Zombie Road VII: Tragedies in Time
Date: 2019-09-29 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Post Apocalyptic; Fiction; Zombies
Description: The sands of time never fall the same way twice.Jessie thought he’d lost it all, but what if there was a chance to save Scarlet, however slim? There is a time machine in the subterranean levels of the Tower. The only problem is that it kills everyone that tries to use it. If he could figure out how to activate it without being turned into a gelatinous mass of quivering flesh, he could go back. He could fix things. Deep in the zombie-infested wastelands, hidden in a military base inside area 51, is the operator's manual. Going after it is suicide but it’s also the only shot he’s got. If he can
Rights: Copyright 2021 David A. Simpson. All rights reserved.

The Feral Children

Complete Collection

David A. Simpson

Wesley R. Norris

Also by David A. Simpson

Novels

Zombie Road: Convoy of Carnage

Zombie Road II: Bloodbath on the Blacktop

Zombie Road III: Rage on the Rails

Zombie Road IV: Road to Redemption

Zombie Road V: Terror on the Two-Lane

Zombie Road VI: Highway to Heartache

Zombie Road VII: Tragedies in Time

Zombie Road VIII: Crossroads of Chaos

Anthologies

Tales from the Zombie Road: The Long Haul Anthology

The Zombie Road Fan Fiction Collection: Tales from the Zombie Road World

Undead Worlds: A Reanimated Writers Anthology

Treasured Chests: A Zombie Anthology

Trick or Treat Thrillers: Best Paranormal 2018

Trick or Treat Thrillers: Best Horror 2018

Coloring Book

Zombie Road: The Road Kill Coloring Book

Zombie Road and Feral Children T-shirts

Available on Amazon

Also by Wesley R. Norris

Road to Riches: A Zombie Road Tale

Book 1: Deadline

Children Book

Elf Without A Shelf

Anthologies

Tales from the Zombie Road: The Long Haul Anthology

The Zombie Road Fan Fiction Collection: Tales from the Zombie Road World

Splintered Dreams: A Guide to the Apocalypse Vol 2

Contents

The Feral Children

Animals

Prologue

1. September

2. Cody

3. Harper

4. Vanessa

5. Swan

6. Annalise and Tobias

7. Murray

8. Donny

9. Main Entrance

10. Kelly

11. The Children

12. Cody

13. Day One

14. Cody

15. Cody

16. Kerry

17. Putnam

18. Tribe

19. Donny

20. Swan

21. Kerry

22. New Arrivals

23. Gordon and Harper

24. Gordon

25. Cody & Gordon

26. Murray

27. Gordon

28. Vanessa

29. Swan

30. Teddy

31. Trial and Error

32. Harper & Cody

33. Busted

34. Gordon

35. Smith’s Landing

36. Gordon

37. Gordon

38. Murray

39. Gordons Gang

40. Gordon

41. The Tribe

42. Tribe

43. Swan

44. Cody

45. Tribe

46. Richard

47. Donny

48. Diablo

49. Kodiak

50. Tribe

51. Gordon

52. Diablo

53. Smith’s Landing

54. Piedmont House

Epilogue

Authors Note

The Feral Children 2

Savages

Prologue

1. Late May

2. Swan

3. Gordon

4. Donny

5. Harvest

6. Donny

7. Tribe

8. Diablo

9. Swan

10. Call Me Bob

11. Chores

12. Bob VS Tribe

13. The Truck

14. Truth and Secrets

15. Murray and Bob

16. Murray

17. Diablo

18. Tribe

19. The Battle for Piedmont House

20. Aftermath

21. Cleanup

22. Kodiak

23. Gordon

24. Tribe

25. Swan

26. Gordon

27. Gordon and Murray

28. The Triplets

29. Ruins

30. Farewell Old Friend

31. Tribe

32. Captured

33. Gordon

34. Pursuit

35. The Prisoner

36. Smith’s Landing

37. Swan

38. Fight

39. Party Crashers

40. Kodiak and Misty

41. Goodbye

42. Lakota Bound

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Author’s Note

The Feral Children 3

Nomads

Also by David A. Simpson

Also by Wesley R. Norris

Prologue

1. The Road to Lakota

2. The Prophet

3. Diablo

4. Kassie

5. Leaving the Badlands

6. Tribe

7. Gunshot

8. Welcome to Gallatin

9. The Island

10. Diablo

11. Kassie

12. Whiskey and Rye

13. Swan

14. Tribe

15. The Barn

16. Job Interview

17. Ice Cream

18. The Road

19. Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers

20. Watcher

21. Analise

22. Tobias

23. Tribe

24. Analise

25. Swan

26. Tribe

27. Analise and the Spiveys

28. Analise

29. Flying High

30. Tobias

31. Reunited

32. Tribe

33. Twisted

34. Salvaged

35. Vanessa

36. Swan

37. Tobias and Analise

38. Donny

39. Girl Talk

40. Kodiak and Harper

41. Geeks and Freaks

42. Fireside

43. Lakota Left

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Authors Note

44. Burrito Bushido

The Feral Children 2

Savages

Prologue

1. Late May

2. Swan

3. Gordon

4. Donny

5. Harvest

6. Donny

7. Tribe

8. Diablo

9. Swan

10. Call Me Bob

11. Chores

12. Bob VS Tribe

13. The Truck

14. Truth and Secrets

15. Murray and Bob

16. Murray

17. Diablo

18. Tribe

19. The Battle for Piedmont House

20. Aftermath

21. Cleanup

22. Kodiak

23. Gordon

24. Tribe

25. Swan

26. Gordon

27. Gordon and Murray

28. The Triplets

29. Ruins

30. Farewell Old Friend

31. Tribe

32. Captured

33. Gordon

34. Pursuit

35. The Prisoner

36. Smith’s Landing

37. Swan

38. Fight

39. Party Crashers

40. Kodiak and Misty

41. Goodbye

42. Lakota Bound

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Author’s Note

The Feral Children 3

Nomads

Prologue

1. The Road to Lakota

2. The Prophet

3. Diablo

4. Kassie

5. Leaving the Badlands

6. Tribe

7. Gunshot

8. Welcome to Gallatin

9. The Island

10. Diablo

11. Kassie

12. Whiskey and Rye

13. Swan

14. Tribe

15. The Barn

16. Job Interview

17. Ice Cream

18. The Road

19. Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers

20. Watcher

21. Analise

22. Tobias

23. Tribe

24. Analise

25. Swan

26. Tribe

27. Analise and the Spiveys

28. Analise

29. Flying High

30. Tobias

31. Reunited

32. Tribe

33. Twisted

34. Salvaged

35. Vanessa

36. Swan

37. Tobias and Analise

38. Donny

39. Girl Talk

40. Kodiak and Harper

41. Geeks and Freaks

42. Fireside

43. Lakota Left

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Authors Note

44. Burrito Bushido

The Feral Children

Animals

A Zombie Road Tale

Book 1 in the Feral Children series

This is a work of fiction by

David A. Simpson
and

Wesley R. Norris

Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No portion of this text may be copied or duplicated without author or publisher written permission, with the exception of use in reviews

ISBN: 9781099338960

Copyright 2019 David A. Simpson

All rights reserved

The Feral Children

Animals

A Zombie Road tale

Dedicated to my dearest partner in life:

The nitpicky, OCD, grammar-Nazi, Robin.

Prologue

Winter

Kodiak wrapped the buffalo skin robe tighter as the wind swirled gusts of snow around his feet. The stone walls of the burnt-out church provided little shelter from the snow storm that raged and wailed and dumped its fury on this forgotten corner of the world. Snow clung to his eyelashes, eyebrows and his hair, which was getting too long, as he watched and waited.

He knew the storm gave them perfect cover if the other tribe chose tonight to attack. If they came, it would be from this direction. Right into his trap. The cables strung across the road were concealed beneath the fresh snow that blanketed the asphalt, ready to be pulled tight at a moment’s notice. They were invisible in the dark, benign and harmless on the off chance someone else was traveling the road, but deadly when pulled into place.

His ears strained over the howling wind to hear the whining of the snowmobiles the others rode. If they came, it wouldn’t be to talk. If they came, they would be counting on the storm to mask their approach. He leaned against Otis, soaking in his warmth. The big bear would smell and hear them long before him. The wind died down a little and its shrieking through the collapsed roof eased. The pair waited with a patience learned from hard lessons and shared an easy companionship. They looked like snow-covered mounds of fur.

Kodiak had tried to avert trouble, had went out of his way to avoid a fight but his efforts were perceived as weakness. Things escalated as things do and a life had been taken. The others had thought they were weak, thought they’d be an easy target but they had been wrong. Now they were coming for payback. It might be tonight, it might not be, but he knew they were coming. They wouldn’t forget the insult and they wouldn’t forget about the girl.

The boy defied them. He stood against them. The child warrior and the colossal bear that towered by his side would defend his people. His tribe. The innocent boy once called Cody Wilkes was long gone. There was no one left alive to remember who he had been. The ugly, new world started in September when the old world died and the warrior king known only as Kodiak arose from the ashes.

He pressed closer to Otis, the 1200-pound bear, seeking the additional warmth he offered. He was scarred and fearsome and had a roar that made his living enemies quake in terror. His massive claws could decapitate a zombie with a single blow. His jaws had immense power to crush bone and rend flesh.

Maybe that was the difference, he thought as the big bear chuffed softly at him, ruffling the feathers and beads in his hair. We have the animals to give us purpose. Keep us sane. Love us as we love them. Protect us as we protect them.

There was enough of everything for everyone left alive for a long time, there was no reason to fight. No reason to go to war. They had warehouses full of food. Water was abundant. The war should be with the undead and the Savage Ones. The animals who’d always avoided man before the zombie virus swept the world but now attacked in droves, all fear of man lost. The coyotes and the vultures, the hyenas and the crows and all the other carrion animals. The ones that lived on the dead. The ones that were driven to madness from unrestrained gorging, eating the easy pickings from the stumbling buffet.

The other tribe wanted control, they couldn’t live and let live. They wanted the girls and they wanted servants to do the work that was beneath them to do. Like any war, it started out small. Small disagreements, small arguments, small trespasses. Then came the escalations, the yelling and the fights. Pushing and shoving turned into killing and dying. It was always the same whether it was two kids on the playground or global nuclear powers playing brinksmanship. Somebody always blinked. If they came tonight, Kodiak would end it.

He’d shown mercy and kindness in the beginning. He’d tried to keep the old ways where children didn’t bludgeon each other to death with homemade battle axes or spears. The old ways were gone, though. It had taken him a little longer than the others to realize it but now that he did, he would be as ruthless and unforgiving as they were. The next time they met, blood would spill.

He hoped they would come, that it would end here tonight. The boy and his beast would fall into them with claws, jaws and steel.

No more mercy.

No more wasted words.

Let them come.

Kodiak ran his hands over the cool iron of his Warhammer.

He watched.

He waited.

He remembered….

1

September

Mr. Baynard

Robert Baynard slipped out from under the covers as his alarm clock buzzed its good morning serenade, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his skin. After silencing the ride of the Valkyries, he slid from the bed, wasting no time as he smoothed the sheets and made it with military precision. He transitioned into his morning stretching routine. His years as a United States Navy sailor may have been long over, but he still carried the habits ingrained in him from twenty years of service to his country.

Robert was not a large man at only five feet seven inches and one hundred thirty-three pounds, his ideal perfect weight for his height. He prided himself on his physical conditioning and strict regimen. Not much he could do about his thinning hairline, but his waistline was easily kept in check.

Adequately stretched he dropped to the floor and pressed out his morning routine of pushups and sit-ups, noting with some satisfaction that he finished a full seven seconds ahead of his usual time. Stepping into the bathroom he turned on the hot water then headed for the kitchen. It would be heated to precisely his preferred showering temperature by the time he started the coffeemaker, grabbed the morning paper from the front porch and returned.

Exactly seven minutes and forty-five seconds later, Robert exited the shower as the last drops of coffee made it from the machine into the pot. He didn’t have to check; he knew it with certainty.

Even though it was a Saturday, he dressed in his usual work attire of starched khakis, sensible brown shoes, button down Oxford and one of his many animal themed ties. Today’s was a bit more festive than usual; it featured a collage of Macaw parrots. Returning to the kitchen he poured his first cup of coffee: black, no sugar. He set the skillet on the stove top and turned it to the medium heat setting and headed for the fridge. Robert knew that by the time he had all his normal breakfast items laid out in neat rows, his cup of coffee would be just the right temperature to drink and the skillet would be just the right temperature for cooking. Robert loved consistent, methodical orderliness in his life and had his morning routine mapped out to the second.

Today’s breakfast, like every other morning, consisted of four strips of crispy bacon, two lightly buttered pieces of wheat toast and two eggs over easy, fuel for his day of molding young minds.

He broke from his routine and read the labeling on the package as he opened it. It was a different brand than he usually bought. There had been a meat shortage for weeks and the cause had never been made clear. Something about a labor dispute and company mergers but the new bacon looked the same as the old bacon. No extra fat or unevenly sliced pieces. He laid the strips of thick cut in the skillet and took his first sip of coffee. Perfect, he thought as he loaded the toaster with two slices of whole wheat bread. As soon as he lifted the bacon from the skillet to cool and drain away the excess grease after exactly six minutes, flipped only once, he would depress the plunger on the toaster and crack two eggs into the bacon grease. The toast would pop out as he scooped up his over easy eggs and breakfast would be exactly on schedule.

Minutes later, Robert sat down to eat and mentally went over his day as he browsed the headlines in the morning paper. A few riots in the big cities, he noted. Flu-like virus was sweeping the country causing psychotic behavior in people. He would be sure to discuss this with his students. Viruses were always making interspecies jumps, and this could be another example.

He was a high school biology teacher in addition to leading an extracurricular zoology program. The program was designed for students who were interested in careers in veterinary medicine, game and fish law enforcement, or animal biology. The group discussed topics such as how loss of habitat and the encroachment of man were forcing both man and beast to adapt to a rapidly changing world.

One of his students, Harper, had nicknamed him Mr. Barnyard, playing on his last name. At first it had annoyed him but he had grown to secretly like it, even though he’d never admit it to the kids. Today he was taking her and an assortment of the best and brightest of these students on a field trip to the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary to study some of the many animals housed there. Each student would be free to spend the day observing the animal species of their choosing and submit their findings to the group for discussion at their next meeting for an extra credit grade.

He remote started his car with the key fob and cleaned up his breakfast dishes, satisfied in the knowledge that his car’s engine would be at its optimum operating temperature when he slid behind the wheel.

As he left his house precisely on schedule, he marveled at his own efficiency. Robert was as predictable as the sunrise and a creature of habit that very rarely made changes to his routine.

“Although,” he thought as he drove toward the school to meet his favorite students, “That new bacon was delicious.”

2

Cody

The sun peeked over the tops of the tall maple trees rapidly bringing warmth to the early fall Saturday morning. Cody Wilkes was already working up a sweat despite the cooler temperatures as he finished scooping up the last shovel full of dung left behind by Millie, the black rhinoceros. She was a huge beast who generated equally huge piles of waste. Weighing in at nearly 1100 pounds but as gentle as a lamb, she was an old girl at thirty-five and blind in one eye. The part time job had its drawbacks, that was for sure, but he didn’t complain. It sure beat cutting grass or, God forbid, babysitting. His mom wasn’t a pushover like some other parents. If he asked her for fifty bucks to buy a new game, she’d make him do so much work around the house that it came out to about ten cents an hour. Nope. He’d rather hang out with the animals. Pay was way better, too. Cody was careful to keep her in his peripheral vision when he worked on her blind side. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt him but her limited vision made her hazardous to work around in the confines of the pen and having his foot stepped on would not be his preferred way to start the day. Her short tail swished back and forth to chase away the pesky flies constantly buzzing around her.

Millie was a popular attraction at the Park. Her gentle nature and willingness to tolerate the masses of children that visited every year made her a crowd favorite among the flocks of kids lining up to feed her carrot after carrot, her favorite treat. As soon as she heard the first car approaching, she would leave her pen and spend the rest of the day grazing the fence line along the walking path and waiting for a tasty handout from the tourists.

At almost 400 acres the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary sat up against the mighty Mississippi River on one side and the Minnesota border on another. It was located just a few miles outside of New Albin, Iowa, a small town with two claims to fame. It was the hometown of Milt Gantenbein of the Green Bay Packers and also the farthest northeastern town in Iowa.

Many of the residents in the park were retired circus animals needing a safe place to live out their golden years. A few, like the black panther, were animals that had been owned by people who didn’t realize the commitment it took to keep large exotic pets and found themselves unable to deal with them once they passed the cute and cuddly stage.

Despite its middle-of-nowhere location, it was considered one of the premiere care facilities for aging animals or ones that no other zoo would take. The gentler creatures like Millie, Bert the giraffe and Ziggy the ostrich had large areas to roam in the daytime and returned to their enclosures at dark. Others like the wolves, bears and the panther had handlers during visiting hours, so the guests could get up close and personal with the animals. Even though almost every animal in the park had been born in captivity and were used to being around humans, it never hurt to be cautious with the toothier species.

“Catch!” Kelly yelled as Cody looked up in time to snag the bottle of water out of the air. She smiled at the sight of her fourteen-year-old son leaning on his shovel. Tall and handsome like his father, he was the center of her world. She missed Todd and wished he could see the man his son was becoming. Cody was still a small boy when his father died along with three other firemen when the roof collapsed in a warehouse blaze.

“Thanks Mom.” Cody said as he twisted off the bottle cap and took a deep swallow.

“Hon, when you’re done here, will you feed the hyenas? They are kenneled on the other side of Bert’s enclosure, the old cages where the lions used to be. Derek will be down shortly to sedate them and inject their microchips. Keys are in the golf cart.” Kelly said as her radio chirped to life.

“Sure Mom,” Cody sighed. He missed the old lion and didn’t care at all for the two newest additions to the park.

Kelly keyed the mike on her radio. “Go for Kelly.”

As the primary veterinarian at Piedmont she was constantly on the run. Today was shaping up to be even tougher because of the staff that had called in complaining of flu like symptoms. The capuchin monkeys were always getting loose and stuffing themselves on junk food or Bert was dealing with an upset stomach. The big giraffe loved to eat maple leaves but the heavy tannic acid in them played havoc with his digestive system. Bert was famous for his noxious gas. It always drew giggles from the children when he ripped a big loud stinky one while mom and dad were trying to get a picture of their kids with the long-legged critter.

“Kelly, this is Will, we’ve got a visitor complaining of fever and a headache up here by the snack bar.” the radio squawked.

“Copy, have Anna come, she’s with us all day today.” Kelly responded.

Anna Rimes was a part time volunteer at the park who worked as a paramedic with the fire department.

“Roger that,” Will answered back. “She’s in route, I called you because he appears to have a bite mark on his forearm, and I thought you’d want to take a look at it, see which of our residents decided to snack on the paying customers.”

“On my way,” said Kelly. “Cody don’t forget the hyenas; I’ll be back in a bit.”

She took off at a run, worried about the bite and wondering if it was going to be one of those days. None of the petting animals had ever bitten anyone before, she hoped it was just an overly friendly slobber from one of the goats. Life at Piedmont was never boring.

Tossing the shovel in the back with the rest of the buckets and tools, Cody chugged down the last of the water, gave Millie a pat on her enormous head and hopped on the golf cart. He drove over to the feed barn to grab some cuts of meat for the hyenas from the walk in cooler and some extra grub for his pal Otis. When it was loaded in buckets and stowed in the cart, he headed down to the enclosure near the river to find the bear.

Otis lay in the shade of a giant maple tree but lifted his head and chuffed as he watched Cody approach. The boy always meant a scratch in those itchy places and something tasty to eat was heading his way, so he pushed himself to his feet in anticipation.

Otis was a 1200-pound bear of questionable lineage that had performed in Las Vegas in his younger years to sellout crowds. Cody’s mom thought he was a Kodiak and Grizzly mix but whoever his parents had been, he’d taken after the bigger one. Otis was an attention lover of the highest order; he still did a few tricks for the crowds of kids to hear the applause. He was gentle enough for them to ride him around but it wasn’t allowed, of course. He’d never intentionally hurt anyone, but you couldn’t convince the insurance companies of that.

