattled the corn and I shivered from chill and from the eerie emptiness of the sound. I didn’t like this wide open country, silent except for the constantly blowing wind. The sky stretched from one horizon to the other with no buildings or trees to interrupt it. I’d been a city girl all my life and I missed traffic noise. There was only one motor running nearby, Farmer Wilkins’s harvester droning along some distance away. I concentrated on that sound for a while and my eyes drifted almost closed.

“Shit.” I jerked from my doze and climbed stiffly to my feet. It was one thing to slack off for a few minutes, another to curl up and snag z’s while everyone else worked. I listened for other voices or people moving through the corn, but heard only the wind and the harvester. I might have been dropped all alone on an alien planet. The stalks were too tall for me to see over and a sense of claustrophobia set in despite the sky overhead.

I snapped one ear of corn after another and thrust them into the bag, stripping the stalks as fast as I could so I could catch up with the others. Suddenly an explosion of sound and movement burst in front of me and my heart slammed into my mouth like a freight elevator rushing to the top of a building. Cawing and flapping wings signaled a few crows roused from their corn feast. But my blood was racing and my heart hammering in my chest.

I stopped picking and walked fast up the row, searching for Brian. There was nothing but whistling wind, the jungle of stalks and me. I imagined I was the last living person on Earth and that I’d be alone forever. Panic galloped through me with every beat of my heart and I reached beneath my coat for my handgun. The Wilkins family hadn’t sighted zombies in weeks, but a few people had been posted to watch the perimeter of the field and all of us were armed. A bullet from a handgun wouldn’t be enough to sever a zombie’s spinal cord but it would slow one down, giving me time to escape. Some of the others in our group carried big knives or hatchets, but I couldn’t imagine slicing through someone’s neck—even a dead person’s.

The heft of the pistol’s grip felt good in my hand, safe, but I was still anxious as I trotted down the row, searching for a glimpse of anyone. “Hey, where is everybody?”

Just then, from the direction of the farmhouse a clanging bell announced the lunch break. At the same moment I saw a flash of movement up ahead. Brian’s brown jacket. Relief poured through me. I’d worked myself to the edge of a panic attack for no reason. Of course other people were right nearby and they’d all be coming this way for the noon break. My stomach rumbled in anticipation of food.

I crossed into the next row and headed toward the brown jacket. “Hey, Brian. Am I glad to see you. I was freaking out a little.”

I pushed through the leaves and stepped into the next row. Then I stopped dead, my throat tightening and choking off my laughter. Not Brian’s jacket. My mind repeated the phrase over and over as I stared at the decomposing face of the man only a few yards away from me. The ripe odor of road kill wafted toward me.

“Fuck!” I raised my weapon and fired. At nearly point blank range you’d think it would be impossible to miss a target, but I managed to. The zombie trotted toward me like a hunting dog following the scent of a rabbit but not in a hurry to catch it yet.

I fired again and again, peppering the monster with bullets, the sound deafening me. The impact of the shots knocked the corpse this way and that, but it kept coming toward me, gathering speed.

“Zombie!” I screamed to warn the others then turned and ran, my feet pounding over the uneven ground, leaves slashing my face as I raced toward the edge of the field.

* * * * *

Chapter Five

The staccato of gunfire followed by Ashleigh yelling, tore me from a repetitive-motion stupor into heart-jolting consciousness. I let the heavy sack of corn drop to the ground and drew my knife from its sheath then ran through the corn toward the sound of Ashleigh’s scream.

I followed the stench of rotting meat and the thud of footsteps to the row down which a zombie was running. Coming up from behind, I glimpsed Ashleigh over his shoulder, farther down the path. The creature was gaining ground and would be on her in a few more seconds.

I ran faster, aware of screaming, shouting and gunfire coming from other spots around the field, but mostly concentrating on the figure ahead of me. The zombie’s coat collar protected its neck. I’d have to pull it down to reach the base of the skull. Since severing the spine was the only way to stop the current animating the corpse, I’d gotten pretty efficient at locating the medulla and ending the connection. I’d never been particularly coordinated or athletic, but I’d soon learned how to fight and to drive a knife into a moving target. When it’s a matter of kill or be killed, the body adapts quickly.

Now I was close enough to tackle the zombie to the ground and deliver the lethal blow. As I gathered my strength to leap, something barreled into me from the side and knocked me off my feet. I hit the dirt hard, pinned under a writhing body with teeth snapping inches from my face. I pulled my right from beneath me and grabbed the thing’s throat. My fingers sank into soft flesh, cool and pliant. Little details caught my attention like debris in a flood. The zombie was female, maybe in her twenties, and was no one I recognized. The lack of decay suggested she was newly turned, but she was emaciated. If it was possible for one zombie to be more ravenous than another, I’d guess she was starving as she fought with all her strength to take a bite out of my face.

I didn’t know if the undead had extraordinary strength or if it was the sheer relentlessness of their will that made them appear so powerful. But the girl trying to eat me was pounds lighter than me and my will to live was stronger than hers to feed. I threw her off and twisted to the side then grabbed for the knife I’d dropped when she tackled me. I held the point upright so when she threw herself at me again, she impaled her throat on the blade. I gave it a savage twist, severing her spine and she convulsed into stillness on top of me.

Blood bathed my hands and face. I blinked to clear my eyes, pushed the corpse off me and loosened the knife embedded in its flesh. Whenever I got doused, I wondered if infection had entered my bloodstream through some scratch. No one really knew how the process worked. Usually a bitten person fell sick, died and reanimated, but it might be possible to live a normal life and have the mutated blood reveal only after death.

I wrenched my knife free and climbed to my feet. Glimpsing Ashleigh’s pursuer through the corn, I ran toward him, dried leaves lashing my face. The zombie disappeared, crossing into another row. Ashleigh must be zigzagging in an attempt to shake her pursuer. I plunged to the left, breaking through the stalks and spotted the zombie just as it leaped onto Ashleigh like a leopard taking down an antelope. She beat at the thing’s head with her empty pistol as the zombie lunged for her throat.

Rage unleashed a surge of adrenaline that hurtled my body across the ground. I was nearly flying by the time I landed on my opponent’s back, grabbed hold of its jacket and hauled it off of Ashleigh.

The zombie pulled free from my grip and twisted to face me. Zombies don’t appear to see well with their milky-white eyes, but their hearing and sense of smell are keen. A heart pumping blood is all they need to guide them to their quarry. The creature charged at me, weaponless except for its hands and teeth. I slashed at its face with my knife and it didn’t recoil when my blade sliced through its rotting cheek.

I swiveled to the side as the zombie lurched past me, then I darted in, grasped its coat collar and struck at the exposed throat. My first cut wasn’t deep enough to sever the spine. The zombie grabbed my arm, gripping with the strength of a pit bull. I winced as my bones ground together. My fingers went numb and I dropped the knife. Shit. This is it. I’d let my opponent gain the upper hand and now I was going to be devoured. I drew a deep breath, maybe my last breath, and all I could smell was death.

Suddenly the grip on my arm released.

“Die, you motherfucker!” Ashleigh screeched as she sawed through the back of the zombie’s neck with my knife. She pulled out her blade and struck again. She was crazed, stabbing the knife into the zombie over and over. I stayed back, afraid she might slash me if I got too close, and watched as she straddled the zombie’s bucking body until it collapsed in a headless heap.

Ashleigh sat on top of the corpse, panting, tears rolling down her cheeks. I couldn’t wait for her to recover. The number one fact of a zombie attack is they never stop coming. There’s no time to take stock or plan your next move. You have to react on instinct and keep moving.

I grabbed Ashleigh’s arm and hauled her to her feet, taking my knife back from her bloody hand. The path between the rows of corn was too narrow to run side by side so I pulled her behind me as I ran. From all around came the sounds of bodies breaking through stalks and people yelling and screaming.

We ran toward the farmyard where the truck waited or we could barricade ourselves inside a building. When we reached the clearing, carnage confronted us. On the porch of the house, several zombies were tearing Mrs. Wilkins apart and chewing on her limbs. Others grabbed people as they came out of the field, plucking them like a bountiful harvest. Several of our people hacked at the undead with knives or axes. A few had made it to their motorcycles and were riding away. The pickup was surrounded by a milling group of a dozen undead. We couldn’t make it through that many.

I pulled Ashleigh back into the cover of the corn. How had things spun out of control so fast? What had happened to the guards? There’d been no warning. And where had this sudden surge of zombies come from? We were miles from anyplace. For one panicked moment, I had no idea what to do. Then the drone of the combine in the next field sparked an idea that broke me from my frozen trance.

Holding Ashleigh’s hand, I ran toward the sound. Soon I could see the cab of the big green machine above the cornstalks moving steadily along. Wilkins must be completely oblivious to what was happening around him, isolated in the soundproofed cab. But as we drew closer I saw that although the combine was still moving, the cab was empty and its door hung open. The blood-smeared windshield and ladder to the cab drew a picture of what had happened to the farmer. Picturing zombies pulling Wilkins from inside didn’t make me trust in the safety of the cab, but the option of running around the field being chased by zombies wasn’t any better.

The area around the machine was zombie-free, but it would be tricky getting on while it was moving. I gave Ashleigh a little push toward the harvester. “Jump on.”

She didn’t hesitate but ran toward the moving machine. She jogged alongside, gauged the speed then leaped onto the side and clambered up the ladder rungs like a gymnast. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was probably a lot more physically fit than me what with the pole dancing.

I trotted beside the combine, which was rolling at a steady clip. Drawing a deep breath, I grabbed for a ladder rung. The metal was slippery with blood and I nearly lost my grip. I grabbed another rung and hung on for a moment before climbing, more slowly than Ashleigh, up to the cab.

There was barely room for two inside. I sat in the operator’s seat and studied the controls. Ashleigh was squished in beside me on the chair, hip to hip, panting for breath. She leaned forward and wiped the blood from the windshield with her sleeve, succeeding mostly in smearing it.

From this height we could see some of the scene playing out in the field—the running people, both living and dead, and the fallen ones, some of which struggled to rise again. I grabbed hold of the wheel and steered the harvester toward the Wilkins’ house.

“What are you gonna do?” Ashleigh braced a hand against the side of the cab as we jolted over the bumpy furrows. I was too busy trying to figure out how to engage the cutter bar to answer. Finally, I located the right control and the combine began to devour the stalks before us. In the side mirror, I glimpsed the chewed-up detritus spew out from beneath the machine and through the rear window, shelled grain landing in the tank.

I focused on a zombie walking between the rows of corn. I was sure the figure was a monster and not a living human because it didn’t seem particularly concerned that one of its arms dangled by a tendon. The creature looked at the machine with a vacant stare and didn’t move out of the way. Maybe it smelled the fresh blood on the machine and took it to be a possible source of food. I didn’t know if a combine could chop up a human body without it jamming the blades, but I was willing to give it a try.

One second the shambling thing was in front of us, as horrifying as a child’s nightmare, the next it was knocked down by the points and the harvester rolled over it. I prayed the cutter bar had severed the zombie’s neck as we rolled over it. Checking the mirror, I saw the mangled creature writhing on the ground in our wake. A few seconds later, scarlet gore rained from the chute along with the golden corn.

Ashleigh crowed in victory and pumped her fist.

One down. More than a dozen to go. I drove toward the edge of the field while setting the cutter bar higher—to neck height. Several of undead might prove too much for the harvester and jam the works, but it was vital we clear the creatures out of our way and get to the pickup.

A movement caught the corner of my eye—a man in a rust-red jacket running toward us. As he got closer, I saw that the jacket was blood-soaked not red, and the man was Fes. He dodged through the spray of chaff from beneath the harvester and jumped onto the ladder. A zombie followed close behind. It grabbed at his leg. Fes kicked out, shaking his leg free, and the zombie fell. I lost sight of the creature but when I glanced into the side mirror, the thing was struggling to stand on broken legs. I hadn’t felt so much as a bump as the six-foot tall tires rolled over it.

Ashleigh opened the cab door and Fes climbed inside. There wasn’t room for all of us so he perched in the open doorway.

I yelled above the engine noise, “I’m going for the pickup. You got the keys?”

He nodded. “Left ‘em in the truck.”

As the combine rolled out of the cornfield and into the Wilkins’ yard, I pushed the throttle forward. We rolled across the tall brown grass toward the mob of zombies. My plan was to get as close to the pickup as I could without running into it. Adrenalin seared my veins as the points knocked down another zombie, leaving behind a body with a neatly severed head.

“Jesus Christ,” Ashleigh breathed, a sigh of relief, disgust and horror.

I felt sick as a long-haired little kid who might’ve been a boy or girl but was now just an animated meat suit tried to climb on top of the intake head, fell back and disappeared underneath the points. More zombies—men and women, old and young—scattered sluggishly from the path of the harvester. Some of the undead were eating fresh kill, people I’d talked with earlier that day. That made it a hell of a lot easier to steal my nerve and run them over no matter how human some of them still looked.

Up in the high cab, it was like being in the crow’s nest of a ship during a storm at sea as the harvester rolled over bodies. I swerved a little this way and that to take out as many as I could. The cutter bar was doing a fine job of slicing, but the combine had stopped working as flesh gummed up the auger. Nothing came from the exit chute any longer.

The pickup loomed ahead of us. I powered down the throttle and we came to a stop with the points only a few feet from our ride.

Fes jumped from the cab first and ran for the door. He jerked it open, dove in and slid across to the driver’s seat. Ashleigh and I clambered down. Some of the scattered undead were gathering again. Their sheer tenacity made up for their slow awkwardness. Even ones that could hardly stand fought to climb to their feet and find food.

Ashleigh climbed into the truck and I vaulted in behind her. Before I closed the door, Fes hit the gas, the truck roared to life and drove away. As we passed a couple of running people, I recognized Jake’s blood-streaked face. His expression was terrified so I knew he was still living. Besides, people don’t turn that quickly.

“Slow down. We have to help them,” I shouted.

Fes’s eyes were unfocused, the eyes of a cornered animal, but he nodded. He slammed on the brakes, threw the truck into reverse and rolled back toward the people running after us.

Jake and the woman with him, not Maureen, climbed over the tailgate into the back. Fes shifted gears again and shot forward. We continued our search and rescue mission, picking up several more passengers. Some zombies ran alongside too, banging on the sides of the pickup and trying to climb into the back. The people in the truck bed fought them off, slashing and hacking at their faces.

More zombies surrounded us, blocking the front of the truck. Fes revved the engine and pushed them back. “We gotta go now. We’ve saved everyone we could.”

The truck broke through the group of undead, knocking down one and rolling over him with a bump that almost bounced our passengers out of the truck bed. Then there was open ground before us. Fes hit the gas and the tires chewed dirt as he turned onto the road heading back to town.

* * * * *

Chapter Six

I felt jangled like I’d just snorted a line of pure coke. My nerves shimmered and popped. I squeezed my fingers, making fists in my lap to stop my hands from shaking. In the months since the zombie outbreak I’d had some close calls, but today’s was by far the closest. How much longer could my luck hold? Death was on my doorstep. One of these days it would pound through the door with a battering ram and that’d be the end of me.

I glanced at Fes. His straw-blond hair was streaked with gore. His round face was grim and tense. He looked as jittery as I felt and was driving way too fast even for these straight, flat rural roads.

On my other side, Brian was staring out his window so I could only see his profile. Maybe he’d always been raw-boned but his gaunt face suggested he wasn’t eating enough. His eyes were haunted and I suddenly ached to reach out and hold his hand, feel those long fingers wrapped around mine. But I kept my hands to myself. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested and I was supposed to be trying for more self-sufficiency. As nice as it would be to grab onto a man for protection, comfort, support, security or whatever else, it was a pattern I was trying to change.

Durbinville’s ramshackle wall loomed ahead, the buildings of town jutting up behind it. Safety lay inside, or so everyone hoped. I didn’t know if the wall would hold under a full scale attack of a crowd of zombies such as we’d seen in Vegas. But here in the country, the undead were few. There’d probably been fewer than twenty in the field today, although I’d hardly been counting.

“We need to increase the patrols and fortify the wall,” Brian said abruptly. “Wherever these new ones are coming from, this could be just the tip of the iceberg.”

Fes nodded. He hadn’t said anything since we’d driven away from the Wilkins’s farm. For a chatterbox like him, silence spoke volumes. The guy seemed to be at a breaking point, ready to crumble at any moment. What he needed… what we all needed, was some private time to scream or cry or curse or fuck or do whatever else it took to vent our fears before we pulled ourselves together again and carried on.

But privacy wasn’t a luxury we were allowed. A few of the group had already made it back to town and had told what had happened. When we reached the gate, the guard informed us we were to go to the jail where everyone was being quarantined. The council would debrief us and since there were no doctors left in town, a local veterinarian would examine us.

I groaned. “What the hell? Can’t we even get cleaned up first?”

“They have to check us for bites. Can’t let us go if we’ve been bit.” Fes’s voice was hollow and distant. If zombies could speak, they’d sound like that—checked out.

His words reminded me of Jeff. I wondered if the boy was still alive or at least still in one piece. Daylon would be pissed that “his people” had been put in danger today while he’d been safe behind the wall. The man was protective of all of us. He was like a dad trying to keep his kids safe from the very real monsters in the closet.

The jail was a part of the administration complex where we’d been the day before. Local government offices and police station all rolled into one with a couple of holding cells for an occasional Saturday night drunk. Very Mayberry. Right now the jail waiting area held several bloody, beat-up people waiting their turn to get a clean bill of health. The veterinarian was a stocky, middle-aged woman who looked strong enough to handle large farm animals.

Meanwhile, Janice Myers and a couple of members of her council sat at a table in the interrogation room. One by one, as if we were suspects in a crime, we had to go in and tell what had happened to us.

My heart lifted as I saw Maureen was still alive, sitting on a folding chair in one of the two jail cells. The vet was wrapping a bandage around her neck and shoulder. Jake and I both rushed to her. He dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her hands.

“Are you okay, baby? I tried to find you but I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you behind.”

Her eyes glistened with tears. “We made a pact, remember? When zombies come, run. So that’s what I did. Carl gave me a ride. I didn’t stop to look for you. I’m sorry. But it’s what we said.”

She started to cry and Jake pulled her into his arms. My own eyes stung and I turned away before I could embarrass myself by bursting into tears. But the sweetness of their reunion was short-lived.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to stay in quarantine,” the vet said to Maureen. “We’ll have to monitor this bite.”

I looked around at the bare bones cell, the thin mattress on the cot and the toilet in one corner. “You can’t keep her here. It takes time for symptoms to show. We can keep an eye on her and if… anything happens, we’ll take care of her.”

I didn’t want to freak out Maureen by bringing up the worst case scenario, but I could see in her eyes how terrified she was at the prospect of infection.

“I’m sorry. It’s our town’s policy.Quarantine is important for public safety.” The big woman looked at me with compassionate eyes that made me want to poke them out with a stick. She probably had that same kindly look when she told some family she had to put down their beloved pet.

“I’ll stay with her then,” Jake said. “I’m not leaving her here alone.”

“This is such bullshit,” I muttered, but before I could argue further, one of the council members, the dude who looked like Santa, summoned me for my interrogation.

He ushered me into the room where the Myers woman and the redhead, Nancy, sat. The other council members we’d met weren’t present. The last thing I wanted to do was be cross-examined like some criminal. My clothes were stiff with dried blood and I was shivering from cold and shock. Also, I was mad as hell. Not so much about the way Maureen was being treated since there was logic to the town’s decision to quarantine her. I was mostly enraged by zombies in general and the entire stupid fuck-up that had ruined the world, and I was mad at how, just when I thought things might be getting better, they attacked again. This nightmare would never end. So I plunked down in my chair like a sulky teenager and glared at the council members.

“I’m so sorry for what happened today,” Myers began. “I never would’ve allowed you people to work in the field if I’d had any idea of this new danger.”

Her apology went a little way toward softening me, although apologies were cheap. I could’ve pointed out that I’d noticed that, other than Brian and Fes, no townspeople had been out in that field today. Instead, I nodded.

“We’re trying to get an accurate and complete picture of what happened, perhaps some clue as to where this new influx is coming from. Can you tell us what you were doing when you were attacked?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the obviousness of the answer. “Picking corn.”

“Yes. But where were you in relation to everyone else. Did you notice what direction the creatures came from? Did you have any sense that it was an organized?”

I frowned. “You think they had a plan? They’re fucking zombies.”

“I’m just entertaining possibilities. I’m not suggesting conscious thought but something like an urge to swarm or to hunt together. It’s merely a theory that’s been suggested since they appeared in a group.”

“My theory,” Nancy spoke up. “If they’re capable of organizing, they’re that much more dangerous. We need to know if they can plan even a little.”

“Damn.” The idea of the undead being anything more than mindless robots was alarming. “It didn’t feel like we were being stalked if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s not as if they worked together to surround us or anything. They were just…there all of a sudden.”

I shuddered as I recalled the eerie rustling of the cornfield and the moment when I’d realized the brown jacket wasn’t Brian’s. I quickly told them how I’d been chased and nearly bitten before Brian saved me and then I saved him. I described the scene in the Wilkins’s yard and how we’d cut down zombies with the harvester until we could get to the truck.

“A lot of my friends were killed today and most of that farmer’s family, but I’m still here. That’s about it,” I finished. “Can I go get my physical now so I can leave?”

“Thank you, Ms. …” Myers left a pause for me to fill in my name, but I didn’t bother. I was already out of my chair and heading back toward the holding cells.

“Ashleigh,” she called after me. “We’re only trying to get all the facts. If there is another wave coming, I’ll radio the provisional government in Topeka to send help.”

Her confidence that anyone would come amused me. I thought about Brian’s talk of shifting paradigms. Janice Myers was clearly clinging to the old ways with her trust that government forces would save her town. She was deluded. Time to adjust to the new reality, lady and admit we’re all on our own.

A half hour later, with checkups and interviews over, Fes dropped off Brian and me and the rest of the survivors at Brian’s house. He didn’t even say goodbye before driving away.

I was dragging now, my body so weary I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. But Daylon came out of the house next door, followed by Lainie, and freaked out when he see the bloody state we were in. “What the hell happened?”

“A zombie attack.” Carl filled him in on the details and the lives lost. “Both Marys and George and Ellen Sytek are dead. I didn’t see Dale or Tanesha after the attack so we can assume they’re dead too. Richard’s got a broken arm which the vet is setting. Maureen got bit and they’re keeping her quarantined in jail. Jake stayed with her.” Carl gestured toward me, Aaron and Steve. “We’re all that’s left.”

“Goddamn it.” Daylon glared as if he’d like to rip somebody limb from limb. Since we were handy, he took his rage out by shouting at us as if we’d demanded to pick corn. “Damn it! I shouldn’t have let you go. Did these motherfuckers even post a guard? Was anybody keeping watch?”

“Yeah,” Brian answered. “A couple of the Wilkins women. But the zombies took them out first. None of us was being careful enough. This never should’ve happened.”

“How’s Jeff?” I changed the subject.

“Much better,” Lainie answered. “His fever broke a while ago. I think he’s going to pull through after all. I told you it wasn’t the A7 virus, just a regular flu.”

“That’s great, Lainie. Guess the antibiotics you gave him kicked in.” I smiled at her, glad for this bit of good news to balance the rest of the terrible day.

“I should’ve been with you,” Daylon continued to rant.

“Because you could’ve prevented this from happening?” Carl’s tone was dry. “You’re not God, Daylon, much as you’d like to be.” He stalked past the other man into the house.

I’d had enough talking, enough blame and guilt and accusation. If I didn’t get some peace and quiet soon, I was going to explode. Without another word, I walked toward Brian’s house where a hot shower waited to wash away my tension.

Although I’d only stayed there one night, already the place felt like home. I stripped off my bloody clothes and dumped them in trash can in the kitchen before going upstairs. I turned on the shower, took off my underwear and stepped beneath the steaming spray.

Closing my eyes, I turned my face up and let the water beat against my cheeks and eyelids. My muscles turned to melting candle wax and the knot of fear in my gut eased but my sorrow only increased. I’d lost traveling companions today, some of whom I hadn’t gotten to know well yet like the Marys, others I’d felt pretty close to. Still, I hadn’t allowed myself to care for any of them too deeply. After what had happened to Denny, I’d started keeping an emotional distance from the people I met. Life was too precarious these days to count on anyone being around for long.

Denny. The playback of today’s horror show gave way to memories of my last boyfriend. We’d been dating a little before the zombies attacked. Nothing too serious. We met when I waited his table and he over-tipped me. We had some good times. He was the kind of arrogant male who attracted me like a mosquito to a bug light and usually zapped me in exactly the same way. Our relationship would’ve ended badly for me at some point. Instead, it ended bloodily for Denny.

When the zombies swept through Las Vegas, we were at a bar having a drink. I don’t think Denny would’ve come to find on me if we weren’t already there together. But as it was, we battled through the shit storm together, met Daylon and then headed into the desert.

It was natural that two men as testosterone-fueled as Denny and strong-willed as Daylon would butt heads. They argued over what direction to take. Daylon was concerned about running out of fuel in the middle of nowhere and wanted to follow a route where there’d be an occasional gas pump. I don’t think Denny really disagreed with him. He just didn’t want to be told what to do. As their hostility escalated, it looked like we were going to split and travel on our own. I didn’t want that. I wanted to stay with the group, but my opinion didn’t carry much weight with Denny and ultimately I would’ve gone where he led.

That’s when the attack happened. We were at a deserted gas station in the desert. A blood smear was all that was left of the attendant. In land so flat we should’ve been able to see danger coming, but it was dark and, just like in the field today, a couple of zombies came out of nowhere. They grabbed Denny and tore into him before he could even pull his weapon.

It was obviously too late to help Denny, who was spouting from a main artery, and more zombies were coming so Daylon shot Denny dead to save him pain. I fought waves of nausea as I climbed on the back of Daylon’s cycle and rode away leaving my dead boyfriend behind.

The next town we reached that had a motorcycle shop, Daylon helped me choose a bike that matched my size and taught me how to ride it. Since then I’d never allowed myself to dwell on Denny or what happened that night. But now, as I washed my body and rivulets of pink swirled down the drain, it wasn’t memories of today’s attack that bothered me. Instead I kept picturing Denny ripped apart. His screams as they dismembered him still haunted me. Even after I turned off the hot water and reached for a towel, I was shivering with cold that seemed to come from my very bones.

I dressed in a tank top and sweats then looked at the bed with the fancy quilt tumbled halfway to the floor, the sheets crumpled from last night’s sleep. Brian’s mom would’ve had a fit to see her guest room so messed up. I imagined the kind of wholesome, bread-baking, cake-decorating, PTA-attending mom she must’ve been and felt a pang of loss for a woman I’d never met. Part of me wanted to tumble into bed and sleep for hours. But it was early so I went downstairs instead.

Brian had already cleaned up in the other bathroom and sat on the living room couch, drinking amber liquid from a glass. His hair was still shower-damp. When I dropped down onto the couch beside him, I smelled shampoo and whiskey. He leaned forward and poured me a glass from the bottle on the coffee table. I drank it in a gulp. The ice chips inside me began to thaw as the alcohol hit.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“No.”

After that we had nothing else to say. A day like we’d been through, there weren’t words to describe and reliving the details of what had happened was too painful. It was too much effort to talk so we sat and drank and watched the patch of sunlight on the floor shift slightly as the sun progressed across the sky.

Some time later Brian got up and put music on a small ‘90’s style CD player. He sat down again and we listened. The guitarist was decent, the drummer better, but the lead vocalist was what really sold the songs. He growled and moaned and whispered and played the listeners as if they were his instrument. I closed my eyes and dozed a little.

I jerked awake when Brian lightly touched my arm. The homey smell of soup made my stomach grumble. I took the bowl and spoon he offered. The sunlight on the floor had disappeared, the houses across the street blocking its rays.

“Want anything else?” Brian asked when I’d emptied my bowl.

“No. I’m good. Thanks.” I looked at his drained face, the lines curving on either side of his mouth, the furrow between his brows. No guy in his twenties should look so old. “What about you? Is there something I can do for you?” For once I didn’t mean anything sexual by those words, but even so they hung in the air between us creating a subtext all their own.

“I mean, can I give you a backrub or something,” I explained. “It was a hard day. I’m sure your muscles are in knots. I was going to be a massage therapist once. Even went to classes for awhile.”

He smiled and he didn’t look sixty anymore. “Thanks for the offer. But I’m sure you’re tired too. Maybe another time.” He rose. “I think I just want to crash now.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I stood and my legs nearly buckled they were so wobbly. I was a little light-headed from drinking straight whiskey on an almost empty stomach and worn out from field labor and zombie dodging.

Brian caught my arm and supported me until I got my balance. And then that moment happened, the one full of possibility and hormones and anticipation. I tilted my face, ready for a kiss, but Brian let go of me and turned away. I was disappointed as I followed him upstairs. When a guy looks at a girl as if he’d like to devour her then rejects her, it’s confusing.

In the hallway, we paused before the two bedroom doors. We were the only ones in the house tonight and I could feel emptiness pushing in on me from all around.

“I’m sorry about your friends,” Brian said. “You lost a lot of them today.”

“You too. I’m sorry about that family.” Only one of the Wilkins son’s wives had survived the attack and she was a catatonic wreck.