Cody grabbed one of the buckets of beef and stood looking eye to eye with the big bear. He reached up and rubbed Otis between the ears and got a satisfied groan of pleasure for his efforts. He pulled a large roast from the bucket and held it out for inspection. Otis gave it a big sniff and gently took it from the boy in his cavernous jaws. He turned and ambled back to his spot in the shade to enjoy his breakfast as Cody tidied up the enclosure. He shoveled what needed to be shoveled, cleaned out his drinking pool then reclined against the bear’s ribs as Otis lay sprawled out, gnawing happily on the bone. He scratched him idly behind the ears and smiled at the contented sounds he made. He was like a giant pussy cat.

“Enjoy buddy. I’ll see you later.” Cody said after a few minutes and stood, gave Otis a good back scratching and left the enclosure. He’d rather spend the day lying in the shade with Otis, but he didn’t want to keep Derek waiting. Cody plopped in the golf carts seat, pressed the pedal and headed towards the hyena kennel.

The two hyenas came to their feet and stared at him as he approached with the bucket of meat, mouths drooling and pacing back and forth in the pen. They were huge, hunchbacked and a mottled, tawny color. Their mouths were oversized, they seemed too big for their heads and it looked like they were smiling a devil smile when they barked their creepy laugh. Cody was wary of them. They looked mean and cunning and even had evil sounding names: Diablo and Demonio, Spanish for Devil and Demon. They’d only been on site for a couple of days and were nasty beasts. The pair had been seized by the DEA when they busted a gang affiliated with one of the Mexican drug cartels. With no other facility willing to take them, they had been transported to Piedmont. Rumor had it the gang’s leader had fed the two beasts a steady diet of people who crossed him. Kelly dismissed it with a laugh when Cody asked her about it. She said hyenas had gotten a bad rap ever since Disney vilified them.

Cody wasn’t so sure. He was uncomfortable with the way they stalked the bars and eyed him. Like he might be what’s for dinner. He didn’t bother trying to hand feed them, their meat got tossed in the dirt.

As he chunked the slabs through the bars of the pen, Derek rolled up on his cart and began unloading his gear. He started prepping his tranquilizer stick that would sedate the animals so he could check them over and insert the GPS locator microchips that all zoo animals were required to have.

“Cody my man,” Derek said with a smile. “Come to hold these bad boys still while I chip ‘em?”

“No way.” Cody said. “I’m not getting anywhere near those things. Who names their pets Devil and Demon anyway?”

Derek laughed, “Yeah, they aren’t exactly kid friendly names. We’d have to do something about that if we were going to integrate them into the park, but honestly, I think we’ll end up putting them down. We’ve been trying to place them in a facility that’s designed for truly wild animals, but no one wants them. Everyone has heard the stories and most of them are probably true. These two are just too vicious for a place like this. It’s a shame the way some people raise their animals, they really are magnificent creatures.”

Cody was usually troubled over talk of an animal being put to sleep, but in this case, he felt a sense of relief. They were battle scarred from where they’d been beaten and tossed into cages with fighting dogs. Animals born and bred into killing had a taste for blood and it couldn’t be tamed, no matter how nice you treated them. They would always be dangerous.

Derek jabbed each of the hyenas in turn with the tranquilizer stick and a minute later both were snoozing, heads on their paws.

“That will keep them out for about ten minutes or so,” Derek said as he prepared the smaller syringes that contained the GPS chips.

“So, buddy,” Derek said, “Since you’re the man of the Wilkes house I have a question for you. You know me and your Mom have been seeing each other for a while now. I was thinking about something a little more public and permanent if you catch my drift.”

Cody knew where this was headed. He’d caught the glimpses between Mom and Derek when they thought no one was looking and he was cool with it. He knew about their spot down by the river and their late nights at work. So, did everyone else, it was the worst kept secret in Piedmont.

Derek was a great guy, always quick with a joke or a laugh and he always treated Cody like a man and not a boy. He and Derek had shared a couple of beers a week ago down by the Mississippi as they waited for a catfish to take the bait drifting at the end of their fishing lines. Mom would have flipped out if she knew, but Derek said it was a rite of passage and what Mom didn’t know wouldn’t get them hurt. He’d given Cody his old Zippo with the Coast Guard emblem engraved on it. A memento from his days of service when he was fresh out of high school. Cody carried it with him everywhere now.

“Go for it man. I know about you two, everyone does.” Cody said with a grin.

“Cool,” Derek said and put out his fist. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay with us going out to dinner and movies and stuff.”

Cody bumped it and a smiling Derek stepped toward the sleeping hyenas.

He unlatched the kennel door and slipped inside, knelt beside Diablo. Cody stayed outside with a hand on the gate, ready to close it the second the job was finished. He didn’t want to be anywhere near them. Derek used the battery powered clippers to shave the fur at the injection site and swabbed the skin with an alcohol pad. As he prepared to jab the sleeping hyena his radio squawked to life.

“Derek!” Kelly’s voice came over the radio. “We need you up here NOW at the gates! People are attacking each other, HURRY!” She yelled desperately.

She sounded like she was on the verge of hysteria. She sounded scared.

Derek keyed his mike. “I’m on the way!”

Cody jumped out of the way as he flew out of the kennel and slammed the self-latching door.

“Gotta go. We’ll finish this later. Can you gather my gear?” he said, as he jumped on his cart and hurried for the front gate.

Cody watched as Derek rode off then picked up the tranq sticks. He reached through the cage to get the clippers and the GPS syringes. No way was he going inside. He loaded them in his cart then hurried to see what was going on and if there was anything he could do to help. He’d never heard his mom sound like that, she was usually cool headed. Trouble in the park wasn’t unheard of, usually the result of some impatient tourist agitated with waiting in line or the constant flux of children flitting about like bees. It couldn’t be too bad, he thought. Probably a couple of overly excited guests in a shoving match over a snow cone or something. Maybe the radio just made her sound panicky.

Neither one of them noticed the barred door had bounced back open an inch. The old safety latch on the seldom used cage hadn’t caught.

3

Harper

The shuttle bus pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary and as soon as the driver opened the door Harper Alexander sprang for the exit and was the first one out. The rest of the kids were right behind her, rushing for the gates to be the first in line. Mr. Baynard just shook his head at their exuberance to get inside the park the second it opened. It reminded him of his military days: Hurry up and wait. He waved the driver away and operated the wheelchair lift himself, a fine line of perspiration on his upper lip despite the cool morning. Murray Sanders took off as soon as his wheels hit the ground with a Thanks Mr. Baynard thrown over his shoulder. He was hurrying to grab his place in line the other were saving for him.

“Care to join us?” Baynard asked the driver. “I have enough passes to get you in too.”

The bus driver just grunted and waved him off.

“Nah, I’ve got stuff I need to do.” he said and pulled out his phone.

He was feeling lucky today. He had two hundred bucks left in his checking account and he was going to double it. Maybe triple it if Lady Luck held and the online poker game didn’t cheat him again.

“Suit yourself,” said Baynard, wincing at the sudden pressure behind his eyes as he joined his eager students near the head of the line.

“Ok, guys and girls. Everyone have their phones? Snack money?”

There was a chorus of excited acknowledgements as the gates swung open and the parks ticket taker slid open the window to his booth.

“Good, stay in touch.”

He had to raise his voice to be heard over their excited chatter. “Remember, study your animals. How they move, interact with their environment. That’s important. Many of them are not native to this country, so how they’ve adapted to their surroundings is part of your research. Sketches, photos, videos and any data you can collect will factor into your grade. Be thorough and have fun!”

“I’ll be around to observe each of you in a while. Now get out of here.” he yelled at the retreating kids and watched them scatter.

He could feel a killer migraine coming on, his head was throbbing and the light was hurting his eyes. He made his way towards the gift shop where he was sure he could find some cheap sunglasses, a bottle of water and surely, they carried aspirin.

Harper made a beeline for the giraffe enclosure. She had seen Bert once before with her parents on the guided tour. He was magnificent. Easily sixteen feet tall and in his prime at 15 years old. She stared up in awe at the kind but funny face of Bert while he surveyed the park. A staff member had answered all her questions and her parents nearly had to drag her away to keep up with the group.

He had come to Piedmont via Venezuela eleven years ago. A zoo outside of Caracas fell on hard times and began selling animals for big game hunts. The resulting uproar and outcry of animal activists around the world saw the facility shut down and all the surviving animals relocated to other zoos. Bert was lucky enough to find a home at Piedmont.

Harper had no problem with hunting, she understood how the money from sportsmen funded conservation and protected habitats. Careful management of wild game kept the population healthy. She came from a long line of outdoorsman but slaughtering tame zoo animals was just wrong.

Finding Bert this morning wasn’t hard. All she had to do was look up. She spotted him with his head up in a tree, pulling leaves into his mouth with his eighteen-inch purple tongue. Picking up her pace, she was soon standing a few feet away from the bull giraffe.

“Hi Bert, I’m Harper. I doubt you remember me, but I think you are amazing. If you don’t mind, I’m just gonna watch you awhile and take some notes and a few pictures.” she said.

The girls at school would snicker and make jokes if they were to see her now but Harper didn’t care. She didn’t care about most things teenaged girls obsessed over. Boys, clothes, music and social media didn’t dominate her life. Thirteen years old and easily the prettiest girl in school, she preferred comfort over fashion and usually had her nose in a book instead of someone else’s business.

She studied the fence that separated the walking path from the animals. It was eight-foot-tall and no one was watching and this might be her only chance before too many people arrived. She stuck her foot in one of the four-inch squares that made up the wire and started climbing. The ever-alert Bert abandoned his quest for the perfect leaf and stepped her way. Another foot higher, then another, she found herself at the top staring at his long neck. Bert lowered his head towards the girl, sensing no ill intent from the small creature with the tasty looking straw-colored hair. She felt the warm air expelled from his nostrils as he stared into her eyes mere inches away. Letting go of the fence with one hand, she raised her phone and snapped a selfie of her and the friendly giraffe. She giggled as he extended his long tongue and touched her hair with it. Deciding he didn’t care for the taste he pulled it back in. Girl and giant stared unblinkingly at each other for a few seconds. The magic of the moment was broken by the putt putting of a golf cart.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to get down from there, please.”

Harper climbed down as Bert returned to his foraging. She faced the man on the golf cart. His shirt said Derek on it and she knew there was a friendly smile just below the surface of the stern look he was giving her.

“I’m sorry. I’m his biggest fan. He gave me his autograph,” she said as she wiped giraffe drool off her cheek.

Derek tried to hold the frown but couldn’t. “It’s ok,” he relented. “I was more concerned about you falling than Bert eating you. Enjoy your day and try to stay on the ground. I’ve got a date with two hyenas, so I’m gonna trust you won’t try to steal my giraffe while I’m working.”

Harper laughed and gave him a wave as he motored away. Looking at Bert she smiled. “Now, where were we?”

Harper followed him as he ambled along, sampling various trees at random. She made rough sketches of him foraging and tried to capture the way his tongue curled out to snag the leaves. He always picked the ones farthest away, the highest he could reach and she wondered if there was reason for that. She made a note to research it further and laughed as his behind erupted in one of his famous thundering farts. She took more photos, added detail to her sketches and carried on a one-way conversation with him.

She looked up when she saw Derek motoring as fast as the golf cart would go; he passed her with a quick wave and left her in a cloud of dust. She shrugged and went back to writing observations in her notepad.

A few minutes later, Bert whipped his head toward the front entrance as the sound of screams and honking horns shattered the stillness of the morning. His mane bristled, and he snorted at the disturbance. Harper gathered up her things, told Bert she’d be back and headed to see what all the fuss was about.

4

Vanessa

Vanessa Talley made her way through the sanctuary chewing her ever present bubble gum. She blew a bubble as big as her face and inhaled it quickly when it popped, avoiding having to peel it off her cheeks. At ten years old, she was the youngest of Mr. Baynard’s zoology group, but she held her own with the older kids. She had already been advanced a year ahead in school once and was smart enough to skip another. She could graduate at 16 and be in college shortly thereafter. Her dad, however, didn’t want her to grow up too fast and always be the youngest of her class. She breezed her way through school, turned assignments in ahead of time and finished whole textbooks while her classmates were in the early chapters.

She thought she looked older than her ten years, she certainly felt it. Her high cheekbones and confident poise garnered no doubt that she was a descendent of African royalty somewhere in her lineage. She was proud of her ancestry and her one goal in life was to help end hunger in poverty-stricken nations through smart resource management. Poaching animals provided one meal one time. Proper management meant many meals many times. Her father called her idealistic but she felt that part of the answer lay in the ostrich. Ugly to most, but beautiful in her eyes, she adored the species and its potential to improve lives. She had argued her point with her father and Mr. Baynard more than once. It was a bird that could adapt to practically any environment found on the African continent. They were low maintenance with a highly adaptive digestive system. A female ostrich could lay up to sixty eggs a year and it was an egg that could weigh five pounds! The meat was protein rich, the skin yielded high quality leather, and the feathers were a market in themselves. There was also its significance in African folklore; the ostrich was considered the King of the Birds. They also possessed a set of four-inch claws at the end of their feet that could gut a lion so the highly social flocks of the giant birds were fully capable of defending themselves. She would sum up her argument by saying it was like having a velociraptor that gave you the world’s biggest omelet for breakfast. Her passion made it hard to argue with her.

Her goal today was to spend some quality time with Ziggy, a female ostrich. Ziggy toured for a while with one of the last traveling circuses in the country. When her owner retired to Florida, she spent a couple of years entertaining children on the boardwalks at the beach.

Her trainer used a laser pointer to paint a target and using her massive beak and long neck she busted piñatas full of candy for the enthralled children, popped balloons floating in the air and occasionally took an adventurous child for a ride on her back as she ran down the beach, clucking and chirping.

When her trainer passed away, Ziggy was willed to Piedmont with a large endowment to make sure she was always cared for and could spent the rest of her days entertaining children and adults alike.

Vanessa watched her walk along the fence hunting for snacks. She darted her head quickly and gulped down the unwary cricket. She was an efficient hunter and her eyes, the largest of any land mammal, easily picked out the small prey that she loved to munch on. Vanessa shot some video of her hunting and narrated along remarking on the powerful legs and graceful motion. No effort was wasted as the large bird sniped cricket after juicy cricket.

The sound of crinkling cellophane brought Ziggy to full focus on the girl. She knew that sound. Ziggy loved popcorn. She anxiously awaited the toss and when it came, she snatched the fluffy treat out of the air, ready for more. Vanessa tossed her two at once and Ziggy snagged them both. She shared the bag with the ostrich, glad for the time she had with the magnificent strider all to herself before the park became crowded. She tossed Ziggy the last piece but as she darted for it, her head swiveled toward the front gate when the screaming started. The popcorn fell forgotten to the ground.

Vanessa grabbed her stuff and headed for the gate as Ziggy kept pace on the opposite side of the fence. Her daddy taught her to always be aware and ready for danger. She had no idea what could be going on, but she was going to find out.

5

Swan

Swan Michaels skipped along the tour route, stopping to pull a pretty yellow flower from the wild patch growing beside the road. She tucked it over her ear and gave a quick apology to Mother Earth. She recited aloud the poem she was working on about all the people and all the animals living in harmony with each other. It wasn’t very good, she thought, but whatever, it was a work in progress.

Swan was the child of globally aware nature lovers who were quick to sign a petition or attend a protest for causes they believed in. Her mother was a spokeswoman for the Meskwaki Indian tribe and her father was an environmental management tech who had been smitten with her from the first time he’d met her on the reservation. They both encouraged her activism. Her long raven colored hair hung straight and glossy. She had a carefree, thrift shop chic look that she managed to pull off with her Ugg boots, Save the Whales t-shirt and knee ripped jeans. A strict vegetarian, except for the occasional chicken nugget, she sometimes felt guilty about all the lettuce that gave its life for her salads.

She’d begged her parents for a trip to observe pandas in the wild for her upcoming thirteenth birthday. Her passion was conservation and she had inherited some her parent’s radicalism. When she got older, she wanted to take on Japanese whalers, big game hunters, loggers, real estate developers, oil company pipelines and anyone else who might harm an animal.

In her young mind, it was perfectly natural for animals to prey on one another, just not man. Man had no business interfering with the natural order of things. She had been proud to carry a homemade sign outside of a meat packing plant, protesting the wholesale slaughter of animals and the deplorable conditions in which those animals lived out their short lives. Sure, people had to eat too, but she believed there had to be a better way. More harmonious and in tune with nature. She believed strongly in spaying and neutering to prevent unwanted litters. She loved baby animals and hated to see them discarded by careless owners and she cried every time a commercial came on TV about animal cruelty.

The walls of her room were covered in posters of cute animals and she sent ten percent of her allowance to PETA without fail every week. Most weekends she volunteered at the animal shelter and would have adopted all of them if she could. In an ironic twist of fate, her mother was allergic to dogs and her father, cats. She was relegated to caring for a solitary goldfish named Terry, but Terry lived as well as any goldfish ever had, so there was that.

Her biggest passion though was wolves. She loved them! The pack mentality and the mating for life: It was so romantic. All those dumb ranchers out west raising a stink about a few missing sheep drove her nuts. They were wolves! What else were they supposed to eat? Personally, she couldn’t imagine eating a fluffy little lamb, but wolves needed meat and more importantly, wolf cubs needed meat. They were so cute! It was the circle of life and that was cool with her. Mother Earth knew what she was doing.

Swan reached her destination and stared through the enclosure at the magnificent male Timber Wolf laying in the shade. His eyes were alert and darting as he surveyed his surroundings and kept an eye on his mate as she fed on a chunk of raw meat. She admired their thick silvery gray coats and the large canine teeth. Sinewy limbs built for speed and endurance. Graceful and effortless in their motions, they were truly apex predators and she loved everything about them. It saddened her to see them in their enclosure, even though it was very nice by any zoo standards. They should be free to run wild and hunt. Zero was definitely an Alpha and with his mate, Lucy, by his side, he would easily rule over any pack.

Zero and Lucy had been born in different petting zoos thousands of miles apart but were together now, mates for life. She snapped a few photos with her phone and posted it to her Instagram account. Later in the day, a handler would appear and lead them out to greet visitors. Despite their size and the sharpness of their teeth, the two were as gentle as puppies. They had been born in captivity as had their parents and their parents before them. They’d never known the wild and were as friendly as any family dog. Later the crowds would come but for right now she had them all to herself.

Inspired she pulled out her notebook and started writing bad poetry about the majestic hunters. “Now, what rhymes with wolf?” She asked herself.

After several minutes of deliberation and eraser chewing, she decided to file the poem away for later. Great poetry couldn’t be rushed.

Honking horns and what sounded like a scream broke the silence and Zero stood quickly and looked toward the front of the zoo. Hackles raised and lip curled, he let out a low growl. Lucy moved in beside him, guarding his flank and protecting her mate and there was a low rumble in her throat too. They didn’t seem so cute and cuddly anymore as Swan snapped another photo of the two regal animals ready for battle. She was surprised but pleased to see the wild in them come out. She had kind of hated that they seemed so docile and gentle, they were wolves after all.

She gathered up her bag and gear. She had all day to visit with them and whatever the disturbance was, it sounded serious. People were so stupid sometimes, she thought. Animals didn’t engage in petty behavior; if there was a problem, they solved it right then and there. They ate when they were hungry, they drank when they were thirsty and they mated when they wanted to mate. They didn’t fight for petty reasons but if they did, they fought to kill. Only people got angry over little things that didn’t matter.

6

Annalise and Tobias

The twin brother and sister duo of Tobias and Annalise Richter made their way through the sanctuary eating the snow cones they had purchased at the snack bar. Pale blue eyes, hair so blonde it appeared almost white and alabaster skinned, they were an eye-catching pair. They evoked thoughts of elven children from some frozen fairy realm. Tall and slender, elegant in their movements, they had an air of aloofness as if they were visitors to this world and not just a couple of twelve-year olds from Iowa. They were an odd pair, preferring each other’s company to that of others, quick to finish the other’s sentences and communicating at times with just their facial expressions. They had the same uncanny bond that most twins shared and their ability to sense each other’s thoughts seemed like telepathy at times.

According to their online genealogy research, they were descendants of the Nordic peoples. Their Scandinavian forefathers were Vikings and explorers. Mighty warriors and fearless women. They were proud that their ancient ancestors were the first people to set foot on the continent of North America, not Christopher Columbus as so many people erroneously believed. They preferred to think of themselves as children of the Norse God of Thunder, Thor instead of Dennis and Tina Richter. Not to be confused with Thor from the comics and movies, although Annalise thought he was hot.

As similar as they appeared, they were very different. Annalise was filled with humor and compassion, whereas Tobias tended to be snarky and serious. She took things lightly, not letting much bother her while he tended to be hot headed. He suffered no affronts to his sister and fists would fly when someone dared to make a rude comment about her unusual appearance.

They arrived at the polar bear enclosure where Popsicle and Daisy were tussling over an old tractor tire. The cooler fall temperatures made the bears more active. They were rescue animals who’d been at Piedmont many years. As orphaned cubs in Greenland with a knack for raiding garbage cans and showing no fear of man, authorities were concerned that as they grew they could become dangerous. Not wanting to put them down, inquiries were made to different animal sanctuaries and Piedmont was quick to take them.

Popsicle was an impressive 1200 pounds and ten feet long from nose to tail, although during the cold Iowa winters he and Daisy both would gain another fifty or sixty pounds as the frigid weather was more suited to their natural habitats.

Daisy, at 750 pounds and seven and half feet long, was no slouch in the size department either. She slid effortlessly into the pool and swam to the other end, climbed out chewing on a fish and gave a huge shake, spraying the delighted twins with water.

Their enclosure featured a swimming pool that the staff kept stocked with live fish and an icemaker purchased from a defunct commercial fishing operation. It dumped a steady stream of ice directly into the pool during the warmer months.

Annalise and Tobias chose to do their study on the polar bears because sometime in the past they thought their ancestors had probably fought with and against, or maybe even worshipped the mighty giants.

Tobias’s youthful mind conjured images of their ancestors charging into battle astride the magnificent beasts, swords and battle axes clenched in the fists of the Northmen, the riders and their mounts one in mind and purpose as they raided the frozen country in search of honor, riches and glory. He wasn’t sure if people actually rode polar bears, but he liked the thought of it.

The twins dreamed of working side by side studying the effects of global warming. Maybe winning the Nobel Prize for their work. After high school they would attend college together, move right into research and when each found their respective mates, they would all live under one roof. They had it all planned out.

The twins watched as Popsicle rose to his hind legs, ears perked and fur rising along his back. Daisy lowered herself and rumbled a deep growl as the light breeze brought a smell to their sensitive nostrils that signaled danger.

Screams of agony drifted on the breeze, snapping each of the twins from their daydreaming. Tobias raised an eyebrow and Annalise responded with an almost imperceptible nod. The pair took off at a dead run, their long legs eating up the distance as they headed for the sanctuary entrance.

7

Murray

Murray Sanders stopped his wheelchair in front of the haunted mansion. Halloween was still a month away but the staff were already decorating the visitors’ center in preparation. It was an old rambling house, its Victorian architecture giving it an appropriately spooky vibe as the starting point for the haunted hayride. He approved of the grinning pumpkins and ghosts in the upstairs windows. Vampires, werewolves, zombies and chainsaw wielding maniacs thrilled him to no end. Even before his accident, he spent a lot of time staying up late watching every scary movie he could find and slaying monsters by the thousands with his Xbox controller. He was a huge fan of movies and spouted pop culture references whenever he was excited or nervous, though most of his quips went over people’s heads.

Most of his old friends didn’t come around anymore to see him; it was just too awkward for everyone. When he took the dare on his bicycle to jump the homemade ramp at the bottom of the hill, they all cheered him on. None of them saw the van that took away all of the feeling in his lower body until it was too late. The driver sped away in a panic instead of stopping and calling an ambulance. He was never caught, never had to stand trial, never apologized to the boy he had crippled. Murray knew it was his own fault as much as the drivers’, he shouldn’t have been in the street, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter that no one ran to help him. That he had been alone and afraid for what seemed like a long time.

When the van hit him all of his friends ran away. They were all young and scared and pedaled home to tell parents as fast as they could. He didn’t blame them; they didn’t know any better. They didn’t think to run up to the nearest house and pound on the door. What did kids know about spinal injuries? They didn’t know you were supposed to lay still and not move. They thought they were doing the right thing, riding away to get help as fast as they could. He was worried about a car coming and running over him and his instincts told him to get off the road. He had been able to crawl to the sidewalk before the first grownup noticed him but by then the damage had been done. He hadn’t felt the bones grating against his spinal cord and finally severing it as he struggled up the curb.

After the accident, he simply gave up. He lost all interest in gaming and the movies that he loved. He refused to see anyone and barely ate. He sat in his room and listened to the other kids running and playing. The sound of skateboard wheels on asphalt or the hum of bicycle tires drove him further into himself.

He was smart, almost gifted, and had an aptitude for all things mechanical. The bicycle ramp at the bottom of Cedar Hill road, the one that was supposed to send you flying through the air but land softly on an incline, had been his design. He could do three-digit multiplication in his head, he understood Algebra and he’d dreamed of becoming an engineer before his life changed. His parents tried to treat him just like before the accident, to pretend it was just an inconvenience to be overcome and not the end of the world. What did they know? They weren’t the ones trapped in a chair. He heard his mother cry when she thought he was asleep and he saw the crumpled-up wads of paper in the trash where his father had been trying to find ways to pay the high costs of his medical bills. He knew he was useless and a drain on everyone around him.

Bitter and angry with the world, he watched in disgust as the volunteers installed a wheel chair ramp on the front of his house. They might as well hang a glowing neon sign in the yard: HELPLESS CRIPPLE LIVES HERE.

He resented them for their pity. He wanted to run them off, curse them and show them he didn’t need their help but running was no longer an option.

No one was able to break through the wall he’d built around himself. He refused to do therapy. What was the point? He fell behind in his classes, even the ones he used to ace without a problem. He used any excuse he could to get out of going to school where he heard the whispers and people made way for his wheelchair like it was contagious. Nobody knew what to say to him and he didn’t make it easy for them. Finally, everyone stopped trying and he was fine with that. He hated the world, the world hated him back and that was just the way it was.

He continued his mental and physical descent until the day his dad wheeled him into the van modified for his wheelchair. His father ignored Murray’s grumbling and questions about being dragged from his self-imposed prison. Murray’s sour attitude was answered with silence as the van carried him somewhere he’d never been.

When they arrived at the YMCA Murray complained and tried to argue that he didn’t want to go. He didn’t need to attend yet another program for cripples. His dad ignored his protests and wheeled him inside.

Rows of folding chairs had been set up in the gymnasium facing a man in a wheelchair wearing an Army t-shirt. His arms were corded in heavy muscle as he rolled his chair back and forth across the hardwood floors of the basketball court and he had a little brown monkey sitting on one shoulder.

He saw other people in wheelchairs like his own and a lot of them were military veterans. They had stumps of legs sticking out where IED’s had brutally amputated them. Others, like him, whole, but broken.

The man introduced himself as Sergeant Walker, grinned at the irony, and began speaking. Murray went from morose to riveted. The Sergeant told the crowd about putting a gun his own mouth, ready to end his life after the incident that paralyzed him. He told them how he’d given up hope for a productive life. Murray hung on every word and knew exactly what he was talking about. He felt the same way. But this guy had gotten past it, he was a real beast. He wasn’t letting the chair own him. He owned the chair. It was a tool to keep him in life, not out of it. He’d lost the use of his legs, but his mind was as powerful as the massive arms he flexed at the crowd. He told them how he competed in wheelchair races, climbed mountains and entered body building contests. The whole time his little monkey capered and fetched him different things he wanted to show them. The little fellow dragged over a white board for him to draw on. Fetched a golden trophy his basketball team had won in the State championship. He picked up a marker he’d dropped and even put money in a soda machine and brought back a diet coke.

“I haven’t been able to teach him to read,” the soldier lamented. “He still can’t bring me an Orange soda when I want one.”

He was pursuing his PhD. He’d even been in an Ironman competition, completing the swimming portion with just his arms to move him through the water. He’d come in last place but that didn’t matter he said. He had been on the field and he had given it his all. He finished his presentation with the little monkey putting on a Teddy Roosevelt hat and smiling his toothy smile as Sergeant Walker quoted the twenty sixth president.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Everyone was inspired by his story and Murray fell in love with the monkey.

As his testimony wrapped up Murray impatiently waited his turn to speak with the man. A renewed Murray refused to let his father push his chair when they left, he would propel himself. No more feeling sorry for himself, he vowed. His father whispered a silent prayer of gratitude for the wounded vet who finally got through to his son when everyone else had failed. He didn’t mind a bit when he handed over his Visa card to pay for the workout gear Murray picked out at the fitness store.

Murray had asked his parents about getting a capuchin monkey as a service animal to help him and he’d been working towards it for nearly a year. They had agreed if he got his grades up, if he learned everything there was to know about them and he raised the money himself to buy one. They weren’t cheap.

He’d buckled down and brought his grades up, that was the easy part. He’d joined Mr. Baynard’s animal studies group to learn about them and had started crafting clever articulated wooden monkeys to sell on Etsy. He had nearly five thousand dollars saved up and soon they could start seriously shopping for one. Murray pumped iron. When the new school year started, he added biology classes to his workload. He held his head up when he rolled down the hallways in his school. He made amends with old friends and added new ones. He owned this chair; it would never own him again. His body ached and his muscles strained from the intensity of his workouts. His skinny arms doubled in size and his belief in himself grew with his muscles.

His father changed the smooth street tires out for some with off road treads and the dirt paths and gravel trails around the town park became his training course.

His dream was to take his interest in mechanical engineering and infuse it with the study of starfish and lizards that regenerated their lost or damaged limbs. He would figure out how to apply that to his damaged spine either through biological or mechanical means and get out of this chair. He’d give his advancements to the world, make sure that people like the soldier who’d changed his life would get the chance to be whole again. He’d be like Wolverine, regenerating from traumatic injuries and righting wrongs wherever he found them.

Moving past the haunted house, he rolled onward to the monkey cages. Piedmont had four of them in residence. They were wonderful animals that never ceased to cheer him up. He envied the way they moved, their speed and agility he could never come close to even if he wasn’t sentenced to life in this wheelchair. Soon he would have one for himself. There were programs that lent the little creatures to incapacitated people but he wanted one of his own, not one he would have to give back whenever they wanted. It was worth the wait, maybe by spring he would have enough money if his sales were good. Who knows, maybe he could get it a little outfit and be an organ grinder, maybe go to children’s hospitals or something. Maybe get a YouTube channel and raise money for charities. The future wasn’t what he’d planned but it didn’t look half bad from where he was sitting.

He watched them scamper back and forth across the bamboo monkey bars, chittering at each other as they played a game of tag. China, Sage, Elmo and Ernie were nearly everyone’s favorite animals and he knew he wouldn’t have much time to study them before the crowds of little kids showed up.

He watched them play, long limbs and tails swinging them across the pen and sketched their faces, noting how each was different. They never missed a hand or foothold. Never faltered, the enclosure mapped so thoroughly in their brains they could do it blind. He laughed at their high-speed pursuit and tried to capture some of it with his phone.

The small simians scampered for the safety of their nest as a scream pierced the air, followed by more screams. Their chatter stopped as they pushed each other in an attempt to get deeper inside to hide in the shadows.

Murray spun his chair in the direction of the gate. Special effects for the haunted house, he wondered? It made sense, but they were too real, too desperate and pain filled for that he quickly decided.

Praying it wasn’t one of his friends in danger or hurt, he put his dirt track practice to use and propelled toward the yells and shouts, now joined by the sound of squealing tires and honking horns.

8

Donny

Donny Lin skirted the edges of the park, sticking to the shadows and the less traveled places, avoiding any staff that might have questions for him. He knew he’d been seen a few times, no more than a fleeting glance, but if he wasn’t careful, eventually someone would figure out that he was not paying the gate admission every day. Once the crowds arrived, it was easy to blend in and become invisible. He made his way towards the modern ‘outhouses’ at the back of the park to take care of his morning business. He kept away from the main bathrooms near the gates, too many staff were there and there weren’t enough people yet where he could hide in plain sight. He couldn’t let anyone find out that he was living there because then the authorities would be called. He had a secret spot in the hayloft of the barn in the petting zoo where he could sleep. He had a little niche carved out in the very back and it wouldn’t be discovered until hundreds of bales were used first. He figured he had until early spring before they got to the back of the loft. He wasn’t proud of it but there were storerooms of supplies and no one would miss cans of food or a little fresh meat intended for the animals. There were always plenty of leftover people food too. At the end of the day, the concession stands and little restaurant tossed their unsold food in the dumpster and garbage truck only came twice a week.

If he had choices, this wasn’t where he would have chosen to be but it was better than being in the foster care system. He was too young to get a job and start living a sort of normal life so he was in a holding pattern for a few more years. He’d been bounced around through the system since he was an infant with no idea where he came from or who he really was. Nobody wanted to adopt the half Asian boy who couldn’t speak. Most people treated him as if he were mentally disabled instead of mute. Nothing could be further from the truth; he’d just never had a chance at being a normal kid. He didn’t know who his father was and all he knew about his mother was that she’d been Chinese.

There was no way was he ever going back, he’d sleep in a dumpster with the rats before he let another adult sneak in his room late at night like his last foster dad. Being mute and unwanted, he’d always been a target of bullies and perverts looking for an easy victim. The night his foster dad came for him, he had busted his nose with a solid kick, grabbed his few belongings and ran. He drifted through different towns, ate from dumpsters behind restaurants, shop lifted when he had no choice and kept on the move. He was invisible to grownups as long as he didn’t look dirty and they didn’t see him during school hours. He avoided the big cities and the predators that lurked there. He took clothes from Goodwill bins, walked into birthday parties at Chuck e Cheeses and ate his fill, paid attention to church billboards and their advertisements of potluck dinners. Winter was coming and he really should be heading south but he liked this place. He’d found it by accident but it had everything he needed. The barn was warm, the food was plentiful and he had the run of the place at night. There were no cameras and the one old man who was the security guard never left the house once he closed the gates.

He stared at his big toe poking through the worn-out thrift store tennis shoes. He was going to have to ‘borrow’ a bicycle and ride up to the nearest little city to get himself supplied for winter. La Crosse was about thirty miles north and it was big enough to have a few donation boxes around town. He’d never had name brand anything, just cast offs, hand me downs or stuff he took from thrift shop donation boxes. His clothes were worn but clean. He alternated between the two sets he had and washed them in the bathroom sink with hand soap after the park was closed.

The barn was an ideal spot to hide out during the day where the chances of being caught were almost zero. Once there were a crowd of kids in the petting zoo, he could walk over, make sure no one was looking and disappear into the empty goat stall. From there he could scurry up the ladder and be out of sight in the loft. While he waited, he lay beneath an old elm in the wooded area behind the panther enclosure where he’d spend the morning lounging and reading one of the books he borrowed from the visitor center library. The risk of daytime discovery scared him, but the night was his. He could roam freely, finding leftover food, dropped sunglasses and change in the coin slots of the vending machines. He’d even found an iPod once, but his conscience prevailed and he put it in the lost and found box.

He’d begun sharing his spoils with the panther who he discovered loved corndogs and hamburgers. He didn’t know what the zoo called the big black cat, but to Donny, he was Yewan, one of the few Chinese words he’d learned. Night in the language of his mothers’ people. The panther, like him, was most active after dark. He’d listened to one of the staff answer questions about him and learned he’d been bred in captivity and had been a family pet until he got too big. One night, with a pounding heart and more than a little fear in him, he’d climbed over the fence with his offering of corndogs. The panther may have looked fierce and vicious but it was just a big kitten. It longed for human touch, it had grown up being cuddled and loved and missed playing and roughhousing. Donny spent most of his nights in the enclosure after that first timid meeting and had taken to bringing his blanket and curling up with him near dawn to sleep together.

He daydreamed of setting him free and the two of them racing through the night on the hunt, their prey never knowing what hit them until powerful jaws closed around their throat or his spear pierced their heart. Like the panther he was fast and strong. Lean and wiry like a distance runner, he knew together they could rule the forest. Man and beast, tooth, claw and spear, striking fear into the hearts of the lesser animals.

His fantasy of roaming the jungle with the big cat was interrupted by the screaming from the front gate area. Donny felt panic surge through him. Screaming meant something bad happened, someone could call the police. If they started poking around they might discover him, start asking questions he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. He considered abandoning his new home, but he finally felt like he had a place to call his. He couldn’t leave, Yewan was the only friend he’d ever had, but he needed to know what was happening. Horns began to honk as people screamed and a strange keening sound filled the air.

Donny raced along the edge of the wood line to a better vantage point. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw what was happening at the front gates.

9

Main Entrance

Robert Baynard white knuckled the edges of the sink. The water and aspirin weren’t helping, if anything he felt worse. His head was killing him. He was drenched in sweat and his insides felt twisted up. Uncontrollable rage coursed through him in waves. The bathroom door swung open as a man entered and the sunlight hit the mirror Robert stood facing. He grimaced as the light reflected into his eyes, the pain like white hot daggers and he felt a growl in his throat begging for release. He forced it down and splashed more water on his face.

“Hey buddy, you don’t look so good,” the man said.

Robert ignored him.

“You need some help or something?” the man asked.

Robert tried to tamp down the rage building inside of him and remained speechless, teeth gritted, once again gripping the edges of the sink as hard as he could.

A hand touched his shoulder and a concerned voice asked, “You want me to get you some help?”

Pain flared through his body at the contact and before either man realized what was happening, Robert whipped his head around and bit down savagely on the man’s forearm. He yelled in surprise and pain, shoved Robert away and fled the bathroom. Robert was flung backward, stumbled over his own feet and fell, striking his head on the edge of a urinal. He lost consciousness as the zombie virus continued to course through his veins. Robert Baynard, proud veteran and school teacher, died on a bathroom floor as something new and hungry took control of his body. His eyes shot open, black and lifeless as an uncontrollable need filled him. A need for blood, a need to bite and rend. A need to replicate, duplicate and populate. An insatiable craving for human flesh. He smelled them and heard them only a few feet away and sprang to his feet.

Kelly stepped into the nurses’ station, concerned over the prospect of a guest being bitten by an animal. It was shaping up to be one hell of a day. They were short staffed, most of the crew had called in sick. There were already lines forming at the gates as families and tour groups took advantage of the nice weather before the days grew cold. And now this. It wasn’t unheard of for some of the animals to get a little rowdy, but nothing had ever warranted the panic she’d heard on the radio.

The nurse’s station was near the main entrance near the visitors’ center. This area consisted mostly of park benches, the snack bar, gift shop and a playground for the kids. The closest creatures were the barnyard animals in the farm display that doubled as a petting zoo. There were a few goats, the chickens, a pair of cows, some free roaming peacocks and an old alpaca. They’d never had any trouble from any of them.

Although, it could be one of the capuchins, she thought. The little monkeys occasionally darted out of their enclosure if a handler was careless and would start begging or stealing junk food from the guests. Along with their wallets, watches, earrings or any other thing they could get their paws on.

A burly man sat on the edge of the examination table. Blood dotted his t-shirt and jeans. Anna held a compression bandage to the wound on his arm, a tube of antibiotic cream in her free hand.

Kelly bustled in, washed her hands and approached the man who was trying to be cavalier about the whole thing and maybe do a little flirting with the pretty aide.

“Sir, may I see?” asked Kelly.

He nodded and massaged his forehead with his free hand. Sweat ran freely from under the bill of his John Deere cap. He was in a lot of pain, much more than a simple bite would cause, and was starting to have trouble maintaining his air of nonchalance.