“I didn’t really know the Wilkins family, but thanks.”

We paused again, silence spinning around us like a spider’s web and binding us tight. The longer I stood in front of my bedroom door, the more certain I was that I couldn’t stand to go in there.

“Look, Brian. I don’t want to be alone tonight. I can’t be alone,” I finally laid it out bluntly. “Do you mind if I sleep with you?”

After a heartbeat’s hesitation, he nodded. “Sure.”

He opened the door to his room and I followed him inside. A masculine funk of dirty clothes pervaded the room, but it was comforting—human.

Brian cracked the window to let in fresh air before going over to the bed and pulling back the covers. It was a wide enough bed for two, although the bed in his parents’ room would’ve been better. But I could understand him not wanting to sleep there. I made a last bathroom visit and by the time I returned, Brian was in bed, lying far over on one side.

I’ve gone to bed with a lot of guys in my life and never felt the sudden shyness I felt at that moment. I climbed in on the other side of the bed and gingerly lay down with my back to him. If this were a normal situation, we’d grab at each other, kissing until our lips were bruised then fucking until we passed out. That kind of physical connection I understood. This was unfamiliar territory. There was a restraint, a politeness, a gentleness about Brian that was beyond my scope. He didn’t seize and grasp and demand. Instead, he moved in behind me and slid a hand over my hip until his arm was around me.

His warmth at my back was reassuring and alive, another person breathing the same air I was breathing, his heart beating along with mine. As I realized nothing sexual was going to happen, I began to relax, lust receding from my body which had been flush with desire. I’d thought I needed a quick and furious release, but what I really wanted was rest and calm. I closed my eyes and let stillness fill me.

* * * * *

Chapter Seven

I really wanted to have sex with Ashleigh. Every cell in my body was clamoring for one thing—to get inside the girl. My cock was hard and heavy between our spooning bodies—Jesus, she must be able to feel it—and the hardest part was knowing I could have her if I wanted. She was hungry for it too. There was nothing wrong with two near strangers coming together after surviving a disaster, except I had a strong feeling it was the wrong thing to do right now. Ashleigh seemed too lost, fragile and needy, grasping at anything to feel better, and I didn’t want to be merely the handiest guy available.

Too proud, my cock declared. Stop thinking so much and fuck her for my sake. I exhaled and stared at the back of Ashleigh’s head. Soft brown hair tickled my nose. Not yet. Maybe another night but not this one.

But there might not be another night. Death surrounded us. Literally. Before we’d left the jail today, I’d overheard Jim Lewis, our best sharpshooter, report to Barry Jenson that zombies were appearing all along the fence line. It seemed they were flocking from the surrounding countryside and wherever they’d been before that to try to reach the living meat inside the wall. I hadn’t mentioned this report to the others. Tomorrow would be soon enough for more bad news. Tonight we’d all earned a rest.

I closed my eyes, certain I wouldn’t be able to relax my jittery nerves or fall asleep with a girl in my arms. But when I opened them again it was morning. I’d slept hard and deep and apparently hadn’t moved all night because one of my arms was still slung over Ashleigh and the other, trapped between our bodies, was numb.

I lay a few moments longer savoring the sensation of a soft breast clutched in my hand and the slow rise and fall of Ashleigh’s chest as she breathed. I felt her beating heart and the incredible warmth of her body snuggled against mine. At last I let go and rolled over. Pins and needles shot up my arm as the blood returned to it.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of only slightly dirty jeans and a T-shirt then padded barefoot down to the front hall.

Fes waited on my doorstep. He pushed past me into the house and headed for the kitchen. “You got any coffee ready?”

“I just woke up,” I answered, trailing after him.

He shot me a look, eyebrows raised. “Really? You never sleep in.”

“What time is it?” I read the battery-powered digital clock on the counter. Ten thirty.

Fes started to prepare the coffeemaker, the one electronic luxury I’d kept. He measured grounds into the filter. “Were you up late? Why were you up late? Ashleigh! You boned her, didn’t you? I knew it.”

I took mugs from the cupboard. “No, I didn’t bone her.”

“Why not? She’s hot. And she’s hot for you. I can tell. You guys were all alone here. Why didn’t you?”

“In case you don’t remember, yesterday was kind of traumatic.” How could Fes act so cheerful this morning when he’d been a wreck yesterday afternoon?

“Yeah. So what? All the more reason to fuck somebody’s brains out to relieve the stress. That’s what I did.”

I stopped with the silverware drawer open in front of me. “Who?”

“I don’t kiss and tell, but since you asked, Nancy Piznowski.”

For a moment I drew a complete blank, my mind refusing to recognize an identity for the name even though I knew full well who it was. “Nancy. Red-headed Nancy from the council? Jesus, Fes, she’s got to be forty.”

“So? Older women know what they’re doing in bed. They know what they want and they don’t play games. I went to Louie’s for a drink after I dropped you off. She was there. We drank for a couple of hours then we went to her house and it was fucking fantastic.”

They say politics makes strange bedfellows. It’s got nothing on an apocalypse for bringing together people who never would’ve occupied the same universe under normal circumstances. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Then Ashleigh appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her light tank top outlined her nipples and a slash of bare stomach showed between the top and her low-riding sweats. My heart did a quick double beat and I gripped the spoon in my hand tighter.

“Hi, Fes. What’s up?” she said. “I thought you might be Daylon.”

“Not last time I looked.” He scraped his gaze down the length of her body. “Good night’s sleep?”

“Solid, no nightmares. So yeah.” She walked over to the dripping coffeemaker. “God that smells wonderful. Fresh coffee is the best thing you guys have, next to the hot showers. You live like kings here.”

“Not for long. Coffee supply is getting low. Soon it’ll be instant or nothing.” Fes looked at me behind her back, frowned and mouthed, You’re crazy.

I supposed I was. I’d lain with this beautiful girl and wasted the entire night sleeping.

“Janice wants to see you.” Fes abruptly got serious. “She sent me to get you. The big news is that zombies are gathering at the fence. More than we’ve seen in weeks. Guess the attack yesterday was only the beginning. And Janice and Daylon are locking horns. He’s demanding she release Maureen.”

“How is Maureen this morning?” Ashleigh asked.

“No symptoms yet. But you know we can’t be too careful. Janice thinks it’s time you leave town,” Fes said as he poured coffee.

My stomach dived. I’d known Ashleigh wasn’t going to stick around long, but I’d thought I’d have at least a few days with her. You missed your chance. You didn’t even kiss her, said the helpful voice in my head.

“Now that she doesn’t need us anymore to pick the corn. What did Daylon say to that?” Ashleigh asked.

“He swore at her and told her it was fine by him.”

“Damn Daylon’s temper! We need time to recover after yesterday. I’m not ready to move on, especially if there’s more dead gathering out there. I can’t face that again.” Ashleigh picked up the steaming cup of coffee then set it down again. “I’m going to get dressed.”

I watched her go then turned to Fes. “Any other news you want to tell me?”

“Janice told Topeka our situation was heating up and asked for help. They said they’d send people when they could, but it sounds like ‘never’ to me.” Fes stared into his coffee cup.

“They’re not ever going to help us, are they?” It was the most discouraged I’d ever heard him sound. His faith in our eventual rescue had been broken.

“No. I don’t think so. I’ll finish getting dressed and go talk to her,” I said. Enough of holding down the fort and waiting for backup. Janice had to understand that a wall wasn’t going to be enough to protect us. It was time we developed a battle plan.

Upstairs, I put on my socks and shoes and brushed my teeth. When I entered the hallway, I almost ran into Asheigh coming from the guest bedroom.

She stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Hey, before we go, I just wanted to say thanks for last night. I tend to rush into things without thinking. I’m glad you didn’t.” She smiled and warmth rippled through me. “You were really sweet.”

Sweet was usually a sign you’d been placed in the friend zone. I didn’t like the sound of it. Had I missed a small window of opportunity before she came to her senses and realized I wasn’t her type at all?

“After everything we’d been through, it didn’t seem like the right time to do anything.” I fumbled to explain something that seemed totally stupid this morning. Now I wished I’d seized the moment.

“You were right. It’d be nice to take a little time for once.” She rose on her toes and kissed me before heading down the hallway.

I blinked, resisting the urge to grab her and pull her back for more of that. As I followed her downstairs, I felt the impression of her mouth on mine and the light touch of her hand on the side of my face, small details that unleashed a horde of feelings to rampage through me. I was doomed, crushing on a biker chick on her way to someplace else.

Fes was waiting for us in the foyer and talking to Lainie, who’d come over from next door. The sick boy was with her. Considering Jeff had appeared to be on death’s door when I saw him last, he looked completely well now if a little shadowed under the eyes.

“Hi, neighbor,” Lainie said. “We came over to borrow milk if you have any.”

“Powdered not fresh,” I warned her and led the way toward the kitchen. Fes stayed in the foyer with Ashleigh. I glanced at Jeff and lowered my voice. “Feeling better?”

The boy nodded. Freckles popped against his pale face.

“Glad to hear it.”

“It’s a miracle,” Lainie said. “His fever’s completely gone and he’s hungry for some cereal. You don’t happen to have Sugar Pops? That’s what he’s been asking for.”

“No, sorry. Will Cap’n Crunch be sugary enough for you?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Jeff’s voice was caught between a manly croak and a boyish squeak. I was suddenly deeply happy that at least this one boy was going to make it past puberty.

“I have some books and comics upstairs you can look through to find something to read. And you can play games on my old Xbox even though TV’s not on the list of approved electronics,” I added in a confidential whisper. Utilities rationing was pretty fluid in Durbinville. Everyone had their own idea of what items were essential and didn’t always agree with what the council mandated.

A smile flashed across the boy’s mouth quick as lightning then he nodded solemnly and remembered his manners. “Thank you.”

I showed Lainie where everything was in the kitchen and she filled me in on what was happening at the other house. “Daylon and some of the others went to the courthouse to get Maureen released. The rest are sleeping or just relaxing. Thanks for the milk and cereal. I promise we won’t eat all your supplies, although Jeff seems to be starving this morning.”

“Take whatever you want,” I said then added to the boy, “There’s a Zombie Hunter game if you feel up to it.”

He grinned at the irony. “I’d rather play Madden if you’ve got it.”

“Sorry no sports games here. I was never into them.” I left Jeff and Lainie in the kitchen getting bowls from the cupboard and mixing powdered milk.

Fes was impatient to leave and talking a mile a minute to make up for his downtime yesterday. He filled me and Ashleigh in on more news as we got into the pickup with red handprints decorating the sides like marks in a primitive cave painting.

“Your friend with the broken arm is doped up and sleeping at Marcy’s house. She’s the vet. Guess she took Richard home with her after she set his arm,” Fes informed us. “When I was at the bar last night, I heard some people discussing making a run for it, maybe head for Topeka before things get worse. But Barry Jensen and some of his pals were arguing to stay put and fight for what we’ve got. We got supplies enough to last for a while yet.”

“People have to decide for themselves what they want to do,” I said. “The council can’t order them to stay.”

“I think they’re afraid the town will be left with only the old or weak and nobody to defend them. Like my grandma used to say, somebody’s got to hold down the fort. That’s you and me, Pasman.”

His insight hit me like a baseball bat to the head. I’d been stewing for weeks over whether to leave or stay with only my own welfare in mind. I hadn’t considered that if every strong, able person hit the road, those who couldn’t so easily pack up and go would be left defenseless. I took Fes, someone I’d never seen as a role model for empathy, to understand the truth about our role here. We had an obligation. We couldn’t just take off.

When we reached the administration building, we parted ways. Fes was going to drive out into the countryside with some others to check on other farm families. Ashleigh went to the holding cell to see Maureen and I went to find out what Janice Myers wanted.

She sat behind a polished desk in the office she’d taken over after appointing herself interim council president, papers spread before her and glasses perched halfway down her nose. She looked organized and busy. I wondered what she was studying. It wasn’t as if there was anything to generate paperwork these days. But I supposed she’d been a bureaucrat for so long as vice principal of the local high school that reports and forms gave her a sense of normalcy. We all had our crutches to get by.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked at me. “Good morning, Mr. Pasman. Please take a seat. We haven’t had a chance to chat recently.”

Or ever.

“I think you and Mike Fessenden have been doing a marvelous job of patrolling. The town greatly appreciates your service in keeping us safe. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I waited quietly for whatever request she was steering toward.

She leaned her elbows on the desk, steepled her fingers together and pressed her lips to them. “I feel maybe you’ve been underutilized as a resource. You studied physics at Caltech. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you must be good at calculating statistics, extrapolating scenarios, graphing probabilities and such. In other words, working out the details of plans?”

“In theory.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see what direction she was heading. “My focus was on probability and group theory, but real life situations have innumerable variables that make predicting outcomes much more difficult. Applying abstract knowledge in any useful way in the real world is…” I trailed off. “What do you have in mind, Mrs. Myers?”

She tapped her fingertips together then sat back and placed her hands in her lap. “I’m not certain yet. But I heard about the way you used George Wilkins’ harvester as a decapitator yesterday. That was clever. You were educated to be part of a brain trust and I have you working as a foot soldier. So I’d like you to take a look at our defenses and see if you can come up with any creative strategies for keeping us safe until help arrives.”

“What if they don’t send any help?”

She gave me a sharp look. “I’m not a fool. I know Durbinville is hardly a top priority for the government and many people think we can’t survive the winter here. But I truly believe in our government’s ability to restore order and rebuild. Within the next month aide will arrive in smaller towns across the country like ours. We simply must hold out until then. It isn’t as if we have anyplace to evacuate our people to anyway.” She sighed and for a second I saw the careworn woman beneath the self-assured politician. “Right now we must concentrate on surviving this new wave of the undead.”

I nodded. “I’ll do what I can. Assess the weapons stockpile and our defenses on the fence line. I’ll see if I can come up with any suggestions.”

Actually I had no idea how to improve our strategy with the limited resources on hand, but I needed to say something. Right now I was Janice Myer’s stopgap hope until something better came along to save the day.

* * * * *

Chapter Eight

“I’ve slept worse places. This isn’t so bad and at least I feel safe.” Maureen’s face was striped by the bars of her cell as she sat on a metal folding chair facing me. “Jake hates it though.” She lowered her voice even though he’d gone to stretch his legs and get something to eat. “He tends to be claustrophobic and being locked up really freaked him out. He’s afraid everyone would die and we’d starve to death in here. I told him he didn’t have to stay, but he wouldn’t leave me.” She couldn’t hide a quick, pleased smiled that her boyfriend was so loyal.

“I’ll get you out soon,” Daylon promised. He was pacing behind me as if he were the one in a cage. “Jeff’s feeling okay. We’ll give him one more day to rest and then blow this town. Things will be better when we’re back on the road.”

I felt sick at the thought. The road no longer meant freedom to me. It was a prison that rolled on and on. I wanted to stop and rest, preferably on some deserted island with my feet in the sand and waves lapping on the shore. Throw in a cabana boy to bring me margaritas and why not a lobster drenched in butter too?

I dragged myself out of my fantasy and reached between the bars to take Maureen’s hand. “You’re sure you feel all right?”

“I feel fine. Normal. My arm aches and the bite looks horrible, all black and blue and puckered up around the edges. But the vet cleaned the wound and I’m on antibiotics. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

I caught the undertone of panic beneath her cheerful voice. Maureen was scared. Who wouldn’t be? The few people we’d seen bitten had died and risen. Jeff was the first I’d known to recover.

“Jeff made it through. You will too,” I assured her. Right now she didn’t need to hear any doubts, only positive thinking.

Brian came into the jail and I felt a little flutter of excitement at the sight of him. A girly crush. Just what I needed right now.

“What did Myers want?” Daylon asked. I’d told him that Brian had been summoned by the councilwoman.

“She wants me to see if I can come up with plans to strengthen our defenses.”

“You? What do you know about battle plans or fortifications?” Daylon’s tone couldn’t have been more dismissive.

“Not a lot. What I’ve learned from gaming.” Brian turned to me. “I’m going to walk the fence if you want to come with me.”

“Sure.” I stood and the metal chair skidded out from under me across the scarred linoleum.

“I’ll come too.” Daylon picked up his jacket. “Hang in there, Maureen. You’ll be out soon.” He strode out the door with his usual swagger and Brian and I followed. I wished Daylon would go anywhere else. I wanted to be alone with Brian so we could talk.

It was noon by the time we walked out of the dimly lit building into blindingly bright sunshine. Wind whipped my hair into my eyes, making them water, and nipped at my ears. I wished I had a hat.

“How many patrols do you have?” Daylon quizzed Brian as we headed down the street. “What kind of weapons do your people use? Have you had any perimeter breaches?”

“Not so far.” We reached the end of the street, or at least the spot where stockade fence blocked it. The sight of thin slats of wood standing between us and the walking dead was enough to make my skin crawl even though there was nothing on the other side at the moment.

“So you built this fence shortly after the attacks. Have you improved it since then?”

I glared at Daylon and moved in between him and Brian, determined get Brian talking about what I wanted to know more about—him. “What happened that night? Can you tell me?”

He was quiet, staring at the fence as though seeing through it to the past. “Like I told you, several people went to the hospital in Big Creek to get the A7 treatment. My mom was one.” Brian paused for a beat before continuing. “The hospital wasn’t letting anyone stay long and she was better so my dad brought her home. In the middle of the night I heard my dad screaming. Not yelling—screaming. I ran into their bedroom and tried to pull her off him but it was too late. He was… I couldn’t help him. She turned on me and I ran. I didn’t know what else to do.”

I nodded. We’d all been forced to run sometimes when we wished we’d been braver or stronger. “Nothing more you could’ve done.”

Brian pushed hard against the fence, testing its stability. “That night it was just as bad outside. Those of us who were uninfected fought or left town. Luckily there weren’t too many yet and we were able to clear them out in a couple of days. After that we built the fence.”

“You’ve survived since then for nearly three months. How’ve you had enough to eat?”

“There’s only one grocery store in town but a few trucks were making their weekly deliveries when everything happened. We’ve had a lot of certain items and scavenged everything else from abandoned houses. We stockpiled everything and have been rationing them with a system of coupons.”

Daylon gave his own push against a section of stockade and it swayed. “You need to reinforce this fence. Zombies will find the weak spots. Your people are like sheep who don’t have a clue they aren’t safe from wolves just because they’re in a pen.”

“They’re not as helpless as you think.” Brian’s tone was sharp. Apparently he’d had enough of Daylon’s superiority. “People in this town have fought and killed. Most are armed. We have drill sessions. Everyone except the feeble take their turn patrolling inside the perimeter, but only some of us go outside the wall.”

“This place is a dead end,” Daylon said. “Maybe it’s time all of you thought about going outside. Once you get snowed in, you won’t have a choice anymore.”

As if to support his argument, a cold gust blew up the street between the buildings and cut through my jacket. Like ghostly hands it rattled the section of chain link we were walking past. On the other side of the fence was a house and a yard full of long brown grass. Deserted. Abandoned. Part of the outside.

Daylon grasped the chain link and shook it. “You think they couldn’t climb over this if they wanted to? If you’re gonna stay, you’ve got to do better than this.”

I had to agree with him on that. Although fence height was extended by several feet with wire mesh, it looked pretty insubstantial.

“There’s barbed wire along the top,” Brian pointed out. “Which might not completely stop the zombies but should slow them down. And we’ve got surveillance cameras at intervals.” He pointed to a mini-cam that I hadn’t noticed mounted on a nearby building.

“There’s a bank of screens in the guard station that’s monitored twenty-four seven. We have three patrols of two-men teams circling the perimeter at all times.”

Just then a man and woman appeared farther down the fence. They were strolling and talking and could’ve been on a date except for the hunting rifles strapped on their backs. Brian raised an arm and waved them over.

“Lois, Jim, this is Ashleigh and Daylon.”

We shook hands with the couple and exchanged stories. We offered a thumbnail sketch of our time on the road and they told us about their daily patrol.

“I haven’t seen this many undead in weeks,” Lois said. “We shot two over by Brewster Street and a couple of hours later found one halfway over the fence. Jim took it out.”

“How’s your ammunition?” Daylon asked.

“We don’t waste any shots. Let’s put it that way,” Jim answered.

“If the numbers start increasing, we’ll run out of shotgun shells, and nothing less will take off their heads. I don’t see myself going hand to hand with a blade,” Lois added.

I feel ya, sister. I remembered the feeling of sawing through gristle and bone yesterday. I’d been disgusted yet filled with a horrifying, savage glee. It wasn’t a feeling I wanted to repeat ever if I could help it.

“I’d like to take a look at the munitions stockpile and see exactly where we’re at,” Brian said.

Jim looked at him curiously, as if wondering why Brian was suddenly acting as if he were in charge. “Everything’s documented in the logbook. The kills and number of shells used is tracked. We’re being efficient, but we’ll need to resupply soon if they keep coming. There’s one now.”

He pointed outside the fence and we all turned to see a man walking toward us. He was about sixty yards away and lurching with the stiff-legged gait of an animated corpse. He spotted us and trotted faster as he approached the fence.

Jim lifted his rifle. I looked away. I really wasn’t into watching a head explode in a shower of blood. I’d seen enough carnage yesterday to last me a while. I touched Brian’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll walk back to your house. It’s not far from here, is it? I could use some down time. Maybe I’ll play video games with Jeff.”

“Sure.” He gave me directions. Not too easy to get lost in this cordoned off section of an already small town. “Take it easy today.” He looked at me with those chocolate-drop eyes and I melted. He was sweet and gawky yet sexy too. I could easily fall for this guy.

“I will,” I promised and said goodbye to everyone before leaving. I only jerked a little when a shot rang out behind me.

Walking through the quiet, well-ordered town was soothing to my soul. I’d love to stay here, squirrel myself away in this little nook and pretend everything was back to normal. Let others fight the big fight out there where wild beasts roamed.

When I spotted the sign for Brian’s street—Sycamore Lane, yeah, it was that quaint, I felt like I’d nearly reached home. I shuffled through dead leaves on the sidewalk and wondered idly if the trees were sycamores. I knew a pine from an oak tree and that was about it. I walked up the path to Brian’s front door, sheltered by a portico. When I opened the front door, a few crunchy leaves blew inside with me. It was a pleasure to shut out the wind and breathe in the scent of chicken noodle soup drifting from the kitchen. Lainie must be making lunch.

The dramatic music of a sword and sorcerer type game came from the living room. I followed it but Jeff wasn’t lying on the couch. The game controller sat on the coffee table and I figured he must be on a bathroom break. On the TV screen a busty woman was paused, waiting to kick the ass of some reptilian monster. She had a sword in each hand. A warrior guy was in the background chained to a post waiting for his lady to set him free.

A thumping sound came from the kitchen. I followed the noise down the hallway, thinking that Lainie was trying to open a stuck drawer or maybe chopping on a cutting board. But before I reached the open door I smelled a strong odor competing with the wholesome fragrance of soup. The tang of blood mingled with a fecal stench that set every nerve in my body jangling. I recognized the reek of death when I smelled it.

I drew my knife from its sheath, the leather-wrapped handle slick in my sweaty grip. My heart beat so fast I could hardly breathe. I glanced over my shoulder. Whatever was in the kitchen wasn’t my only fear. I was damned if I’d let something sneak up from behind me. But the hallway was empty. Ahead of me, the kitchen doorway loomed large as if distorted by carnival mirrors. I stopped in the entrance and looked into the room.

A wide smear of blood marked the kitchen floor and red fingerprints decorated the edge of the counter as if someone had tried to pull themselves up. I took another step and peered around the door frame. Puddles of blood and small bits of flesh surrounded the center island. The thumping noise was coming from the far side.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and stepped carefully over the minefield of gore. Moving around the corner of the island, I saw what was on the other side.

At first I wasn’t sure who the dismembered body belonged to. There was so little of it left that it was hard to tell if it had been male or female. Then I saw a strand of long hair and knew it was Lainie—kind, motherly, nurturing Lainie reduced to a mound of flesh flopping on the floor. I couldn’t even try to suppress my retching as I started to back from the room. I couldn’t face this. Not this Lainie-thing struggling to get up without any arms or legs or even much of a torso. I would run next door and get one of the others, one of the men to finish her off. I withdrew around the edge of the island so I couldn’t see her anymore then glanced back into the hallway to make sure nothing was creeping up on me.

“Fuck! Goddamn, fuck!” I whispered. I couldn’t resort to making someone else do the dirty work. I’d nailed that zombie yesterday. I could do it again. I would do it. I didn’t give myself time to get any more squeamish than I already was.

I gripped my knife harder, marched around the center island, leaned down and grabbed a handful of Lainie’s hair to hold her head steady and cut through her neck at the base of her skull. I dropped her lifeless head and it hit the floor with a thunk. I focused on other details besides that sound or the way her matted hair had felt in my hand or the way my shoes made little sticky sounds when I walked through the blood. Instead I noticed the pretty flowers on Mrs. Pasman’s white dishtowel as I wiped my blade clean. I tried to picture the woman who had used this kitchen in the world before. I turned off the burner under the pan of soup that had boiled nearly dry. After that, I walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind me.

I took a deep breath and pictured the scene here earlier—Lainie in the kitchen making lunch, Jeff in the living room playing his game. He’d suddenly felt sick, paused the controller and set it down. Maybe his fever had spiked quickly or an aneurysm had laid him out all at once. He hadn’t called out for Lainie before falling back on the couch, dead. He’d remained still but not for too long or Lainie would’ve come to call him for lunch. And then he’d started to move again…

I stopped picturing the story and focused on searching for Jeff. The house around me was quiet except for the game music that swelled to a heroic crescendo over and over. I was shaking with nerves and didn’t have eyes enough to see in every direction at once. I felt certain the undead boy was sneaking up behind me, silently as a ghost and kept looking over my shoulder.

I walked through every room on the first floor and found nothing but occasional streaks of blood on the wall. They were about the height a boy’s hand might be if the back of it brushed against the wall as he walked by. Just picturing Jeff as a zombie with bloodied hands and mouth and empty eyes made my stomach roll again. This time when I retched, I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor.

As I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, a noise from upstairs—a creak of the floorboard above my head—jerked me back to high alert. My first instinct was to run from the house, but I hefted the knife in my hand and headed toward the stairs. You can do this. It’s just one little kid. You can handle him. You’ve got to contain this situation.

I drew a deep breath and put my foot on the bottom step.

* * * * *

Chapter Nine

When Daylon wasn’t being a prick, he was actually a pretty cool guy. After we watched Jim kill the zombie outside the fence with a single shot, we continued to walk the perimeter and talk about fortifications. Daylon relaxed and shared ideas without being condescending. He was a smart guy, a history teacher before the disaster, and his hobby had been studying historic battles. He was a History Channel buff who could explain why William the Conqueror was so great and how Genghis Khan had managed to control most of Asia.

It was refreshing to talk with an educated man. Not that good old Fes was stupid, but his interests didn’t match mine in the least. Chance had partnered us and no matter how many zombies we killed together, we’d never have anything but that in common.

We ended our tour at the front gates. I showed Daylon the control room in the house we used as command central. Sarah Polley was watching the monitors that corresponded to the security cams. If she spotted any activity, she’d radio whichever patrol was nearest the hot spot. It was a pretty high tech set-up considering we’d cobbled it together from whatever equipment was available in town.

“See, we’re not complete bumbling hicks.”

“Never claimed you were,” Daylon replied. “But I still think you’re naïve if you believe you can hold out an entire winter here without fresh supplies.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

We left Sarah sitting in the room lit by the ghostly light of the monitors and headed back across town toward my house. I was freezing. The jacket I’d worn wasn’t heavy enough to cut the wind. Daylon’s warning about winter hit harder on such a cold day.

“Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?” he asked suddenly. “I could use a smart guy like you on the road, somebody I could trust to get things done. You’re welcome to join us when we leave if you want.”

My mind buzzed with the possibility. I’d wanted to leave for some time but hadn’t the courage to strike out alone. Being offered the chance to travel with a group, particularly a group which included Ashleigh, was an entirely different thing. My spirits rose at the offer, but sank as I recalled my earlier conversation with Fes. I had responsibilities in Durbinville. People were dependent on me and it wasn’t as easy to leave as I’d imagined. Invisible ropes bound me to this place.

“I’ll think about it,” I answered.

We walked faster as we neared my street. I’d never gotten around to eating breakfast and was looking forward to soup or whatever else was left in my cupboards. We turned onto Sycamore in time to see a man run across the road halfway down the block.

“Oh Lord, what do we have here?” Daylon broke into a trot and I kept pace with him.

As we approached my house, I felt a sense of impending danger, especially after seeing another figure moving quickly farther down the block. Somehow I didn’t think they were simply out jogging. Something was happening in the neighborhood.

Daylon ran toward the man, calling his name. I paused long enough to pull my hatchet from my belt then hurried to catch up.

“What the hell’s going on, Aaron?” Daylon demanded when we reached the large, sweating man with the panicked eyes.

“Lainie’s dead. Jeff’s missing. We think he’s turned and we’re looking for him,” he panted.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck!” Daylon growled.

Terror flooded through me as I pictured another rampage of killing, and infection spreading through town. “We’ve got to warn people. We sound the tornado siren if there’s a breach.”

Daylon gripped my arm. “Wait a minute. No need to panic everyone yet. Let’s try to contain this first.” He looked at Aaron. “How long ago did it happen?”