Anna pulled the bandage away and he drew his breath in sharply at the pain. Black streaks were spreading outwards from the bite mark. A huge chunk of flesh was missing, the human teeth impressions plainly evident.

“How did this happen?” Kelly asked as she studied the wound. “Was there an altercation?”

“I guess,” the man said. “I was just trying to help. Some guy in the bathroom looked sick, he was sweating and looked like he was about to throw up. I was just trying to see if he was okay and the jerk bit me.”

“We’ll dress this for now but you need to get to the emergency room and have a doctor look at it.” Kelly said. “We’ll call you an ambulance, this really needs to be examined.”

Anna shook her head and tried to convey something without the man seeing as he agreed, his good humor fading fast as the waves of pain became worse.

She had the man lie down on the examination table as she dressed the wound then pulled Anna aside so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ve tried contacting EMS, the Sheriff and the fire department.” Anna said barely above a whisper. “No one is answering. I think this might be serious. I think the biter might be carrying the virus that’s been all over the news.”

“I thought that was only in the big cities.” Kelly said. “And they’re not sure what it is, Anna. Some are saying it’s just opportunists taking advantage of the situation and starting riots so they can loot.”

“Well, that’s no ordinary bite. It’s moving too fast, Kelly. It only happened a few minutes ago and he’s already feverish. You saw those black strands of infection spreading away from the wound. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Me neither.” Kelly said worriedly. “Where is the man who attacked him?”

“Still in the bathroom, yelling and beating on the door. He’s gone completely insane. Derek and Will are over there now to make sure he doesn’t get out.”

“If you have this under control, I’m going out there to see what’s going on.” Kelly said.

“Go, I’ll try to get his fever down and keep calling EMS,” replied Anna.

Kelly arrived at the bathrooms and heard for herself the guttural growls and pounding coming from inside. Derek stood by the door but there wasn’t much he could do to secure it. There wasn’t a handle on the outside, it was a push door. She pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1. The man sounded completely deranged and they needed professional help.

“I sent Will to try to find the keys so we can lock it.” Derek said “If there are any. I don’t remember seeing them hanging on the board.”

She quickly filled him in on the situation as the phone rang and rang. If the virus was that contagious and took hold as quickly as it had with the man at the Nurses station, they should consider shutting the park down.

“I think you’re right.” Derek agreed. “Something is wrong. Big time wrong and this guy trying to tear the door down kind of scares me.”

The phone continued to ring then abruptly disconnected, leaving her with a dial tone. She tried again but instantly got an all circuits are busy message. She bit her lip and her eyes held worry, edging on fear.

A few people had gathered around the bathrooms, curiosity piqued by the banging and growling coming from inside.

Derek tried to defuse the situation. “Apparently, he ate some bad Mexican food folks, go enjoy yourselves, we’ll have this sorted in a minute. There’s another set of restrooms by the haunted house right over there,” he pointed at the visitors center a couple of hundred yards away.

He got a few laughs as the people drifted away, most of them dismissing the incident without a second thought.

Will came hurrying up to them and shook his head.

“No keys,” he said. “These doors never get locked; they’ve probably been lost for years.”

“Maybe it’s just the cell phones.” Anna said, hitting the redial button for 9-1-1. “I need to get back to the infirmary to see how our patient is doing and I’ll try the land line. Maybe I’ll have better luck.”

“I’m going to let the boss know we need to shut this place down.” Derek said, wincing as the man inside the bathroom screamed and slammed against the door again. “Will, make sure no one tries to go in there.”

“Okay.” Will said and eyed the steel door dubiously. “As long as he doesn’t figure out how to open it.”

He pulled out his own phone and tried to call his wife.

Kelly was reaching for the door of the first aid station when the bitten man slammed it open and barreled out. She was knocked off the porch into the hedges as he howled and flew down the steps, blood staining the front of his shirt. He sprang off the porch and launched himself at a young couple staring open mouthed and dumbfounded. With snapping teeth and keens of hunger, he tore into them rending flesh and spraying hot blood across startled faces. It took a moment for anyone to react but when they did, panic ensued and screams echoed through the park. Terrified parents grabbed their kids and ran for the entrance. The fear in the air was tangible and catching. There was something terrible and final about the gurgling screams from the couple and people ran away from the sounds of death and whatever was causing them. Those who hadn’t seen the carnage didn’t have to. They knew a lion or tiger or something equally vicious had escaped and was killing people. They heard it. Heard the horror, the shrieks of sheer terror and ran for their cars.

The man slashed and bit then leaped away from the dying couple in a frenzy. His infected brain drove him to seek new victims and he took down an elderly man who stood there paralyzed, mouth agape at the brutality and speed of the blood covered man.

Kelly scrambled from the hedges and dashed into the first aid station. All hell was breaking loose and panic was threatening to overwhelm her. Anna was sprawled on the floor, her throat torn out, her blouse torn open and a huge pool of red soaked into her hair. Anna fumbled for her radio, she had to warn Cody, had to tell him to hide. To get inside a cage and lock the door behind him. Anna twitched and sat up, her eyes were black, her lips were curled and a hissing sound was coming from her shredded throat.

“Go ahead, mom,” came a voice over the radio and Anna launched herself towards the noise. She flew across the room, easily jumping the fifteen feet, fingers clawing for the fresh blood.

Kelly screamed and threw up her hands to shield her face as she backpedaled through the door. One of the Anna’s legs tangled in the IV stand and she smashed to the floor, breaking the fall with her face. Teeth skittered across the tiles and she lunged for Kelly again as she tried to slam the door. Hands clawed for her and broken teeth gnashed for tender flesh. Kelly screamed at the monster and with adrenaline charged strength, shoved her weight against the door, finally latching it when Anna’s feet slipped on the blood slicked tiles. The rampaging monster hurtled herself against it, into the safety glass, and it spider webbed into hundreds of tiny cracks. She banged her head repeatedly against it, her skin shredding and black blood splashing across the window. The reinforced door held and Kelly watched in horror at the thing that had been her friend only moments before destroyed her face against the unyielding glass.

Across the park, Demonio and Diablo shook off the effects of the tranquilizers. They woke up slowly, their noses filled with the scent of the man who hurt them with his pointed stick. They licked at the stinging needle marks and sniffed the ground, followed the footsteps to the gate. Diablo shoved his toothy snout against the bars and it inched open. They slunk out and smelled the wind. The scent of the man and was strong, his aftershave astringent and unique to them. Lips curled in a low growl and they padded towards the smell. Towards the revenge. It was all they knew. They had been trained to fight, trained to kill anyone or anything that tried to hurt them and the man with the strong smell had hurt them both. The shaggy hair on their hunched backs stood on end as they slipped down the trails towards the front of the park.

Will was really, really starting to get a feeling that things were spiraling out of control when the inhuman shrieks and the banging on the door finally stopped. Thank God for small favors. He could hear screams from other parts of the park now, though. He stared at the useless phone in his hands. Things were going nuts, he couldn’t get ahold of his wife, nobody answered his 9-1-1 calls and the sounds of terror made his blood run cold. He needed to go, to get home. He needed this job too and his sense of duty wouldn’t let him just abandon his post. He needed to check on the guy in the bathroom, maybe he had died. Maybe he had finally knocked himself out or something.

He pushed the door gently inward and dared a peek. The thing that once was Robert Baynard lunged, sunk his fingers into Wills eyes and bit into his face. Will added his own scream to those all around him as he felt the flesh pulling free. The zombie savaged him viciously then left him dying on the floor as he sprang out of the door in search of fresh prey.

Moments later, Will’s body lurched upright. An unnatural hunger consumed him and drove him to his feet. He barely noticed his dangling eyeball and a face that was raw, oozing meat as he joined the hunt.

Derek saw Kelly fly off the porch into the bushes as he was hurrying towards the Visitor center and the offices there. He ran for her, ignoring the man screaming and tearing into an old man when he saw a young couple that had to be dead leap up from the ground. They were covered in bites and slashes and blood and there was no way they could be alive. There was no way they could be running and screaming after a woman struggling to run with her toddler out the front gate. There was no way they were leaping on all fours like animals. There was no way they ran her down and tore into her, sending gouts of blood spraying across the asphalt.

But they did.

The parking lot was utter chaos as the zombies fell on the fleeing guests. The blind fury of the freshly turned undead was relentless and brutal. Windows were smashed. People were torn from cars. The fastest runners were easily brought down with inhuman speed and strength. One became five. Five became ten. Engines fired up and revved to the limit joined the sounds of killing and dying. Screams of terror and screams of rage were drowned out by screeching tires and crunching metal as dozens of cars all tried to squeeze through the same exit. Keening, clawing, biting monsters were there ripping into the broken cars and tearing bodies apart in their insatiable hunger.

Kelly turned away from the bloody glass and the undead thing that kept trying to bite through it as Derek ran up the steps.

Her eyes were wide, on the verge of panic, but seeing him brought her back from the edge a little. He was something sane in an insane world. Something solid she could cling to. Something that kick started her brain to get it working again and get out of the continual loop of this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. The last of the bloody, ravaged things had chased the terrified people out into the parking lot and wholesale slaughter was happening out there. But not inside the park.

“The gate! We’ve got to close the gate!” she screamed and sprinted for the big wrought iron fences before any of the gibbering things in the parking lot came back.

“Get the left one!” he yelled and ran past her to the farther of the two, his eyes on the parking lot, the smashed, smoking cars and the screaming monsters attacking them like savage animals. They had to hurry, had to get the gates closed, had to keep those things out. Derek grabbed it and started pulling but was slammed from the back. Jaws closed around his knee and he felt it snap, heard the bones break before he realized what hit him. His arms flailed and another toothy maw clamped down hard on one and pulled in the opposite direction. His arm snapped like a dry twig and his shoulder popped from its socket. Useless random facts flitted through his brain as he watched in disbelief, the pain and shock so extreme he didn’t even feel it yet. A hyena’s bite was three times as powerful as pit bulls. With eleven hundred pounds of pressure per square inch, nothing could withstand them. They could snap wildebeest femurs as easily as a human biting into a cracker. His head slammed against the ground and the pain hit him, forcing all thought except desperate survival out of his mind. They ragged him back and forth, pulling on him like a play toy and he saw his arm tear free from the elbow.

Derek screamed, a raw, throat shredding scream as the pain kicked in and Demonio dropped the arm. His maw spread wide as he clamped his teeth around Derek’ dislocated shoulder. His canines sank deep and more bones snapped and popped as Diablo finally tore his lower leg loose and blood pumped freely from the slashed arteries.

The hyena let go of the leg, barked his laughing bark then yelped as he was suddenly flying through the air. The impact broke the fiberglass nose of the golf cart and nearly sent Cody tumbling over the steering wheel. Demonio released his hold on Derek’s shoulder and crouched low at the new threat, his gurgling, phlegmy sounding growl drowned out by the keens of the undead in the parking lot, many of them turning towards the movement and noises. Kelly slammed her side of the gate closed and stood paralyzed as she watched Derek’s life pump out of him and the Hyenas crouched to spring at her son. The clanging of iron on iron pulled their attention away from the human on the silent machine. It was a sound they knew. It meant they would be trapped again.

Caged.

Beaten.

Starved.

They saw the freedom of the trees across the parking lot and as one, turned and ran for them as the undead started running for the humans gathered at the gates.

Cody wanted to run to his mother, run to Derek and run away all at the same time. Everything was happening too fast; it was too much. He needed a moment to think, to scream, to cry, and to hide but there wasn’t time for any of that. There were only seconds left in his life if those things rushed back inside. He jumped from the cart, grabbed the tall steel gate and pulled. Another boy, a dark-haired Asian kid, joined him and together they got the thousand-pound gate swinging closed on its well-oiled hinges. It slammed into place and Kelly locked the catch as the first of the torn and bloody people from the parking lot smashed into it. They backed away as the gate shuddered when the undead ran into it at full speed, hungry arms reaching through the bars.

It would hold. It was old and heavy and solid, almost like a prison cell door with the name of the park across the top of the two halves. Kelly only watched for a second before she tore herself away from the screaming mass and ran to Derek. He was a barely recognizable mess, the hyenas had savaged him, literally torn him limb from limb in seconds.

He was fading fast, his world growing cold and dark as the last of his lifeblood pumped out in a weak trickle. He smiled as Kelly knelt over him, tears streaming from her eyes and tried to tell her not to worry, he was okay. It didn’t hurt. His mind was muddled and he couldn’t remember what happened exactly. Had he fallen off a ladder? She brushed the hair away from his forehead and stroked his face. That was okay, her hands felt warm and he was so cold. He’d just close his eyes for a moment and wait for an ambulance. He was so tired. He should ask for a blanket, he was starting to shiver.

10

Kelly

Kelly had to pull herself together. Derek was gone and the whole world had taken a hard turn into mayhem and insanity. If she didn’t do something, if she didn’t start acting instead of reacting to everything, everyone else was going to die. She felt as if she were in a B horror movie. This is impossible, kept running through her head, this is all impossible. Yet it was happening and she was thrust in the center of it. The blood on her clothes and dripping from her hands, the screaming things reaching for her through the gate and the fire and smoke billowing up from the parking lot told her it was all real. It was all happening and happening fast.

She forced herself to stop staring into the madness on the other side of the gate and let her training take over. She’d seen ugly before. She’d seen torn up animals, she’d been covered in blood, and she’d been calm under pressure. Nothing like this her mind shrieked. You’ve never seen nothing like this! She told it to shut up. Her eyes darted past the undead gate crashers and found Cody. He was what was important now. He was the only thing that mattered. He stood with a handful of other kids, all of them wide eyed, tear streaked and staring at the remains of Derek or the ripped and ravaged people trying to squeeze through the bars.

They were shocked and confused, not sure what to do next. They had run towards the noises out of curiosity or maybe to try to help but now what? They couldn’t get out and didn’t know which way to flee. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to clear her head, trying to think. Grasping hands reached for her, only yards away. Biting, snapping faces tried to force their way between the bars to the kids standing there in unmoving fear. There were a few girls, and boys, a kid in a wheelchair, an odd-looking pair of twins and others. Where were their parents? Were they banging on the gate to be let in so they could finish off their own offspring? She shuddered at the thought. Not my child, she decided. He gets out alive.

There were others huddled near the snack shack staring at the only way out, the only exit to their cars, blocked by snarling, bloody people. Fear was written plainly on their faces. A couple with a pair of teenage boys and a young family with a little girl and a baby in a papoose slung across his father’s chest kept looking at each other, then at the parking lot. None of them knew what to do, they stood transfixed, unable to decide where to flee.

She had to step up. Take charge. Fix what she could and give these people a chance. The undead slammed and keened at the gate, fresh meat so close, just a couple inches of iron bars separating them from the blood that they craved.

“Cody, take everyone to the visitors center,” she barked. “We’ve got to get away from them.”

She looked at the families and kids as they all turned to stare at her, hope in their near panicked eyes. She had on a uniform. She knew what to do. She was an official.

“This is my son, he’ll get you somewhere safe. Lock all the doors behind you.”

No one moved.

“Cody!” she yelled and he started, his eyes seemed to come into focus. “Get going, take them to the center. Hurry!”

“But Mom...” Cody started and pointed towards Derek.

“No buts, just do it! She shouted, her ‘I’m-not-in-the-mood-to-take-any-crap’ voice cutting through their indecision. “Do it now.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” she added, as they started moving.

“Come on.” Cody said and took off in a jog. “They won’t be able to get in, the doors are solid.”

The kids stuck together she noticed. The pale white twins grabbed a handle on either side of the boy in the wheelchair and sped him along as the others circled around him forming a fragile wall of protection. It wasn’t much, it was a little thing but it spoke volumes about them.

As they disappeared around the snack shack, Kelly moved to Derek’s corpse. She checked the time on her watch. Sixteen minutes since Anna had been dead and then came back and lunged for her. Her entire world had been ripped apart in only a quarter of an hour. The man she loved was gone. The country she lived in was being destroyed. Everything she knew about science and medicine had been rendered null and void in a matter of moments. The rules didn’t apply when blatantly dead people were trying to eat living people. It wasn’t just here in this isolated part of Iowa. The virus that cropped up out of nowhere a few days ago had spread at an insanely rapid pace. She couldn’t imagine being in a big city, there was no chance, no escape and no hope. Here… maybe. Just maybe. Her mind raced and she knew she didn’t have much time. This safari could work, could keep them alive. It was fenced and secure, there were plenty of animals for a food supply and there was water. She had to move fast, though. Time was ticking away and things had to be done.

Derek was a large man, but she managed to drag him into the golf cart. She nearly vomited when she picked up his dismembered limbs and put them in the back but she forced it down. She’d seen worse she kept telling herself. She ignored the twisted faces and hungry cries at the gates, they weren’t an immediate problem. Tick tock. She didn’t have time for niceties or to be dainty. She had a mission that had to be finished. It just had to. She hopped in and pressed the pedal to the floor, racing against the clock. Four minutes later she stood on the bank of the Mississippi in their favorite getaway spot. She had a lot of memories here lying on a blanket, talking about nothing and everything. No time for them now, though. She wrestled his body to the muddy water, waded out to her waist. She leaned over and pressed her forehead against his for a few seconds, allowing herself a moment to say goodbye before she pushed him out as far into the current as she could. The slow waters carried him away as she tossed the other parts of him as far out as she could. She did throw up then, heaving bile into the muddy water. She splashed her face, washed her hands and waded ashore. She felt like he would approve. As a younger man, he’d done a stint in the Coast Guard. She looked at her watch again. Twenty-eight minutes.

She took the long way back, racing along the trails looking for any more of the zombies but there were none to be seen. If they were here, she was sure they would come after her, killing people seemed to be their only motivation. She bailed out of the cart and approached the door to the first aid station where Anna stood swaying. She paid no attention to the woman staring in at her and Kelly nearly wailed. She’d been hoping she was wrong. Hoping the sunlight being blindingly bright and the throbbing in her head was just stress. Just a migraine coming on. She’d hoped the black streaks running up her arm from the tiny little nip Anna had given her when they fought at the door was just dirt. Or scratches. Or anything other than the virus racing through her system but it wasn’t. She’d supposed she’d known all along; it was what gave her the strength to do what she’d done. Anna ignoring her was the last confirmation she needed. She was already infected. Already one of them.

From the few minutes she’d had dealing with the undead, she’d learned a few things fast. If they killed you, you came back instantly. If they bit you, it took a little more time. The first man they’d been treating in the station had lasted for ten or fifteen minutes and his bite was large and terrible. Anna had turned almost instantly when her throat was ripped out. She only had a nick, it barely broke the skin, but she’d been feeling the cold spread of the disease almost since it happened. She could feel it in her head now, icy fingers curling around her brain. Derek hadn’t been killed by the undead and none of them had bitten him so she was pretty sure it wasn’t in the air; it was through direct contact. Bites or maybe even scratches. The newly turned were vicious and fast and inhumanly strong. A hundred people had fallen to it in a matter of minutes. She knew why the phones hadn’t been answered. She knew no one would be coming to rescue them. She knew they were on their own.

She couldn’t leave Cody to deal with Derek’s remains so she had to get rid of them. Her boy was close to breaking already. She couldn’t leave Anna locked up for him to deal with, she had to get rid of her. She couldn’t turn into one of them on this side of the gate, she had to get rid of herself.

Kelly opened the door and pushed Anna aside, latched it securely behind her and grabbed a pen and paper from the desk. Her arm spasmed with a shooting pain and she knew she had to hurry.

Cody,

I’m so sorry I can’t be here for you. I got bit when things went crazy. I’ll be one of them soon, I feel myself getting sicker by the minute. Don’t let them bite you no matter what. I love you son. You have been my whole world since the day you entered kicking and screaming. Never stop. Never stop kicking and screaming no matter what. Your father was a brave man. You have his strength. He would be so proud of you. I don’t know what’s coming. I think you are on your own. I don’t think help will ever arrive but I want you to promise me you’ll kick and scream the whole way. You can do this. Don’t leave the park, it’s fenced and safe. Try to protect the people and the animals for as long as you can. Do what you must. Do what’s right and what’s necessary, even if it’s hard.