“About an hour but maybe more. Ashleigh found Lainie around noon. She thought the attack had been pretty recent. She couldn’t find Jeff in the house and we’ve been searching the neighborhood since then.”

“How many people are still living here?” Daylon asked.

“About a dozen. But we can’t just look for him. We’ve got to give a warning.” I pulled free of his hand on my arm. “Too much time’s been wasted already.”

Daylon shouted my name but didn’t try to stop me as I started back up the street. I didn’t run but kept up a brisk pace while scanning the yards for a glimpse of Jeff. He could have gone anywhere, but my money was on him heading for more living flesh even though he’d just gorged. From what I’d seen, if zombies had down time between feeds they kept on walking around killing.

A movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned and my heart skittered like dog claws on a polished floor. Walking between two houses was a boy. Not a boy—a zombie. Jeff sauntered aimlessly, not in any particular hurry. I swallowed and loosened my arm by swinging my axe before heading toward him.

No matter how many times I faced one of these creatures, my fear never lessened. No, that wasn’t quite true. That night when I’d encountered what remained of my mother killed it, I’d been much more terrified than I was now. These days I had more confidence when I fought a zombie, but with all my experience, my heart still pounded as I moved toward Jeff.

He lifted his head, scenting the air, and started toward me. He looked normal, other than the jerky gait, until he drew close enough that I could see blood staining his face and obliterating the logo on his T-shirt like a red bib. I tried not to remember our talk that very morning, his quick grin when I teased him about fighting zombies on my Xbox. I tried not to remember he’d probably still had a belly full of Cap’n Crunch when he’d eaten Lainie. When I swung my axe in a big arc, it was a zombie’s head that went flying and rolled into a bed of chrysanthemums, not some freckle-faced kid’s.

I stared at the body until it stopped twitching then yelled down the street at the others. Daylon and Aaron ran toward me, stopping when they saw the corpse.

“I’ll bury the body.” Daylon’s primary goal seemed to be covering up his mistake. Our mistake. I’d known about the sick boy and hadn’t done what I should have to prevent contagion. Sure, we’d all believed he was healed and not a threat, but it didn’t change the fact we’d collectively endangered the community.

“We’ve got to make sure no one else has been attacked,” I replied.

“We’ve already been to every occupied house on this street.” Aaron gestured at the neighborhood. “We told them to lock up and stay indoors until we gave the all clear.”

“Maybe we could convince them this has been some kind of drill,” Daylon suggested.

“Why are you so worried about reporting this? Are you afraid people will run you out of town with pitchforks? You planned to leave tomorrow anyway.”

“Yeah, but tomorrow’s soon enough. I don’t want to get thrown out with night coming on.”

Ashleigh and Carl came jogging up the sidewalk to join us. Strands of Ashleigh’s hair had escaped her ponytail and whipped around her face in the breeze. She pushed it back with red-stained fingers. Staring at Jeff’s head, she moaned softly, “Oh, God. Enough.”

“All right then. You bury the body,” I said to Daylon. “The rest of us will make sure the area’s secure and no one else had contact with him. We’ll meet back at the Henderson house. That’s the one to the south of mine.”

Before Ashleigh walked away, I caught her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. But I’m not injured if that’s what you mean. Just fucked up. Let’s get this done. We’ll talk later.”

Over the next hour I canvassed the houses on the streets close to Sycamore. I didn’t mention the zombie attack and suggested my visit was some kind of safety survey. I made each stop short no matter how much some people wanted to chat. After I was reassured that no one else had seen Jeff, I returned to the Hendersons’. The sun was close to setting. It had been another long, bloody day. I was exhausted and starving since I still hadn’t eaten.

The others had already gathered and were slumped on couches and chairs in the living room. Daylon, Ashleigh, Carl, Aaron and Steve—and those not present, Jake, Maureen and Richard—were all that was left of the group of sixteen that had ridden into town only a couple of days before.

Steve offered me whiskey. I drank from Mr. Henderson’s cut glass tumbler and wondered if the old man used to do the same. As a kid, I’d been afraid of ‘that mean old man next door’. Had he been a sad, lonely, secret drinker making it through his days in a haze of alcohol while obsessively pruning his bushes?

“The bodies are buried and I cleaned up your kitchen for the most part,” Daylon told me.

“Thank you.” I didn’t really want to go back to my house at all, but I had to get some clothes and see how bad the aftermath of the carnage was. I was sure Ashleigh wouldn’t want to set foot inside my house again after what had happened there. “Can I get your things for you?” I asked her.

“Yes, please. I’d appreciate that.” She sat on an ottoman, arms resting on her legs and hands hanging slack between them. She looked as tired as I felt. “I keep going over it in my mind, trying to make sense of it. Jeff seemed fine this morning.”

I set down my half-finished drink on a side table. “I guess once the blood’s infected all it takes to trigger the mutation is death, whatever the cause.”

“We’ve got to get vaccinated. It’d be a goddamn shame to make it through everything we have and end up like that.” Carl slung back a shot.

“We have to tell the council tomorrow. People need to be aware a person might seem well and still turn after they die.” It was hard to state the obvious without coming across like an officious prig.

“I’ll tell Myers everything and then we’ll leave.” Daylon looked at me. “Like I said, you’re welcome to come with us if you want.”

Ashleigh’s head lifted and I felt her gaze on me.

“We could use the numbers, man. It’s safer traveling in a larger group,” Steve added. “A few more could join us if they wanted to. What about your pal, Fes?”

“You can ask him, but I don’t think he’ll go. He’s pretty committed to the town.”

But was I? The lure of the road seemed exciting, dangerous but full of promise while Durbinville was stagnant but safe. The pendulum swung back and forth, weighted by the fact Ashleigh would be on the road, counterbalanced by the fact I was needed here in Durbinville.

“I’m staying at the Baileys’s house tonight,” I said, ready for some time alone to think.

Ashleigh jumped up. “I’ll come with you.”

Time alone was overrated. I felt a thrill of happiness that she wanted to be with me. The other men glanced at each other but didn’t comment.

As we walked toward my house, Ashleigh moved slower and slower. I nodded toward the house next door. “Go on ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

She looked at the Baileys’ dark, empty house. “I’ll wait on the sidewalk for you.”

The moment I entered the house the stench of blood and bowels hit me. The odor of death tended to linger no matter how much you scrubbed. I’d learned that after working to bring my parents’ bedroom back to a habitable state. I don’t know why I didn’t pick up and move then. There were enough empty places in town. But somehow I couldn’t abandon my family home. Now I felt I could walk away from this house without a backward glance.

I went through the downstairs making sure the appliances were off. I only glanced at the stains on the kitchen floor as I gathered the rest of the food from the mini fridge before unplugging it. Upstairs, I crammed all of Ashleigh’s possessions into her pack and a few of my things in a gym bag. Everything else we needed for the night should be available at next door.

Outside, Ashleigh stood facing the door, waiting for me, arms folded and shoulders hunched against the wind. Together we walked to the neighboring house. The Baileys had been good friends of my mom and dad’s. They’d had mutual friends, went out together, played cards, barbecued in one or the other backyard on summer afternoons. The couple had been like an aunt and uncle to me. Their kids were all older, when I was still in elementary school. Mr. Bailey had shared his love of astronomy with me and used to let me view the sky through his telescope. They’d been among the dead following the first attack. I’d helped the burial crew dig the pit where all the remains townspeople were placed.

Now, as I opened the door and turned on the foyer light, I remembered Mrs. Bailey rummaging through her purse for money to pay me for some school fundraiser item I’d delivered. A felt a pang of sorrow at the loss of her and of a world where there’d been school fundraisers.

“Emily and Bob Bailey used to live here,” I told Ashleigh, feeling the need to give them some sort of requiem. “They were really nice folks.”

She nodded and offered an obituary of her own. “Lainie was the sweetest lady I ever met, caring and thoughtful. A motherly type. She really took care of Jeff in the short time he was with us. I’ll miss her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She wasn’t quite dead when I found her, you know. I had to finish it.” Ashleigh looked at me, pale eyes glistening. “It’s different when it’s somebody you know. Harder.”

“Yeah.”

She paused then added, “You had to kill someone you loved, didn’t you?”

I nodded. “My mom.”

“I thought so. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s not my business.”

“No. It’s all right.” That night wasn’t something I wanted to talk about but maybe sharing my pain would lessen Ashleigh’s. “Like I said, my dad was already dying when I went into the bedroom. She’d finished him off. I ran outside but attacks were happening everywhere and I knew running away wasn’t going to help. I had to go back inside and stop her before she killed more people. I went to the shed, got my dad’s axe and went back inside.” I left it there. She didn’t need more details. “It was bad. Like you said, it’s a lot harder to kill someone you know. But there’s no point on dwelling on any of it now. Come on. Let’s get settled and make something to eat.”

This was the house where the rest of Ashleigh’s friends had been staying. All their stuff had been left behind. We dropped our bags in the family room until I had a chance to clear a bedroom. Or two. I wasn’t sure if we were sharing tonight or not.

We ate microwaved lasagna for our meal, sitting at the kitchen table and devouring the skimpy portions offered in the TV dinners.

“Still hungry?” I asked afterward.

“Starving. I have a craving for cheese curls and ho-hos. Junk food is comfort food my mom always said.”

We scoured the cupboards and came up with fat-free microwave popcorn and an unopened box of vanilla wafers. Either Mrs. Bailey hadn’t kept fattening foods around or the others had eaten the good stuff yesterday.

Leaning against the counter side by side, Ashleigh and I waited for the sound of popping in the microwave to stop. I bit into one of the dry cookies and choked it down. “I could go back to my house. There might be snack crackers and better cookies than these.”

“I don’t care that much. Don’t go.” The soft way she said don’t go made the words an invitation which hung in the air as tantalizing as the smell of popcorn filling the kitchen.

My body tensed and desire gathered inside me in thick, heavy layers. This might be our last night together, our last chance to get close. I could feel Ashleigh fading out of my life even as I reached for her. I stopped worrying about whether getting physical was the right thing to do and pulled her into my arms. She curled her hands over my shoulders and leaned into me, her body snug against mine. I focused on her wide, clear eyes then her luscious mouth and bent to kiss her, a polite press of the lips at first that quickly grew deeper. I closed my eyes and sank into the kiss. She tasted of vanilla cookies and lasagna. Her tongue swirled sinuously around mine and I thought about pole dancing.

I was hard, my flesh burning like I had a fever and my heart beating faster than when I’d faced that zombie earlier. Ashleigh felt so good in my arms and it had been way too long since I’d been with a woman. And while my occasional girlfriend, Jane had been a nice girl, a comfortable girl, she’d never turned my blood to fire like this.

I lifted Ashleigh and set her on the counter, moved in between her legs which she wrapped around my back. Her hand curved around the back of my neck and she kissed me so hard it stole my breath. I tugged the strap of her tank top down her shoulder and kissed her salty-sweet skin. My lips skated along the edge of her neckline and over the swell of each breast. Pulling her top lower, I released one and nuzzled its softness, found the perky nipple in the center and sucked it in.

She moaned and hitched her hips forward on the counter so her crotch pressed against the bulge in my jeans. She ground against me and her whimpers nearly pushed me over the edge. Abruptly she pulled away from my grasping hands but only long enough to take off her top.

I gazed at her breasts for a moment before seizing another nipple with my mouth. Soft. Warm. Soft. My mind was reduced to its primitive state and only those two adjectives filled it. And a verb. Need! I rocked against her, but it wasn’t enough to ease the aching.

Her hands tangled in my hair, holding my head to her breast. She tugged me away and muttered breathlessly, “Condom.”

I’d seen some in her bag when I packed her things and I’d had a “just in case” box in my room. I hadn’t really expected to need it during my summer break that had never ended but sprawled into fall and a new way of life.

I picked her up and carried her to the living room. It felt like a dream—a very earthy, realistic dream—as I set her down on the floor and we stripped. Ashleigh was beautiful, lithe and lean with small, high breasts and dark, up-tilted nipples. I could’ve stood there feasting on the sight of her for a while but she held out her arms to me as she lay back on the couch.

After swathing my cock with the necessary armor, I lowered myself over her. Our bodies slid together, warm and living. All thoughts of death were dispersed by the sensation of skin against skin. I pushed inside and her heat swallowed me. For many long minutes we thrust against each other, slow and easy, then faster and more urgently. She moaned as she bucked beneath me. I was reduced to grunting and rutting like an animal, basic and primal. Then sparkling bits coalesced and exploded in a shower of bliss that rained through me.

I collapsed on top of her hot body, panting and boneless, feeling the best I’d felt in a long time. This was what I’d desperately needed—to feel alive again.

“Was it all right?” I murmured against her neck. “Did you finish? Do you need me to do anything else?”

She sifted my hair between her fingers. “You’re so sweet. Not many guys would bother asking. Yes, I came and it was good.”

The warm glow percolating through me told me it had been, but the woman’s experience was a bit of a mystery. I knew sometimes they exaggerated or faked to stroke a guy’s ego. Ashleigh sounded satisfied so I believed her.

We lay quietly, sweat drying on our bodies, the room growing darker as the sun set. The faint light from the kitchen cast the hollows of Ashleigh’s body into shadow. I ran a hand over the curve of her arm.

“Will you come with us when we go?” she asked.

I was silent for a moment even though my impulse was to shout hell, yeah. “I don’t know. There are things I have to consider, people depending on me here.” I slid my hand to her wrist and felt her pulse. “Daylon’s in a big hurry to leave, but you don’t have to. You could stay here. We could go later if we decided to.”

It was her turn to pause as she traced idle circles on my back with her finger. “I’d feel… I guess disloyal to Daylon and the others if I bailed on them. We’ve been together for so long, depended on each other, kept each other alive. You know how it is.”

“Once you’ve been in the foxhole with people it’s hard to leave them behind.”

“That’s right.” She tapped a rhythm on my spine with her fingertips. “On the other hand, I’m really tired of traveling. It would be nice to stop and rest. And I’d like to spend more time with you.”

“Me too. With you,” I mumbled, feeling as incoherent as an athlete trying to give an interview. “We hardly know each other, but I’d like to.”

“And to have more crazy hot monkey sex,” she added. “That’d be nice.”

I smiled as her chest vibrated with laughter. Why couldn’t life always be like this—a quiet moment in the aftermath of good sex? No bloodshed, no danger, just peace.

The bubble burst as Ashleigh turned serious. “I’ve been thinking about Maureen all afternoon. When we tell her what happened today, she’s going to be terrified that she’s infected and it’s just not showing. If you could know or not know you were carrying a time bomb, would you choose to know about it?”

I lifted my head and looked into her worried face. “I’d want to know the truth. Wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not sure. It’s scary enough facing death without knowing you might turn afterward. I think I’d almost rather be ignorant. But we have to tell Maureen. God, I dread it.”

“It won’t be easy.” I rose from the couch, held out my hand to Ashleigh and helped her up. “Still want that popcorn?”

“More than ever. Let’s get snacks, crawl into bed, watch a movie, drink wine and screw all night.”

“Can’t think of a better way to spend the evening.” I followed her to the kitchen, my gaze riveted on the sway of her bare ass.

We cleaned our dishes, grabbed food and a bottle of wine from the Baileys’ collection and went to the master bedroom. Clothes were strewn on the floor and a half empty backpack sat on the bed.

“Tanesha’s stuff,” Ashleigh said. “I’ll miss her. She was funny and smart-assed. We met her before we left Vegas. She always butted heads with Daylon. Told me once he reminded her of her big brother, always trying to boss everybody.”

She cleared the bed and plumped up the pillows while I checked on the generator. I was so damn happy to be having a date night with Ashleigh I didn’t even cringe when she picked The Princess Bride from a cupboard full of DVDs she found.

“This was my favorite movie when I was a kid. I used to watch it over and over.” Ashleigh turned on the TV and inserted the disc into the player. “My mom and I didn’t spend a lot of time together. She was always at work or on a date with some new guy or hanging out at bars or someplace. The girl next door would babysit me. But I have one memory of watching this movie with my mom, laughing and saying the lines out loud. She could be a real bitch, but sometimes she could be a lot of fun too.”

I felt guilty for every time my dad had tried to spend time with me and I’d shown no enthusiasm. I didn’t like swinging at pitches or tossing a football. I avoided helping him work on the car engine. He hadn’t understood my interests either but at least he’d tried. But I’d been too young and ignorant to realize having a parent who cared was pretty special.

I climbed into bed beside Ashleigh and we leaned against mounds of pillows, eating popcorn and getting buzzed on expensive wine. I’d never been more content. It was ironic to find such happiness in the midst of chaos. Or maybe it was because these moments were stolen from a world in tatters that made them seem so special.

As the movie unfolded, I spent more time watching Ashleigh than the screen. And I couldn’t stop touching her. I grazed my fingers over her arm then stroked her leg, sliding my fingers all the way up between her thighs. Then I teased her there until she groaned and her eyes closed. By the time Westley and Buttercup were fighting the Rodents of Unusual Size, I was between Ashleigh’s thighs, bringing her off with my hands and mouth.

After she came, no question about that this time, I rolled onto my back and she straddled me. Spilled popcorn crunched beneath my back as I thrust into her until lights exploded behind my closed eyelids.

I felt like a starving man offered a banquet and gorging. I couldn’t get enough of her. Later, as the hero in the movie was resurrected from the dead, we came together again, less desperately this time. I filled her slow and easy, pushing into her from behind as I admired the curve of her neck, the line of her back, the profile of her face against the pillow. As our bodies slapped together, once more I felt the rising urgency grow until my body couldn’t contain it. I groaned and shuddered and drove deeply into the shelter of her body as if it were a refuge from which I’d never emerge.

Afterward, Ashleigh stroked the hair from my sweating forehead and gave me a kiss. “Who knew popcorn and The Princess Bride could be such an aphrodisiac?” She smiled at me. “You should really think about going with us. If you don’t know how to ride a motorcycle, you can ride behind me.”

I studied the dark outer ring of her irises surrounding that amazing pale blue. “You should think about staying here. Durbinville’s not so bad.”

Ashleigh didn’t answer but scooted down in the bed and rearranged the pillows. She curled up beside me as Westley rescued Buttercup. I wrapped my arm around her and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, the TV screen was blue and someone was pounding on the door. I jumped out of bed and threw on Mr. Bailey’s bathrobe. The gray light coming through the bedroom window told me it was nearly morning. Ashleigh put on the other robe and we hurried to the front door.

Once more Fes waited there. He looked back and forth between us in our matching Bailey robes and his expression said Good job, Pasman as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud. “Daylon said you’d be here. Why are you here instead of at your house?”

I ignored the question. “What’s going on?”

He looked at Ashleigh. “One of your group showed up at the gate about an hour ago. A girl named Tanesha. She’s alive.”

* * * * *

Chapter Ten

“I raised my hands and said ‘Don’t shoot. I’m not a damn zombie!’” Tanesha concluded her tale. “I wasn’t about to get killed after I made it through all that.”

“You’re safe now. You’ll be okay.” I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

“I don’t think so, Ashleigh,” she muttered. “I highly fucking doubt any of us will be okay.”

Tanesha resumed eating the plate of eggs and toast someone had brought her and glared at the people grouped around the conference table, both townies and the remains of our group. “I can’t believe you left me out there. Why didn’t anybody come back for me?”

“We did,” Fes answered. “Yesterday morning we stopped at the Wilkins farm to check for survivors before going to warn the other farmers.”

“Yesterday?” Tanesha’s full lips were drawn into a tight line. She stared at Daylon. “You should have searched that same night. I was waiting for you. I counted on you to come for me.”

“We didn’t think anyone had survived. We only found dead bodies and a few zombies,” Fes said.

“That’s because I’d already taken off in that damn pickup, numbnuts. But first I hid out all night, freezing my ass off in the cornfield because I didn’t dare go into the house. When I finally got a chance to make a run for one of the trucks, the damned thing was a stick shift. Why don’t they teach you that in driver’s training? By the time I got it moving, I was surrounded by zombies, then a mile down the road the thing runs out of gas. I’ve been running, hiding, circling around and getting lost in the corn since then. And no one came looking for me!”

“You’re right. I should have come. I’m sorry,” Daylon said.

“We were sure everybody but us was dead,” I added.

“Oh, there’s plenty of dead out there but I’m not one of them. They’re headed this way and we’ve got to get out of town before we’re surrounded.”

“Yes, I think it would be best if you left town,” Janice Myers spoke from her seat at the head of the table. “A few people came to me last night to ask about some sort of incident in their neighborhood. They said some of you warned them to keep their doors locked and later told them it was a safety preparedness drill. What exactly happened yesterday? Is this some new program you’ve instituted on your own, Brian?”

“What the hell?” Santa didn’t sound so jolly. “What’s going on?”

Everyone remained silent for a beat before Daylon answered. “I wasn’t honest with you when we arrived, Ms. Myers. I hid the fact that a boy in our group was sick. We wanted to give him a chance to recover in comfort. If it turned out he was infected, I planned to take care of the situation. But the boy improved. Yesterday morning he was completely normal and we thought the crisis was past.”

I interrupted Daylon. “Yesterday, I returned to Brian’s house to find Lainie dead and Jeff missing. We found him and killed him.” I glanced at Jake, whose face paled as he listened. He knew what this indicated about Maureen’s bite. Just because she’d shown no signs of fever, didn’t mean she was well.

“You brought an infected person into this town,” Nancy practically shrieked then glared at Brian. “And you knew about it?”

“Brian found us searching for the boy so we had to tell him,” I lied easily. “He was the one who killed Jeff.”

“We didn’t think you’d give us sanctuary if you knew so we kept quiet,” Daylon said. “My call. My mistake. But it’s over now with no harm done.”

“This is outrageous. You put the entire town in danger!” Nancy’s shrill tone was really grating on my last nerve. Even Janice Myers’ voice didn’t sound so annoying when she spoke.

“You should’ve told me about the boy. He would’ve been quarantined and no one would have been put at risk. And Brian, you should’ve told me as soon as you found out.”

“We asked him to give us one more night before he ‘turned us in’,” Daylon added a sarcastic edge to the words. “The damage was already done and it was already late in the day. Too late to find other shelter. But we’re leaving now just as soon as we pack.”

“You damn well better believe you will. We should throw your asses out of town,” Angry Santa said.

“Richard can’t ride with his broken arm,” I interrupted desperate to slow things down. I wasn’t ready to go, but it no longer looked like staying was an option. “And Maureen…”

“She’s fine.” Jake rose abruptly from his chair. “But she needs that vaccination. We’ve got to go somewhere they have it. Topeka’s the closest city, right? So we should go there.“ He braced his hands on the table and leaned threateningly toward Myers. “Tell your people to let her out now. We’re leaving.”

“All of us,” Daylon added. “Richard can ride with Carl or drive a car. You must have some abandoned ones around town.”

Myers stared at him as if unable to believe his presumptuousness. “There’s no extra gas or supplies for you. I have an entire town to take care of. You’ll have to find what you need on the road.”

I waited for Daylon to lose his temper but he was chock full of cool, accepting her right to put her people first. “I guess there’s nothing else to be said then. I apologize for the lie and thank you for your town’s hospitality.” He rose and left the room. Jake and the other guys followed.

Tanesha pushed back from the table. “Thank you for breakfast. And thanks a bundle for letting us work as your field hands and getting half of us killed. Smart idea, letting visitors do your grunt labor.”

Things were moving too fast with no time to discuss or make a plan. The countryside was crawling with zombies and we were about to head out into them. So far our motorcycles had proven a good way to travel, easy on gas and able to skirt traffic jams. We’d dodged zombies all along our way, but hadn’t come across a really large group yet. I was full of doubt about this journey. Or maybe I just didn’t want to leave Brian. Last night had been— corny as it sounded—special. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

I’d been with my fair share of men for entertainment’s sake, no depth to it, and knew what that felt like. And there’d been a couple I’d imagined I was in love with, like my first high school boyfriend who’d stolen my virginity and my heart and done a great job of smashing both. That hadn’t been real love at all, but with Brian I felt something different because he was a completely different sort of person. For the first time I felt like a partner instead of an appendage. He’d listen to me and talk with me not at me. We could have the kind of relationship I’d always wanted and never known how to have. But only if I stayed, which it was pretty clear the council wouldn’t allow. Or if Brian came with me.

I followed the others from the meeting room. Myers asked Brian to remain behind and I found myself alone in the hallway with Fes.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“About what?”

“About Brian. He’s not the kind of guy you usually go for is he?”

“So?” I didn’t like the way he was looking at me as if I was a cockroach on his kitchen floor.

“I don’t mean to be a dick, but you guys came into our town lying which doesn’t give me a good feeling. And you strike me as the kind of girl who blows where the wind takes you, hook up with whoever suits your needs at the moment. I don’t want you to mess with Brian’s head, get him to follow you down the road then burn him. He’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He shrugged his hulking, former linebacker shoulders. “I may not have lived anywhere besides Durbinville but I know your type. Needy. Suck what you can from a guy and then move on.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” I scorched him with my eyes. “Maybe some bimbo cheerleader who cheated with your best friend?”

His brief silence confirmed my wild guess. “I’m not talking about me. Like I said, I hate being a dick, but this is too important for me to keep my mouth shut. Don’t use Brian. He’s already half in love with you I can tell. Go on your way. It’ll hurt him, but not as much as it would later.”

There was really no response for that besides, “Fuck you, Fes!” which is what I said.

I stalked away, shaking with fury at his two-bit assessment of me and hurting as if I’d been slapped. Because I had done some of the things he’d said, used my sex appeal to get men to do things for me, come close to sleeping with them for favors, which might not make me a whore but close to it. I’d sometimes lost myself to become what some guy needed me to be. Despite the vow I’d sworn to myself when I was a kid, I’d turned out a hell of a lot like my mom.

Had been. Wasn’t anymore. That was the key. I was changing, and with Brian I could be even better. This wasn’t just another fuck ‘n’ flee situation. This was my chance at a better life. But Fes, that fucker, had polluted it, stirring up muddy waters of self-doubt.

I caught up with the rest of the group at the jail where they waited for Maureen to be released. She looked as healthy as ever. And happy. Evidently Jake hadn’t told her about Jeff and Lainie yet. Myers must have called down to the jail because someone was already unlocking her cell. She rushed into Jake’s arms as if they hadn’t seen each other for weeks.

“All right. Let’s be ready to go within the hour,” Daylon said. “Check your gear and your machine. Carl, you want to pick up Richard?” He turned to Fes. “Will you give us all a ride back to the house?”

“Of course. I’ll stay with you and escort you out of town.” Fes tried to make it sound like he was doing us a service, but it was obvious he was our guard.

I felt panicked like a bird trapped in a house and flying into walls. I was being swept along by currents into a decision that seemed inevitable. Of course I would leave with my group, and of course Brian would stay here. There’d never been any real doubt.

“Daylon.” I raised my hand for his attention and he came over to me while the others went outside. “Are you sure we should go like this, so unprepared, with Richard hurt and our numbers down?”

He frowned. “You want to stay? I don’t think that’s an option.”

“No, but…”

Daylon read me like a book. “You want Brian to come with us. He’s welcome to, but he needs to decide right now.”

“Do me a favor. Don’t ask him again,” I blurted. “He shouldn’t go. He’s got obligations here and he’s not the kind of guy who walks away from obligations. He’d regret it later.”

“But you want him to go. For you.”

I shrugged, so confused now I didn’t know what to say.

“Girl, you need to make up your mind whether you want to go or stay and then do it.”

I didn’t have a chance to answer because Brian came clattering down the stairs and into the room. “You’re still here.”

Daylon raised an eyebrow then headed toward the door. “We’ll wait for you outside. Don’t be long.”

Brian took my hand and gazed at me with eyes so earnest I had to look away. “You don’t have to leave. I can talk to the council and get them to let you stay.” He paused then added, “I’d like you to stay.”

I swallowed hard, stomach churning. “That sounds really nice, Brian. It’s very tempting. But honestly, that’s not going to happen. And I don’t think you should come with us either. You have responsibilities and you couldn’t turn your back on them because you’re not that kind of guy.”

“How do you know? We’ve only known each other a couple of days. Maybe I’m exactly the kind of guy who picks up and takes off. Maybe I’ve been waiting for an opportunity, somebody to travel with.”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know each other well, and I don’t think we have much in common. We had a really good time together, but it’s time to say goodbye.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Why was I sabotaging the best chance at a real relationship I’d ever had?

“Just like that?”

“I’m sorry.” I forced my chin to stop trembling and my voice not to quaver. “It’d be great to have more time, but we don’t. Guess I’m not a long term kind of girl.”

Before he could argue or I could change my mind, I rose up on my toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a hug. “Bye.”

I nearly raced out of the building to join the others. After climbing into the back of the pickup, I sat facing the tailgate so no one could see my face. Luckily, the cold wind as we rode in the open pickup made everybody’s eyes water.

* * * * *

Chapter Eleven

I felt like I’d been sucker punched as I watched Ashleigh turn and walk out of my life as suddenly as she’d arrived. I’d known she wouldn’t be around for long, but after last night I’d imagined we were more than just a passing thing. I should have known better.