I’m leaving now and I’ll try to lead the rest of them away but I’ll always be with you.

Love,

Mom.

She had so many more things to tell him, so much more advice to give, but there wasn’t time. She looked at her watch but couldn’t read the hands, she wasn’t sure what they meant anymore. Her writing had gone from neat and curly to barely legible, her mind was getting foggy. She left it on the counter where he would find it and stumbled to her feet, tears nearly blinding. She grabbed Anna by the hand and led her outside.

She tried to hurry as she led Anna towards the entrance gates. With nothing to hold their attention, some of the undead were still at the bars but most milled aimlessly around the parking lot. She pushed a few out of the way, stepped through then double checked that the door was secure behind her. She swayed for a moment, lost in darkness, her mind completely blank. Kelly felt the dryness of her throat and mouth and had difficulty swallowing, sweat poured in rivers down her body as the fever raged, the virus attacking her at the cellular level. It wouldn’t be long now. She winced through the pain in her skull as the sun stabbed into her eyes, the pupils nearly fully dilated. A small part of her came back, the dying bit of human that still remained and she shook the gate one last time. It held and she grabbed Anna by the hand and pulled her away from the zoo. She began singing the lullaby she sang when Cody was a restless infant, the notes raw in her throat. The undead lurched towards her, the ones at the fence running toward the sound. Their dead minds were confused, they heard a human but smelled one of their own kind. They sensed the infection coursing through her veins but they followed her singing and shambled along behind her. She wanted to get as far away as she could before it was too late. She led them away, past the burning wrecks at the entrance and turned south where the road meandered for miles before it came to the next town. She cried and sang as she led them away from her baby and after she died, when the virus completely took her, she climbed back to her feet and followed the shambling crowd.

11

The Children

“I can’t get a call out,” the father with the papoose said in exasperation.

His wife was frantically dialing her own cell and ignoring her traumatized daughter crying and clinging to her leg.

“How can all the circuits still be busy?” she asked, the panic making her voice shriller and shriller. “How come nobody is answering?”

Her husband ignored her and tried redialing his own phone. 9-1-1. All circuits busy. Hang up and try again as fast as he could. He needed someone to answer. Someone to reassure him help was on the way.

“We can’t stay here,” the other man said.

He was older, graying around the temples, had a deep tan and the build of a man who worked with his hands for a living. A plumber or carpenter. Maybe a heavy equipment operator.

They were in the visitor’s center, the original house that had been built near the turn of the century, with the doors locked and the curtains drawn.

Cody paced and tried to shut them all out. He wanted to run to his mom, help her deal with Derek and Anna, get some kind of answers to what was going on. What were those things? What made people go crazy like that?

Everyone was in the spacious lobby and on their cells, either trying to call emergency services or family

“Snap chat is working,” said one of the kids.

“Twitter, too.” Another answered and everyone gave up trying to dial phone numbers.

They went to the internet, it was still up and working. Chaos was everywhere as they heard panic and screams coming out of the tinny sounding speakers from a dozen different news feeds. People were attacking other people. There was murder, riots, looting and anarchy all across the nation, especially in the east coast towns. The big cities were tearing themselves apart from the inside out and it had been going on for hours. No one had heard from the president. The military were supposed to be on red alert but the reporters hadn’t heard anything from them, either.

“Someone should declare martial law,” one morning show host declared.

“Someone should declare a mandatory curfew,” opined another.

Anyone that started their mornings with television or listening to the radio hadn’t ventured out of their houses to enjoy a day at the zoo, they were riveted to the TV until the stations started going off the air. Some did the worst thing possible, they ran to the stores to stock up on supplies. Most never made it back. No one in the park had turned on the news until now, they had all been blissfully ignorant as the world fell apart until it happened to them. If they listened to anything at all that morning, it had been streaming music, cd’s or mp3 players filled with their favorite songs.

Cody peeked through the curtains trying to see his mom or any movement outside. He’d heard the golf cart come flying by a few minutes ago but couldn’t see it or her. He knew she was counting on him to keep these people safe but he wanted to go to her. There were adults here, they could take over now. It was too much. Too much to ask of him.

“It’s everywhere,” Murray said holding up his phone. “Des Moines is burning, people are looting and rioting, and the zombies are attacking anything that moves!”

“Zombies?” the younger father said. “Zombies aren’t real; those people are high on something, or sick. That virus has been on the news for a couple of days now.”

Murray looked at him, “Don’t you know what’s happening? This is it, the end of the world as we know it. One of them bites somebody, who bites somebody else and pretty soon we’re all living in sewers and scavenging for cat food! Don’t you watch movies?”

The older man scoffed, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care. We’re leaving. I’ll run down any of those crazies that get in my way, that’s what a brush guard is for. I’ve got a safe full of guns at the house. Druggies, sick people, the walking dead, I don’t care what you want to call them, if they come around my place, me and my boys are gonna light ‘em up.”

The two boys nodded in agreement, excitement tamping down their fear. Their dad was always talking about being prepared, you never knew when everything could go to hell in a handbasket. He’d mostly meant the government getting out of control, about the Tree of Liberty being watered with the blood of tyrants, but a zombie uprising was just as bad. Maybe worse.

The older man looked at the couple with the two children. “If you want to get out of here, you’re welcome to come with us. Same for all you kids, there’s no room for everyone in my truck but I can come back and get you. We’ll get you back to your parents and in a few days the cops or National Guard will have this under control and it will all blow over.”

The younger couple whispered to each other and both nodded at the older man. “We’re with you.”

Murray wheeled his chair in circles anxiously. “You leave, you die, and if you let those zombies in the gate they’ll kill us. C’mon, look at the news, this is everywhere. The world is dying.”

“Kid, you should lay off the video games. This ain’t nothing but some bad drugs getting passed around and some crazies using the chaos to get a new flat screen and some Air Jordans.”

“Those people aren’t looking for a flat screen.” Murray said and pointed towards the front gate. “I think they’re looking for brains.”

“Come on, let’s go,” the man said and headed for the door, ignoring the kid who obviously watched too many horror movies. Zombies weren’t real.

The other family and their small children fell in line behind him.

Cody stopped pacing and stepped between him and the door. “Please, my mom said...”

“Kid, no offense, but your mom ain’t in charge of us. We’re leaving, we’ve got family to check on so decide right now whether you want me to come back or not but get out of my way.”

“My family is already here.” Cody said lamely and stepped aside. “I have to stay.”

The man looked at the other kids who looked at each other.

“I guess we will, too.” Murray said. “Our parents know where we are. They’ll come get us, right guys?”

There were nods from the others, slow and unsure at first but once they thought about it, it made sense.

“We’ll stay, Mister but thanks for the offer.” Harper said “My dad would be mad if he came for me and I wasn’t here.”

“Makes sense,” the man said. “Lock up behind us.”

They checked to be sure none of the crazies were anywhere around and the families left the house, hurrying to the parking lot while it was still empty. The kids made their way to the living room with the overstuffed furniture and went back to their phones, trying to get in touch with their own families. All but the lean Asian boy, he clung to the shadows. He had nowhere to go and there was no one who cared if he was safe or not.

Cody watched the small group leave, heard their cars start up a few minutes later then slipped out of the door. He scanned the area, listened intently for the keens or screams of the crazy people and looked for any sign of his mom. She was nowhere to be seen. He left the porch and edged towards the snack shack and the front gate. He wanted to make sure they had closed it behind them. Derek’s body was gone and the golf cart was parked haphazardly in front of the nurse’s station. There was a lot of blood staining the cargo hold so it was easy to figure out what she’d done but that didn’t explain why she hadn’t come to the house.

The area around the front entrance and parking lot was empty. The gift shop door stood ajar, a tipped over postcard rack blocking it open. The park was unusually quiet, the only sound was the breeze rustling the leaves and the crackling of flames barely heard from the car fire near the road entrance. No chittering from the monkeys. No cries of the peacocks or bleating of the goats. Even the chickens were quiet. Everything was hiding, being still and silent.

He heard them as they joined him to stare out at the parking lot. An hour ago, there had been a line of happy people waiting to get in, their biggest concern was sunblock and hoping the animals were active so they could get some good pictures. Now there were a half dozen smashed cars and a school bus burning brightly, the parking lot had pools of blood and shredded clothes littering it. Discarded shoes and purses were everywhere. Flies were gathering at the puddles and drinking their fill. They watched in silence for a few moments before the oldest looking girl finally said something.

“I think that’s Mr. Baynard,” she pointed to a form crawling towards them, its lower body broken and burnt but the remnants of a flashy necktie could be still be seen. His head was still smoldering, wisps of smoke curling up from the burnt hair. They watched as he scratched his way toward them, pulling himself slowly along. Something had torn him open. A car bumper or maybe another crazy and his entrails were spilling out, sliding across the asphalt behind him.

“I don’t think its drugs making them crazy. No kind of drug can make you act like that,” a young black girl said and moved in a little closer into the group.

“It’s zombies.” Murray said. “There is no other explanation. Prove me wrong.”

No one tried because no one could. He was right. They watched the slow progress in horrified fascination, saw it tried to scream at them but no sound came from the burnt things mouth.

Cody was the first to tear his eyes away from the slow-moving horror.

“I’ve got to find my mom. She will know what to do.”

“We can help,” an Indian girl said. “Do you think we’re safe in here?”

“Should be.” Cody said, “We’re surrounded by fence. Good fences that keep the antelope in so it ought to keep those things out. They don’t seem to be very smart. I don’t think they can climb.”

“Where should we start searching?” the pale boy said and his sister nodded at his words.

Cody bit his lip and looked to the nurse’s station with its gore stained, spider webbed window. At the bloody cart parked in front of it. She should have come to the house unless something was wrong. Unless something had happened to her. Suddenly he felt really glad the kids were with him, he didn’t want to be alone. He was afraid of what he’d find when he looked inside. He pointed, his throat too tight to speak and they understood.

“Um, dude.” Murray said. “We need weapons. I know she’s your mom and all but, you know, maybe she’s not anymore.”

Harper gasped and swatted him for being so insensitive but he didn’t back down.

“Just saying, that’s all,” he defended himself.

“He’s right.” Cody said. “She might not be…”

He swallowed the giant lump in his throat and finished “herself.”

He pulled the door open to the snack shack and handed everyone a long knife or barbeque fork before they made their way over. The office was trashed. Blood, broken bottles, smashed cabinets and spilled desk drawers cluttered the place but no one was inside either living or dead. The quiet Asian boy handed him a note as they turned to leave. It had been laying on the counter and everyone else had overlooked it.

12

Cody

Piedmont House was commissioned by Theopolis James Piedmont in 1897. Construction began that spring and the last nail was driven flush in the winter of the same year. Three stories tall with a large open floorplan for entertaining the elite members of society, it featured indoor plumbing and was one of the first houses in the region to have electric power. In addition to having its own telegraph lines, it was also the first to utilize Alexander Graham Bell’s new-fangled device called the telephone. With its lavish design, modern conveniences and the Piedmont flair for aristocracy, it was the envy of north eastern Iowa.

Now, over a century later, it was the visitor center and staff offices of the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary. Each year for Halloween, the park staff decorated the first floor with a macabre collection of ghosts, ghouls and scary music. Vampires and werewolves ushered people out of the creepy waiting area and onto the haunted hayride that included thrills and chills of all kinds. Monsters waited to leap from the shadows to scare small children, give teenage boys a reason to put their arms around their dates and cause the occasional adult heart to skip a beat or two. Giant, hairy spiders sprang from trees and animatronic zombies clawed the earth with their skeletal hands as they tried to rise from the grave in search of brains. Running from the first of October through Halloween, it was a huge tourist draw and every year the park added a few more scares to the delight of visitors.

The second floor was utilized as office space for the park personnel and the third floor had eight spacious rooms that were used mostly for storage. Utilizing much of the original furnishings, it was a step back to a simpler time when gossiping on the telephone party line was the height of societal scandal.

Inside the old house, Cody sat with the stained note in his hands and ignored the other kids. He read it over and over, looking for something he missed. The sentence that said I’ll be right back, everything is fine.

It wasn’t there. The cold, hard, ugly, black truth was all the note held. No happy ending. Just death and sacrifice. A last goodbye that told him to buckle up and take care of things. She’d said it nicely, she’d said it in a mom way, but that’s what she meant. It’s up to you, buddy. It’s your burden now to carry on by yourself. He heard the others talking, heard their voices and the tinny voices coming from six different phones and it registered with him even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it. The zombie outbreak was happening all over. No city, no state, no country was spared from the horror of raging infected sweeping through them. Stay inside, help is on the way, they repeated over and over but they never said who was coming to help. Or when. The weather radio in the kitchen played the same Emergency Broadcast message over and over, the recorded message growing monotonous in its urgency. The world really was falling apart out there. Still fighting back his emotions, he wondered how to deal with what was happening outside the fences and more importantly, how to keep it from getting in. Was he sure it wasn’t airborne? Was it really only spread by a bite? Were some of them already carrying it? There were too many questions, and no answers for any of them.

He looked around at the other kids. Most of them were alternating between phone calls and texts to relatives or redialing 9-1-1. Occasionally someone would get up and wander around the house, peeking through curtains. About an hour ago Swan, the dark haired Indian girl, had gotten through to her mother who was stuck in traffic on the interstate. She frantically tried to fill her in on what happened, tell her she was fine but they all heard her mom start screaming and then there was nothing. She sat on a couch in a daze next to Cody. She had her knees hugged to her chest and rocked slowly back and forth. Dried tear streaks were on her cheeks and everyone talked in whispers. She and Cody knew their parents were gone. The others could hope their families were fine but none of them really believed. They’d seen how fast it happened. How brutal and vicious. The virus had started and spread and killed a hundred people in a matter of minutes. A half hour from start to finish. They hoped but they didn’t believe. She sat beside him staring off into nothing. It was going on early afternoon and the animals had forgotten their fear, come out of hiding and could be heard chittering and cawing or bleating their animal sounds. No else had been able to get a call through, not to 9-1-1, not to family, not to anyone. All circuits were busy the automated voice told them or they just rang until voicemail kicked in. The internet had been slow and sluggish all morning, pages taking forever to load or refresh but now it was quick again. There wasn’t any new content, though. Their Facebook posts reaching out to friends went unanswered. Their Instagram pictures went unnoticed. No one replied to their tweets. Texts messages sent were never seen.

Donny Lin didn’t have a phone and grew restless watching the others. He paced around the house, peeked through every curtain and didn’t see anything unusual aside from the park being completely empty. None of the undead things were inside the fences and he slipped outside to look around. To make sure. As he hurried down the paths, he began to notice a pattern. All of the animals ran towards him and paced along until they were stopped by their barriers. They were nervous, too. They took comfort at the sight of a human, something that had been a constant their whole lives. He realized something else, too. They were probably hungry. He’d noticed that the caretakers usually fed most of them after the park was open so the guests could watch them eat.

When he slipped back into the house an hour later, they jumped from their seats and asked him where he’d been. He should have told them if he was going outside. He wasn’t used to the attention or anyone missing him when he wasn’t around and was a little taken aback. They peppered him with questions and admonishments until Cody finally said, “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

He pointed to his mouth and shook his head and they realized they’d never heard him utter a word.

“You can’t speak?” Harper asked “What happened?”

“You didn’t see any zombies out there?” Murray asked.

Donny shrugged, ignored her question, shook his head emphatically at Murray and mimed an animal, pretended like he was eating and pointed outside.

Cody exclaimed and slapped his forehead. “I forgot all about the animals. They haven’t been fed yet. Can you guys help me?”

A chorus of yes’s and okay’s and anything is better than sitting around here answered him as Swan dug an ink pen and a small notebook out of her bag and handed it to the Asian kid.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll show you the storeroom. There are charts on the wall telling who gets what and how much. Who are you guys anyway?” Cody asked. “You all know each other?”

Introductions were made and when Donny wrote his name on the pad, Swan announced it to everyone.

It didn’t take long to get organized and soon they were loading up the golf carts with buckets and bags. The way the feeders were designed, they didn’t have to enter any of the enclosures or cages to add the food or refill the water troughs. Many of the animals were fairly self-sufficient and didn’t need daily care. The antelopes grazed and drank from the ponds. The chickens and peacocks could fend for themselves and as Cody fed the Jersey cow, he worked on auto pilot, his mind racing and still trying to come to terms with the new world he was living in. It was hard, nearly impossible to imagine, but it was over. The world he knew that morning was gone. They’d heard the news reports, they’d seen the videos. It was all gone. His mom was gone. His friends were gone. There would never be any new episodes of his favorite shows. There wouldn’t be any new video games or superhero movies. There weren’t any more cops or army or president. There weren’t any more people except for maybe small groups like theirs that had been lucky or smart. He pushed the big thoughts out of his head and concentrated on the small thoughts. What were they going to do? Should they try to leave or stay in the park? What were the other kids going to do? How was he going to take care of the animals all by himself if they left? Should he set them all free? He thought about the rest of the animals and which ones would be fine in the hundreds of acres of fenced land. Most of them, he concluded. They only had a few hunters in the park, he would have to keep them penned up, but most of the animals were herbivores or ate insects. They’d be fine turned out to take care of themselves. They’d be easy to hunt, too, if things started getting really bad. He pushed the idea out of his head, he didn’t want to eat animals that were nearly as tame as pets but once he thought it, he couldn’t unthink it. Last resort option he told himself. Things would have to get really, really bad.

They trickled back to the main house as it was getting dark and when Cody walked in, Donny was adding wood to the oversized fireplace in the parlor. Temperatures were falling as the sun started its descent into the western sky and the old house was cooling rapidly. The flames felt good and they seated themselves on the floor to absorb its warmth. The talk was quiet but animated as they shared stories of how they fed “their” animals. Swan said the wolves let her touch them and loved being scratched behind the ears. Murray said he’d gone inside the cage of the monkeys and they had climbed all over him and searched in his pockets looking for treats. The others had similar tales, they all had smiles and Donny was practically beaming. He had pointed to Charon, the black panther on the chart, and made it clear he wanted to feed it. The big predator was gentle as a kitten and Cody figured he’d probably figured that out, had discovered the oversized cat like to have his belly rubbed. It didn’t even occur to him to be alarmed or worried about them getting injured. Otis would never hurt anyone and despite what the grownups were always saying, he didn’t think any of the others would either. Caring for the animals had let them forget their own worries and lives and losses for a while and they were still basking in the simple beauty of it.

Murray finally broke away from the animal talk and declared himself starving to death.

“Got any people food in here?” he asked Cody.

“Let’s finish off whatever is in the fridge before it goes bad.” he said, and they all headed for the kitchen, pushing away any thoughts that they were eating other people’s lunches. People that were dead and running around killing other people.

They ate sitting around the fire and traded for the best sandwiches or bowls of microwaved soup, candy bars and fresh fruits. They talked quietly about the day and what had happened, how the world they knew no longer existed. They were kids, the oldest of them only fourteen. They’d grown up on dystopian video games and apocalyptic TV shows and end of the world movies. They’d seen hundreds of hours of zombie shows. They’d witnessed the screaming undead with their own eyes and they didn’t pretend they hadn’t. In case they forgot, in case they thought they were having a waking dream, all they had to do was walk out to the front entrance. Mr. Baynard was there clawing at the bars, his burnt and melted face not much more than a blackened skull. Others had wandered in during the day and there were probably ten or fifteen of those things pressed against the gate. They knew they were the lucky ones and they didn’t think the families that left was still alive. They knew they were safe where they were at and they knew no one was coming to save them. Cody took a poll just to make it official and no one wanted to leave, even if they could. Their families knew where they were. They would come if they were still alive. The safari was their new home.

“Okay.” he said, “I can show you everything I know about the park tomorrow. We’ll have to figure out what to do with all the animals but I’ve got a few ideas. I think we’ll be okay here, it’s pretty secure and it’s off any main roads. You have to be looking for this place to find it.”

As the fire died down, phone batteries went dead, bellies were full and eyes got heavy, Cody told them there were rooms upstairs they could claim if they wanted. No one did. They pulled cushions off of couches and chairs in the offices and used them for makeshift mattresses as he and Donny went to the gift shop to grab armfuls of Mexican blankets and souvenir cushions they could use as pillows.

Murray claimed the couch and rested the weather radio he’d grabbed from the kitchen on his chest. The parks crew had never changed the frequency but it had a couple of different settings. There were a lot of weather stations from different parts of the country and the emergency channel but it didn’t have regular radio. Vanessa turned off the lights and they listened in the dancing firelight as he scanned through the stations looking for any kind of news. Any voices in the night. He caught the same broadcast warning occasionally distant, echoed and automated. He’d listen for a while before turning the dial but no one ever said anything new. It was all the same warning, nothing was updated. By the time he gave up and turned it off, most of them were fast asleep.

13

Day One

Ever since the accident that left him in the wheelchair, Murray had been an early riser. He was embarrassed by the shriveled twigs that were now his legs and being walked in on in the bathroom caused him a great deal of embarrassment. He’d developed the habit of being the first up to tend to his needs in the mornings. He was fully capable of taking care of himself and found it demeaning when someone offered to help him with his toilet duties, even his parents.

He wheeled himself in circles around the lobby, a habit he had when he was anxious or excited. His mind raced, one idea jumbling over another as he intermittently paused to check his phone or scribble in his notebook. This is it. The big one, TEOTWAWKI as the doomsday preppers on TV called it. The End of the World As We Know It. Unable to contain himself any longer, he rolled over and shook Cody.

“Get up man.” he said in a loud whisper, “We got stuff to do. We are running out of time.”

He watched as Cody shook off the fog of sleep. Confused at his surroundings, the boy looked around and his face fell when he saw that nothing had changed from the previous night. So much for it all just being a bad dream. Donny was coming in from outside with an armful of wood and started stoking the fire to burn off the early morning chill.

Cody padded back into the room, having ignored whatever it was that was so important until he could go to the bathroom. Everyone else was stretching and yawning, wrapped in colorful blankets and looking sleepy-eyed. Murray was scribbling furiously in his notebook but when he looked up and saw everyone was mostly awake, he announced loud enough so they all could hear.

“We don’t have long. The power grid is gonna fail, internet and cell phones will probably go first. Are there generators here? How many? How much fuel? What about guns and survival gear?”

Cody shook his head in confusion and some of the others frowned at him, not understanding or maybe not really wanting to understand.

“Listen to me man, I’ve been gaming the apocalypse for years now. These may not be crawling out of the graveyard trying eat your brains type of zombies, but they are zombies. We know this. We gotta get a plan. No one’s coming to save us. They’re either all dead or like those things outside. Which, technically, they’re dead, too, I guess.”

His animated voice snapped them out of their sleep stupor and they listened as he ranted.

“Slow down,” Vanessa said, “and tell us what you are talking about.”

Murray rattled off one thing after another like it was inevitable. Like it was a fact. Like their whole terrible situation wasn’t temporary and things would soon be fixed. It’s not like after a hurricane or earthquake or flood or forest fire. Things were bad then but things got better. Somebody always came to help.

“Nobody is coming!” he exclaimed. “There’s nobody left. That wasn’t fake news last night. You guys gotta see the big picture, man. We don’t have much time before everything shuts down. If we don’t download all the knowledge we’re ever going to need right now, it’ll be lost forever.”

He had their attention then went on to explain, drawing his knowledge from books, movies, video games and the hundreds of internet searches he’d been doing for the last few hours.

“Electricity runs everything.” he said. “Without it, we’re back in the dark ages. We only have a few days at the most before the power grid crashes and the world goes dark.”

“I think you’re getting carried away.” Harper said. “C’mon, Murray. Everybody’s not dead. We can’t be the only survivors. There’re probably whole cities that are safe. This can’t be everywhere.”

“We don’t have time to pretend!” Murray exclaimed. “If I’m wrong, then it’s no big deal, we spent a few hours downloading stuff. We can delete it later. But we need to get everything we can about survival. What kind of plants are edible or medicinal, how to grow crops, smoke and cure meat, first aid, how to build snares and fish traps. The list is endless. We have to save it offline because in a day or two, everything online, the complete knowledge of everything in the world is going to be lost.”

They were generation Z, they’d never known a world without high speed internet, facetime or instantaneous answers to any question they might have. Most of their skills and talents were rooted in technology and as they listened to Murray talk about planting seeds and learning how to spin cotton into cloth, they hugeness of yesterday settled down on them.

They looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. No one was in a rush to do anything, they still looked shell shocked and unsure.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Murray said. “If you can find one other live person out there, anybody we can talk to on Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat…whatever, find one other person and I’ll admit I’m wrong, maybe I’m jumping to conclusions.”

“My battery is almost dead.” Swan said. “I can’t waste it on nonsense.”

“They sell chargers in the gift shop.” Cody said. “I’ll get some.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about spinning wool to make clothes.” Harper said. “If everybody is dead, there will be plenty at the mall.”

“Yeah, okay, point taken.” Murray said “But regardless, we’re going to lose the internet soon. Maybe even today and when it goes, so does all of the information. We need to save as much survival stuff as we can.”

Cody returned a few minutes later with a handful of charging cables and one by one they finally had to admit what they already knew in their hearts. They scoured every far corner of the internet they could find, they watched live traffic feeds from a hundred different cities and everywhere it was the same. The undead wandered about unchecked and unchallenged. Donny watched for a while, knew by the looks on their faces what Murray said was true, then went outside to check the fence line. He wanted to double check the spot where he’d slipped under was secure.

It didn’t take long for the rest of them to set down their phones and stare listlessly into the dying fire.

“What are we supposed to do?” Vanessa asked. “Why bother doing anything, we’re all dead, it’s just a matter of time.”

This was one bet Murray would have gladly lost but he’d had hours to wrap is head around their situation. He had sincerely wished he were dead more times than he could count so he knew how some of them were feeling. They had a chance, though. They were lucky to be where they were, isolated from big population centers and surrounded by a strong fence. Now they had to get over their grieving for friends and family. They didn’t have time to be despondent over the death of the world. He had to get them talking, get them to join him in saving knowledge before it was gone and fortifying the park if it needed it. He spoke quickly, told them they didn’t have time to be sad, they could do that next week. He laid out his argument, expounded on their need to be fast and urged them to help him gather everything they would need to start rebuilding.

“Does anybody have a credit card?” he finally asked. “We can buy a bunch of prepper eBooks.”

No one did.

“Aren’t there websites about that?” Harper asked. “Just get it for free.”

“Loads of them.” Murray said. “I’ve been scouring them for the last couple of hours, my phone is almost full, but it’s only bits and pieces here and there and it takes time to find good articles. Time we don’t have. We need to buy every book on Amazon about gardening and making tools and fixing machines and first aid. We need to download them and make copies and save them, it’ll be the only thing that prevents us from reverting back to cavemen.”

They were all wide awake now and realized what he was saying was probably true. Most of it, anyway. They wouldn’t be swinging clubs, grunting at each other and wearing rough furs if they didn’t get all the information he was ranting about but while it was available, they should try.

“Okay.” Cody said. “In the office is the main computer, I don’t know how big the hard drive is but it’s got to be bigger than all of our phones combined. You want to take charge of that, Murray?”

“Find me a credit card. It might be the only thing that can save our lives.” he said dramatically and wheeled off.

“There’s probably a purse or wallet laying around outside.” Swan said. “I’ll go look.”

“I’ll help.” Vanessa said and followed her out. “We’ll find one, don’t worry Murray.”

“I’ve got to milk the cow.” Cody said. “She’ll start bawling if it’s late, I guess it hurts her or something.”

“We’ll figure out something for breakfast.” Tobias said and his twin sister nodded.

“Oh yeah, if one of you want to come with me, we can get the eggs from the chickens.” Cody said and Harper volunteered.

As Cody worked methodically filling the pail with warm milk, he considered what else they had inside the walls of the sanctuary. There was a generator and the fifty-gallon fuel tank for it they used for the meat lockers in case of a power outage. The electric golf carts had solar panels on their roofs as trickle chargers for the batteries but he knew from experience if you forgot to plug one in at night, the little solar charger didn’t really do much. One of the carts had a cigarette lighter on it that could charge their phones, the panels could probably keep those in power.

There was a hand pump in the kitchen that pulled water from the old well. It still functioned as it was a part of the historical tours to let people see how water was drawn from the ground when Piedmont house was first built. He didn’t know how good the water was but it had to be better than drinking from the Mississippi.

Donny met up with the girls and searched everywhere, even in the bathrooms, but the only purses or wallets they saw were laying out in the parking lot. The undead milling around the front of the park went crazy when they saw them and slammed into the bars, hands reaching, faces pressed hard and tried to squeeze through. They slipped back behind the snack shack so they were out of sight and the keening died down a little.

“Did you see the lady in the hiking outfit?” Swan asked with a little shake in her voice. “The one near the ticket booth?”

Donny and Vanessa peeked back around the edge and saw the one she was talking about. A woman with filthy cargo shorts, a shredded plaid shirt and a rugged leather satchel slung over one shoulder.

“You think that’s her purse?” Vanessa asked already figuring out what the other girl had in mind.

Swan nodded

“We have to get it.” she said. “We have to. They’re depending on us.”

The other two agreed and they started trying to come up with a plan, taking occasional peeks around the corner to make sure she was still there and trying to force her way through the steel. Donny pointed at one of the golf carts and mimed his idea. The girls made horrified faces but it would probably work. And it was a lot less dangerous than anything else they’d thought of.

They picked out a four-seater and Swan took the wheel since she’d done a little kart racing and then Donny climbed in the back, ready to snatch it when they got close. Swan circled behind the row of buildings that housed the nurse’s station and gift shop then lined herself up beside the fence. The cart, like the rest of those is the park, was electric and silent. She gave the horn a short toot when they were in place and Vanessa stepped out from behind the snack shack and waved her arms. The undead surged harder against the bars as she came closer. They snarled and snapped their teeth, stretched out hungry arms and reached for her with blood crusted hands. Swan floored it and steered close to the gate, scraping the fiberglass body and steel framed windshield support along it. She gritted her teeth as pieces of the cart broke and flew off. She nearly screamed when she hit the first outstretched arms, breaking them with a horrible chicken bone snapping sound. They twisted in a way no arm was supposed to bend and she slammed the brakes right in front of the hiker woman. Donny reached through the bars and grabbed the satchel and tugged but the strap didn’t break. Twitching, broken hands tried to grasp at him. Fingers pawed but were unable to grip. They clasped weakly on his arms and he opened his mouth to scream a silent scream. The cold flesh grabbing him was revolting, it was clammy and disgusting and he was going to throw up. The girls were yelling at him to hurry and he was trying but every time he jerked on it, the woman just slammed harder into the bars. An arm snaked up from the ground, one of the crawlers being trampled by the others, and grabbed at Swans ankle. Another misshapen hand tangled itself in her hair, reached for her eyes. She screamed her own scream then and mashed the go pedal. The hand on her ankle was strong and would have pulled her out of the cart if she hadn’t had a death grip on the steering wheel. Donny managed to get a double grip on the satchel as they lurched away from the bloody, mangled horde and watched with horror as the strap finally slid up over her head. It caught her neck, snapped it and nearly jerked him out of his seat.

Swan didn’t stop until she was back at the main house and then just sat there shaking, her fingers white in a death grip on the wheel. The others came running, they’d heard the commotion and her screams. Donny threw the satchel on the seat and sprang out, running for the bushes to throw up. The feel of those clammy dead fingers scrabbling against his skin was the most vile and disgusting thing he’d ever felt in his life. It was like cold spiders creeping over him and trying to burrow their way in. When he rejoined the group, Vanessa was triumphantly holding up the wallet and a half dozen credit cards.

14

Cody

They helped Cody with the rest of the animals and when they gathered for the late breakfast the twins had whipped up, they were feeling a little better. Even though Donny and Swan thought they’d never be hungry again, it smelled too good and they dove in like the rest.

“Any updates on the computer?” Annalise asked as Murray rolled in and took his place. “Any new news?”

They all turned to him and knew the answer before he shook his head then spoke softly so they had to strain to hear him.

“Nothing. I mean nothing official. Not overseas, not here in America, not any news channel, not any blog. There were some new twitter posts but it was from people like us. I answered all of them and a few answered back but there isn’t anything from anybody that’s in charge. Just people spread out all over, all alone and with zombies surrounding them. Nobody knows anything, really.”

Nobody had anything to add to that dour news and they ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t like it was a big surprise but they had almost managed to forget when they were taking care of the animals.

Cody broke the quiet and started talking about his ideas to free most of the animals, to let them run wild in the open areas. They could pretty much take care of themselves. Some they would need to keep penned in, the farm animals from the petting zoo and the predators like the panther, the bears and the wolves. They would need daily care, they would have to be fed and watered. The meat lockers would last a little while after the power failed but after the generators exhausted their fuel supply what was left would spoil quickly.

“That will be a problem.” he told them. “None of the hunters know how to be wild. They were all raised in captivity and we can’t just set them free. That would be cruel. They might do okay here inside the fences, all the antelope and gazelles are trapped, but outside they’d starve to death. The panther would lick a rabbit to death before he tried to eat one. The polar bears probably couldn’t catch a fish out of a kiddie pool.”

“Can we do that?” Tobias asked? “Teach them how to be wild again?”

“Can we adapt them?” Harper cut in “I mean, can we claim one as a pet? I love Bert, I’d take care of him.”

Cody hadn’t thought about any of them wanting to take any of the animals under their wing and be their protectors like he was going to do with Otis. He’d thought he might have an argument on his hands trying to get them to help with their care and feeding. He should have known better, they had all been on a field trip to the park on a Saturday instead of playing video games or watching movies. It was because they all loved the animals.

“Um, okay.” he said. “Me and the bear are old pals but you guys can take any of the others, make them your pets.”

“I prefer to call them my spirit guides.” Swan said and everyone else chimed in with terms like partner, companion, helper and a few others.

Cody held up his hands. “Okay, okay. No offense intended. You’re the caregiver though. They’re your responsibility but we’ll have to share the workload for the rest. Some of them are too old to be turned out and probably wouldn’t want to leave their pens anyway. Teddy the buffalo is almost twenty and mom has him on supplements to keep him healthy and Mille is blind in one eye and can’t hardly see out of the other. There are some others that need special care but I think most of them will be okay running wild.”

The talk of the animals took their minds off what was just outside their gates, the fact that none of their families had come to try to rescue them and the realization that they were alone.

The panther and the wolves needed meat as their primary diet but there was plenty in the cooler for now. Otis and the polar bears were a little more flexible since they would eat virtually anything. There was plenty of pellet food for most of the park animals as well as a loft full of hay for the winter months. The grass hadn’t started to die off yet so grazing was still good and if they turned them out now, the bagged food should last them through the winter. They’d worry about getting more when the time came, they had themselves to think about too.

The mood in the house lightened. The highly adaptive nature of kids had pushed aside last night’s fears. They weren’t going to get torn apart, they had a safe place to stay and they had a basic plan to stay alive. While they’d been busy with their tasks all morning, Murray had been on the computer downloading all the free books he could find and deleting files that were useless to them now. Forty gigabytes of accounting information, tax records and old invoices were no longer deemed important. The credit cards had bought all the important information that could be downloaded and he wanted to get more. He wanted the classics and histories. He wanted every book ever written that would tell them how to do something, solve a problem or fix a machine. He wanted knowledge and he knew anything he didn’t save could very well be lost forever.

Resolve settled in that they were on their own and a sense of excitement seemed to spread through them. Each still harbored sadness for their families but there wasn’t time to sit around and mourn. They had things to do if they didn’t want to join them. Murray gave them a sense of urgency about the preparations they needed to make and Cody gave them the excitement of having something wild and exotic as their very own, an unthinkable thought yesterday.

Cody talked as they ate, filling them in everything he could remember about the Park. There was wild game inside the fences: a lot of rabbits, squirrels and raccoons. They flourished without any natural predators. The river had fish and as gross as it sounded, they’d grow fat and plentiful with all the dead bodies that were probably floating in it. Unfortunately, the carnivorous animals had never needed to stalk their prey, it was always scooped into a dish for them. Cody was certain that they still possessed the predatory instincts of their ancestors. They just needed to be awakened. They could teach them. As they talked of the animals and gave Murray lists of books they needed, Cody leaned back and took it all in. He tried to see the big picture, not just the day to day things they were talking about. He tried to see where they’d be and what they’d need by Christmas when the snows could be a foot deep and their only heat was the fireplace.

He looked at their clothes and mentally inventoried the human food stores. Mostly junk food in the gift shop and souvenir store. He’d helped unload the delivery truck for the snack bar and knew there would be cans of chili and nacho cheese, frozen cases of hamburgers, french fries and hot dogs but all of that would spoil if Murray was right and they only had a few days of power left. They’d have to cart it all over to the meat storehouse but even then, they’d only have another week before the diesel ran out. They needed canned goods. Soups and veggies and things like that. They’d have to go into town sooner or later. They’d have to make a supply run for food and clothing but he didn’t even want to think about that.

Water was abundant thanks to the hand operated pump in the old house, unless the pipes froze. Too much, there’s just too much that can go wrong and leave us helpless, he thought.

Winter was coming. Everyone was dressed for early fall. Shorts and hoodies, tennis shoes or high tops. They needed thick clothes, heavy jackets, good boots, gloves and hats. There were a few items in the gift shop, like sweat shirts and animal themed blankets, but nothing that would sustain them through a long Iowa winter.

Cody needed some fresh air and a reprieve from the excited chatter. He pushed his chair back and stepped outside. The morning was still cool and brisk but the sun was up and the day would be pleasant.

He stared at the gate in the distance, nearly hidden from view by the snack shack. They were still there and still wanted in. He would have to come up with some way to deal with them. The things knew they were inside, he supposed they could smell them or something but they just kind of swayed back and forth. They didn’t go into a rage unless people were visible and then they went nuts.

Cody wasn’t from Putnam, they had lived a few miles out, but he was certain that he recognized some of the shambling monsters from his trips into town. One looked like the girl from the pizza place and he was pretty sure the old man in the mechanics clothes was the guy that changed the oil in his mom’s car. It was hard to tell, most of his face was gone but the gray hair looked familiar. They liked to bunch together, he noticed. Every time one came shuffling down the road, it would hear the crowd and come join them. They would have to figure out an easy way to kill them off. He didn’t want the horde to keep getting bigger and bigger. If it got to be in the thousands, they might spread out to the weaker chain link parts of the fence and be able to tear it down.

15

Cody

The days passed. They fell into a routine. No one came to rescue them and they knew no one would. They stopped sneaking glances to the parking lot every chance they had. They stopped straining their ears listening for a convoy of soldiers come to help. They were on their own. Their parents were gone. Their friends and family had all fallen before the unrelenting tide of undead. Some adjusted quicker than others. They all shed their tears in private or with faces buried in animal fur, breaking down while stoking their chosen companions. Cody, too, while he spent an afternoon with Otis, trying to teach the bear to grab fish out of the water. He let it all out and the big Kodiak took it all in then licked his salty tears with a rough tongue. He tried to be strong, not show any weakness around the others. He was the oldest and they were counting on him. Looking at him as a leader and not a boy in the shadow of manhood, just as lost and confused as they were. He finally stopped his sniffing and feeling sorry for himself, sighed and leaned back into Otis’s massive frame as they reclined near his pool. The afternoon sun felt good on his face, but the brisk fall wind prickled at his skin. It was already October, getting colder day by day and the only jackets they had were blankets from the gift shop with holes cut in them to make ponchos. He readjusted his so it covered his arms and whiled away the rest of the afternoon enjoying Otis’ warmth and musky bear smell.

True to Murray’s prediction, they had lost power on the third day. That was okay. It was enough time to get everything any one could think of downloaded. The lights had flickered once and darkness enveloped them. The twins were ready with the candles and dinner continued but there was a hush to the conversation. They knew the power would never be coming back on.