My first impulse was to go after her, find out if she really meant it, ask her to reconsider, but my feet stayed frozen just a little too long. By the time I went outside, the pickup’s taillights were disappearing around the corner. I could’ve taken another vehicle and gone after them, after her, but maybe it was pride that stopped me. She’d told me in clear terms she wasn’t interested, that she didn’t want me along on the ride. Did I really want to be a pathetic loser trailing after her and begging for another rejection? So I didn’t follow them to my house and later when I heard the roar of the cycles leaving town, I didn’t watch them go. I’d never see Ashleigh again. I guess my fuck buddy was all she’d been after all.

I spent the day suggesting improvements to the stockade, setting up extra work crews, inventorying the arsenal and reconfiguring how supplies were allocated. I listened to the patrollers’ thoughts on how they thought they could be better utilized. I did everything Janice had requested, focusing my full attention on managing our limited resources to the best of my ability.

There was a noticeable increase in activity outside the wall. Many more of the undead seemed to be coming out of the fields as Tanesha had warned. They reached the barrier and butted against it like windup toys, stretching their fingers through chain link or thumping their fists on wooden planks. The more enterprising tried to climb the fence. In some places the wall creaked beneath their combined weight until shotgun blasts from the rooftops eliminated a zombie or two.

Although we’d increased the patrols, it was hard to keep on top of the entire length of the wall. Besides, not everyone was a crack shot and I didn’t want to waste ammunition on poor shooters. Each shotgun shell used was a serious depletion to our arsenal. What we needed was a way to eliminate a number of them at once, but I couldn’t come up with a solution.

I felt like a zombie myself as I worked my way through one task after another while keeping my mind blank. When I went home that night to a dark, empty house, I dropped into bed with my clothes on. But I didn’t sleep right away. I lay, listening to the dark and imagining where Ashleigh was right now. Had they found a safe place to spend the night? Had something terrible happened to her? I worried about zombies but also accidents, picturing her cycle a twisted hunk of metal, her body crumpled on the road. I alternated between dwelling on disasters and pleasanter but nearly as painful memories of our time together. I recalled how she’d felt beneath me, the way she said my name, her smell, her taste and most of all her laughter. Her naturally buoyant personality had been a good complement to my bleaker outlook. I relived every conversation we’d had and thought of everything I wished I’d told her. Only after a few hours of drowning in melancholy did I finally lose consciousness, but my sleep was anything but peaceful.

The next morning I was up early, scouring the kitchen with bleach before I even started my coffee. I forced myself not to picture what had caused the bloodstains, but simply approached them as a problem to be eradicated. Life was easier to take that way. My job was to find solutions to problems. No emotions required.

Later when I answered the doorbell and let Fes in the house, he waved a hand in front of his face. ““Phew, it’s enough to make your eyes water. After yesterday I thought you were moving next door or something.”

“That was temporary, until I cleaned this up and things got back to normal.”

“Too bad about that kid.” He stared into the cup of coffee he’d poured. “Did you know about him being sick? Did they talk you into keeping it a secret?”

“Doesn’t matter now. It’s over and they’re gone so let’s drop it.” I grabbed a travel mug and filled it with coffee.

Fes followed me outside. “It’s for the best, you know. That Ashleigh girl was hot but she wasn’t your type.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I refrained from reminding him he’d pushed me to “bone her” only a couple of days ago. “There’s no point.”

“But it is for the best,” he pressed. “You’ve got to realize that. She would’ve fucked with your head sooner or later.”

“Drop it, Fes.”

He fell silent as he got into the pickup and started the engine. We drove to the guard house and I studied the previous night’s report. Ten zombies shot. More were gathering today.

“We can’t keep shooting them. We may have to go outside and slice off some heads,” Fes said. “If we use experienced, heavily-armed groups, it should be safe enough. Nancy agrees. I talked to her last night.”

“Still hittin’ that?” I asked because that’s the kind of banter he appreciated not because I cared much about the answer.

“Absolutely.”

“Good for you.” I changed the subject since I really didn’t want to think about Fes and Nancy Piznowski gettin’ busy. “I’ve been thinking about building some weapons that could take out a lot of zombies at once. Let’s swing by the library and look for information. God, I miss the internet.” After the loss of electricity we’d suffered a network outage in our area which nobody had been able to fix.

“What have you got in mind?”

“I saw a You Tube video where I guy demonstrated a homemade flamethrower. I don’t think it’d be that hard to build if we can find instructions. Fire might not kill them but it should damn sure slow them down.”

“Sweet!” Fes laughed.

A few articles from a science magazine and a hardware store visit later, Fes and I were in business, manufacturing our first flamethrower. PVC pipe served as the barrel with another piece for a tank. We welded the connectors and valves per the diagram, cemented the tube at both ends and threaded in hose then added a tire pressure valve to pressurize the tank. We taped every connection with Teflon-coated tape to protect from leaks and then the device was ready for a test run with water.

The tank was small and light enough to house in a backpack with the hose feeding through a hole in the bottom of the pack to the cannon Fes held. He aimed the barrel at a tree in the park and fired. Water shot from the tube, dousing the trunk.

Now came the scary part, testing with combustible fluid. After draining and blowing out the tank we were ready to add fuel. Since PVC pipe is gasoline-soluble, the instructions called for denatured alcohol, which was also available at the hardware store. We decided to do the test run outside the wall on real targets. If our creation didn’t blow up, we’d double the results of our test by learning how the zombies reacted to fire. Could they catch fire and still survive?

The guards in the tower kept their shotguns trained on few zombies lurking near the gates. I drove Fes’s pickup since he insisted on operating the flamethrower. Sixty yards from the fence, we climbed out of the truck. Immediately the undead headed toward us. Tense and sweating, we waited for them to come within range.

Fes wore firemen’s gear, a welder’s visor and gloves so he was pretty well protected. Still I held my breath when he lit the pilot and released the pressurized gas. A biblical column of flame swelled from the PVC pipe and shot several yards through the air. The two zombies lit like they were soaked with gasoline. Their hair and clothes caught fire as Fes bathed them in flames and then their skin began to bubble and peel.

The stench of burnt flesh was choking. I covered my nose and mouth with my arm. In my other hand I held my axe ready to decapitate the weakened zombies if they survived the burning. But we hadn’t taken into account the fact that they’d keep walking, trailing fire behind them, setting the dry grass and weeds alight.

“Shit!” Fes extinguished the flamethrower and stared at the flames spreading through the tall grass. He darted around the undead to stomp out the grass fire. The zombies were staggering, directionless. For once their prime directive, to eat raw flesh, seemed to be on hold.

I headed toward one woman and swung my axe at her neck, missed and hit her shoulder. I jerked out the axe head, took better aim and swung again. The flames on her hair and clothing had died out, leaving charred, smoking flesh. She fell to her knees, a much better angle for me. With the skill of a medieval executioner, I sliced through her neck and her head fell to the ground.

I turned to the other creature. He was already prone. Before I could reach him, the blackened zombie stopped moving. I poked at the corpse with the axe head, but it was definitely finished. Apparently the necessary nerve cluster had been destroyed. Without that electric current passing through it, the reanimated body lay still at last.

Fes had taken off the safety visor and the backpack with the tank in it and was beating out the grassfire with his heavy coat. He trotted over to take a look. “This one died from the fire?”

“Yep.” I smiled. This could be huge, so long as we didn’t burn down Durbinville from setting zombies on fire.

Fes gave me a high five. We gathered up the gear and got back into the truck. Several more of the undead appeared in the distance, heading our way. It was tempting to take them out too, now that we knew our device worked. But we had a plan and the first order of business was to build more weapons.

The gates opened and we were welcomed into town with cheers. Everybody who’d been watching congratulated us and offered to help in whatever way they could. Janice Myers, who had an eerie, Big Brother knack for knowing about nearly everything in town seconds after it had happened, was there to offer her congratulations. “I heard about your invention. Good job, but I wish you’d told me you were going to try this.”

I ignored her micro-management and accepted the thanks. “It’s a beginning. I think there are more ways we could kill a lot of them at once.” The alcohol we needed for the throwers wasn’t going to last any more than the munitions would. Ultimately we had to think of a better plan, something broader in scale.

After helping set up an assembly crew in an empty warehouse, I left Fes to train the others. Watching his enthusiasm, I couldn’t help but feel he’d totally missed his calling. He was born to be a teacher, probably shop or gym class. Selling cars on his father’s lot had never been his dream.

I hadn’t had anything to eat all day and was feeling a little light-headed so I picked up a sandwich from the diner and climbed the stairs to the roof of the administration building to eat it. From that vantage I could see the land in every direction. There were probably twice as many zombies circling the wall as there’d been the day before. If the numbers kept increasing exponentially, we were in trouble.

I ate my sandwich and invented scenarios for this sudden influx. Maybe they’d wiped out urban centers and were forced to scavenge the surrounding countryside. Perhaps they’d eaten their way through every other small town between here and Topeka, gathering more zombies as they rolled along.

But soon enough, without the distraction of building the flamethrower, my mind shifted to Ashleigh. She was out there somewhere facing danger. I prayed for her safety and then prayed to stop worrying about her. I needed to put her out of my mind. She was gone. Over with. Dwelling on the details of how her body had felt against mine was a fast track to crazy town. I couldn’t let myself become obsessed with her. There were more important things to worry about than some flighty girl.

So I refocused on the undead strolling almost casually along until they came to the barrier. They pushed and battered and climbed until another shot boomed, blowing another head off. But their numbers were increasing, the fence wouldn’t hold indefinitely and time was running out.

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

I woke up to the sound of Tanesha obsessively brushing her teeth. She’d been that way since I’d met her. I supposed it was a control thing like— as long as I can maintain some personal hygiene I’m still in charge of my life. Or maybe she’d always had a dental fetish. We all have our quirks. But did she have to wake me up with her brushing and spitting? The eight of us were sleeping together in a single room as we always did when we were traveling. It was safer to stick together with people keeping watch in shifts. The light coming through the sheer curtains told me it was early morning. Carl stood guard at the window and Tanesha was up early—obsessing.

We hadn’t traveled as far as we’d hoped yesterday. After stopping to fix a problem with Steve’s bike, we’d had to stop several times to siphon gas from abandoned vehicles in order to fill our tanks. Durbinville wasn’t too many hours behind us. I could turn around and go back, be there by mid-afternoon if I pushed it.

I looked around the room at the remains of our group that had at one time been nearly twenty strong. Jake was curled around Maureen, both of them sleeping peacefully and making me jealous of their closeness. The other lumps in sleeping bags were Daylon, Steve and Aaron. That was all of us since Richard had stayed behind in Durbinville. They’d let him because an electrician had value to them.

Daylon had been in such a hurry to leave he hadn’t recruited more travelers. The whole damn exodus had been rushed. I’d been hurried into a decision I wasn’t ready to make and now I felt a growing sense that I’d made the wrong choice.

Tanesha went over to talk to Carl, neither of them bothering to keep their voices very low. I knew I wasn’t going to get any more sleep so I crawled out of my downy cocoon and rolled up the sleeping bag. I searched in my backpack for fresh clothes, wishing I’d taken advantage of our time in Durbinville to do laundry. But I’d had a few other things on my mind. As I reached blindly into the bottom of my bag for a pair of socks, my fingers brushed against something smooth and flat. I knew what it was before I pulled it out and stared at the cover. Brian had packed the Magic Eye book for me when he’d collected my things from his house.

I swallowed hard and the image blurred before my eyes. I blinked away tears and read the title, Magic Eye: A New Way of Looking at the World. Could the message possibly be more significant? That’s exactly how I felt now, like I was seeing things for the first time or in a different way. Being with Brian had changed me. I wasn’t sure I liked all these brand-spanking-new feelings but I knew I couldn’t go back to the person I’d been before. Once you’d seen the 3D picture within the image, it was impossible to miss it.

“Well, fuck me sideways. This sucks,” I muttered. Homesickness blazed through me like fire on a trail of gasoline.

“What?” Maureen shifted and opened her eyes partway.

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.” I flipped through the book and saw sea creatures and aliens, safari animals and skyscrapers all hidden in geometric shapes and colors. The pictures really were a marvel of ingenuity and seemed to proclaim some kind of message about seeing the truth in the things that were right in front of you. Way too much deep thought for so early in the day.

I closed the book and buried it in the bottom of my bag then went to another room in the abandoned farmhouse to change. By the time I’d returned the others were stirring. Daylon handed out granola bars and apples. I pouted as I thought of the coffee I was missing at Brian’s house—and the early morning sex.

We didn’t talk much as we packed and got on the road. Everybody knew the routine. We’d broken camp dozens of times in the past months. The air was quiet except for the cawing of a couple of crows swooping over a field, landing and stripping the corn. No other movement, neither zombie nor animal, interrupted the silence. But soon the roar of motorcycle engines broke the peace and sent the crows skyward.

I put on my helmet and slung my leg over the wide seat of my Harley. The machine felt good purring like a great cat between my legs, sleek, powerful—mine. I was kinda in love with the cycle.

We raced down the road in pattern, each rider spaced evenly apart like a flying squadron which offered wind resistance and protection. Daylon was at the front, constantly scanning the road and the land on either side for danger. Rounding a bend, we might come across an abandoned car, a crash, remains of corpses, or the walking dead. We’d encountered all of them at one time or another and had had some near misses. It was important not to zone out and daydream because things could change in an instant.

About a half hour down the road, my stomach was rumbling and I wished I’d taken Daylon up on the offer of a granola bar. The morning sun gilded everything gold, even the dry brown field corn. Light reflected from the motorcycles’ chrome and glinted off the windshields. I squinted as something shiny in the distance nearly blinded me. Must be something big, I thought, and then suddenly I was in the middle of an unfolding accident.

In front of me, Jake swerved to the right. He hit the soft shoulder of the road and sent gravel flying into my windshield and visor. He nearly lost control of his bike. Meanwhile, Carl skimmed to the left to avoid the obstruction. With the road in front of me open I could see what had caused them to fan out. Aaron was sprawled on the road, his motorcycle on its side, wheels still spinning. I had an instant to decide which way to veer so I went left to avoid the shoulder where Jake was struggling to get his cycle stabilized.

The last in our pack, Steve, wasn’t so lucky. He clipped the rear tire of Aaron’s bike as he shot past. He lost control and his bike cartwheeled end over end, launching him over the handlebars. I caught a glimpse of this in my side mirror as I pulled over. Within seconds, all of us had stopped. Up ahead, Daylon saw the accident and turned to ride back toward us.

I put down the kickstand, climbed off my cycle and tore off my helmet. Aaron was groaning and writhing on the road, but it was Steve I was more concerned about. He’d taken a header right into the pavement and I couldn’t imagine his neck wasn’t snapped. I ran over, bent down and touched his leather-clad shoulder. “Steve, can you hear me?”

I knew you weren’t supposed to move accident victims, but there weren’t any paramedics standing by to do it the right way so I carefully rolled Steve over. His visor was cracked and bloody inside. I flipped it open and his face was cracked and bloody too.

“Jesus, Steve.” I took off my jacket and used the sleeve of my flannel shirt to wipe away the blood until I could see the gash beneath.

Tanesha, who’d been riding with Carl, hunkered down beside me. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know. Really bad, I think.” Fresh blood welled from the wound and slid down Steve’s forehead into his eyes. Again I dabbed it away.

Steve opened his eyes and blinked. He was conscious. That was a good sign.

The roar of a motorcycle grabbed my attention. I glanced up in time to see Daylon riding directly at us as if he meant to jump over us like Evil Knievel. He held a sawed off shotgun at hip level and as he drew close, he fired. I turned to the left just as pieces of flesh showered over me. A zombie had come out of nowhere—a cornfield’s worth of nowhere—and plodded onto the road. Daylon’s shot took a good chunk out of the side of its face, but not enough to bring it down. The creature continued to walk toward us.

I reached for my knife, but Tanesha sprang past me. She drew her handgun and began shooting into the zombie’s head from only a yard away. She screamed as she fired over and over until the head was pulp. One of the bullets must have hit the right target because the body crumpled to the ground. Tanesha stood over it, shooting until she’d emptied her clip. She clearly had a lot of pent up rage to release after two days of trekking alone through zombie country, abandoned by her crew. We were lucky she didn’t squeeze a few rounds into one of us.

I turned back to Steve and patted away the blood on his face again. “How are you? Can you feel your legs?”

He blinked and made a little murmuring sound. Blood bubbled between his lips.

“You’ll be okay. I think you’ll be fine.”

I glanced around—at Tanesha, slumped to her knees by the zombie’s corpse, at Daylon, jumping off his bike and running toward me, at Carl, Jake and Maureen clustered around Aaron. Everything seemed very quiet and far away. Dreamlike. I looked at Steve again. His blue eyes were wide and vacant. A trickle of blood ran from his mouth and his chest was no longer moving. I put my hand on it to be sure, then pulled of his gloves and felt his wrist. No pulse.

“Damn. Goddamn,” I whispered.

Daylon squatted beside me. “Is he alive?”

I shook my head. “Check and make sure.”

Daylon placed his fingers on Steve’s neck beneath the collar of his jacket. Then he covered the dead man’s eyes with his hand and drew his lids down. There was nothing to say. I rose to go see how Aaron was doing.

He was sitting up and cursing a steady stream. “My fault, damn it. I wasn’t paying attention. Skidded on some road kill. A possum or something. I’m sorry. This is all my fault. Is everyone all right?”

He hadn’t seen what happened to Steve. There was no point in telling him right at the moment. “How about you?” I asked. “Do you think anything’s broken?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a cracked rib. My side hurts like hell and my shoulder.” The asphalt had chewed through the sleeve of his jacket, shredding the material rather than skin, but blood dripped from the laceration beneath. Blood that would draw more zombies if they were lurking in the cornfield.

Bracing his legs against the big man’s weight, Jake hauled Aaron to his feet. “Come on, buddy. We’ve got to get moving. It’s not safe here.”

Daylon bent over to examine the Yamaha. “Frame might be a little bent but it should ride.”

Aaron looked around. “Where’s Steve?”

“He crashed. He didn’t make it,” Daylon answered bluntly, but there wasn’t any way to sugarcoat it.

“Oh my God!” Aaron saw Steve’s body and limped toward it. “This is my fault.”

“Look, there’s no time to think about that,” Daylon said. “We’ve got to keep moving. Right now.”

“But Steve…”

“Pull his body off the road. We can’t bury him.”

We all knew what would happen to the body later. If the undead wouldn’t eat it, animals or crows would. But this was no longer a world where we could afford to worry about our empty casings after the souls had left them.

As the men dragged Steve away, I stood near Maureen and Tanesha, watching and thinking I should say a prayer or something. “I don’t want to be out here anymore. I want to go back. I wish I’d never left,” was what came out of my mouth instead.

“Go back where? That town?” Tanesha said. “What the hell for? We have to get to civilization, someplace really safe, where the army’s in control and we can get vaccinated.”

“You want to go to the Emerald City and see the Wizard? I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for.”

“You like that guy, Brian,” Maureen guessed. “That’s why you want to go back.”

“Hell yeah, I shoulda known there was a man involved,” Tanesha said. “There always is with this one.”

“It’s not like that. He’s not just some dude I hooked up with.” I could hear how lame that sounded given that he was a dude and I had hooked up with him. But they couldn’t know how different this felt from any of my past relationships. What did Tanesha know about my track record anyway? I’d been with Denny when we met. One guy.

I stopped trying to explain myself and went over to my motorcycle. After checking that my gear was still secure, I rested my hand on the backpack and thought of the Magic Eye book inside.

Daylon was suddenly beside me. “Are you okay?”

I looked up at him. “This feels wrong. I think we should go back. Aaron’s hurt and Durbinville’s closer than Topeka.”

“There are other towns on the way where we could stop.”

“Other towns might be overrun with zombies. We don’t know what we’re heading into.” The glinting of the sun on the shiny metal thing ahead caught my eye again. I looked down the road and there sat my answer, shining like a beacon, telling me I was right. I pointed at the silver cylinder on wheels with Arrow Petroleum printed on the side. The gas truck wasn’t overturned or jackknifed, just neatly pulled over to the side of the road about a mile away as if waiting for us. “The townies need gas for their generators and stuff. We can take it to them as a peace offering.”

“Ashleigh, we’re not going back.” Impatience rippled through Daylon’s voice like a breeze gearing up to become a blustering wind.

I glared at him. “You don’t have to. I will.”

“How you gonna drive that thing, and who’ll watch your back? You can’t travel by yourself.”

“I’ll figure out how to drive the truck and I can travel alone.”

“No you can’t. You won’t make it.”

“I’ll be in a frigging semi . I don’t think anything much can stand in my way. Besides, it’s only a day’s ride back to Durbinville.”

Our escalating argument drew the others to cluster around.

“What’s up?” Carl asked.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Daylon answered at the same time I said, “I want to take that gas truck to Durbinville.”

Our group was filled with strong-willed people, each of whom had an opinion to express—all at the same time. I was bombarded by “You’re crazy”, “Ashleigh, you’re not thinking straight” and “Why would we do that?”

“I’m not asking any of you to go,” I interrupted. “I understand your agenda—get vaccinated, go south for the winter. Nobody has to go with me.”

“You can’t go alone,” Maureen said. “Think about what you’re saying.”

“I have thought about it. This is what I want to do. You’re not going to change my mind.”

“Those trucks aren’t easy to operate Carl reiterated Daylon’s argument. “ Just turning the rig around on a road this narrow would be hazardous and that tank’s full of combustible fuel.”

“I can help you,” Aaron spoke up unexpectedly. “The condition I’m in I can’t ride a cycle anyway. I know how to drive a rig. I don’t have a license but my dad was a long haul trucker. I used to go on the road with him sometimes when I was a kid. I can drive for you.” He rubbed his arm which he cradled close to his body. “Or at least teach you how to do it.”

“Good.” A surge of relief flooded through me because despite my big words I hadn’t been at all sure I could figure out the mechanics of driving a semi. “That’s it then. You guys go on. We’ll head back.”

“Well, let’s make sure the damn thing even works,” Daylon said. “There might not be any keys or it could be out of gas or broken down. There must be some reason the driver abandoned it.”

Everyone mounted their cycles and fired their engines, Aaron catching a ride with Daylon. We swooped down the road toward the tanker like crows descending on carrion. Close up, the truck was huge and intimidating. I patted the seat of my motorcycle, telling my sweet Harley goodbye, then climbed up into the rig, determined to show I wasn’t backing down from the choice I’d made. I stowed my bags in back then sat in the driver’s seat and stared at the daunting control panel. “Shit.”

The passenger door opened and Aaron heaved himself onto the seat beside mine, grunting and wincing with pain. “Look, key’s in the ignition. Wonder what happened to this guy. Maybe he ran out of gas, went to get some and never made it back. Crank her up and see if she goes.”

The irony of a gas truck running out of gas wasn’t lost on me. I prepared for another cosmic joke as I turned the key in the ignition, but the engined roared to life with the ease of a jungle cat stretching and purring.

“Good. Give it a minute to let the air build up and meanwhile I’ll show you the gearshift pattern. Then we’ll go forward to the next crossroads where we can turn around.”

I paid close attention while Aaron explained the mysteries of the dashboard. Daylon rapped on the door of the truck and I opened it.

“So, you’re really committed to this?”

“Yeah. Aaron says there’s enough gas in the tank for us to make it back. We’ll go east until we come to a crossroads where we can turn this bad beast, then we’ll split off from you guys.”

Daylon shook his head. “I don’t like it. I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I smiled at him, understanding his scowl meant concern and his warning, that he cared about me. It would be hard to say goodbye to all of them but especially Daylon, who I’d been with since the beginning.

I closed the door and watched him walk over and talk to the others, then all of the motorcycles moved into formation in front of us.

Aaron leaned over to check the gauges and pointed to two big buttons on the dash. “Push them in to release the brakes.” A hiss of air filled the truck. “You’re set to go.”

I eased off the clutch and fed the engine a little and it slowly moved forward. My shifting was accomplished with some grinding and screeching of gears. But as the rig gathered speed, I started to catch the rhythm of when to shift and how much to accelerate. I glanced into the side mirror and saw the long, silver tube of the tanker dragging like a big fat butt behind us. Damn, the thing was huge and heavy.

“Keep her slow and steady. And remember you can’t brake like you would in a car. Plan ahead when you can, but if something comes out in front of you, for God’s sake, don’t slam on the brakes.”

Under the circumstances, I knew it was the good advice. It wasn’t as if a toddler or a kid on a bike was likely to be the obstruction I’d be flattening on the pavement.

We sailed down the road with the cycles escorting us, pilot fish to our Great White. This countryside was generally flat but with occasional rises and dips. From the top of a slope, I could see the land stretching out before us, more cornfields, naturally, and the crossroads we’d been waiting for.

“Slow down on this slope,” Aaron warned. “You have to remember the load behind you is liquid so it’s can get off balance.”

I’d already taken my foot off the gas and was easing on the brake pedal. As we coasted down the incline I noticed a ripple of movement throughout the fields to the northeast. I cut my gaze from the road to the corn as I braked and downshifted. “Oh shit.”

“You’ll be all right. We’re going to make a left at the crossroad, back up and then make another left. If we tried to circle around the truck might get stuck in the shoulder or lose balance.”

“No. Not that. Look!” I took my hand from the wheel long enough to point at the dark shapes stirring the corn and turning it into waves. There were dozens of them. The largest group of undead I’d seen since we left Vegas swarming like army ants. They were in the field and the road ahead.

“How do you honk this horn?” I asked, anxious to warn the others in case they hadn’t seen what was coming.

“Pull the cord there.”

I followed his direction, letting out a loud blat to get their attention. But Daylon had already seen the zombies on the road ahead. He held up his arm and made a fist, telling the others to pull over. They reached the crossroads. Daylon led the other two cycles in a U-turn that headed them in the opposite direction. As he passed me in the left lane, he pointed up the road, letting me know they’d wait somewhere along the way for me to turn the truck and catch up with them.

As we reached the crossroads, I slowed the semi nearly to a crawl and turned the wheel to the left. I felt the gas sloshing in the tank, the center of gravity shifting as the truck made a slow, lazy turn. My heart was in my mouth. I feared losing balance and tipping over. In my peripheral vision I saw shapes moving down the road toward us, but I concentrated on Aaron’s directions.

“Now give it a little more gas. Listen to your engine.”

In the side mirror I glimpsed the trailer behind us like big assed parade float. When I looked forward again, a white-haired woman had come out of the field several yards in front of us. She wore high heels and pearls and a Sunday dress and I didn’t see a spot of blood on her. For a moment I thought maybe she was a survivor seeking help. But then a younger woman with a bloody mouth and stained nightgown came out of the corn alongside her. The old lady ignored her so she was either senile or a zombie.

I automatically started to cramp the wheel to avoid them, but Aaron reached out and straightened it. “Slowly put on your brakes. Make sure the cab and tanker are lined up straight then we’ll back up.” I don’t know how he maintained the calm tone of a seasoned driving instructor. The brakes hissed as we came to a stop. Aaron covered my hand on the gearshift, guiding us into reverse.

Hands slapped against the truck and even though we were safely enclosed in the cab, I shivered. When one of the creatures climbed onto the running board and peered into the side window, I ignored its dead face and concentrated on keeping the truck and trailer aligned as we rolled backward. If the zombies didn’t scatter from behind us, we’d simply roll over them.

“Okay. That’s far enough. Stop.”

I put on the brake until the truck halted and shifted into first again. One more turn and we’d be on our way back west. The route between here and Durbinville had been pretty empty. This new crowd must be coming from Topeka or maybe even beyond, from Kansas City.

Just as I was making the turn, a huge-bellied man in overalls lunged in front of us. I shrieked before the truck hit him, toppling him over. The cab bounced and rocked as it went over the body. My pulse skyrocketed and my palms slipped on the wheel they were so sweaty.

And then, as if zombies weren’t enough, something big and brown burst from the field into our path. A deer. Two of them. I instinctively slammed on the brakes, forgetting Aaron’s warning and felt a hard slap from behind as the gas in the tank surged towards the front and the truck lunged forward.

“Hit the gas!” Aaron yelled.

I did. The truck clipped the hindquarters of the first deer as it shot past and would have hit the second one broadside but the deer made an amazing leap. A streak of brown sailed past the windshield. Hooves dented the metal hood of the cab and then the animal was gone. I lost control for a few moments as the rig swerved and the tanker fishtailed. Cursing, I pulled on the wheel with a white-knuckle grip, trying to correct our course.

“Don’t cramp it! Take it easy.” Aaron’s cool was blown as our load whiplashed back and forth. Then by some miracle the trailer shifted back into place and we were heading straight west.

My chest ached from holding my breath and I let it go with a big whoosh and drew another. In the side mirror I saw the undead filling in the road behind us, surrounding the injured deer and pulling it down. The animal would distract them for a while. The second deer had disappeared into the corn.

A mile down the road, Daylon and the others waited for us. I stopped the truck, left the motor running and climbed down from the cab. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ve had enough of fucking cornfields. I can tell you that,” Tanesha said. “If Topeka’s out, I think we should head south like we originally planned and get the hell out of this country.”

Daylon held his helmet under one arm and rubbed a hand over his shorn head. “A shitstorm’s headed toward Durbinville. They could probably use our help.”

“You wanna go back?” Tanesha shrieked. “Two minutes ago you were all for moving on. What the hell?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Maureen said. “We’ll stick together at least until we see Ashleigh and Aaron safely back there.”

“I don’t know, baby,” Jake said. “It wasn’t like they treated us fair. We don’t owe them anything. I say we head south.”

“What about you, Carl?” Daylon asked. “What do you think we should do?”

“It’s not like any of our options are so great,” he said. “But I don’t think we should split up. Not right now. It’s safer together.”

“Then it’s decided,” Daylon said. “We’ll deliver this load and warn the town what’s coming. After that, we’ll figure out what comes next.”

* * * * *

Chapter Thirteen

The breach in the wall happened shortly before midnight. I’d been half expecting to get a report like that all evening as the press of hungry zombies against the fence grew. During the afternoon, we’d completed a few of the flamethrowers and sent out several teams. They were to draw the zombies away from town before setting them alight. Hunting knives, axes, and a couple of antique swords like Fes’s were used to finish off the charred undead. The result was effective. And the perimeter guards continued giving their shotguns a workout. The air smelled of gunpowder and scorched flesh and the townspeople were getting nervous.

Janice found me in the guard tower around eight o’clock and pulled me aside to tell me they’d lost radio contact with Topeka. It couldn’t believe the resurrected U.S. military may have lost control again. With helicopters, tanks and big guns available, they apparently still couldn’t squelch a zombie invasion. While, here we were here in the middle of nowhere, making homemade weapons and surviving by the skin of our teeth.

“I suppose we’d better call a town meeting.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to tell people,” she said. “No need to alarm them unnecessarily. “

“They should be alarmed, if not about that, then about the walls holding. If every family doesn’t already have an emergency plan, they sure as hell better think of one.”

She regarded me with cool gray eyes. “If there’s a breach, we’ll deal with it.”

I stared back. “Just saying ‘we’ll deal with it’ doesn’t solve anything. People need to be ready to protect themselves. Our militia is spread thin as it is.”

“Regardless, I’m not going to start people panicking, especially so late in the evening. We’ll make it through tonight and figure out how to move forward tomorrow morning.”

Before I could argue, she walked away. I went outside for some fresh air and leaned against the wall sharpening my knife while I pondered my function in Janice Myers’ world. Was I her flunky now? The past couple of days she’d seemed to have appointed me a sort of advisor yet she didn’t want to listen to what I told her. As usual, she was determined to do things her way. At what point should I undermine her authority? If I took charge of the situation, would people listen to me? And did I even want that kind of responsibility.

The rest of the evening was a blur of activity as alarms sounded up and down the line and people kept coming to me with problems. Maybe inventing the flamethrower made my new authority take hold so quickly. All of a sudden everybody assumed I could be counted on to come up with creative solutions to their issues.

By about eleven thirty, I realized I wasn’t going to get a chance to rest that night. And it was then the siren went off, a single long wail that used to signal an approaching tornado. Now it meant zombies had broken through the barricade and were inside the town.

Abbie was on the monitors. She’d sent someone to sound the alarm then called the patrol team nearest the break-in. The tower in our area was intact so we could still use cell phones locally, which was lucky since there weren’t enough two-way radios for everyone to use but there were plenty of cell phones.

“Near Rose Lane, behind the old DQ parking lot.” Abbie’s voice quavered. “Looks like three or maybe four of them coming through. I can’t really see. They’re not quite in camera range.”

“Okay. Keep me updated.” I ran to the scooter I’d been using to get around town.

I headed toward the breach in the wall about four blocks away, the scooter’s headlight illuminating empty streets. Although we no longer lit streetlamps, there were spotlights spaced at intervals along the fence. Their harsh light made me think of a prison camp in some war movie and sometimes it felt like we were prisoners inside the wall rather than protected by it.

There was a flurry of activity as I reached the breach site. Cast in white light and dark shadow, the scene in the Dairy Queen parking lot looked like a black and white movie. Several people were fighting zombies. Others were rebuilding the section of stockade that had been knocked down. I jumped off the scooter, pulled my knife and headed toward the action.

A zombie came out of the shadows and grabbed a woman was scavenging pallets from the alley to reinforce the fence with. She screamed and struggled to get away. Before I could run to help, Jim Lewis leveled his shotgun and shot the creature in the head right over the woman’s shoulder. She screamed and clapped her hands to her ears. The force of the shot blew the zombie’s head away from her, but her face was blood-splattered.

“Brian, watch out!” someone yelled.

I spun around, but wasn’t expecting my attacker to be only three feet tall. Hands grabbed my leg. I looked down at the top of a child’s head. A little girl was tearing through the denim of my jeans with her teeth—human teeth which should’ve been too blunt to gnaw through the heavy material but somehow managed it. I felt a sharp nip on my thigh as her teeth scored my skin.

I grabbed the girl’s hair, dragging her head back and slashed her throat with the knife. Her pale eyes gazed blindly up at me and her neck gushed red. I pulled her hands off my leg then I seized her hair again and finished cutting through her neck. She slumped in my hands like a doll whose batteries had been pulled. I dropped her corpse on the ground.

I looked up to find Jim in front of me, shotgun in hand. He kicked at the girl’s limp body then transferred his attention to me. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” I pulled my jacket over the rip in my jeans. I didn’t think the girl’s bite had broken flesh and the last thing I wanted was to be quarantined. There was too much to do for me to waste time in a jail cell. I scanned the area. “Do you think you got ’em all?”

“Yeah. But we’ll fan out and look for more.”

“Be careful who you shoot at.”

He grunted and walked away.

I joined the people working on the wall. “Are there any other supplies you need? Anything I can get for you?”

One of the men stopped nailing. “Hell, I could use a whole lumberyard of supplies. But I guess this’ll do for now. We get many more bodies pressing against this fence and it’s going to give out in more than one spot.”

“Just keep doing the best you can, Tim.”

Everything seemed to be under control. A couple of guys were hauling away the zombie corpses, putting them in the DQ dumpster to be taken out and burned later. I was anxious to check out the bite on my leg so I headed toward the scooter and rode home to change my torn jeans.

The house was dark and silent. I used to appreciate the solitude, but now it just seemed lonely. Having guests—not just Ashleigh but all of them gathered around the dining room table the other night—had awakened my need for companionship.

I pulled down my jeans and examined the teeth marks high on my thigh, the small circle of a child’s mouth. Zombie kids were the worst. Seeing a child attacking like a savage animal was worse than the many other sickening things I’d witnessed. I would’ve been more shaken but I think by then I’d lost my ability to feel the horror.

There was no blood on my leg, just the bite, and I breathed a sigh of relief. No chance of infection.

After changing my clothes, I grabbed an unrefrigerated sports drink from the kitchen and downed the essential vitamins and minerals to keep me going for a while. Then I headed back outside, planning check the wall on the other side of town. But before I got on the scooter, my phone rang.

“Brian, come to the gates,” Abbie said. “Those motorcycle people are back. They want to talk to you and they’ve got a gas truck with them.”

My stomach swooped like a plane doing aerial tricks. I jumped on the motorbike and tore off, flying down the dark street way too fast. What did it mean that they’d come back? I couldn’t imagine Daylon returning just to bring us fuel. He’d been set on his course and wasn’t the type to look back. Ashleigh must have convinced him somehow. She’d wanted to come back. The thought sent a rush of joy through me.

Or maybe one of them was hurt and they needed help. They were offering the tanker in exchange for sanctuary. My happy balloon popped as quickly as it had flown. No need to conjecture. I’d know soon enough what they wanted.

At the gate, one of the guards was talking through a loudspeaker and Daylon’s voice shouted a response from the far side of the wall. I climbed the ladder to the platform and looked down on the spot lit scene. There were only three motorcycles. Daylon rode alone and the others were in pairs. Ashleigh’s red helmet was not among them. A short distance away, outside the circle of light, was the metallic cylinder of a tanker. Coming out of the shadows and heading toward the motorcyclists were about a half dozen zombies. A shot cracked through the air and one of them dropped.

“Let us in,” Daylon demanded. “Hurry!”

Ed Barnes bellowed through the bullhorn, “My orders are not to open the gates. I’d need permission from the town council.” Ed wasn’t the type to color outside the lines.

“Then fucking get it. We’ve got fuel to offer and information.”

One of the undead lunged at Daylon and he turned to fight it off.

“Let them in,” I ordered Ed, who seemed ready to stand by and watch him get killed.

“But Janice said—” Ed sounded like a petulant child.

“We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Now open the gates,” I ordered, then hurried down to help pull them open. As soon as the gap was wide enough to drive through, two of the motorcycles entered. A zombie tried to follow and someone shot it. I ran outside past the thing still thrashing on the ground.

Daylon was swinging at his attacker, using a sawed off shotgun as a club. Clearly he was out of ammo. I ran toward the struggling pair with my axe raised. “Step back,” I yelled and Daylon leaped out of the way as I swung.

The axe head cut into the side of the zombie’s neck but didn’t decapitate it. The creature spun around to face me, pulling the axe handle from my hands. I reached for my knife instead, but before I could dive in for another blow, Daylon came up behind the zombie and grabbed hold of the axe. He wrenched it free and swung it with a mighty blow that sheared off the zombie’s head. A pair of glasses flew off the creature’s face as the head hit the ground.

“Hey.” Daylon gave a nod toward the big rig parked several yards away. “We brought you something. A peace offering.”

“I see.” I looked toward the semi. “Ashleigh…?”

“She’s driving. “

The truck was obviously too big to fit through the gates. I walked into the headlights’ beam, just as they turned off and the engine died. The doors opened and two people threw down backpacks and climbed from the cab. Relief surged through me at the sight of Ashleigh, safe and whole.

She and Aaron ran toward me and we headed for the gate. Zombies were starting to collect between us and the opening like a drift of fall leaves. I hacked at one gasping hand and Ashleigh hit one with her backpack. Daylon cleared a path for us on his cycle, riding straight at the undead and clubbing them with the barrel of the shotgun. Inhaling motorcycle exhaust, we ran through the light into the dark, safety of our walled fortress.

As the gates closed, I paused to catch my breath and stare at the girl I’d never thought I’d see again. Ashleigh smelled like diesel fumes and sweat. Her hair straggled in snarled hanks on either side of her face. Purple shadows smudged beneath her eyes and her mouth was a grim line. I’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

“Gotta pee now!” she said the moment she caught her breath.

She hurried toward the guardhouse and Ed called after her, “Wait. You can’t go in there. You guys have to be quarantined until Ms. Myers decides whether you can stay or not.”

Ashleigh ignored him and disappeared into the building.

I turned to Aaron, who was bent over, wheezing. “Are you all right?”

“No.” He straightened and gasped for air. “I was in an accident this morning. Steve died. I hurt my arm and probably cracked my ribs. We ran into a swarm of zombies headed this way and decided to come back to warn you and bring you the gas. We’ve been driving all day.”

I sent Ed to get Marcy to tend to another two-legged patient. I wanted the fussy man out of the way while I talked to Daylon. Ed glared but did as I asked.

The motorcyclists had dismounted and taken off their helmets. Maureen put an arm around Aaron. “Come on. Let’s find you a place to sit before you collapse.” She led him toward the guard house. No one tried to stop them. In fact, everyone was gathering to hear what the incoming group had to report.

“So what brought you back?” I asked Daylon.

He folded his arms over his chest in that tough stance I was beginning to know was for show. “We saw the tanker and Ashleigh insisted on bringing it to you. The rest of us were going to continue on to Topeka but the highway was overrun. Maybe over a hundred and they seem to be heading west. We could’ve gone south, maybe down to Wichita, but figured you could use our help.”

“Thank you,” I said. Whether the tanker carried gasoline or diesel oil—you couldn’t tell from looking at it which—it was a generous gift. A present from Ashleigh, to me. My mouth fought to curve into a smile and when I saw her returning from the restroom, I didn’t try to stop it.

She smiled back at me as she sauntered over. “I would’ve gift-wrapped it if I’d had time.” She gestured at the truck.

I nodded. “Thanks.” For the blink of an eye, she and I were all alone as we shared an intense look, then I refocused on Daylon. “So this big group is about a day’s drive away?”

“Where do you think they’re coming from?” somebody asked. “Topeka? Kansas City?”

“Does it matter?” Ashleigh asked. “They’re out there and headed this direction. That’s all we need to know.”

“How long can they go without eating? Maybe they won’t make it this far,” Lois said.

“We need more shells and rifles. We can drive to another town and get them,” Jim said. “It should take the things at least a couple of days to reach us on foot so we have time to prepare.”

“Nothing you can do to get ready for this many,” Tanesha brought on the gloom. “The few you got out there tonight are nothing compared to what’s coming.”

“If they make it this far.” Jake pointed at Lois. “Like she said, there are miles between them and us and nothing for them to eat except wild animals. Maybe they’ll start to drop after a while.”

“Can’t count on it. Best thing to do is evacuate your town before they get here.” Carl’s bushy brows knit over his deep set eyes.

“Not while I still got a shotgun and shells. I ain’t going anywhere.” Jim was adamant.

Daylon looked at me. “What’s the latest word from Topeka? Have you heard anything?”

I hesitated. What I said now would be spread all over town by morning. “Radio communication with Topeka broke off earlier this evening with no indication of why,” I admitted. “Janice thought we should wait until morning. See if the link got repaired. But it seems like maybe something happened there.”

There was a moment of silence followed by exclamations of surprise and concern.

I checked my watch. It was nearly two o’clock. “I suggest keep strengthening the barriers tonight and think about our options. We’ll call a town meeting in the morning to lay out the facts and let people decide what they want to do.”

“By the way, where’s your brave leader tonight?” Daylon asked.

“At home, sleeping.” I honestly didn’t mean the words as a condemnation but in the silence that followed them everyone made their own judgment. We were all out here, holding things together, while the council members slept. Suddenly no one was in a hurry to inform Janice of the latest developments, as if her input no longer mattered. Today an invisible shift had taken place. Those of us doing actual work no longer felt inclined to follow orders laid down by others who sat back and gave orders but did little.

“Well good for her,” Tanesha said. “I think I’ll go get me some rest too.”

“Unless you need help here.” Carl looked dead on his feet and I appreciated that he still offered to pitch in.

“It’s about time for the next shift to start. Let’s let those who’ve had some sleep take over.” I turned to Jake. “I hate to say this, but I think we can’t be too careful about Maureen’s bite. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“So back to jail. Do not pass go or collect two hundred dollars.” Jake shook his head. “I knew coming here was a mistake.”

I thought about the teeth marks on my leg. But my little zombie hadn’t broken flesh. There’d been no mingling of blood so I should be fine.

The group broke up with the townies returning to guard duty until their replacements arrived and the travelers heading for their motorcycles.

“I’ll wait with Aaron for the vet to get here,” Daylon said. “Then I’ll give you a ride back to the house, Ashleigh.”

“Thanks but I think I’ll hang with Brian tonight.” She looked at me with those ice-chip eyes that made me hot instead of cold. “If that’s okay with you.”

Was it okay if the girl I was crushing on stayed with me? “Sure. Whatever,” I answered, as casual as sweatpants. “Let’s sit up on a roof where we can get a better view of the perimeter.” I indicated the administration building and we started to walk.

“Where’s your buddy, Fes tonight?”

“Sleeping I suppose.” I wondered at the sharp tone in her voice. I’d thought she liked Fes. “He spent most of the day assembling flamethrowers.”

“Really? How?”

As we climbed the fire escape stairs to the roof, I explained the process without getting too technical. “It works really well,” I finished. “As long as we don’t set the town on fire.” Something nibbled at the edge of my mind as insistent as a mouse working a piece of cheese out of a trap. An idea that wasn’t quite ready to shake loose yet.

I opened the door to the flat roof top and led the way to a pair of lawn chairs somebody had brought up. This had become a popular spot for a lookout. Near the low wall was a cooler that had a few bottles of water still in it. I tossed one to Ashleigh and we sat, hunching into our jackets as the breeze blew over the roof.

“What about you? Tell me about your day, dear,” I mimicked the tone of a nineteen fifties housewife.

Ashleigh drank deeply before answering. “Bad. Bloody. Steve got thrown from his cycle and died almost right away.” She paused, mourning yet another fallen friend then added, “I learned to drive a big rig though and that was cool.”

I appreciated her knack for finding something to celebrate in the midst of grief. Her comment might come off as callous but I understood she was taking joy where she could find it as we all were. I stared out at the pools of light spaced along the barricade. “I’m glad you came back.”

“I’m sorry I left. I didn’t really want to but I convinced myself it was for the best. For you.”

I looked at her face, a pale oval in the darkness. “Why would you think that? I told you I wanted you here and I meant it.”

“I know. That’s the problem. My track record with guys is…not good. I’m a sprinter not a long distance runner.”

“I didn’t ask you to be anything other than who you are.”

“But who I am, or at least who I’ve been in the past, doesn’t mesh with who you are. I was afraid I’d end up fucking things up and hurting you.” She set her bottle on the ground and leaned forward. “Or maybe I was afraid of being hurt so I did a preemptive bail.”

I remained silent, thinking carefully about what to say.

“I like you a lot,” she continued. “More than I expected, which is scary, but I don’t want to bail this time. So what if we don’t have much in common—you’re a brain trust genius and I never even got my GED. I want to get to know each other and see where it leads. If there’s hurting, let it be later.”

“I like you too,” I said at last. “And that’s scary for me too. You may have guessed I’m not exactly experienced with women. Relationships are tough enough in normal times, even harder when people you love might get killed any second. But I think that’s why we’ve got to take chances now more than ever. Hold onto any bit of happiness we can find.”

Her teeth flashed in the darkness. “See, I knew you were smarter than me. Now what should we do? Hug it out?”

I laughed, the burst of sound starling in the silence. “Yeah. I think we should.”

I rose, took her hand and pulled her into my arms, hugging her so hard she gave a little squeak. It felt good to have her face pressed against my chest and her arms clinging to me. I kissed her hair, and then she lifted her face and I kissed her mouth. Long, slow, exploring kisses were all that occupied my mind for the next bit of time, driving out worries which would still be waiting later.

At last we drew apart but I held onto her hand as we looked out over the sleeping town below. Her fingers clasped around mine were cold. “You should go get some rest. I’ll find you a ride back to my house.”

“Are you going to sleep?”

“No. I want to be close by in case I’m needed.”

“Then I’ll stay too and keep you company while you use your big brain to come up with a way to save us all.” She plopped back into the lawn chair.

I hadn’t intended to stay on the roof much longer. There were plenty of things I could do to help out, but I sat in my chair too with my legs sprawled in front of me. After a few moments, I turned to say something to Ashleigh and found she was asleep, arms folded and chin on her chest.

The cheap lawn chairs weren’t conducive to relaxing yet I felt peaceful, my mind clear of the tensions that had been cobwebbing it so I could hardly think straight. Suddenly I saw the zombie situation as an equation to be solved rather than an insurmountable hurdle. We needed to eliminate large quantities of the undead at once. We had few resources but some which we knew were effective. How could I get those two things to cancel each other out?

The mouse worried away at the piece of cheese stuck in the trap then abruptly pulled the cheese free and the trap snapped shut. I sat up straight as a plan began to emerge. It was time for us to take the fight outside the wall and I knew exactly where the battlefield should be.

* * * * *

Chapter Fourteen

I awoke to find myself looking through metal bars at an empty hallway. At first I was completely disoriented not knowing where I was or why I didn’t feel alarmed to be behind bars. In fact I felt ridiculously happy. Then I remembered last night. Brian had shaken me awake up on the roof and led me inside. The cot in the jail cell had been the closest bed available and I’d been happy to collapse on it. Now I turned my head on the pillow to see Maureen in the next cell, reading a book.

“Morning,” I said.

“You’re up.” She marked her place in the book and closed it. The Lord’s Lusty Wench, the gold letters of the title read. She held up the book. “Found this in the receptionist’s desk drawer. You should check it out. It’s hot.”

I sat up and looked around. My cell door was open. Maureen’s wasn’t. I pushed my tangled hair back from my face and yawned. “What time is it?”

“About ten. Jake went to get us something to eat.”

“Do you know where Brian is?”

“Arguing with that Myers woman from what I heard. Evidently she thinks he’s gone rogue, calling a town meeting without consulting her. The queen is not pleased. Jake’s kept me up to date on the gossip.”

“All this before ten o’clock in the morning? Jeez, sleep in a little and you miss everything. How do they call a town meeting anyway?”

“They sound the tornado siren. One long wail means a zombie attack. Three short bursts summons everybody to the meeting hall. I can’t believe you slept through the siren.”

“How are you feeling today?” I asked. “Still no symptoms?”

“None.” Maureen put the book down and walked over to the bars. “You don’t think I’m suddenly going to drop dead and turn, do you?”

“No. Of course not”

“I want to go to this meeting. It sounds like Brian’s going to announce some kind of plan. I want to help not just be stuck in here. That’s why we came back. To help.”

“You will and you’ll be fine, Maureen.” I went over and reached through the bars to take her hand. After a few moments, I let go and left to find a restroom. I felt bad leaving her alone, but Jake should be back soon.

I washed up in a restroom near the receptionist’s desk. Praise Generator, God of Running Water. When I came back out into the foyer, there was a flurry of activity. People hurried past on their way outside, council members and a few other townies I recognized including my buddy, Mike Fessenden. Brian was talking to him.

I spotted Carl and Daylon and caught up with them. “What’s up?”

“Going to a town meeting. You want to come.”

“Can they let Maureen out? She wants to go.”

“I’m not gonna fight that battle right now. Things are happening. There are decisions to make. I’ll push for Maureen’s release later. You can tell her that.”

I nodded and pushed my way through the group by the door to catch up to Brian. I was kind of annoyed that he’d been going to leave without coming to get me. But when he caught sight of me and a big grin lit up his face like Christmas morning, I forgave him.

He pulled me to him and gave me a quick kiss right in front of everybody. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yeah. Did you get any?”

“Not really. I’ve been working on a plan using my big brain. Come and hear what I came up with and tell me if it sucks.”

“I’ll catch up. I’m going to talk to Maureen first and grab a bite. I didn’t eat at all yesterday.”

Immediately Brian looked all concerned and so cute I couldn’t stand it. “I didn’t offer you any food last night. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I was too tired to eat then, but I could gobble up just about anything now.” I gave him a suggestive wink, a little promise for later, then a fingertip wave goodbye. Before I left, I also glared at good old Fes, the fucker.

Back to the holding cells, Jake had returned with big bowls of oatmeal with plenty of raisins. I told him and Maureen that Daylon would work on getting Maureen free as soon as he could. She wasn’t too disappointed and said she’d finish her Lusty Wench book while she was waiting.

By the time Jake and I got to the meeting hall, the place was packed and comments were flying fast and furious. The people had been informed that a honking big herd of zombies was headed this way and that Topeka might have fallen. One group was very vocal about getting the hell out of Dodge, while others were ready to fight for their homes rather than take a chance on finding anyplace safer in the toxic new world.

When Brian stood up at the front of the room and raised his hands, everybody fell silent and listened. He had an aura about him that made people trust that he had something worth saying.

“I think we all agree there’s no perfect choice, no guarantee of safety. Those of you who feel strongly about leaving should go. But first I hope you’ll listen to a plan I have to try to eliminate a bunch of the undead. We learned setting them on fire is pretty effective, incapacitating them enough to make them easy targets. We need to intercept this new wave, divert them away from town and finish them off.”

“How?” someone asked, and a questioning murmur rippled through the crowd. People could be so dumb. They’d rather bitch or listen to their own voices than pay attention to the answer to their question.

Brian waited a few seconds for the talking to die down before resuming his explanation. “Some of you have already met the visitors who arrived this past week. Daylon, Carl, Tanesha, Jake and Ashleigh will you stand so people can see you?”

My cheeks burned as dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward me. I hadn’t been this embarrassed dancing half-naked on a stage. I sat down quickly.

“These people returned here to tell us what they’d seen on the road and brought us a tanker full of fuel which is parked outside the gates. We should all thank them for their generosity.”

A polite spatter of applause picked up steam and became an ovation that made me blush even more. I gave a princess wave and a sheepish grin.

When the applause faded, Brian continued. “The tank contains diesel oil not gasoline, so we can’t use it for our vehicles but can power some of the generators. I propose we take some of the oil and create a slick in the Grove reservoir, attract the undead there with human bait, then slaughter cattle to lure them into the water. We’ll pick up the people, leaving the zombies to go for the fresh kill. After we get a good number into the reservoir, we’ll light the oil and let them burn. There’s a steep drop off and no easy way out. We’ll kill any that make it out and if this works, we’ll repeat the process as needed.”

There was complete silence as everyone searched for flaws then people began to throw darts. “What if they won’t jump into the water? What if they aren’t attracted by the dead cows? Who’s going to act as bait and how close will they have to let the zombies get? What if a bunch of them attack the town instead? Who’s going to be here to defend it?”

“People, let’s have some order,” Janice Myers’s voice cut through the noise with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. Immediately the voices died down. She’s mastered crowd control. I could imagine the hundreds of teenagers she’d cowed over the years as she stalked the halls of the high school. I knew I was being unfair. She brought a sense of calm and stability to these people that they needed. But I still didn’t like her.

Myers had patiently heard out Brian’s idea, but now she took control of the room. “You all have doubts and concerns to air, but let’s take them one by one. Mr. Pasman’s idea has some merit. I’ve asked him to think outside the box and come up with possible solutions to our problem. We’re a town under siege and likely to be more so in the coming days. We must consider all ideas no matter how preposterous they sound.”

She managed to applaud Brian and condemn his idea in the space of two short sentences.

“These strangers have brought us fuel which could be the difference between our surviving the winter or not. I’m not sure using the oil in the way Mr. Pasman suggests would serve our best interests. It’s my opinion we should fortify our position and wait out this siege. At some point government aid will reach us.”

“You should stop counting on that,” Daylon said. “No one’s coming to the rescue. If you plan to stay here, you’re going to have to fend for yourselves, take the fight to the undead and stop sitting back trying to outlast them.”

“We don’t need much oil,” Brian added. “There should be more than enough for our needs for a long time to come. We can’t use it for many purposes other than running generators anyway—or maybe trading with other towns. I know things could go wrong with this plan. There’s no guaranteeing the undead will be lured into the water, but I believe it might work. Our wall can’t be reinforced enough to hold up against hundreds of bodies trying to push through it. We either try this, or evacuate before they get here.”

I wanted to applaud. Brian managed to sound even cooler and more reasonable than Myers. People couldn’t help but believe in him. He wasn’t hot-tempered like Daylon or arrogant like Myers. He was a sincere leader and a voice to be trusted.

“How long do we have to prepare?” someone asked.

“The group we saw was a day’s drive away. If they keep walking steadily, I’m thinking a good twenty-four hours,” Daylon answered. “It’s possible they’ll shift direction and never reach here, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“I say we get started then,” the man said. “Could be some cows at the Schroeder place. I’ll check it out if someone wants to come with me.”

Fes raised his hand. “I will.”

Janice called an end to the meeting but people weren’t really listening to her as they discussed what they were going to do. Some were organizing a caravan to hightail it out of town, while others broke into committees to follow Brian’s plan. Myers looked pissed as hell about being ignored and that made me smile.

I sat and listened to the talk around me. Thought I’d wait until the dust settled and see how I could be the most useful. I overheard some dude trying to sway others to leave with his group. I could see the manpower we needed for the town’s defense trickling away and decided the best thing I could do for Brian would be to stop that trickle from becoming a river.

I joined the group. “You’re right to be scared of what’s coming, but I can tell you it’s tough being on the road, not knowing what you’ll face every day. There are zombies, but other kinds of danger too, thugs who’ll attack you for your stuff, accidents, injuries, sickness from the decomposing bodies. It’s hard to find water, food and gas. You don’t know how lucky you guys have it here. Your town’s like heaven and definitely worth fighting for.”

I didn’t add anything more. I was the last person to lecture anybody about leaving when things got tough. If they wanted to go, they’d go. But as I walked away from the group of townies, I hoped I’d planted some seeds.

After that, I set about making myself useful. I didn’t know squat about building but I could fetch and carry supplies for the workers who did. I helped remove the legs someone’s kitchen table and haul the heavy wooden slab to one of the construction sites. I was sent to the hardware store for screws and nails and carried back a message from the store owner that his stock was almost gone so they’d better re-use what they could. After that, I was sent to bring food to the workers up and down the line.

In the kitchen of one of the local restaurants, several older ladies cooked vats of stews and soups. The restaurant owner, Becky, baked loaves of bread from scratch. I helped another woman load food into the back of a van and delivered it at various spots around town. When we returned with empty pots and dishes, we got the honor of washing them.

Halfway through the afternoon, Maureen found me in the kitchen scrubbing one of the oversized pots. “Hey, girl. How’re you doing?”

“Busy.” But surprisingly content. I dried off my hands and gave her a hug. “I see Daylon got you sprung. Now what?”

She gave me a sad little smile. “Jake and I are heading out. We’re going south along with a group from town. I know we promised to help, but I’ve got to try to get someplace where there’s vaccine and we need to travel with a group. You understand.”

I absolutely did. It would be terrifying to carry the possibility of turning zombie in your blood. I gave Maureen another hug and breathed in the vanilla scent she always wore even when we were filthy, hungry and homeless. That homey smell would always make me think of her. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Maybe we’ll run into each other again someday when we all get to Dallas.”

“Maybe.” Dallas was starting to sound like El Dorado, a made-up place no one would ever really reach.