Now, almost two weeks in, they were still eating like kings with hamburgers and hotdogs for every meal. Today was the last meat meal, though. The genny was out of fuel and the stuff in cold storage was gone. They gave smaller portions to the animals and tried to teach them to hunt but they had used the last of the meat this morning. They were saving the canned chili, usually used for the Coney’s, because it wouldn’t go bad. Tobias and Annalise had gathered all the junk food in the shops, smashed out the glass in the vending machines and had boxes of chips and candy bars but they couldn’t live on that. They needed nourishment. Real food. The chickens in the petting zoo gave eggs every day but it wasn’t enough to feed eight rapidly growing children. The cow gave them plenty of milk and Murray said you could make butter out of it by skimming the cream. The twins were eager to try it and had started a list of things they needed when the group went into town. A butter churn from an antiques store was added to it. The pair knew their way around a kitchen and had taken over the cooking duties. For a brief couple of months, they had decided they were going to be world famous celebrity chefs and had wreaked havoc in their parent’s kitchen. Between the cooking shows and the recipe books, they had learned a lot and gotten pretty good before they lost interest.

Cody had been formulating a supply run plan. There was a seldom used access gate on the back of the property that would put them a couple of miles outside Putnam. Otis and he had checked it out and found no undead hanging around. The crowd at the front gate had swelled to nearly a hundred. They just milled about in the parking lot until one of the kids captured their attention then they renewed their assault on the gates. He wondered how many it would take to overcome their defenses. That was something he didn’t want to find out. They would have to deal with them sooner or later, but they were weaponless. Murray assured them that a bullet through the brain would shut them down permanently, but there were no bullets. There were no guns to fire them. All they had were pitchforks and shovels. Cattle prods and tranquilizer guns. There were a few kitchen knives but nothing that would slow down the screaming undead if they shoved a section of fence over. They had tried a few different things against them but so far, they had avoided the whole problem. They couldn’t keep doing that, though. They needed to come up with a solution. Harper had jabbed one of them with a tranq stick but it had no effect other than increasing the attack on the wrought iron bars. The cattle prod made them dance but that was about it and it only worked on one at a time.

Each of them had been spending their days tending and befriending the animals, teaching their companions to hunt or at least eat fresh killed meat with the fur still on it. They had learned how to rig snares from one of the books and were introducing the animals to freshly killed rabbits with the blood still hot. They had let most of them out to roam free but many of them came back to their pens every night and Millie never wandered far.

The golf carts were dying. The short days and the weak sun would barely charge them enough for ten or fifteen minutes of power before they came to a stop. Murray extended the solar panel cables and spliced them all together so they directed their energy into one battery. It was enough to keep a cart and their phones fully charged. They pulled the invertor from the generator, hooked it to the oversized battery for 110 power. It gave him juice to run the computer but laptops and external hard drives were on his list of things to get from town. He wanted backups of backups.

There were plenty of downed trees, branches and brush inside the fences and Donny designed a crude harness to hook up to Teddy. With only a little coaxing, he was dragging whole logs out of the woods and up close to the work areas. The old buffalo seemed to enjoy the work and certainly the attention he got. The apples Vanessa found on one of her trips to the edges of the park helped with his motivation, too. With each of them taking an hour long turn each day with the axe, they had quickly amassed a couple of cords of firewood to keep them warm all winter. They scraped out a big firepit a good distance from the main house and got in the habit of having a campfire every night with the brush they trimmed off the logs.

Swan and the wolves had become inseparable. They shadowed her and were never far away. She would hurry through her chores of cleaning the barn stalls or spending an hour chopping wood but when they were finished, she’d run with her wolves. Her second family. They would play and hunt and chase the antelope but they never caught anything. Even the rabbits eluded them as they darted this way and that then finally disappeared down a hole. Sometimes they curled up together in the tall grass and slept, her between them, warm and protected. She was filled with delight when Cody told her that the swell in Lucy’s belly was babies. There would be wolf cubs soon.

Vanessa and Ziggy prowled the vast acreage of the park searching for edible berries and nuts, using some of the books Murray had put on her phone. The Ostrich towered over the ten-year-old, nearly double her height at a little over eight feet. Vanessa led the giant bird with a leash for the first week or so but the more time they spent together, the less time Ziggy wanted to spend apart from her. Cody thought the old mother bird had come to consider Vanessa as the child she never had. As the only one of her species in the park. She may have been lonely and not even realized it. The two became inseparable and Murray helped her rig up a saddle. Ziggy hardly felt the girls sixty pounds on her back and with her able to run thirty miles an hour, they could reach the far corners of the park faster than anyone else. She was protective, too. Her sharp eyes were constantly on the lookout for anything that would harm her or her chick. One evening, eating their last burgers around the campfire, Vanessa told them how Ziggy had defended her from a strange attack. They had been at the blackberry patch along the fence near the road. An opossum had come at her through a hole burrowed under it.

“I was gathering berries and Ziggy was hunting for lizards or something.” Vanessa said. “and that creepy little thing tried to bite me. Not just once, it acted like it was hungry and I was the main course. It was savage! I screamed and started to run but she was there almost instantly.”

She stroked the bird’s neck as it was nestled beside her.

“Didn’t you girl? You slashed that thing but good.”

The four-inch claws on Ziggy’s feet had eviscerated it, nearly cut it in half.

“But why would it attack you?” Murray asked. “They don’t eat people, they eat road kill and rummage through trash. They were bad at our house. My dad had to make a cage to keep them out of our garbage cans.”

“Not much road kill any more. Or trash.” Swan said. “You think it had rabies?”

“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it. It was just weird, that’s all. I was proud of Ziggy for killing it.”

“Were there any zombies by the fence?” Tobias asked.

Vanessa shook her head. “Not really. There was one in the ditch but it was all busted up and most of it was gone. It could barely move.”

The twins exchanged a look and nodded to each other.

“What?” Cody asked. “What are you two not telling us?”

“We noticed it a couple of days ago.” Annalise said. “The coyotes and possums and vultures are eating the undead. We were on the roof of the aid station, watching the ones at the front gate and trying to figure out a way to kill them. If you’re quiet, they don’t notice you. They never look up.”

“That’s gross.” Harper said. “But maybe that will solve the problem. Maybe that’s nature’s way of getting rid of them.”

“Maybe.” Cody said. “But what if it’s contagious? What if the animals are turning into them? What if that possum was the first and the rest of them come after us?”

Nobody had any answers for that and all they could do was hope it was an anomaly, just a crazy possum.

“Maybe you got too close to its nest and it was trying to protect its babies.” Murray said. “Has anyone else seen any of the others acting aggressively?”

No one had, the only weird thing was the animals that usually ate road kill were now eating the zombies.

“Same thing only different.” Cody finally said. “Dead and rotting is dead and rotting, right?”

“We’ll just have to keep a close eye on them.” Swan said, an arm around each of the wolves. “Maybe the Savage Ones will be content to eat the undead. Stinky meat is what their used to, right?” They shouldn’t bother us, we’re not dead.”

Most of the scavenger animals were normally nocturnal and avoided humans, but they’d taken to feeding at all times of the day. They paid no mind to the living, gorging themselves on the abundance of zombies. They ignored each other, too. Some were natural enemies but with more food than they could ever eat that stood still and let them feed, they left each other alone. The coyote didn’t need to try to kill a raccoon for dinner. Dinner was standing at the front gate. After a few bites, dinner would fall to the ground and they could tear into the soft and squishy parts.

No one had seen the hyenas since they fled the zoo and they had mostly forgotten about them. Out of sight, out of mind.

Donny and Yewan were at the fire every night, listening and watching, but he wasn’t sleeping in the house anymore. He preferred to bed down in the hayloft with blankets and the panther for company and warmth.

It hadn’t taken long for the animals to start reverting back to their true natures. Swan was teaching the wolves to chase rabbits, the panther was stalking birds and going up trees after raccoons. They made sure to keep the gates closed to keep them out of the petting zoo as the instincts to hunt continued to evolve. Their daily supply of eggs and milk wasn’t much, but it helped, and they didn’t want to lose them.

The two polar bears were content to eat fish. The twins had built fish traps and the Mississippi was generous. Their coats had taken on a glossy appearance from all of the oils in the fish and they were something to behold. Like Vanessa, the twins had used leashes at first to lead them to the river and back but the bears had always known humans. They learned quickly and soon the two nearly albino children were frolicking with them in the cold water and riding them around the park. They had to teach them to fish by wading out into the shallows and standing still. The fish that darted off came back after a few minutes and the bears learned quickly how to spot them and paw them out to the bank.

Otis on the other hand, showed no interest in hunting or stalking prey. He was happy eating human food. Especially Spam. He’d chuffed and bobbed up and down like an overexcited puppy after his first taste. He’d devoured the two cans they’d found stuffed in Derek’s desk and begged for more. While he didn’t care for the hunt, he was quick to show the other animals who was the dominant creature in the park. After a dustup with Popsicle, he’d walked away with one chewed up ear, and a new scar on his snout, but Popsicle didn’t challenge him again and the other animals in the strange family recognized him as the alpha. It had been frightening for them to watch, the giant bears battling for supremacy. They couldn’t stop them, they couldn’t interfere, and a single swipe of a paw would have killed them. When it was all said and done, it had mostly been growls and roars. Mostly posturing and neither animal came away from the fight with much damage.

Cody had watched the strange twins and the polar bears diving into their pool chasing the fish they’d pulled from the traps in the river. They seemed almost oblivious to the cold water as they splashed and played with the two big bears, eating and sharing the raw fish with their ursine friends. He was the oldest and part of him wanted to tell them it probably wasn’t a good idea to eat uncooked meat but what was sushi? What was steak tartare? And who was he to tell anyone what to do? If grownups were here, they’d be yelling at him for letting Otis inside the house and if the truth be told, when he actually thought about it, he really didn’t think they would survive for long. Winter was coming, they were surrounded by zombies and all the grownups were dead. They were all being a little crazy, a little irresponsible, but it was okay. They were living in a crazy world and he tried not to think about it.

The twins were an odd pair to begin with, but the absence of any adults had exacerbated their behavior, maybe more than everyone else’s. They’d taken to drawing Nordic runes on their bodies with permanent marker, touching them up often as the sun and dirt worked to fade and erode them.

Murray zipped around in his chair, always in motion and the little capuchin monkeys became attached to him like he was their second mamma. At first, they hid under his coat when the panther or one of the bears would pad alongside his chair but they grew comfortable around the predators when they realized they had no interest in eating them. He taught them to fetch things for him and they were eager to please, chittering merrily and jumping around swinging on things. He didn’t even try to keep them on a leash when he first freed them. They could smell the undead, as did all the animals. They sensed everything was different somehow and clung to the humans that were still human. Their entire lives, it was all any of them knew. The humans had always been their caregivers, had always given them food and water. They would be lost without them.

Murray dug through the tool sheds, opened closets, rifled through desk drawers. He was always in search of anything that would give them an edge, always scrolling through his tablet looking at one of the thousands of books he had on it. He inventoried everything, jotted down notes and considered possible alternative uses for each item. The park had a fairly well-equipped maintenance garage where the caretakers had kept the various mowers and carts in good running order. There was just about any tool they would need but without any machinery to fix, there wasn’t much use for most of them. He was organized and methodical and Cody was thankful. Murray would have a list of all the things they needed when he finally swallowed his fear and they ventured out for a supply run. He’d been putting it off for as long as possible because some of them, maybe all of them, might not make it back. When he first started thinking about going to town, he hadn’t even considered taking the animals, they might wander off and they’d never see them again. He’d changed his mind, though. They had all been working with their companions for hours and hours every day and the bonds were strong. He wasn’t worried about any of them running away anymore. He didn’t think they could drive them off if they tried.

Harper was the next oldest to Cody, she was thirteen and sometimes he couldn’t help but notice how long and tan her legs were. He caught himself staring more than once after she took a quick, cold shower with the pull bucket they had rigged up. Her scream from the icy water and giggles afterward made him smile as she rushed to the fireplace to warm up beside it, her t-shirt sticking to the pointy places on her chest. She was really pretty and he’d get a little tongue-tied if he thought about her as a girl and not as one of the crew. If he thought about what it would be like to kiss her and not shovel cow manure beside her.

He’d always been awkward around girls at school, they were a mystery with their own ways and the ones he liked probably wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway. Besides, what were you supposed to say to them? Did you see the new Star Wars movie? They’d probably laugh at him. With her it wasn’t a big deal. He had to talk to her and everybody else, she was just one of the crew. It wasn’t official or anything but everyone sort of looked to him for guidance or to settle an argument. He depended on Murray to keep things organized and everyone did the jobs they were supposed to do without him having to remind them. It wasn’t like before. If you didn’t do the dishes or mow the yard when you were supposed to, the worse that would happen is you would get yelled at. Now, if you didn’t do your job, something bad could and probably would happen. Didn’t milk the cow? She might die. Didn’t water the chickens? They might die. Didn’t walk the perimeter looking for breaches in the fence? You might die. Everything was a lot more serious now.

Harper made him laugh when she told him she had every intention of riding Bert right through a horde of zombies, high on his back, out of reach of their grasping hands.

“Bert will knock them all over like bowling pins and I’ll have a morning star to make sure they stay down.”

“A what?” Cody asked.

“Morning star. You know one of those ball and chain spikey things. Just swing it and kaboosh. Bye-bye Mr. Zombie head.”

“Brutal.” he said with approval.

Cody and Murray had inventoried the animals in the park and considered which ones were edible and how much meat they would provide. No matter what kind of math they did, the answer was not enough. There were a few gazelles and antelope no one would mind losing if they got desperate, they were truly wild and kept their distance but if they started eating them, all of them would be gone in a matter of weeks. There were the goats and sheep from the barnyard that would keep them from starving a while longer, but they wanted to breed them and create large herds, enough to be sustainable. The twins said they could even make cheese from the milk. The rest of the animals weren’t really edible and he’d go hungry before he tried to eat Millie or Teddy. They didn’t have a way to preserve the meat anyway, not that there would be much left if they could catch one of the antelopes. The bears and wolves ate a lot.

The fish traps were bringing in a basket of fish everyday but the panther and the bears were devouring them as quickly as they were caught and were still hungry now that the storehouse meats were gone. There just wasn’t enough.

Murray wanted a smokehouse but they didn’t have everything they needed to build it. All their plans and ideas were kind of moot anyway until they left the park for supplies. The town might be crawling with the undead with no way to get near any of the shops.

None of them had lived in Putnam, only knew it from passing through on the main road. They knew there was a grocery store, all their parents shopped there but they didn’t know much else about the town. There were mostly boring antique or record stores and candle shops. Things they saw when they passed through but never paid any attention to. The kind of places where they’d rather sit in the car and play on their phone while their moms went inside.

As they sat on the banks of the river, Cody leaning into the warm fur of Otis, he decided the time had come. That night he would tell the others they were going on a raid. Putnam was close enough that a fully charged cart would make the trip. If they were careful, if they were quiet, maybe they could find enough stuff to get them through. They needed food for them and the animals, warm clothes and some weapons to protect themselves. Going into town to see what was available would give them an idea of how hard the coming winter was going to be.

Maybe they’d find a town barricaded by military personnel, thriving and safe but deep down he doubted it. Most likely, the town would be crawling with undead and before the day was out, he and his crew would join them. There was no other choice though. They had to go now while they were strong and had options. If it was really bad, they could quietly retreat and figure out something else. They couldn’t wait until they were weak with hunger and desperate.

They were on their own and he’d made his mom a promise to look after the park and its survivors. He wouldn’t let her down. Wouldn’t break the promise. He didn’t know what he’d do if he walked out one day to see her at the fence, clawing and growling as she tried to get in.

He ruffled his hands through Otis’s fur then climbed to his feet. Committed to his plan, they started back towards the house where he began gathering brush for the fire. It would feel good, burn hot and bright and chase the chill of the night away while he explained to the other kids his plan to either save them or get them all killed.

16

Kerry

Kerry Lovell peeked through the blinds, looking for any sign of her husband. She was drinking the last of the coffee scavenged from their neighbor, the caffeine taking the edge off of her hunger. Chris had been gone too long. Worry set in. What would she do if he didn’t come back? There wasn’t anything left to eat, they’d even finished off the canned cat food from Mrs. Lowell. They’d been holed up and hiding since everyone went crazy. They had been one of the lucky ones, Chris had late classes that day at the University and was planning on grading papers all morning. They’d decided to keep Caleb home from school because there was a bug going around and he’d just gotten over a bad cold. She volunteered to watch her sister’s kids if she wanted to keep them out of classes and Sharon had agreed. She had enough stress in her life, she didn’t want her children coming down with whatever was going around.

They thought the madness would pass quickly. The Army or the police or somebody, anybody, would restore order. The sick would be taken somewhere to get well and life would go on. They were wrong. It got worse. They lived fifteen miles south of LaCrosse where her husband worked.

Had worked.

They had moved away from the city and into the same subdivision as her sister a few years ago. It was far enough away from town to be called country and the Rolling Hills Estates were considered gentleman’s or hobby farms. The houses sat on five to ten acre lots and many of the families had a horse or other 4H animals.

Things had gone from normal to insane in a matter of minutes. Her sisters’ kids had spent the night, had stayed up half of it giggling, and were still sleeping when everything went wrong. She and Chris were sitting on the front porch enjoying coffee and some quiet time before the children woke up when their neighbor across the street came tearing down the road in his car. He was driving like a maniac and screeched to a halt in front of his house. He ran inside, yelling for his wife to get his gun. He was bleeding from his shoulder and a screaming mob came running down the road after him.

They sat and watched, too shocked to move as he came back out a moment later blasting away at the people. He shot them dozens of times but none of them fell to the ground. They only screamed louder. They smashed through the windows and they heard his wife’s shrieks become gurgling and liquid filled. They attacked in a frenzy, ignored the bullets ripping through them and started biting and tearing at him. Their fury died down as quickly as it started and they watched with wide staring eyes as their neighbor stood up and began shuffling around. Instinct told them to stay still, don’t get noticed. They barely breathed as they watched the bloody, ragged crowd walk aimlessly around the house and yard until they heard another scream. This one came from four or five houses down, a good quarter mile away. The mob turned towards it instantly and started running, keening and screeching until they disappeared over the rise.

They went inside, locked the doors, shuttered the windows and tried to make phone calls. They kept quiet and watched the world burn on the television and computer until they lost power. After that, more of the same. Stay quiet, ration food, filter the pond water the best they could and steal eggs from the Walters two houses down. Their doors were swaying in the wind, bloody footprints covered the sidewalk. They wouldn’t be needing them.

They were out of everything though. It had been weeks and Chris had raided all of the neighbor’s houses. He’d brought back a wheel barrow of food but it hadn’t lasted long with five mouths to feed. You’d think the so-called farmers would have pantries full of canned goods fresh from the garden but nobody did. Thousands of dollars’ worth of food went bad in their deep freeze, nobody did their own canning anymore. By the time the undead had cleared out of the neighborhood and it was safe to venture out, all of the penned-up animals that had been trapped in their stalls were dead and bloated.

On one of his raids he had found a battery powered radio with shortwave and weather bands. He spent hours with it, rotating the dial slowly through each setting and never getting anything but static until he tried the AM band. Low on the dial and late at night he found a message being broadcast on a loop. It repeated the same few sentences over and over but it gave him hope. A group of truckers were headed to Lakota, Oklahoma and they were going to set up a safe area. All were welcome.

They needed supplies if they were going to make the trip. He had cleaned out every house for miles and they hadn’t provided much anyway. Usually just a handful of canned goods the wildlife couldn’t get into. Mice and squirrels and insects were taking over and tearing into the boxes of cereal or bags of rice or cartons of noodles. The children were thin as rails and had been sleeping a lot, they were all slowly starving to death. They needed sustenance. They needed food. They needed to be strong. Anything could happen along the way and they needed to be able to run if they had to. The trip might take days, maybe even weeks. They had no idea what the roads would be like or how many of the undead they would encounter. They might have to backtrack a lot to avoid the hordes.