“I got something for you.” She reached into her bag and handed me the romance novel she’d been reading that morning. “The best stuff’s on page two-hundred and three. I marked the corner for you.”

I laughed so hard my chest hurt as I took the dog-eared paperback. “Thanks. I’ll treasure it.” Tears stung my eyes as I gave her one last squeeze. “You be careful out there.”

“We will. And you be careful here. Stick with Brian. He seems like a good guy, one who’s actually worth your time.”

I knew how she’d felt about Denny. Even though she hadn’t known him long before he got killed, she’d called him on being a selfish prick.

“I’d better go. Jake’s getting a few things and I told him I’d meet him outside. The caravan’s leaving soon so there’s not much time. He said goodbye from him, too.”

“It’s just you two going? Not Tanesha or any of the others?” I would’ve expected Tanesha to blow this town.

“Just us. Daylon’s gone with some others to check on how close the zombies are. Aaron’s resting. Carl’s building flamethrowers, and I don’t know where Tanesha is. You tell her goodbye from me when you see her.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I offered.

“No. Let’s just do this now.” Maureen’s eyes glistened as she gave me a final hard hug then fled from the restaurant.

I went back to the kitchen and finished the pots because I didn’t want to leave the task for someone else then hurried outside to watch the caravan drive away. I was too late. They were already gone. Instead I spotted Brian walking and talking with Councilman Santa.

I hurried to catch up and grabbed his hand. “What’s up? How are things going?”

“They’re going.” He gave me a little smile that made my insides glow. “Ashleigh this is Barry Jensen. I don’t know if you’ve been introduced yet.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Jensen did a double-take back and forth between us as if adding numbers that didn’t equal the right sum. “Good to see you again and thank you for bringing Durbinville the fuel truck.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I’ll go take care of what we talked about.” He hurried off, leaving us alone.

“What’ve you been doing today?” Brian asked.

I filled him in on my many jobs as a gofer. “What about you?”

“I’ve sent some people to scavenge for supplies and more weapons. Daylon’s taken a team to scout the zombies’ movements. And I spent some time figuring out how to release the fuel from the tank.”

“Have you had any chance to rest? Never mind. I know you haven’t. I’m going back to your house and do some laundry for both of us. Then I’ll make a meal and I expect you to come home to eat and sleep. You’re running on fumes and you’ll do nobody any good if you collapse.”

With that Betty Homemaker scolding and a quick kiss, I left Brian and headed back to jail to get my things. After that, I hiked to his house and was ready to collapse by the time I got there. But a housewife’s work is never done. I collected our dirty clothes, basically everything we owned, and stuffed them all into the washing machine in one big load so as not to waste water or electricity.

Walking through the kitchen on my way to the laundry room, I looked away from the spot behind the center island where I’d killed Lainie. The room was scoured clean and smelled of bleach, but I knew if I looked at the floor I’d only see her bloody corpse. But I could hardly prepare food without facing the kitchen so after filling the washer I steeled my nerve and got a can of beans from the cupboard. After that, I was able to go through the motions of preparing a meal without thinking of Lainie too much. By the time the load of laundry finished , I’d gotten over my unease at being in the kitchen. I put the damp clothes in a hamper and carried them to the backyard to hang on a line.

I was struggling to pin a cold, clammy sheet that the breeze was twisting around me like mummy wrappings when a voice came from the other side of the sheer fabric.

“Who’s winning?” Brian asked.

“Gravity,” I answered dryly and jammed on another clothespin before walking around the flapping sheet to face him.

“What are you doing out here?”

“What’s it look like? Hangin’ the warsh, Paw,” I drawled.

“You could’ve used the dryer. My generator can crank out enough juice for a load or two.” He picked up the half-empty basket of wet clothes and carried it toward the back door.

“You told me to conserve electricity. I’m just following orders.” But I was glad to get a reprieve from laundry duty and worshipped the purr of the machine as the clothes tumbled dry. Sweet, blessed electricity.

I served up homemade burritos and some nasty canned corn. But it was food, we were both hungry so we gobbled it up. We didn’t talk about zombies at all. I kept the conversation light, telling Brian stories about my time in Vegas—not the seamier stuff but anecdotes about a horrible roommate I used to have. Then he shared some college roomie memories with me. While we washed dishes, we discussed favorite movies and music and afterward we each took a shower, although I would’ve been fine sharing one.

Clean and dressed in a fresh tank top and shorts, I waited for Brian in his bed and when he came from the bathroom, all damp and warm and soap-smelling, I tossed back the covers and welcomed him between the sheets. I snuggled down beside him, stroked his damp hair away from his forehead and kissed it. “You look like shit. You need to get a solid eight hours.”

“Of sleep?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Yes, sleep. Nothing more than that.” I did my best to sound prudish but doubted he bought it.

“My mind’s spinning. I can’t relax.” He slipped an arm around me and nuzzled my neck.

I moaned a little then squirmed away to reach for something on the nightstand. “Then you need to be distracted. I’ve got just the thing.” I opened to page two-hundred and three of The Lord’s Lusty Wench and began to read aloud. The scene started with a blow by blow account of a blow job and after about a page I stopped reading to act out the material. Warm skin slid like silk beneath my hands and into my mouth. Brian looked down at me with hungry eyes begging for more. Needless to say, we never got back to the story.

When I lay back, took him in my arms and he thrust inside me, I closed my eyes and opened up to the sense of unity, of two bodies becoming one. For a few elusive moments, I experienced pure joy. Everything else faded away and we became a sum much greater than its parts. But even after we separated, I felt the closeness continuing. This was a new feeling for me. I wondered if Brian felt it too. But I couldn’t ask without sounding like a needy, emotional chick so I didn’t. Instead I made a smart-ass remark about the Lusty Wench getting her groove on with the Lord.

“Wonder if she files a sexual harassment suit later in the story.”

Brian chuckled at my weak joke and I felt as warm and as cozy as a basketful of kittens as he pulled me close to snuggle. I could so grow used to this, given time and the opportunity to stay alive for a while.

Later, after his breathing grew slow and deep, I remembered the clothes hanging out to dry. I rose, dressed and went out into the frosty night to snatch them off the line and throw them in the basket. They were crunchy with frost and my fingers quickly went numb. The stars were sharp points in the black sky despite the glow from the perimeter lights. A gunshot went off and I jerked. At last the lines were bare. I snatched up the basket and ran shivering into the warmth and safety of the house.

* * * * *

Chapter Fifteen

I thought I’d slip out of the bedroom before Ashleigh awoke, let her enjoy the oblivion of sleep a little longer before having to face another day. But her voice stopped me as I was putting on my jeans.

“What’s that big bruise on your leg?”

I’d almost forgotten about the zombie bite even though my thigh ached from it. I’d been focused on more important things yesterday and more pleasant things last night. I paused with my pants around my knees and looked at the ugly black and purple mark about the size of my palm.

“Happened a couple of nights ago. It looks worse than it is.”

“Wait a minute.” Ashleigh threw back the covers, climbed out of bed, naked, and bent to examine the wound. “Holy crap, that’s a bite! You didn’t tell me you got bit.”

“I forgot. The skin wasn’t broken so I didn’t worry about it.”

She rubbed her fingers lightly over the bruise. They were cool but left warm trails that shot straight to my groin. “How did it happen?”

I told her about the breach and described my encounter with the Mini Me zombie.

“We’d better keep an eye on this even if she didn’t draw blood. You might not be infected but that’s still a nasty bruise.” She pressed a little kiss to my leg that sent more fiery trails blazing through me. It was very pleasant to be fussed over by a pretty girl.

“Do you have to leave right now?” She sat on the edge of the bed, legs apart, making all kinds of offers with her eyes and her smile.

I tore my gaze from her, pulled up my jeans and fastened them. “I’d love nothing more than to hang out in bed with you, but I’ve been gone too long as it is. I need to check on things. I guess I’m kind of in charge now.” And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It wasn’t something I’d dreamed of or sought after, but now that the responsibility seemed to be mine, I was going to take it seriously.

I remembered Janice’s words yesterday when we’d met after the meeting. “So now it appears you’re making the decisions. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”

“I hope I am too,” I’d responded, not trying to deny there’d been a shift of power. “I’d be happy to learn from your experience and listen to suggestions.”

Her smile had been the definition of enigmatic. “You may find having everyone depend on you isn’t all that pleasant. Responsibility is a heavy burden. Good luck.” She’d left without giving any advice or making reference to the council as the true governing body of the town. It had been a strange encounter that left me unsettled.

Now Ashleigh flopped back on the bed and stretched. “Fine, leave me here all alone. If you don’t go, your boyfriend Fes will stop by soon enough to check on you. He’s so in love with you.”

I put on a T-shirt that smelled of laundry detergent instead of sweat. “You don’t like Fes much, do you? You seemed to think he was funny the other night at dinner.”

She shrugged. “He’s okay in small doses I guess. But I’m only half kidding when I say he’s into you. He wants you all to himself.”

“Um, I don’t think so.” I thought of Fes’s bragging about sleeping with Nancy Piznowski and the many girlfriends he’d had back in high school.

She rolled onto her stomach. “I don’t mean in a gay way, although God knows what kind of repressed shit is going on in that meathead of his. I mean he wants you to be there for him—only for him. Somebody to listen to him spout off and be his bestest buddy.”

I stared at her. “I don’t think Fes really even likes me. We got stuck working together, but when our shift is over we rarely hang out. He usually goes to the bar and I go home.”

“Never mind. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Forget it.”

There was an edge to her voice that told me this wasn’t an idle thought. Something about Fes had pissed her off. I thought of how she’d turned on a dime from asking me to go with her to telling me she didn’t think we should be together. A dusty light bulb flickered in my mind.

“Did Fes say something to you?”

Ashleigh was silent for a few seconds as if debating before she spoke. “Maybe he suggested I’m too much of a slut to be with you and I should get out of town.”

“What? When?” I sat on the edge of the bed. “What did he say exactly?”

She sighed. “Before I left he said it would be better if broke it off with you because I’d eventually wreck your life. He had your best interests at heart. I’m clearly trouble.” She rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you, but, damn it, he pissed me off.”

“He’s an asshole.” I was torn between rage at Fes and wanting to soothe Ashleigh. Despite her sarcasm, I knew she’d been hurt by his words. “He was wrong. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. Ever. I can’t even tell you how glad I am you came back. I’m apologize for him.”

“Not your fault he’s a jerk,” she said.

“I’ll ream his ass next time I see him.” I paused and added with a smile, “And not in a good way. I’m so sorry about this.”

I leaned to kiss her. For several minutes. Until it began to look like I’d take off my clothes and climb back into bed after all. But at last I tore myself away from temptation. “I really have to go. What are your plans today?”

“I’ll do whatever people need, I guess. Maybe I’ll help the cooking ladies again.” She rose and grabbed her panties from the floor. “Is there something you need? I’m happy to help out anywhere.”

I thought of the first job on my agenda today, making sure I knew how to release fuel from the tanker. Somebody would have to keep the undead at bay while I tinkered with it, but I didn’t want Ashleigh doing anything to put her at risk. Now that I had her back, I’d keep her safe inside the wall. “Just do what you’ve been doing. I’ll find you later and we can have lunch.”

One last kiss, the absolute last, and I started on my way. I grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen and a couple of aspirin to relieve the headache building in my temples. I walked across grass crunchy with frost to the scooter, my breath puffing in clouds of white steam. Maybe those who’d left yesterday had the right idea. Maybe it was stupid to fight another onslaught of zombies only to face snowstorms and frigid temperatures. But right now even Daylon was staying to defend Durbinville. For now, it seemed like the right thing to do.

I rode to the guardhouse to get a status report on last night’s activity.

“Twelve kills and another near breach, but they got that area fortified,” Abbie said. “Mike Fessenden and a couple of others went out again this morning to look for cattle since they didn’t have much success yesterday. Also the scout team returned and estimate another ten hours before the zombies reach us.”

“Okay. I’m going out to go check the tanker again. Can you radio somebody to back me up?”

“Sure. But it’s not parked there anymore. They moved it last night.”

“Who moved it?”

Abbie adjusted her glasses and looked at the report. “Brad Davies and Kevin Wording. They said they were going to drive it to a more secure spot. You didn’t tell them to?”

“Did they say I authorized this?” The ache in my temples tightened, arching through my skull to the muscles in the back of my neck.

“I wasn’t working then. You’d have to ask Kyle. Why? Do you think they stole it?” She looked worried.

It was a possibility. A truck full of fuel oil would be liquid gold in these times. They could drive it to some city and barter for whatever they wanted. I didn’t know either Davies or Wording well but it didn’t seem in character for either man. They’d always been gung ho for the town and two of Janice Myers’s biggest supporters.

The Legos clicked together in my mind. “No, I don’t think they stole it. I think they moved the truck for safekeeping just like they said. I’ll go talk to the council about it.” No need to get rumors of theft circulating.

I left the guard station and headed for the administration building. I was so mad I felt like steam was puffing out of my ears as well as my nose. I was ninety percent certain Janice had taken control of the oil and hidden it someplace. She wanted to keep every drop for the generators and this was her way of regaining control so she could run the town the way she saw fit.

My footsteps echoed in the stairwell as I ran up to the second floor offices of the administration building. Nancy sat at the receptionist’s desk doing something and I stalked past her, going straight for Janice’s office.

She jumped up from her chair and followed me. “She’s busy. You’ll have to wait.”

I glared at her. “Don’t even try it. I know she’s done something with the oil. It wasn’t hers to take. She doesn’t own it… or this town.”

“Neither do you. That’s why we have a town council, to make decisions for the group.”

Her words got under my skin. I wasn’t naturally a bossy guy. Just because I thought my idea would work didn’t mean I had the right to ram through my plan. But on the other hand, this was no time for self- doubt or second guessing. I opened the door of Janice’s office and strode into the room with Daylon’s take-no-prisoners attitude.

“Where’s the truck?”

“In a secure location. Don’t worry.” Janice sat back in her chair, rocking slightly.

I braced my hands on her desk and leaned over it, trying to appear a little intimidating. “You know we need some of that fuel. I’m not suggesting we dump the whole thing in the reservoir. You’re the one who told me to come up with fresh ideas.” I was frustrated and tired of her power games.

“Luring the undead away from town is a good idea,” she agreed. “If the bait works and they jump into the water, they should be stuck there. But burning an oil slick is overkill and a waste of fuel. If you must burn them, use the flamethrowers.”

“Those won’t be enough. I’m aiming for mass extermination.” I rapped the top of her desk with my fist and glared. “I don’t have time to dick around with you. There are only a few hours left to get ready. Where the hell did you put the truck?”

“Mr. Pasman, will you please sit down.” Her voice put me right back into my schooldays, even though I’d never been the type to get called to the principal’s office.

I sat in the chair across from her but continued to glower. The desire to punch her smug face had my hands clenching in my lap. Tension continued to knot my neck and throb behind my eyes. Janice’s unruffled gaze pissed me off even more.

“You must agree that this town has been operating successfully in the aftermath of the undead invasion. While other towns like Oakley and Wakeeney have fallen, their people murdered or scattered, we were able to build, organize, and keep our citizens calm and busy so they wouldn’t become demoralized. I’m proud of how Durbinville has survived this disaster.” Her eyes glinted and for the first time I saw anger in them. “When I asked you to consider ideas to help the town, I never imagined a little power would go to your head. We still live in a democracy and it’s the town council’s responsibility to consider all options and come up with the best solution.”

“Most people seemed fine with my idea when I presented it at the meeting,” I pointed out. “There’s a time for mulling things over and a time for action. We don’t have the luxury of discussing and voting on this. The window of opportunity is closing fast. Can’t you just trust me?”

“Maybe we can make a deal. I’ll grant you a portion of the fuel if you agree to leave town after the immediate crisis is over. Would you be amenable to that?”

Her proposal whirled around in my mind like trash in a tornado. My aching head made it hard to focus and it took me a few seconds to connect the dots. This had all been about winning her power back. If my plan worked, I’d be some kind of town hero which undermined her authority even more. Her solution: eliminate the zombies then eliminate me.

“That would be fine. I’ve been thinking of moving on anyway,” I answered, keeping my voice as calm as hers. We were civilized people after all. “But you could’ve just told me what you wanted and saved yourself the trouble of hiding the tanker.”

“It was no trouble at all. Brad and Kevin parked it in a pole barn. Now, do I have your word you’ll leave after this new threat is over? Whether your plan works or not, I don’t think you have a place here any longer.” She might as well have said This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.

I forced a tiny smile and held out my hand to shake. “Agreed.”

It wasn’t as if she could force me to keep my promise. I could renege. Maybe I wasn’t the honorable Boy Scout she thought I was.

The door of the office flew open and slammed against the wall as Daylon stormed into the room. “Where the hell did that truck go? What’s going on?”

“It was moved to a safe location,” I answered.

“The Wilkinsons’ pole barn,” Janice added smoothly. “If you can find Kevin Wording, he has experience with operating release valves on this kind of tank. He can help you.”

“Well… good”—Daylon’s bluster fizzled—“because a small army is still headed this way.”

I rose and a wave of dizziness swept through me. I steadied myself by grabbing the back of the chair. The throbbing in my temples turned to a ringing in my ears. Maybe a granola bar for breakfast hadn’t been enough. “All right then. Let’s set the stage for them. The only thing we still need is live bait.”

* * * * *

Chapter Sixteen

Fes and his band of cowboys in pickups herded five animals into town around midday. Everyone stopped what they were doing to go outside and watch the unusual sight of cows trotting down Main Street. All of the cows were red or red and white. Three of them looked well-fed and healthy. The others’ ribs were showing. The grassy odor of manure wafted to me as the animals passed by, their hooves clicking on the asphalt.

I turned to Becky Lindstrom, the baker who I’d been helping all morning. “Poor cows have no idea what’s in store for them.”

“Are you a vegetarian, Ashleigh?”

“No. I like my burgers and steaks.”

“Don’t ever visit a slaughterhouse or trust me you won’t want to eat meat again. I went with my dad to the stockyards in Kansas City once. Big mistake.” She nodded toward the bossies being herded toward the park. “These guys are giving their lives for the greater good.”

“I know. It’s just sad. Poor ignorant cows.”

I was saved from more dough-kneading by Brian’s arrival on his motor scooter. It was a little after noon and true to his promise, he’d come to have lunch with me. I loved his punctuality, not something I was used to in the men I’d dated. I couldn’t stop smiling as I walked over to him and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Cows.” He nodded a greeting to Becky, who nodded back then went inside leaving us alone on the street. “And a more detailed battle plan thanks to Daylon.”

“Tell me about it.” I led the way to one of the café tables outside. “Take a seat. I’ll get some soup and bread.”

As I scooped two bowls of soup from the pot on the kitchen stove, Becky grinned at me.

“Shut up,” I said.

“I didn’t say anything.” Her grin grew even wider. “It’s just…Brian Pasman. Unexpected.”

“And again, shut up.” I grabbed a couple of rolls, warm from the oven, poured tea, put everything on a tray and headed back outside. The day had warmed from its frigid beginning and was now fairly warm. Brian sat with his elbows propped on the table, rubbing his temples.

I set down the tray. “Headache? I can find something for you to take.”

“Already did but it’s not going away. Too much tension I guess. Myers caused me some trouble this morning but we hammered it out.”

“You’re the big cheese now. How does that feel?”

“Overwhelming. And I’m not sure how it happened. One day Fes and I are patrolling, the next, everybody’s asking me what to do. I’m not too comfortable in the role.”

“Some have greatness thrust upon them,” I said, proud of myself for remembering the quote. “But I knew you were a leader when I met you. You just hadn’t realized it yet.”

He stared at me.

“You are,” I insisted. “You might not be super ‘take charge’ guy but you’re the kind of person people respect and listen to.” I sipped the herbal tea, wishing we had real coffee, but Becky had run out long ago. “So what’s this battle plan?”

Brian pulled out a tattered local map and spread it on the table. “Here’s the town. A few miles north is the reservoir. We estimate the bulk of the zombies will reach our area about dusk, but we’re rigging some lights at the reservoir. The trick will be to intercept the flow and divert it.” He hunched over the map. Lines etched between his brows and on either side of his mouth.

“Maybe you should take a break from thinking and eat,” I suggested. “Don’t stress about the details you can’t control.”

Brian folded the map. He put his spoon in the soup but didn’t take a bite. “After we set our bait to lead them toward the reservoir, teams with flamethrowers will continue to herd them that way.”

“Have you gotten anybody to sign up for being bait?” I couldn’t imagine too many would be interested in being targets. One or two zombies at a time were manageable, but a crowd quickly became lethal.

“We haven’t exactly had volunteers. But we’ve got the cattle so maybe we won’t even need human bait. We’ll cut the cows before we drive them into the water so their blood will attract the zombies.”

“Poor cows,” I sighed then studied Brian. His skin was pale but his cheeks flushed. I reached across the table and felt his forehead. “You’ve got a temperature.”

“I don’t have time to be sick so I can’t be.” To prove it, he began eating his soup and bread instead of toying with them.

“You should take an antibiotic. Fight off whatever it is.” Naturally I was thinking of the bite on his leg and A7, but there didn’t mention it. I was sure he’d considered the possibility too. Better to think he was coming down with strep throat or something.

“I already took a cold tablet and a bunch of vitamins. I’ll be fine.” He brushed off my worry and took another bite of his roll. “So, you’re a baker’s apprentice today?”

“Yeah. I must admit it’s pretty relaxing working in a kitchen. Very low stress. You should try it.”

He smiled. “Wish I could. All this decision-making makes me appreciate Janice’s leadership despite her flaws.”

“You’re doing fine. Everything will come together. Don’t worry.” I did the cheerleader ra-ra to boost his spirits. “Is there anything I can do to help? I feel kind of useless playing with dough while you guys are gearing up for war.”

“What you’re doing is every bit as important. People have to eat. You should stay here.”

My radar pinged. He was trying to keep me out of harm’s way, which was sweet, but I wasn’t going to sit back and let the boys do all dangerous work. Not anymore. I didn’t argue but decided I’d volunteer for a more important duty after he left.

When our lunch was finished, I walked Brian to his scooter and hugged his overly warm body. “Take care of yourself and if you feel too feverish you should rest and let Daylon take over. You know he’s got your back. Now that he’s committed to helping out, you can trust he’ll stick by you.”

“You were right about Daylon. He comes on strong but he’s a good guy.” For a few moments, Brian looked down into my face with a gaze that heated me through. “I’m so glad you came back. You were only gone a day but I thought it would be forever. Missing you made everything bleaker if that’s possible.”

“I felt that way too. Every mile we rode, I was more certain I was making a mistake. I wanted to turn around sooner but it took Steve’s death to make me realize I didn’t want to waste any more time heading the wrong direction.”

He brushed his lips over mine, a soft little kiss that made me all swoony, and then he left. I watched until the scooter turned at the corner, then I popped my head into the shop and told Becky I was going to take care of some business and might not make it back for a while.

I followed the trail of manure to the patch of park where the cows were corralled and eating grass. I patted the rough hide of one big, smelly animal. It turned toward me and stared with huge brown eyes as it continued to chew. A girl of about eleven was looking after the animals. When I asked her where Fes was, she jerked her thumb.

“Over there in the bar having lunch. I’m in charge of the cows.”

“You’re doing a great job.”

I found Fes and some other men sitting around a table, laughing over a joke. I smiled at the men, who stared curiously at me. “Hey, Fes. Can I talk to you?”

“Um. Sure,” he answered. I hadn’t run into him since I’d been back and he seemed as embarrassed as someone would be who’d told a person that she wasn’t worth shit and to get out of town.

When we were out of earshot of the group, he asked, “What’s up?”

“I want to help with the cows tonight. I want to be part of that team.”

“Why? It’s dangerous and it’ll be bloody. You know we’re slaughtering them not herding them to pasture.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I know what the risk is and that it’s a job nobody wants to do. You need help. I’m volunteering.”

“What does Brian have to say about it?”

“It’s not his decision. It’s mine. This is what I want to do.”

* * * * *

Chapter Seventeen

I already felt queasy before the helicopter left the ground, and by the time the copter swayed and dipped a few times, I was ready to hurl. I clutched the edge of my seat and forced my stomach back into place then glanced at the pilot, old Bill Burnham—the operative word being “old”. The man probably hadn’t flown a craft since the nineteen fifties when he’d served in Korea but he was the only person in town who could fly the crop dusting helicopter we were using for reconnaissance.

Bill grinned at me and his voice sounded in my headphones. “Doing okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m all right.” I risked a glance at the ground below and another wave of nausea rushed over me. Flying was better in a jet, high up in the air where the ground was just a patchwork quilt of colors. This close, trees and fields and buildings rushed by, adding to my motion sickness.

The main route to Topeka was laid out straight and narrow below us. There were a few stalled or crashed cars but mostly the way was clear. The fields were burnished gold by the late afternoon sun and spots of autumn color marked patches of trees. It would’ve been a pretty view for a sightseer, but we were on a zombie hunting mission.

“If you’re going to puke, there’re probably airsick bags under the seat.”

“Got it.” My stomach lurched again at the mention of vomiting. I focused on the horizon to get my bearings then scanned the land below. Soon after taking off from a farm where the helicopter had been housed, I spotted a few undead walking along the road.

“What I wouldn’t give for a gunner. Mow down these bastards,” Burnham said. “Christ, look at ‘em all.”

Suddenly the countryside was alive with movement, not just small clusters of zombies such as we’d been seeing but a swarm flowing through the fields and along the road like famine refugees. Had they consumed everything there was to eat in the city and been forced to range farther afield? We might never know the answer. What mattered was that they were coming.

“Fly lower. Let’s make sure they’re really dead,” I said, but I already knew the answer. Living people would’ve look up at the helicopter, maybe raised their arms to try to get our attention. They wouldn’t simply plod on. “How many do you estimate?”

Bill was silent a few moments. “Well over a hundred. Looks like they’re migrating or something.”

“And picking up more in every town they pass through, whoever’s infected after they’re done feeding.” I’d seen enough to terrify me. Faced with these numbers, perhaps retreat was the only choice.

“We can take ‘em,” the old man’s voice crackled along with some static in my headphones. “Don’t let facing your enemy demoralize you. That’s what our C.O. used to tell us. You see numbers like that and it seems hopeless, but you’ve got to trust in your strategy.”

“What if it’s flawed? What if they overrun us and invade the town?”

“We’re not going to let that happen. We’re going to contain the situation and direct ’em where we want ‘em to go. Hell, it’s not like they have brains to think with. These are no kind of enemy soldiers at all. Don’t second guess yourself.”

I wanted to thank him for the pep talk but just then my gorge rose for real. I grabbed a bag from under the seat just in time to catch the contents of my stomach. But I felt surprisingly better after that and was almost able to enjoy watching the setting sun color the sky. I figured I’d better enjoy the view because it could very well be my last sunset.

After circling and heading back to town, Bill landed the helicopter in the parking lot of Braverman’s Carryout. As the rotors whirred to a stop, we climbed from the cockpit.

“If you got any use for the copter, I can fly at night,” he offered. “Let me know. And, son, don’t think too hard, just act and you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks, Mr. Burnham.”

I left the old man tinkering with the helicopter and went to find Daylon. We’d moved the tanker to the reservoir earlier in the day and soon it would be time to drive out there and create our slick. After that, there was nothing to do but wait for the zombies to arrive to the party. We’d keep in contact with the other teams and with any luck we’d all survive the night.

When I passed the restaurant, I stopped to see Ashleigh but Becky said she’d left after lunch and not returned. “Nice girl.”

“Yeah, she is.”

I walked toward the guard tower where I’d left the scooter before driving out to the farm where the helicopter was housed. I might have just enough time to find Ashleigh and say a last goodbye before heading out—although we’d shared our feelings earlier, so maybe that was a good final memory to have. Morbid thought. I had to banish the pervasive dread whispering I’d never make it through the night. Feeling feverish and ill didn’t help cure my sense of hopelessness.

My window of opportunity to look for Ashleigh vanished as a van pulled up and Daylon leaned out the window. “How’d it go? Did you get an estimate of numbers?”

“More than you want to know about. Maybe over a hundred and there aren’t any towns left to distract them between here and where they are so I guess they’ll be here by early evening like you said. Are all the teams set to go?”

“Ready as they can be.” Daylon’s fingers tapping the steering wheel were the only sign he was nervous. “The important thing will be keeping communications open so we don’t lose control of the situation. You’re command central.”

We neared the front gate where people were gathered, ready to be deployed to various locations. The area was busy with vehicles and armed people coming and going. We hadn’t field tested all the flamethrowers and I prayed they wouldn’t explode in the operators’ hands.

Daylon brought the van to a stop. “You should say something before we head out. You’re the general.”

“Why? You mapped a battle plan. This is as much your idea as mine.”

“I’m a stranger. They don’t want to hear from me. They’re following you, Brian. Go up on the guard tower and say something inspiring about how we’re all going to make it through this if we pull together. Be a coach.”

“Too bad I suck at public speaking,” I muttered as I opened the van door.

I climbed the steps of the tower and looked down on the milling group—people I’d known all my life but many of whom I’d never talked to before this summer. Now they looked to me for some sort of guidance? It was more than ironic. It was some kind of cosmic joke.

Kevin Wording handed me his bullhorn. When I clicked it on, the amplified sound of me clearing my throat boomed out. I felt suddenly more scared of delivering this little speech than I was of facing zombies. What could I possibly say?

“Hey, everybody. Good luck tonight. You all know what you need to do and what our goal is. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s dangerous, but if we work as a unit I think we can do it. Keep in touch with me. If things change and you have to alter the plan be sure to let me know. Communication is key.” I repeated Daylon’s thought.

I paused, trying to think of something uplifting to add. “I guess that’s all I have to say. You’re all survivors. You’ll survive this too. Be careful and again, good luck.”

I handed back Kevin’s bullhorn and moved toward the stairs. It wasn’t much of a booyah speech but light applause greeted it and then more as people cheered and clapped—for themselves, for all survivors. I guess they needed to get pumped up for the big game, a pep rally ritual I’d never understood until now. I accepted slaps on the back and congratulations as I made my way back to the van, but I hardly felt heroic.

The gates opened and Daylon drove through. More zombies than ever were wandering the perimeter, looking like dementia patients trying to find the way back to their rooms. Rifles boomed behind us as the creatures headed for the open gates. A few zombies blocked our path and we bumped them aside with the van. Undead hands slapped the window beside me. A decayed face peered through the glass, and then we were past the cluster of corpses and driving down open road.

But the route to the reservoir wasn’t as clear as it had been earlier in the day when we’d transported the tanker. Daylon swerved around more zombies and occasionally hit one with a teeth-jarring bump.

I looked through the rear window at the other teams driving out of town in other directions. They’d be stationed at intervals determined by the grid of roads, but we also had some off-road vehicles to ensure the undead didn’t slip through the gaps.

By the time we turned onto Reservoir Road, long shadows cast by the corn turned the road into an ominous dark tunnel through which we traveled. The battered van went around a curve and we were confronted by several zombies in the road, eating what appeared to be an animal. All three looked up, their eyes reflecting the headlights as we bore down on them.

“Move,” Daylon muttered. When the creatures didn’t scatter, he swerved around them. I looked through the rear window and the three had resumed their feast.

We reached the reservoir and parked near the rectangle of dark, still water. This wasn’t the town’s main water supply. The water was mostly used to irrigate the surrounding countryside. Limestone had once been quarried there, leaving behind a pit where water from underground sources collected. The water level was also determined by rainfall. Currently it was low, which was good for our purposes. Sheer stone walls rose several yards on every side, creating a natural prison for our zombies.

If there was danger in using the old quarry as a swimming hole, adults tried not to worry too much about it. After all, they’d enjoyed swimming here too in their youth. There was a single narrow path down to the water and rudimentary steps cut in stone—the only way out once a person had dived in. If any of the undead managed to find the way and climb out, we could eliminate them one by one.

Daylon and I headed for the tanker which we’d backed up to the edge of the reservoir. Daylon had his shotgun ready and turned in a slow circle, scanning the grassland around us. I headed for the release valve, attached the discharge hose as Kevin had shown me and turned on the displacement pump. The entire start-up process took only minutes and soon diesel fuel gushed from the hose I’d placed over the edge to pour into the reservoir about twenty feet below.

Daylon turned on the battery-powered floodlights we’d set at strategic spots. The lights illuminated the shiny slick that slowly spread across the water’s surface. I didn’t know how much oil it took to make a fire that would burn on top of the water. If it flared fast then went out, we wouldn’t want to light it until we’d enticed as many zombies as possible into the water. On the other hand, if the oil dispersed too much, would it even light? I wished I’d run tests in a bathtub, but the idea hadn’t occurred to me. So much for the super smarts Ashleigh was so sure I possessed.

I shut off the pump, closed the valve and put the hose back on the side of the tank, then stared at the water.

Daylon joined me. “Looks good. I think it’ll work. If not, you’ll still have them trapped and we can pick them off at our leisure… or leave them and see how long they survive.”

I winced. Although the zombies were no longer human, it seemed awful to deliberately prolong their pathetic existence.

“I’ll move the truck. Wouldn’t want it too close when we start the fire,” Daylon said.

One of the phones in my pack rang. Since there we didn’t have two way radios, we were using cell phones, plenty of which were available. Each phone I carried corresponded to several different groups. This call came from Fes.

“What’s up?” I asked. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about anything except our plans for the cattle. There’d be time enough later to tell him how angry I was about his nearly driving Ashleigh out of my life.

“We’re about to drive them out of town. We’ve tethered each animal to the back of a truck so they can’t get spooked and run if zombies attack them.”

“Good idea. Keep me posted.” I ended the call and took a deep breath of air that was getting colder by the second since sunset. I still felt headachy and chilled, but adrenalin made up for it, leaving me charged and alert. But evidently not on the ball enough as Daylon suddenly shouted, “Watch out!”

I spun around to face a man with skin the color of oatmeal and empty sockets where his eyes used to be. He didn’t need to see me. He could smell his dinner and lunged at me, mouth wide open.

I spun aside and Daylon blew a hole through the zombie’s head with his shotgun.

I raised my axe as a pair of zombies came out of the long grass and rushed me. The reservoir was right behind me. There was no time to swing the axe so I did a last minute sideways move. The pair lumbered right past me and over the edge. There was a splash when they hit the water.

Daylon chopped off the not-quite-dead zombie’s ruined head with his axe, then he stood over the zombie’s still form, breathing hard. I checked for more attackers looming out of the shadows before I went to look down into the water. The surface was ruffled by the splashing of the two zombies paddling to keep afloat.

“Wonder how long they can keep that up.” Daylon stared over the edge with me.

It was mesmerizing but there was no more time to stand there watching as two of my phones rang at once. I tossed one to Daylon and answered the other.

“Team Eight reporting.” Jim remembered to use his squad’s code name. “A few creatures passed our checkpoint but not so many we couldn’t kill them. There are more coming right now.”

“Remember, don’t use any more ammo than you have to. You’re supposed to head them this way not shoot them,” I warned the eager marksman. I ended the call then checked in with Fes again. “How’s it going?”

“It’s like we rang a dinner bell. They’re following our convoy. But the cattle are freaking out and trying to get away, which doesn’t make it easy to drive. Hold on...”

I the bawl of a terrified cow in the background and an argument between Fes and his partner then he came back on the line. “Can’t talk now. Thing’s are heating up. Ashleigh’s team is having a problem.”

“What?” Fear roared through me like a freight engine. “What the hell is she doing there?”

“Didn’t she tell you? She’s with Stan. Gotta go.” The phone went dead.

I tried to call back but the phone rang until it went to voicemail. I cursed, kicking myself for not checking with Ashleigh before I left town. I’d assumed she was safe. It never occurred to me she’d put herself at risk. I was furious. I’d told her to stay put. Why couldn’t she have listened? Didn’t she know it would destroy me if she got hurt or killed?

“Stop daydreaming?” Daylon shouted from where he stood on the hood of the rig, keeping lookout. “Incoming. This is no time to zone out.”

I forced myself to stop fretting about Ashleigh as a half dozen more zombies came out of the cornfields into the grassland, heading our way.

* * * * *

Chapter Eighteen

My cow was thrashing and fighting against the rope tying her to the tailgate of the pickup I was driving. The force of the animal’s struggles shook the vehicle and I fought to keep us on the road. Zombies were coming out of the fields on either side of the road and grabbing at her. We were drawing them like flies to a picnic, which was great except I was afraid our cow was going to be eaten alive before we ever reached the reservoir.

“Turn right at the next road,” my partner, Stan said before shooting through the open rear window. The pistol’s report was deafening practically right next to my ear and the small caliber gun didn’t make a dent in the zombies, but shooting seemed to make Stan feel better. “Can’t you drive any faster?”

“Not if we want Bossy to keep up. We won’t get anywhere dragging her dead weight behind us.” Stan was not my favorite person right now. I wished I was with Carl or Daylon or even Tanesha, who was more capable than she let on. I wanted to be with somebody I knew instead of this rude hick from Farmville. But Fes had paired me with someone local to direct me to the reservoir.

“There! Turn right there!” Stan stabbed his finger toward the windshield, blocking my vision with his arm.

I cramped the wheel to the right, but even after he moved his arm I couldn’t see the road. There were too many zombies in our path. I couldn’t go forward without running into them. Bodies blocked the headlights so I only caught glimpses of clothing, torsos, arms and faces. I pressed on the gas, trying to push through the crowd. The gears whined and we barely moved. Zombies beat on the windows, the hood and the body of the pickup then they began to rock it. Some climbed into the bed and started hitting the rear window which Stan had slammed closed. We were surrounded by the silent horde, pummeling the vehicle in a vain effort to get to us. The cow was bellowing and plunging and I wondered if they’d managed to bite through her tough hide.

“Hit the gas.” Stan’s work boot covered mine and he pressed down, crushing my foot.

“I’m trying. Stop it!”

The truck lurched forward over a couple of bodies, putting us off kilter. The front tires no longer had contact with the road and the vehicle tipped. Lightning flashes of fear stabbed through me. I’d imagined I was safe inside the vehicle, figuring I could outrun any zombies, but I hadn’t counted on the sheer numbers of bodies. I pictured the truck overturned, windows smashed in, hands reaching inside to pull us out, teeth sinking into my body at last—inevitable. This had been my constant fear since Vegas.

“Get off! I got it,”” I screamed at Stan who was still stomping my foot and trying to wrench the steering wheel from my grasp. Suddenly, I regained control. We rolled over one or two zombies, pushed aside others and the tires touched pavement. I revved the engine and we shot forward away from the cluster of undead.

But those in the truck bed were still pressed against the glass and slamming their fists on the roof of the cab.

“Get rid of them,” I ordered.

Stan rolled down the side window and leaned out to shoot at our unwelcome hitchers. The bullets tearing into them knocked them off balance but didn’t dislodge them from the truck bed. I accelerated before abruptly hitting the brakes and the four zombies lost their balance and fell on their asses. At last I could see the wild-eyed cow, still trotting to keep up.

The taillights of the lead truck in our caravan shone ahead of us and beyond that the glow of floodlights marking the reservoir. We were almost there. Acid churned in my stomach as we approached our goal. Evading zombies in the pickup was different from the hand-to-hand fighting we were about to face.

“Remember the plan. I’ll cover you while you untie the cow then we’ll lead it to the water on Fes’s cue.” For once I didn’t mind Stan’s bossy attitude. His confidence, even if faked, made me feel better.

I nodded. Brian’s plan, which had sounded good back in town, now seemed terribly flawed. What if the zombies weren’t nearly as interested in cow meat as in human? What if they ignored the bait meant to entice them into the water and continued to come after us instead? But one good thing about taking action—it doesn’t leave you with time to worry or imagine the worst. All a person can do is deal.

The lead truck stopped and Fes and Carl jumped out and started hacking at zombies. Other people came to help. It was easy to make out the living from the dead thanks to strips of reflective tape marking their coats. I’d suggested everyone wear racing stripes down their sleeves and backs so there’d be no accidental shootings and I was pleased to see my idea working.

While the others guarded him, Carl ran to the tailgate to cut free the plunging cow. It took a number of people to control the animal and drive it toward the reservoir. Then I lost sight of what was happening.

I glanced at Stan. He wasn’t in a hurry to get out of the truck any more than I was. It was zombie stew out there, getting thicker by the minute. We were seriously outnumbered and I didn’t know if our protection teams would be enough. A burst of flame off to the left caught my attention and gave me heart. It was one of the flamethrowers in action. Burning zombies staggered ahead of the blast like marshmallows set alight by a campfire.

“Ready?” I asked.

Stan gave a curt nod and we both opened the doors and jumped out. Stan started shooting at the zombies clambering out of the truck bed, while I raced to the tailgate. The cow’s huge red and white body seemed even larger since it was lunging in an attempt to escape. The vet had given the cattle a mild dose of tranquilizer before we started out, enough to calm them without knocking them out. But evidently the threat of death overrode the drug because this cow was frantic.

“Hey, girl. Calm down.” I tried to cow whisper as I moved in close to cut the rope. “Good girl. You’re very brave.”

I sidled nearer. The cow rolled its eyes and bawled, mucus running from its nostrils and puffs of steam blowing into the frosty air. Heat rolled off her sweaty hide as I patted her. The moment I cut her free, she was going to run. I lifted the coach’s whistle I wore around my neck and blew a couple of sharp blasts for help. The whistle had been Tanesha’s idea and its noise summoned several people. One was Daylon, blood-spattered and nearly as wild-eyed as the cow.

“Where’s Brian?” I’d forced myself not to think of him for the past hour, since worrying about my new boyfriend was a distraction I couldn’t afford. But Daylon’s bloody appearance scared me into thinking the worst.

“Over there.” Daylon jerked a thumb toward the reservoir. “Why are you here?”

“I volunteered.” And kind of wished I hadn’t at that point.

Daylon took over, ordering three people to surround the cow and keep her on course. He grabbed the rope and nodded at me. “Cut it loose.”

I sawed through the rope with my newly sharpened knife. The moment the cow felt the restraint break, she tossed up her head and twisted to the right. Daylon and a couple of others hauled on the rope while the man on the other side prodded her forward. It would’ve been hard enough to drive the panicked animal, but our task was made worse by zombies coming from every direction. They moved as silently as sharks looming out of the darkness of ocean depths.

I glimpsed movement in the corner of my eye and turned to find a teenage boy with an acne-pitted face and a tat on his neck right beside me. I plunged my knife toward his throat but he intercepted the blow, grabbing my wrist and twisting my arm back. Foul breath bathed my face as he lunged toward me, open-mouthed. I struggled to pull away but it was like fighting a stone statue. His grip numbed my hand and I dropped the knife. This is how it ends, I thought. One second of not paying attention and I’m zombie chow.

Suddenly an axe flashed past my face and chopped through the zombie’s arm, cutting it like a stick of kindling. Blood gushed from the stump, showering me. I stumbled away and loosened the lifeless fingers from my wrist. Dropping the severed arm on the ground, I looked to see who my rescuer was.

Brian sliced off the zombie’s head with a couple of whacks. He scooped up my knife and handed it to me, frowning. “You shouldn’t be here. Why didn’t you stay in town like I told you to?”

A prickle of annoyance mingled with my happiness at seeing him alive and at still being alive myself. “Thanks for saving me. But I am here, so deal with it.”

There was no time to argue as we both plunged into action, hacking at more of the swarming dead. The scene in the ring of floodlights was like a Halloween lawn display. The herders fought to get the cows to the edge of the reservoir while the animals bucked and lunged. Their moos were deafening. With flamethrowers the protection teams tried to herd the undead to follow the cows and not set any people alight as they did so. A jet from one of the flamethrowers nearly singed Daylon. Zombies milled around grabbing at anything living they could get their hands on. The situation looked bleak and chaotic.

Fes’s team had gotten their cow to the very edge of the reservoir. Fes sliced across the animal’s throat and the zombies surged toward the smell of fresh blood as the cow tossed its head. Fes released the rope and the animal lunged over the drop off. About ten of the undead followed, their lust for blood carrying them after the cow. Fes was caught up in the group and swept along with them.

I gasped in shock as he disappeared. As if we could stop what had already happened, Brian and I ran over and peered over the edge. One dying cow thrashed in the water and a bunch of zombies churned around it. I saw Fes swimming toward the stone cliff but before he’d gone more than a couple of strokes, one of the undead grabbed him and climbed on him as if he were a life raft. We couldn’t shoot the zombie without hitting Fes. He tried to fight his attacker while keeping afloat, but the thing held him around the neck. They both went under.

We couldn’t watch any longer. Zombies were coming at us thick and fast. I stopped trying to cut them with my knife and started playing a game of duck and dodge. When one lunged at me, I stepped aside at the last minute. Momentum carried the zombie over the cliff. The creatures weren’t bright enough to learn from watching each other. More came at me and fell for my dodge, hurling themselves over the edge. Others I grabbed and pushed.

Tossing a pre-teen girl wearing an I Love Justin night shirt over a cliff was upsetting to say the least. Then I pushed an old man in overalls and a middle-aged woman wearing no clothes at all. It felt amazing and awful to be the one doing the attacking for a change.

Suddenly, Brian grabbed my hand and pulled me with him away from the zombies and toward the parked semi. “You should be safe in the cab.”

I dug in my heels. “No.” It’d be far too easy to do as I was told and sit out the battle in a safe spot. But I was no longer a person who could do that. “I appreciate you caring about me but it’s not your say and I’m as capable as anybody to fight. We’re partners. We do this together. Okay?”

Brian frowned and pulled me in for a fierce hug before releasing me. “Be careful.”

“I will. You too.” I turned and headed toward Daylon who had my red and white cow at the edge of the drop off. That cow was my personal mission and I wanted to be there with her when she got whacked.

* * * * *

Chapter Nineteen

I started to follow Ashleigh, determined to stick by her side, but one of my phones rang. “Yeah?”

“It’s Jim. We’ve got trouble. We’re almost to Reservoir Road and we’re bogged down. There are too many of ‘em. We’re trapped in our vehicles and can’t move and the flamethrowers set the field on fire. Dry as it’s been, I’m afraid it’ll spread fast.”

This was the worst case scenario I’d feared, a fire burning across the land devouring abandoned towns as surely as the undead had. “Call Durbinville and warn the fire brigade. I’ll send more people to help you.”

“Don’t bother. Anderson’s crew is moving in from behind us. Maybe together we can push this herd toward you. Trouble is, too many of the undead are off road. It’s hard to flush them out and keep them headed where we want them to go.”

“Call if you need more help.” I hung up and headed back into the fight. A woman with hair flaming like a candle wick attacked me. I hefted my axe, swung and missed, barely nicking her shoulder. She threw her arms around me in a toxic embrace. The stench of burning hair choked me and flames singed my hands when I grabbed her neck to push her away. Even with her head on fire, her teeth snapped together as she tried to bite.

I punched her in the face, snapping her head back. She was too close to swing my axe so I pulled the knife from my belt and plunged it into her stomach. The creature continued to struggle but at last I freed myself from her grip. I retrieved the knife and threw her body toward the reservoir—too far away to reach the edge, but she was caught in a group flowing that direction and they all went over.

Suddenly a roar came from the reservoir and an orange glow lit the sky overpowering our meager floodlights. The oil slick had caught fire, flames spreading fast. Probably one of the burning undead had fallen in and lit the oil in passing. But it was too soon. The plan had been to pack the water with zombies before starting the fire. Would even the promise of fresh beef on the hoof be enough to entice the undead into the reservoir now?

Daylon was at the edge, holding the rope of another cow. Ashleigh leaned in as if patting the animal’s throat. Her arm moved. The cow tossed its head and then its legs crumpled. As the cow started to fall, Daylon tipped it over the edge. An undead man built like a bull himself charged after the dying animal, his shoulder knocking into Daylon as he ran past. Daylon’s arms went wide, pinwheeling for balance. He lost his footing and slipped over the drop off.

Ashleigh screamed and crouched by the edge, reaching out for him. I pounded across the ground toward her, determined she wouldn’t be swept over too. I knocked zombies out of my way like a football player heading for the end zone. Fes would’ve been proud. When I reached Ashleigh, I grabbed the back of her jacket, ready to drag her away from the precipice. Then I saw that Daylon hadn’t completely fallen. He was clinging to the rocky ledge and fighting to gain a better handhold as he slipped backward.

Ashleigh took hold of one of his wrists. I let go of her to reach for him too just as he slid farther down the rocky wall. His feet scrambled for footing and pebbles showered onto the water below. The flames burning on the water made it look like a pit of hell with zombies thrashing in it like tormented souls.

I fell to my knees and seized hold of Daylon’s leather sleeve, gripping the hard muscle beneath. He grunted and his fingers dug into the dirt as he sought a better handhold.

“Grab onto me,” I said.

He obeyed, transferring his hands from the shifting earth to my arm and Ashleigh’s. He clung to us like a drowning man, hands locked on with a zombie’s strength, and immediately I felt his full weight pulling at me. I braced my legs, knees digging into the ground, and hauled on his heavy body. My arms felt like they were being pulled from the sockets. I glanced at Ashleigh, who was grimacing with effort as we fought to pull him up. We gained a few inches only to lose them again.

More zombies were swarming around us. If we didn’t let Daylon go soon, he’d either drag us over with him or we’d be killed by the undead. Rage poured through me at the thought of losing like this, after everything we’d already suffered, and with the anger came a crazy burst of adrenaline. I howled and yanked on Daylon’s arm with more strength than I’d ever possessed. I grabbed hold of the back of his jacket with my other hand and together Ashleigh and I heaved him onto solid ground.

We didn’t have a second to recover or draw breath as the undead snatched at us. I’d lost my axe and was left only with my knife, stabbing blindly at grasping hands and slack faces. A couple of people came to our rescue, slashing their way to us. Carl pulled one of the creatures off me and I scrambled to my feet.

Maybe it was the fever burning through me, but everything felt surrealistic as if I was playing a character in a video game. I directed my body’s movements at a remove, thrusting my knife into tough flesh and shoving foul-smelling corpses out of my path with the confidence that if things went wrong, I’d hit reset and play this level again. I charged through the mob with a caution-to-the-winds gusto.

Recalling those moments later, they were made up of flashes of vision and movement as if a strobe light illuminated the scene. I remember only one thing with great clarity and that was the sight of Ashleigh wrapped in a zombie’s arms, its mouth descending toward her neck. I leaped toward her and shoved her attacker away, grabbed her wrist hard enough to break it and dragged her with me out of the crowd. I glimpsed Daylon fighting his way free too and running off in another direction.

More of the undead were flooding into the area from all directions. It was time for retreat or none of us would make it out alive. I saw Elliott Parker, the hardware owner get pulled down by a pack of zombies as I blew several blasts on the whistle Tanesha had given me, the signal for everyone to fall back.

Winded and arms numb, I headed for the semi since it was the nearest vehicle. I brandished my knife one-handed since my other hand was welded to Ashleigh’s wrist. It would take an act of God to separate us.

A zombie grabbed a hank of Ashleigh’s hair and she screamed as she jerked her head free, leaving strands entwined in its fingers. The roar of flame from one of the throwers was followed by a sunburst of heat on the left side of my body. Burning zombies darted across our path and the odor of scorched flesh and hair hung in the air in a miasma of stink.

Daylon had parked the tanker a short distance from the reservoir so it wouldn’t catch fire and explode. Its position also placed it away from the action and we suddenly found ourselves in the clear. As we raced across open ground, I tripped over a hummock of earth. Ashleigh stopped me from falling and took the lead, pulling me with her the rest of the way.

We scrambled into the cab where Daylon had left keys in the ignition. Since Ashleigh was the one with experience driving the rig, I climbed across to the passenger side. My chest felt like it was being compressed in a vise and my heart pounded so hard it felt like my breastbone would shatter. I drew a deep breath into aching lungs.

The engine roared as Ashleigh revved it, shifted and the truck began to move. From the window, I could see into the reservoir where dozens of figures splashed around in the water, many of them on fire. A good number floated, still at last, truly dead. Maybe this plan didn’t suck completely but we’d lost several people.

“This was a bad idea,” I muttered. “Too dangerous. Too many killed.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Brian. Everyone who volunteered knew the risk. Stop wasting energy on guilt and think about what else we can do.”

Ashleigh was right, and I obeyed, falling silent and watching the fighting as we drove past. Flamethrowers controlled the zombies, driving them where the operators wanted them to go. Fire was a useful tool and I suddenly realized we could create a firebreak to keep them away from town. Setting controlled fires to fight big grass fires was common practice to protect property. What were the undead if not a raging wildfire to be contained?

“I know what we need to do,” I said to Ashleigh. “Drive back toward town. We’re going to make a line of fire that will push the zombies away from Durbinville.”

“And you’ll stop this fire from burning down the town, how?”

“I’ve got another plan.” I smiled grimly. “And you can see how well this one turned out so I wouldn’t worry.”

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty

“I love it when a plan comes together.” I stood beside Brian, keeping a lookout for zombies while he attached the hose to the release valve of the fuel tank. “You’re sure this is safe?”

“Let’s put it this way, if it isn’t, we’ll be at the center of the explosion so we shouldn’t suffer much.”

“Better than being eaten alive,” I agreed. Morbid humor was the only way to cope with the world we lived in. I heard a rustling in the weeds to my left and shone my flashlight on a raccoon which stared at me with shiny golden eyes before waddling away.

Brian grunted as he tightened the connector. “I’ve talked to every team I could reach and they know what to expect. The fire department tanker will douse any flames that get out of control and wet down the perimeter of the town.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough?”

“Should work. We’ve dealt with wildfires before, digging trenches and controlled burns.” He sounded more self-assured and hopeful than he had earlier so I wasn’t about to undermine his confidence.

“All right then. Let’s lay down fire and burn up these bastards.”

Brian took hold of my arms and looked at me with worried puppy-dog eyes that turned me to butter. “This could be more lethal than fighting zombies. The tanker’s a potential bomb on wheels. You don’t have to drive. I don’t want you in this much danger.”

“And I don’t want you in this much danger, but like I said, we’re in this together. Besides, you don’t know how to drive the thing.” I touched the side of his face. “No imagining the worst, okay? Let’s do this thing.”

He frowned but nodded. “I just want to say…” He didn’t finish the thought but leaned in and kissed me.

Headlights glared on the road behind us and a few moments later a van pulled up. Daylon and Carl jumped out and joined us by the tanker.

“Pretty much everybody retreated from the reservoir. It’s hard to count heads right now with everything in flux but I’d say we lost about six,” Carl reported. ”And I estimate thirty undead went into the water. I didn’t see any of them crawling back out so I’d call it a successful operation.”

“Good,” Brian said. “I’m hoping a wildfire will kill more or at least drive them away from town.”

Daylon looked at the big shiny cylinder and rubbed his jaw. When he took his hand away, a smear of blood marked his face. “You’re going to need extra hands. I’ll help you.” He flicked his gaze to me. “Drive carefully, Ashleigh. We won’t have much of a handhold back here.”

The two men would be perched beside the tank on a platform about a foot wide that wasn’t meant to hold passengers. Once the truck started moving, Brian planned to open the release valve. Pressure might cause the hose to start whipping around so Brian and Daylon would guide the hose to regulate the stream making an even trail alongside the road.

Brian described the route we’d take and Carl left with the van to meet us at the end of our journey since we’d be parking the tanker there—far away from the fire and from town. Teams had been placed at intervals to guide the fire once it was lit. If flames needed to be fanned or beaten out, it was their job to shape the fire to their will, making it a weapon instead of a threat.

After Carl left, Daylon turned to me and Brian. “I never got a chance to thank you both for saving my life. So…thanks.” His voice was as gruff as always but in the dim light I could see his eyes were shining. I threw my arms around him and gave him a big hug. For once I didn’t have a smart-ass comment to make to lighten the mood. I was too damned tired to be clever and too afraid of what might go wrong even though I’d told Brian we shouldn’t imagine the worst.

When I was done squeezing Daylon and receiving his awkward back-patting in return, I grabbed Brian. I memorized the feeling of his warm body pressed against mine, the soft press of his lips and the quiet murmur when he whispered, “Bad timing, but I just wanted to tell you I think I’m falling in love with you.”

It was my turn to feel tears prickling my eyes. I cleared my throat before I answered. “That’s something I want to hear more about so let’s get through this and I’ll see you at the end of the road.”

“All right.”

After I bid Brian and Daylon goodbye with one last “be careful”, I climbed into the cab. I was starting to feel pretty comfortable behind the wheel. Since I had to drive on pavement so the heavy truck wouldn’t bog down, we were limited to running our line of oil along the grid of roads. Brian had sketched a map that traveled along the east side of the town, protecting it from the influx of zombies coming mostly from that direction. With any luck, they’d be diverted from town or burn up in the fire.

As I put the truck in gear and rolled slowly down the road, I looked in my side mirror but couldn’t see Brian or Daylon, who were on the opposite side of the tanker. I wouldn’t know if they fell off. The night was dark and the cornfields creepy and secretive. The weather had turned colder and a few snowflakes danced in the truck’s headlights. Even with the heat on, it was chilly in the cab so I could imagine how cold the two men were as they clung to their narrow perch and guided the heavy hose.

I rolled my window down an inch, listening for a whistle blast that would signal me to stop if there was trouble. Although I carried a phone, Brian couldn’t contact me without his hands free and the whistle he wore was the only connection between us. I longed to stop and check on the guys and instinctively eased my foot off the gas. The truck slowed. But it was important I keep a steady pace so I resumed my pressure on the gas pedal.

A couple of miles down the road we arrived at our first turn. In my head I heard Aaron’s voice guiding me through the motions of making the turn. I swung out in a generous arc around the corner then held my breath until I saw the tank fall in behind me.

I shifted my attention from the mirror to the road before me. This one was local and the pavement was considerably more potholed than the county route had been. Soon after I made the turn, zombies loomed in the headlights, eerie figures in the spitting snow. The drive had been zombie-free for so long, I’d started to believe we’d somehow not encounter any. Now there were three of them walking straight down the center line toward the truck as if playing chicken. Who would flinch first? Not me.

I couldn’t swerve to miss them, but rolling over the bodies would make a bumpy ride for my passengers in back. I had about two seconds to decide whether to brake and opted for going straight ahead, hoping they’d move out of the way at the last minute. The headlights illuminated their blank eyes and rotting faces, mouths blood-stained from their raw meat diet. It wasn’t as if they used a napkin after a meal. I took in this lovely vision for a split second before the truck’s grille plowed into two of the three and knocked them down like bowling pins.

The cab lurched over them with a bump-bump, but the bodies must have landed between the tanker tires because it continued to glide along. I rolled my window farther down. “Hey, are you guys still back there?” I yelled then strained to hear over the loud engine noise. A distant call sounded like “Okay” so I kept going.

Another mile passed and we reached another crossroads. We were making a three-sided arc, leaving the last side of the square open so the townspeople could evacuate if things went wrong.

The smattering of snow had become a light flurry and flakes were starting to collect on the ground rather than melt. Through the swirling white haze, I glimpsed more figures at the edge of the fields. But I figured not all of them were zombies. We did have our own people stationed along the route. So far the drive had been fairly uneventful and I was starting to think we’d defeated the bulk of the zombie horde back at the reservoir.

A blast from Brian’s whistle grabbed my attention and I put on the brakes—slow and easy like Aaron had taught me. Heart thumping, I climbed down from the cab and trotted to the back of the tanker. The acrid smell of diesel oil filled the air. Brian and Daylon were standing by the truck, shining their flashlights on a panel.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

“The tank’s compartmentalized so it can carry different grades of fuel. We need to switch to the next chamber but we’re not sure how.” Brian bent close to study the gauges that displayed pump pressure and chamber capacity.

“Maybe we’ve done enough.”Anxiety percolated in my stomach and a nagging voice in my head warned that it was time to move on. I’d learned the hard way to listen to that voice of intuition when it was clamoring like that. “We should go park the truck and light the oil before it sinks into the ground.”

“It can’t be that complicated to close one valve and open another.” Daylon leaned in beside Brian, the two men ignoring me as men often do when women speak. They were intent on solving the problem and, in their need to figure it out, losing sight of the bigger picture.

“I think we should do it now,” I said a little louder, looking for moving shadows in the dark field. After this trip through Kansas, I’d decided there was nothing scarier in the world than a cornfield. Not even clowns.

My intuition continued to holler insistently and I was pretty sure this wasn’t just nerves but a real message I should listen to. “We need to light the fire. Like now.”

Brian glanced up at me. “What? Did you say something?”

“I said we should move the truck out of the way and light the damn oil!”

He straightened and really looked at me this time before nodding. “Okay. I suppose we’ve covered enough ground.” He began to put the hose back in its compartment on the side of the tank while Daylon continued to argue about valves and switches.

A flash of light in the distance caught my attention and I squinted to see through the darkness and whirling flakes. “Do you see that?”

“See what?” Daylon looked where I pointed, far across the field in the direction we’d come from.

“Is that what I think it is?” The flickering yellow light was spreading.

“Shit. We’ve got to move.” Daylon grabbed Brian’s arm and hauled him away from his task of putting the hose away.

I raced around the back of the truck toward the driver’s side and nearly ran into a figure in the darkness by the cab’s open door. Fuck! There wasn’t time for this. I pulled my knife and held it in front of me. “You don’t want to mess with me right now. Just get the hell out of my way and live to feed another day.”

The zombie hurried toward me with arms open as though greeting a long lost friend. I ran straight at her and welcomed her with a knife in the throat—or would’ve if my aim hadn’t been off. Instead, the point hit her chin and deflected off bone, the impact jarring all the way up my arm.

The creature grabbed at me, but before she could latch on with that killer grip they all seemed to have, I spun past her with the grace of a dancer, vaulted into the cab and slammed the door behind me.

Brian and Daylon had come around the other side and were already in the cab. No question about who would stay behind to light the oil trail. All we had to worry about was outrunning the fire. I didn’t know what it took to cause a tank truck to explode with the gas line sealed off, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

I bore down on the gas pedal and the gears ground as I shifted too soon. I glanced in the mirror and saw the trail of fire spreading along the route we’d just turned from. As I pulled the truck forward, the flames burned over the crossroads and followed behind us like a glowing tail, growing closer by the second. Once the fire caught up with us, the tail would wag the dog.

I drove too fast for a narrow country road at night and when I steered around a bend in the road, the trailer began to fishtail. The liquid in the tank sloshed, putting it more off balance. I took my foot off the gas and held my breath until the tank steadied and moved back into place behind the cab.

“Take it easy,” Daylon said and I felt like smacking him for the warning, but I needed both hands on the wheel.

I risked another look backward and breathed easier. I’d driven well past the end of our trail and the fire seemed to have guttered and faded there. Flames still spread weakly over the grass and weeds but not with the feverish intensity of the fire devouring fuel.

Up ahead, I saw our van, red taillights shining like beacons in the snow. My arms were sore from gripping the wheel so hard and I was glad to pull the truck to a stop. We got out of the semi and headed for the van, but Carl wasn’t waiting there to greet us and when we called his name, he didn’t answer. A large bloody patch on the pavement near the van and a smear leading off the road into broken stalks of corn told the story of what had happened to him.

My joy at succeeding in our task deflated. Sorrow swept through me for Carl, for Lainie and Jeff, for Denny and all of the others we’d lost along the way. My life had always been full of change, moves to new places, goodbyes to friends I’d barely begun to know. People in my life had never lasted so you’d think it would make it easier for me to cope with loss. But each one struck deep.

My eyes blurred with tears and I sniffled, on the verge of losing my shit. Brian put an arm around me and guided me to the other side of the van. We climbed inside and Daylon drove. He did a U-turn in the road and headed back in the direction we’d come from.

There was a dividing line between scorched earth and flames on one side and untouched fields on the other. Brian’s plan seemed to be working. The wind drove the fire away from Durbinville. Occasionally we passed crews of people putting out any sparks that landed on the opposite side of the road and killing any zombies that came out of the fire.

I leaned forward between the two front seats and nudged Brian in the shoulder. “You did good.”

“Let's see how it works out before you say that,” he cautioned with his typical pessimism. Or maybe it was Midwestern, aw-shucks humility.

Either way, it made me punch his arm. “Think positive.”

We were nearly to town when Brian’s negativity proved right. We came upon a roadblock of vehicles and people fighting to push back zombies. All I could think was “How much more of this can we take?” The fire had died out in that area without really catching hold and zombies were wandering over the scorched earth while people tried to drive them back. If enough of the undead discovered this breach in the line, there’d be no option but to retreat into the walled town.

As Daylon parked the van and we got out, I saw a flamethrower spray a few of the trudging zombies before its fire died, the tank emptied. The lack of gunfire suggested the people were out of ammo, too. They fought hand-to-hand with knives, axes and swords and were losing ground. Protecting the town with a wall of fire wasn’t going to work if the creatures found a way through.

A haze of smoke hung in the air, searing my throat. I coughed and pulled my scarf over my nose and mouth, then took a breath and drew my knife. I was ready to wade into the mayhem when I heard the unexpected sound of chopper blades beating the air. I squinted to look up into the sky. A helicopter flew so low overhead I could feel the breeze of its passing.

I turned to Brian. “Who’s that?”

“Bill Burnham. He took me on a reconnaissance flight earlier today. What the hell is he doing?”

The helicopter flew beneath the cloud of smoke hanging over the fields and a fine mist came from the spray bar beneath the copter's body. Immediately the fire on the land below flared and the field where the flames had nearly died out reignited. The copter laid a steady swathe of fire across the field, filling in the breach and burning whatever walked there. The copter emerged from smoke, turned and took another pass.

“There could be people out there,” Brian worried. “He shouldn’t have done this without telling anybody.”

“Maybe he cleared it with Myers. Let’s go find out,” I suggested. Now that the hole was plugged, eliminating a fresh wave of zombies, the fighters seemed to have the situation under control. I thought they could handle it without our help and I was anxious to get inside the wall and relax my guard at last.

As I turned to go back to the van, I noticed Brian was swaying on his feet, his face paler than the skim of snow that now covered the ground. “Hey, are you all right?”

He looked at me with unfocused, glassy eyes. “Yeah. Fine. Just a little dizzy.” He took a step toward the vehicle, stumbled and started to collapse. I caught his arm.

“Daylon, help,” I called.

Daylon took Brian’s other arm and together we half-carried him to the van and pushed him inside.

“What happened?” Daylon asked as he closed the door.

“He’s been sick all day, feverish and achy,” I admitted.

“Has he been bit?”

I hesitated. “It didn’t even break the skin. It’s just a mark really, not like it tore a hunk of flesh out or anything.”

“Jesus,” Daylon said. “You should’ve told me.”

I felt sick myself, terrified and trembling as I climbed into the back of the van and we drove toward town.

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-One

My head felt like a cement block and my mouth was full of sand as I peeled open one heavy eyelid then the other. I was lying on a bed, not mine. A cot. And there were bars cutting the world into strips. I was in a jail cell. Quarantined. I turned my head on the pillow and the ache behind my eyes intensified. I was so congested I had to breathe through my mouth, which made me happy. Congestion wasn’t a symptom connected with the A7 virus so it was likely I was sick in the good old-fashioned miserable way. A sinus infection maybe.

“You’re awake.”

I turned my head the other way and there was Ashleigh sitting in a folding chair reading a paperback. She put the book on the floor and offered me a cup of water. I sipped from a straw and the water bathed my swollen throat. It was heavenly. When she took the cup away, I croaked, “What happened?”

“You passed out, Superman. Daylon and I had to carry you here. We would’ve taken you home but figured we’d better play by the town’s rules this time. But I think you’re going to have to give up your deluxe accommodations here soon. The vet’s diagnosing this as a head cold and there’ll be worse cases coming in.”

“How long was I out? What’s happening?” I pushed up onto my elbows and looked around. In the other cell there were a couple of people lying on the cots. One of them was Jim Lewis. His eyes were closed and his face bandaged. “Bitten?”

“Yeah. The doc told me to give you cold medicine for your symptoms but says she’s saving antibiotics for worse cases.” Ashleigh put her hand on my forehead. “Daylon’s taken over for you. He’s got things under control so you don’t need to worry. You’ve been asleep for a few hours and it’s almost morning.”

“What about the zombies?” God, sometimes I still felt ridiculous saying that word and the surrealism of it struck me all over again.

“It seems like the worst is past. The fire wiped out dozens of them. That Burnham guy was a real hero.”

“Was?”

“The helicopter crashed and exploded in the fire.”

I thought about what how Burnham had encouraged me yesterday to have faith and stick to my plan. A man doesn’t get anywhere second guessing himself. That’s what’s wrong with the world today, too much namby-pamby waffling back and forth. Well, that and the goddamn zombies.

“I think he was glad to die in action, getting the job done. Better than fading away in a nursing home.”

“Speaking of which...” Ashleigh rummaged in her bag and pulled out a long, knitted scarf. “You’re going to cry when you hear this. Some of the old ladies wanted to do something to help so they started making scarves. I was supposed to give you this yesterday but I forgot.” She wrapped the length of yarn around my neck.

I fingered the bumpy blue and gold scarf and she was right, I got choked up. Or maybe it was the sinus infection thickening my throat. “That’s sweet.”

In the next cell, Jim coughed and the other bed creaked as the person in it rolled over. Ashleigh lowered her voice so as not to disturb them. “You need to sleep more, but take this first.” She handed me a pair of tablets and put the straw to my lips again.

The door of the room opened and several people bearing stretchers came in. Mary Burgess, the lone surviving member of our police force now serving as jailor, unlocked my cell. “We’re going to need these cots and you’ve got permission to leave. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they bring more. I don’t have any place to put them,” she complained like a hostess with unexpected guests arriving at her party.

“Get someone to bring folding cots for some of the other rooms that can be locked,” I suggested. “You don’t have to do it all alone, Mary. Ask for some help.”

Ashleigh handed my shoes to me. “Come on, hero. Let’s take you home.”

I sat up, head spinning, and got ready. I was surprised by how weak my legs felt when I tried to stand. Ashleigh slung an arm around me and helped me out of the cell. I looked at the bloodied bodies of the wounded as the bearers carried them past and felt stupid to be stumbling along, felled by a common infection.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not that sick.”

“You wouldn’t be but you wore yourself out by not sleeping or eating enough. Now you have to rest. Your body’s forcing you.”

Ashleigh was right. I wanted nothing more than to lie in my own bed and sleep for about a hundred years—no fighting, no zombies, just peace. As we walked out of the administration building, snow crunched underfoot, only a little but enough to powder the ground. The sun was rising and I realized I couldn’t rest easy until I’d taken a look outside the walls. I tugged on Ashleigh’s arm. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

“Later. I don’t even know if you could climb the stairs right now and etting chilled is the last thing you need,” Ashleigh protested.

“I can make it,” I insisted and headed for the fire escape. The handrail was freezing beneath my bare hand— I’d lost my gloves somewhere along the way— and the steps were slippery with ice, but I climbed doggedly to the roof. The hood of my sweatshirt covered my head but the stiff breeze froze my face and made my eyes tear up. I walked across roof, leaving fresh tracks in the snow, and stared at the eastern horizon. Smoke hung thick in the air but the sun struggled to shine through it. Most of the land in that direction was scorched bare. No more corn and a couple of burned out farmhouses and outbuildings jutting up here and there. I thought of those A-bomb test sites in the New Mexican desert.

Nothing moved in the landscape except birds flying low beneath the haze of smoke. They landed, pecked at the ground and flew up again as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in their routine. I spotted a couple of pickup trucks and a black van driving toward town.

“Daylon,” I said.

We watched as the vehicles approached the gate then entered. After a last look around, we headed down the fire escape. I was coughing from the congestion in my chest by the time we reached the street. Ashleigh had her arms hugged around her shivering body and was stamping her feet on the ground. “Mother of God it gets cold here.”

“This is only the beginning. In another few weeks, we could go skating on the reservoir.”

“Oh yes, I can just imagine gliding along and having a zombie arm break through the ice and pull me under. I wonder if they’re still splashing around in there.” She paused then added, “I’m sorry about Fes. That was a rotten way to go.”

I nodded. It was impossible to believe I’d never see the guy again or hear one of his football stories. Although we’d never had much in common and he’d tried to drive off Ashleigh, Mike Fessenden had been a part of my life. A friend. I would miss him more than I’d ever expected to.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Carl,” I said.

A car pulled up beside us and I sighed when Janice Myers got out of it, but I greeted her and shook her hand as if there weren’t any bad feelings between us.

“Congratulations. You all did amazing work last night,” she said, pushing a strand of her salt and pepper hair back into place. “A bit destructive, but you saved the town.”

And there it was, always a grain of sand in the sugar.

She got down to business. “How much fuel oil is left in the tanker?”

“I don’t know. Enough to last for a while.”

“What about casualties? Do you have a count yet?” She gazed at me with such composure she might have been inventorying stock instead of people who’d died.

“I don’t know. I’ve been unconscious for a while. I’ll get right on it and write you a report,” I retorted dryly.

Ashleigh suddenly stepped between me and Janice and got right up in her face. “What were you doing last night? While we were out being destructive and saving the town, where were you and your council?”

“There were plenty of things to tend to here. People had questions. I managed the town as I always do.”

“How nice for you, safe and snug in your fortress, ordering people around and then tucking yourself into bed for a good night’s rest.” You arrogant, selfish old bitch. Ashleigh might as well have said the words aloud they were so clear in her tone.

“I was available to whoever needed me at all times, even when I was at home.” You smart-mouthed little brat. Janice’s taunt was also practically audible. “Brian made it clear he wished to oversee his plan so I gave him free reign to do so.”

“And now that he’s done your dirty work, you’re grabbing the reins again with both hands.”

“My dear, I never let them go.”

Ashleigh waved her hand in Janice’s face, ghetto style. “Oh, that’s it. We don’t have to listen to this bullshit, Brian. We’re outta here.” She grabbed my hand.

“Goodbye, Ms. Myers.” I couldn’t keep from smiling even though it made my frozen lips crack. Ashleigh was cute as hell when she was pissed off and defending me. I let her lead me down the sidewalk, but before we got very far Daylon’s van approached from the other direction.

He stopped beside us and got out. His brown face was blood-streaked and his eyes were set in dark hollows. Daylon looked like he might collapse. Janice joined us to listen to what he had to say.

“The mop up crew is about done. We estimated fifteen to twenty people dead and about a dozen wounded. The vet’s doing triage at the front gates but we need to move them some place.”

“The wounded must be quarantined,” Janice said.

Daylon barely flicked a glance at her. “Yes. We’re aware.”

“Four people are already in the jail and Mary’s setting up more rooms,” I told him.

“Good. What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Better. Sorry I passed out on you and thanks for everything you’ve done.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I checked on the reservoir. The water’s full of bodies and none of them are moving. Don’t know if they’re completely dead or in some sort of hibernation mode from the cold, but we can check that out later. They’re not going anywhere.”

I pictured a pool full of corpses, with Fes floating among them, and blinked to rid myself of the image.

“We’d better tell them what to do with the wounded,” I said. “I’ll deal with that if you want to get some sleep.”

“Nonsense,” Janice interrupted. “It’s clear all of you are dead on your feet. Go home and rest. I’ll make arrangements.”

My gut instinct was to disagree with anything she said, but as annoying as she was, Janice wasn’t an enemy. She knew how to manage people and get things done. Let her do the bureaucratic crap she was good at so long as the power didn’t go to her head.

Even Daylon didn’t seem inclined to argue with her. “I’ll give you a ride. Get in,” he said to me and Ashleigh.

But before I headed to the van I looked at Janice once more. “I haven’t forgotten our deal. I’ll keep my end of the bargain and leave town.” I paused, giving her a moment to swell with victory. “But I’ll be coming back with supplies and the anti-virus. I’m not abandoning these people or being driven away from my home.”

My announcement was followed by silence. The woman’s nostrils flared slightly, the only outward sign of her displeasure, before she inclined her head. “I’m sure everyone will be grateful for whatever you can do. If you’re able to secure a person with medical experience as well as doses of the anti-virus, it would be good.”

I nearly smiled at her response. Whatever someone suggested, she had to amend or enhance.

Satisfied that she’d bestowed her stamp of approval, Janice held out her hand to shake mine. “Be careful out there. I hope you return safely and soon. I mean that, Brian.” She pulled out her phone and hurried toward the administration building.

“What was that about?” Ashleigh asked. “When did you make an agreement with her?”

“Long story. I’ll explain later.” I was suddenly too tired to string more than a couple of words together.

Ashleigh didn’t push it even though I could tell she wanted to—yet another thing I liked about her—and Daylon kept quiet too. We got into the van and Daylon drove back to my house.

We trudged inside and went to wash off the grime and gore of battle. I’d powered down the generator before leaving so the water was unheated and our showers fast. The air was chilly too and Ashleigh and I rushed to get under a pile of covers. There was no reason to heat an entire house so I’d put space heaters in various rooms. Soon, my bedroom warmed up and underneath the blankets our bodies warmed each other.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, rubbing her hand over the stubble on my jaw.

“Better.” I closed my eyes and felt her gentle touch and the press of her body against mine. Warmth swelled inside me, not the physical kind but a glow of contentment. “Happy.”

“Me too. And feeling guilty that I feel happy with all the people we’ve lost.”

“I don’t think they’d want you to feel bad.” I opened my eyes and looked into her pale blue ones. “It’s all right to celebrate being alive.”

“Good. ‘Cause I do. I feel like dancing and singing.”

“Dancing?” I raised an eyebrow.

She smacked my arm. “Not the pole kind, you perv. Is sex all guys ever think about?”

“Not all. I’d like to hear you sing too. Sing something now.”

She was quiet for a moment then began to sing in a husky contralto a song I didn’t know about finding love after loss.

I closed my eyes and listened. The melody and smoky tone of her voice wrapped around me and coupled with the cold tablet I’d taken, drugged me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I awoke later, I was alone in bed. The smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen teased my nose. I crawled out of the cocoon of blankets, pulled on some clothes and ran a comb through my hair, but there was no fixing the wild spikes and flattened spots from my pillow. It was late afternoon. I’d slept most of the day and felt a hundred percent better for it.

My stomach grumbled as other smells joined the scent of coffee. I hurried down to the kitchen.

Daylon and Ashleigh sat at the center island, eating plates of eggs, toast and bacon. I knew the eggs were powdered and the bacon was some soy concoction, but I was ready to devour anything.

“Feeling better?” Ashleigh asked.

“Much. Thanks.” I accepted the plate of food she offered and wolfed it down.

“Now, what’s the story with you and Myers?” Daylon said. “What about this deal?”

“She hid the tanker and wasn’t going to tell me where unless I agreed to clear out after this was all over. So I’m keeping my promise and leaving. But for the good of the town, I’m bringing back vaccine and supplies for the winter.”

“You think even if you’re find a place where it’s available they’re going to let you take enough for an entire town?”

“Yes I do. I don’t think the government’s purposely ignoring small towns, but they don’t have the resources to help them all so it’s up to the people to go out and get what they need.”

Ashleigh was being unusually quiet and staring at the toast crumbs on her plate.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I was hoping we could stay here. I like this town and not being on the move. I was hoping for a break. But if you’re determined to do this, I’m with you.”

“You don’t have to,” I reached across the table to touch her hand. “You can stay. I’ll be back.”

She stared into my eyes. “You can’t promise that and I couldn’t bear to keep waiting and wondering if you were going to make it home. I have to go with you. We’re a team now.”

For the first time I realized getting involved with someone was like adding a new variable to an equation. My decisions weren’t just mine any more. They impacted Ashleigh because she cared about me. There was more than myself to consider. It was unsettling but comforting, too.

“Yeah, we’re a team,” I agreed. “We work well together.”

“You need a group to be safe out there,” Daylon said. “There’s me, Ashleigh, Aaron and Tanesha and we can probably roust up some others who’d want to go on a mission like this. We should take motorcycles for better gas mileage and maneuverability. We can get a truck or van when we need one on the road.”

I hadn’t considered such details yet since the idea of going on a quest for vaccine had only recently occurred to me. “There are a few people I could talk to about going.”

“Tomorrow,” Ashleigh cut in. “For the rest of today you take it easy and get better.”

“All right. One day in bed.” I smiled at her, but I was already feeling much better and hoped to be doing a lot more in bed than resting.

The tornado siren went off, its blare sending a jolt of alarm through me before I realized it was three blasts—the call to a town meeting.

“Myers.” Ashleigh turned the name into a curse. “What does that bitch want now?”

It was tempting to blow off the meeting but something important might have happened. We dressed in heavy coats against the arctic wind which was scouring the ground clear of last night’s snow and headed for the town hall.

People were coming from all directions and they greeted us with handshakes, high fives and congratulations. Feeling like a politician, I nodded and smiled and reminded everyone it was a team effort that had saved the town.

Every seat in the hall was filled and people leaned against the walls, filling the air with chatter and the odor of warm bodies. At the front of the room, Janice, Barry, Nancy and the other two council members were seated. Janice approached the podium and held up her hands Evita-style for silence. Pretty soon the clamor died down so she could be heard.

“Welcome everyone and thank you for coming.” Her strident voice took me back to long ago school assemblies. “We have cause for both celebration and mourning today. I’d like to begin by offering congratulations to everyone here for his or her part in helping destroy the most recent wave of the undead. Some performed smaller tasks but their importance was just as great. This was truly a joint effort.”

Applause followed her words, whistles and shouts ringing out from the more vocal members of the crowd. Janice paused and allowed the excitement to die down. The woman knew how to work a crowd.

“But I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer special thanks to the people who spearheaded the efforts yesterday. Brian Pasman, Daylon Brice, Jim Lewis, Ashleigh—I’m afraid I don’t know your last name, dear, Kevin Wording and the many others who served in the field. Please stand and be recognized.”

As she called out names, I continued to sit, surprised by her recognition and wondering where she was going with this. She usually had an ulterior motive for most things she did.

Ashleigh tapped my shoulder. “Stand up.”

I reluctantly rose and another wave of applause and cheering swept through the room. When the noise didn’t ebb soon enough to satisfy Janice, she raised her hands for silence again.

“But there were also many lost in last night’s battle. This meeting serves as a memorial service for them. Pastor Charles, Pastor Zwicki, would you lead us in prayer?”

The two remaining ministers in town, Evan Charles from the Christian Reformed Church and Oscar Zwicki from a small evangelical congregation called Spirit of Christ, joined Myers at the podium.

Zwicki lifted his hands in benediction and offered thanks to God for seeing us through this latest crisis in overblown words that went on far too long. But people seemed to like it. I looked around at the heads bowed in prayer and wondered how they could have any faith in a higher power left after what they’d been through. But then, I realized I still did. Who did I call to for help whenever hope seemed to be lost or my life hung in the balance? Begging for God’s help had become a pretty standard part of my zombie-killing ritual.

Pastor Charles began to recite the names of the dead, leaving a pause between names to give us time to reflect on the people we’d lost. When he named Mike Fessenden, my chest contracted so tight I could hardly breathe. Nancy Piznowski burst into tears and sobbed so uncontrollably the minister had to wait to resume his litany until Barry took her out of the room.

I held Ashleigh’s hand as her friends were named—Carl, Lainie, Joe and the others. I was impressed Janice had bothered to find out all their names and add them to the roll of the town’s dead.

After he’d read the last name, Pastor Charles asked everyone to rise to sing America the Beautiful. “It seems we’ve experienced hell on earth over these past months. But let us not forget what makes us strong as a people, our faith in God and each other and in this once great country which shall rise again.”

Even I, who used to scoff at patriotic bullshit, fought tears as everyone began to sing. Beside me, Ashleigh voice rose strong and clear. When others gave way to tears, she led the tune and carried on. By the end of the second verse, she was pretty much singing alone, her powerful voice conveying hope and promise. From sea to shining sea.

I wiped my eyes and swallowed past the tightness in my throat. Another few moments of silence followed the song then the ministers sat down and Janice took the stand again.

“I’d like to conclude this evening’s gathering with an announcement. For too long, we’ve waited for the outside world to see our need, for our government to send aid. It’s become clear this help may be a long time coming and we must act on our own behalf. After leading us to victory last night, Brian Pasman has heroically volunteered to go in search of vaccine for our community. He and others are making it their mission to bring back supplies and medical aid. Anyone interested in joining this expedition may contact Brian after the meeting. Thank you for coming tonight and God bless you all.” Before she could be bombarded with questions, Janice stepped away from the podium.

I was surprised and taken aback, not having expected her to turn the spotlight on me. I wasn’t sure what her game was or if she was playing a game any longer. Perhaps she was merely trying to help me get volunteers, but suddenly people began to gather around me and ask questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.

Luckily, Daylon and Ashleigh helped field questions and invent answers on the fly: No, we weren’t heading toward Topeka again. The next closest city was Wichita. If we didn’t find what we needed there, we’d keep going south to Oklahoma City. Hearing my idea rapidly turning into reality was frightening but it was way too late to put the brakes on. Several people volunteered to go with us. I tried to feel hopeful and enthusiastic but my head was clouding again and all I really wanted was sleep some more.

Ashleigh met my gaze and slipped through the group to get to my side. She looped her arm through mine. “If we’re leaving in the next couple of days, we need to rest up. Let’s all go home and have another meeting tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I said as we walked out of the hall. “I wasn’t quite ready for all that.”

“Myers set you up. She wants to make sure you can’t change your mind about leaving. If you come back with vaccine, it’s a bonus and if you don’t, she’s rid of you for good. I can read that bitch’s agenda like a book.”

I thought she was judging Janice a little harshly, but I didn’t say anything. I was tired of talking and happy just to walk down the street with Ashleigh. It was evening and everything was hushed and still. It was a pleasure to simply breathe and hold hands. Peaceful.

“I like your little town,” she said after we’d walked a few blocks. “I can imagine how it was before. A really nice place to live. I hope we make it back here.”

“We will,” I promised because sometimes you have to say things like that even if you don’t know if they’re true. “We’ll come back and live…” I couldn’t add happily ever after because that was too much of a fairytale. “We’ll be happy.”

*

Three days later, I was balancing heavy metal between my legs. The motorcycle rumbled like a caged beast ready to leap free. I couldn’t resist giving a twist to the throttle to hear the engine roar louder. I glanced around at the rest our group, gathered on Main Street, ready to ride out of town with Daylon in the lead. Ashleigh was beside me wearing that candy apple helmet which had first drawn my attention to her.

She glanced over at me. “How’s it feel? Are you ready for this?”

I nodded. Even though I’d only ridden short, practice distances on my new motorcycle, I felt ready. The morning air was sharp and clean and scented with exhaust. My saddle bags were filled with supplies and a bedroll was strapped to the seat behind me. Change was coming in a big wave and I was ready to be swept away however dark or dangerous the adventure got.

“Let’s go.”

About the author: Bonnie Dee began telling stories as a child. Whenever there was a sleepover, she was the designated ghost tale teller, guaranteed to frighten and thrill with macabre stories. She still has a story printed in second grade on yellow legal paper about a ghost, a witch and a talking cat. Writing childish stories later led to majoring in English at college. Like most English majors, she dreamed of writing a novel, but didn’t have the necessary focus and follow through at that time in her life. It was only in 2000 that she began writing again and became a multi-published erotic romance author. You may see her backlist of books at http://bonniedee.com. Join her Yahoo group for updates on new releases at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee/. Bonnie Dee is also on Facebook and Twitter.