Chris was going farther this time, they needed real food. He was going to take their truck and go into town to the store, make a big haul, get everything they needed. He wasn’t a mechanic and didn’t know much about cars. He took it to the dealer to get serviced and called triple A if he had a flat. He could figure things out, though. He knew he needed more between him and the undead than a thin pane of glass. He covered the windows with strips of metal and added a big push bar to the bumper to protect the radiator. The truck didn’t crank when he was ready to test it, the battery had drained. He had to take one out of a neighbors’ old Ford tractor.

“All of the batteries will be dead.” he’d said. “I should have thought about it and disconnected them. The cars clocks and computers and who knows what else is a constant drain on them. I’ll stop at a parts store and get us a new one.”

He should have been back an hour ago.

She checked on the children. Caleb, Landon and Clara were playing with Legos in the basement. Caleb was her only child and the other two were her niece and nephew but they were hers now and had started calling her mommy. At the tender ages of six and seven, they were inseparable, Caleb and Landon born only days apart and Clara, less than a year younger.

They’d been locked inside, mostly staying downstairs and being quiet for what seemed like months. The kids learned quickly that it wasn’t a game. They saw for themselves a few days after it all began and Landon and Clara were still crying for their mother. A horde came screeching down the road chasing somebody in a car. A neighbor down the way making his escape. They saw the bloody crowd with ripped open bellies, torn off faces and missing arms. They heard the keens and cries of hunger and watched in revulsion as the broken things too damaged to walk dragged their way down the road leaving smears of gore behind them.

They stopped asking about their mother and they became very, very good at keeping quiet.

Chris been gone too long, she thought again for the thousandth time. It had been hours since he’d left that morning with his homemade armor. She had sewn pieces of carpet to the sleeves of his work jacket to stop those things from biting him. It was already after lunchtime and Putnam was only a half hour away. He should have been back, been with her and the children by now. She gripped the key fob to the BMW parked across the street. If he came running with the crazies on his tail, she’d hit the alarm, hopefully distracting them enough for Chris to make it to safety. If there was any juice left in its battery.

Where is he? She repeated to herself over and over, glancing at the clock on the mantle every few minutes.

17

Putnam

Putnam, Iowa was a typical small midwestern town. The old courthouse with its weathered clock tower dominated the skyline while elms and maples lined the sidewalks. Their leaves exploded in the brilliant colors of fall and the hues of gold, orange and red invoked images of a Norman Rockwell painting. Now, the trees stood in silent witness to the devastation that the virus had wrought on the small slice of heaven. Trash and debris nestled against their trunks and white plastic shopping bags were tangled in the lower branches. Fallen leaves covered the streets. Store front benches, already starting to rust, sat empty and forlorn. The old men who whiled away the mornings with hot black coffee were long gone. The stores and businesses sat deserted and dark, a few had shattered windows with glass shards on the sidewalk. Smashed cars with open doors sat at intersections, traffic lights swayed on the wires above them.

Flies still buzzed around the delis and ice cream shop, their perishable items long spoiled and reeking. Birds flew in and out of the open windows while mice skittered back and forth, chewing into the boxes and bags of food. Ants marched in single file lines carrying their spoils like a conquering army. A few stray cats and half-starved dogs wandered the alleys, their owners either part of the undead hordes or long gone and never coming back.

Putnam was laid out in a square design like many other turn of the century towns across the country. Its buildings were brick and mortar, no fancy glass and steel, just classic architecture in the old square. Easy access to the Mississippi, with its barges moving products on the river, and the fertile soil made for an ideal agricultural site. Bypassed by the interstate in the early 1970’s, it sat off the beaten path and died a slow death as lifestyles changed. They youngsters went away for school and never came back and the downtown became boarded up storefronts and second-hand junk shops. For a generation it was forgotten, a relic of a bygone era withering away. The digital age changed all that, the antiques store no longer needed local customers to stay afloat, he could sell his wares globally on eBay. The inexpensive houses near the riverfront found a resurgence in popularity when people worked from home and gentrification brought in new businesses.

Like so many other small towns the square offered an eclectic mix of the old and new. Situated beside the feed store was the Verizon hub. Across the square, Mixon’s barbershop sat next to Bowman’s software engineering office. The owner of Maroni’s Italian Restaurant had worried about the new Subway shop when it opened but by setting out a sign advertising his lunch specials, he more than made up for lost business. Not that it mattered anymore, Sal Maroni shuffled along the road a hundred miles away in an unending quest to find fresh blood. He didn’t know where he was going or where he’d been. He didn’t feel the rain or the cold or the bones of his feet as they scraped along the asphalt, his shoes and skin long worn away. He wandered with dozens of others, mindless and adrift, always hungry and always searching.

Donny jogged ahead of the rest of them, scouting for danger. Harper drove the cart with Murray seated beside her, his wheelchair folded in the back. The others walked silently down the road, ready to turn and run for the safety of the park at the first sign of trouble. They had drawn straws to see who would stay. Somebody had to if the trip were a disaster and none of them came back. Somebody had to free the animals if that happened. Vanessa had walked with the strange parade to the rear gate and made sure it was latched then watched as they disappeared. If none of them came back, she knew what to do.

Murray brought China, one of the capuchins. He insisted that her knack for getting in and out of places might come in handy. She perched on his shoulder, looking through his hair for anything that might provide a snack, grooming him affectionately as if he was one of her own pack. He swatted at her as she stuck her finger in his nose. Undeterred, she kept probing.

Zero and Lucy padded softly beside Swan, ears up and alert, while Cody and the twins brought up the rear.

Welcome to Putnam the sign read Iowa’s friendliest town. There was a compact car crumpled against the base of the brick structure, the doors still open where the driver had either fled or died. There were dark stains on the seats that looked a lot like dried blood and they looked away as they passed.

By group consensus they had decided to skip looking in any houses unless they didn’t find any big supplies of food at the stores. They might get a few bags from homes but they were much more likely to find the dead inside. It would be better to try to score big, maybe find whole storerooms of canned goods, more than they could carry. Walking beneath the trees that lined the streets the stench of decay was heavy in the air. Occasionally they saw a curtain flutter in a house as a shambling shape brushed against it. They didn’t talk, not even to whisper. They used military hand signals learned from a book. Swan had to shush her wolves more than once when their deep rumbling growls started to get loud. Putrid bodies lay decomposing in the streets, empty eye sockets filled with mucky water. A lot of them had holes in their heads, dried brains and blood crusted around the wounds. There were empty bullet casings littering the ground, a lot of them, but they didn’t see any guns. Whoever had been doing all the shooting had won the fight. At least, this one. All the bodies showed signs of having been fed on, bones exposed and weathering as they returned to dust. They didn’t know if it was from the zombie attack or animals scavenging their remains but none of them cared to look closer to try to find out.

Donny fell back to join them as they continued their slow walk into the downtown area, the cart crunching over leaves and broken glass, all of them gripping their makeshift weapons and staring in all directions. The desire to turn and run back to the safety of the Park was strong. Inside the fences, they weren’t afraid. Inside the fences, they were safe. But inside the fences, there wasn’t any food. They heard thrashing up ahead and Swan urged Zero and Lucy forward as she slunk along in a crouch beside them. Unconsciously baring her teeth and growling deep in her throat with them. Cautiously, the group followed the growling trio. Tobias and Annalise readied their pitchforks and advanced slowly, eyes wide, breathing fast and ready to lunge. A zombie in a deputy sheriff uniform lay pinned underneath an overturned patrol car, his clawing fingers ground down to splintered stumps. It snapped at them, biting the air with his yellowed teeth and struggled harder to free himself.

“Kill it before others hear him and come running.” Murray whispered. “Hurry.”

China hid herself under his shirt and shivered.

“We are warriors.” Tobias told his sister.

Mouth grim, she nodded and they both thrust their pitchforks into the biting things face.

It fell still instantly and the wolves stopped their quiet growls, sniffed at it and snorted. Tobias’s eyes were huge in his rune painted face and Annalise seemed even paler as they pulled the tines out and looked at the black blood dripping from them. It was their first kill. She waited for a moment to see if she would feel guilt or shame. She had just taken a man’s life. But she hadn’t, really. The man was already dead and they had done him a mercy. She gripped her pitchfork with greater resolve and a small, tight smile spread across her lips. It matched the one Tobias wore.

The closer they got to the square, the more evidence there was of a battle. The zombies had won, that was obvious, but a lot of them lay dead with blown open heads. Windows were shattered at the municipal building and the doors were broken down. Someone had tried to make a last stand but it hadn’t worked. There must have been thousands fighting to get in, the entire town. Cody wondered what happened to them because so far, they hadn’t seen any wandering around. The place was long abandoned.

The nose of a pickup was wrapped around a utility pole and a lone black crow was focusing on the driver as it cawed and shifted anxiously from side to side on crumpled hood. The woman inside was pinned: trapped by the steering wheel and the crushed roof from the broken off pole. She was half way through the windshield, her body bent in an unnatural manner. Her face was a ruined mess, eyes and lips gone, cheeks shredded from the crow that dipped down and tore at the easy meal, feasting on the rotting flesh. She still struggled and chomped but her movements were feeble and the black-eyed crow easily avoided her broken teeth as he ate. Vultures circled overhead in slow lazy circles, awaiting their chance to feast undisturbed on the dead.

Putnam had everything they needed if they could get to it without getting shredded by the zombies. They weren’t equipped to fight the undead, not yet anyway. The first thing on Murray’s list was Armor and Weapons.

“We have to find a sporting goods store or thrift shop first.” he told them. “We need to find protection. We need leather gloves and football pads or soccer guards. Anything that will prevent us from getting bit. That comes first before we look for food.”

A block from the center of town, Replay Consignments had mannequins in the windows bedecked with football equipment. It was a second-hand sports shop and Swan took the lead, her two protectors staying close. The bell over the door tinkled and everyone froze but nothing came lunging out. The wolves entered warily, sniffing around in curiosity but not alerting to danger. The rest of them slipped in quickly and as soon as he found a display with baseball equipment, Cody grabbed some catchers gear and hurried back out to Murray. The leg guards were perfect, nothing was going to bite through them. It didn’t take them long before they were decked out with a combination of hockey, soccer, lacrosse and baseball guards and they all felt a little safer. They had a fighting chance now; a zombie would have a lot tougher time finding flesh on them. The modern armor was nothing like the steel and chainmail of old. It was lightweight, easy to move in and quiet.

“Weapons next on the list, right?” Annalise whispered as they eased out of the store, still trying to move silently. For all they knew, a huge horde could be a few blocks away.

Cody nodded and pointed to a hardware store half a block up. The first thing they thought of when brainstorming their raid was guns of course. They argued pros and cons for a long time and in the end, they decided against them. Nobody had ever shot a real one and what if it drew in zombies? The world was so quiet now with no cars or airplanes or even the hum of electrical wires, a gunshot could probably be heard for miles and miles in any direction. And worse, what if it frightened their companions? Animals had to be trained to guns and they couldn’t risk panicking them, scaring them so bad they ran too far away and got lost.

In the survival books, they had found plans on how to build war hammers and sawblade battle axes from threaded pipes and other common materials. Weapons they could tailor to kids. They knew from chopping wood they would never be able to swing an axe fast enough to protect themselves from attack. Baseball bats were too blunt.

“You’ve got to pierce the skull!” Murray kept telling them. “We have to have long sharp instruments. Spears when we can, spiked hammers for when it gets close. Knives aren’t heavy enough to pierce the skull and the weapons have to be our size, not our parents’ size. We have to be able to swing them hard and fast.”

Swan swept the store with the wolves and when she gave them the all clear signal, Cody and Donny slung Murray over their shoulders and hustled him inside. The twins stood guard with the pitchforks as Harper grabbed his chair and followed, the little monkey scampering beside her. There were bloody hand prints on the swinging doors. Something dead had been inside but it was long gone now.

They found flashlights and packs of batteries then made their way to the plumbing section. Everything they needed was there and with a sigh of relief, they got started assembling the various pieces of threaded pipe, T-fittings and caps into deadly child sized war hammers. They capped off one end of four-foot sections of black pipe and duct taped steel marker stakes into the other end, their pointy tips made deadly thrusting spears.

“Make sure you grab some flat files.” Murray said, checking his list. “And paracord to wrap the handles.”

Fine tuning and improving their weapons could be done back at the Park but it felt good to have something besides a pitchfork to fight with.

China found the bags of peanuts near the register and was chattering excitedly as she tore them open. The wolves and the panther paced the store, vigilant and sniffing the air. It only took them a few minutes to assemble the weapons and Cody motioned for Donny to help him in the farm supply department. It wasn’t well stocked but there a lot of things a hobby farmer might need. Food for chickens and goats, various feeders and incubators and light farm equipment. Mostly implements that could be attached to a riding lawn mower. They needed to get the biggest two wheeled garden cart they could find to hook to the back of the golf cart. It would double their carrying capacity. They added a few sacks of grain for their cow and goats and Murray made note of how much was left on the shelves. They knew where to come when they needed more.

Armed, armored and with the few tools they needed, they made their way back outside and were ready to hit the grocery store. The town was eerily quiet with only the tweeting of birds and their footsteps crunching on leaves breaking the silence. They could hear the flap of vultures’ wings overhead.

“Where did everyone go?” Annalise whispered as they passed another empty shop, its door broken and hanging askew. “Something must have made them run off.”

“Maybe some survivors were in a house and when they ran out of food, they drove off.” Harper said. “Maybe all the dead people chased after them.”

It was as good a theory as any and the longer they were there, the more confident they became. The town wasn’t that big, only a few dozen streets long with the same number of cross streets. It only had two traffic lights and a roundabout at the town center. Near the river was a small industrial area with a few warehouses and shops but they didn’t bother going down there, a grocery store was next on their list. They had a few choices, there were a couple of health food shops, a good-sized chain store and a little mom and pop that reeked when they approached it. It had been the best butcher shop for miles around but all that meat was spoiled, rotten and still stinking. Clouds of flies swarmed around it.

They crossed the road to avoid the smell and spotted the other grocery store halfway down the block of a side street. Cody signaled and they made their way towards it, the cart humming along quietly as they swung their new weapons, trying to get used to the heft and feel of them.

It was a pretty big store, the largest one for ten or twenty miles in any direction and supplied the rural families in three counties.

There were dead inside.

They spotted a few zombies wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles, trapped when the electricity went off and the automatic doors stayed closed.

They huddled around the cart to decide what to do but they already knew. They couldn’t go back empty handed. They needed the food and what good was having weapons if they were too afraid to use them?

“Okay.” Cody said. “Donny and I with the spears, Harper and Swan pry the door open and you two make sure it doesn’t open too wide. Just enough to stab them when they try to get us. Ready?”

Wide eyes and nervous head nods. They were as ready as they’d ever be.

The woman near the magazine rack heard them as soon as Swan shoved a tomahawk blade between the doors to pry them apart. Harper got her spear in the slot and the door slid open a few inches. She turned her black eyes to the sounds and smelled the untainted blood flowing through their veins. She screamed and launched herself at the two boys standing on the other side of the glass, her greasy, dank hair flying behind her. Other keens and screams took up the call and pounding feet came up the aisles sensing fresh meat. Her vein mottled face hit the frame and a reaching arm shot through, clawing the air and grabbing for flesh. Tobias had his shoulder against the door and Annalise had her Warhammer wedged in place but it still shuddered and slid open another inch. Cody thrust his spear, aimed for her eye and grunted with the effort as it broke through the thin wall of bone and pinned her in place. Her flailing stopped almost immediately, her legs crumpled and he had to jerk back hard to free his spear.

Before she hit the floor, two more were fighting to be the first at the children. Old brown blood stains covered a man’s jacket, his yellowish shoulder bone poking through the shredded skin. Donny jabbed at him and the point tore into his cheek, slid off bone and flayed open a deep gash along his head. The man snapped at the steel, tried to bite through it and only broke his teeth. Pieces of them flew as the boy pulled back and stabbed again, this time aiming for the wide-open mouth. Filthy, clutching hands in a homemade carpet covered jacket reached for him, tried to dig dirty fingernails into flesh. The end of the spear burst out of the back of his head in a spray of black and yellow goo and before Donny could pull out, the man was shoved aside by a woman scrabbling over the fallen bodies. The door gap was wider now and the twins tried to force it back but the wild haired woman already had her head and shoulders through. She thrashed and screamed a dry scratchy scream then shoved it open, knocking both of them aside. Her frenzied flailing knocked Cody’s spear away and she launched herself at Donny. Harper screamed. Her bloody mouth was stretched wide as her hands grabbed his shoulders and she fell on him, snapping at his face. A black blur hit her, sharp claws slicing through skin like paper, snarling fangs closing around her neck and snapped it like a twig. Yewan’s mighty leap knocked her ten feet away from them and he savaged her mercilessly, ripping and shredding until the lifeless corpse lay still.

“Watch out!” Murray yelled and they all turned away from the panther, back to the door. A toddler was climbing over the bodies, his hungry black eyes fixed on them as he snapped his milk teeth, the hunger driving him forward. Tobias tried to shut the door but the bodies blocked it. The baby keens were getting shriller the closer he got and Cody picked up his dropped spear. Donny scooted away on all fours as the thing came at him.

“Stab it! Stab it!” Swan yelled but Cody hesitated. It was just a baby. It was inhumanly fast and was grabbing at Donny’s foot as he tried to get away, tried to kick at it with his falling apart tennis shoe. There was a guttural growl from behind him then the wolves shot past and tore into the scuttling little monster. Lucy and Zero sank fangs and clamped down, both of them ragging and pulling on the thing like it was a toy. A leg and an arm tore off and they dropped them and went after it again. It was still keening and trying to crawl towards Donny, its little mouth still working in hunger. Black blood oozed from the wounds but didn’t spurt out like they expected. The heart wasn’t pumping and very little was spilled. The wolves grabbed the baby again and when they were finished, it was finally still.

Swan knelt between them, draped her arms over their shoulders and rubbed her face in their fur. Zero licked at the tears she didn’t even know she’d been shedding. No more of the undead came screaming out of the darkness of the store and they all heaped praise on the animals. They had hoped they would protect them, they had hoped they would fight for them but until it happened, they weren’t sure. Now they were. The animals had the same instincts as a family dog would in protecting his master.

They drug the bodies out to the parking lot, left them by a truck then pulled out their flashlights and started loading up the garden cart. They piled the back of the golf cart high with boxes and boxes of canned goods and bags of dog and cat food.

The wolves and panther wouldn’t like it much but it would keep them from starving until they learned how to hunt. They avoided the meat and deli section; the reek was almost unbearable. Worse than the smell of the zombies. Murray rolled his chair up and down the aisles making inventory notes as the rest of them hurried back and forth to the cart with the pilfered supplies.

It didn’t take long until they were loaded almost to the point of being overloaded and the group started their trip home. They moved quietly but with more confidence. They had met the enemy head on and destroyed it. They had fought and killed and their animals had too. They were a team. They were bad asses.

Eyes and ears were alert. Even though the place seemed abandoned a wandering dead thing could be hidden anywhere. Aside from their quiet passage down the streets and the crunching of leaves, the scurrying of small rodents and the calls of the crows were the only signs of life.

There was one more stop on their list, they had to get clothes and good shoes. The Outdoor Store should have everything they need. It carried everything from high end camping, hiking and fishing equipment for the well-heeled in town along with military surplus and old war paraphernalia for the collectors. It was already fall season and they hoped winter jackets were in stock.

They gathered around the single glass door and tried to peer inside but the store was dark and cluttered with too much stuff. Tobias rapped on the glass pane with his pipe hammer and the response was instantaneous. They heard a snarl and low scream from the back of the store then the clatter of things being knocked over as something surged to the front. It was a fat man with a gray hair and beard. At one time he was probably jolly and loved children. He was probably the guy who played Santa at the VFW Christmas party or threw candy to the kids during the Parade. He slammed into the door and despite themselves, they jumped back a little. He still loved kids, which was apparent, just not in the same way he used to. He pressed his face against the glass and tried to chew through it. The three predators crouched low, ready to spring, and there was a low rumble of warning coming from them. Donny and Tobias had to struggle to get the door open enough, he kept slamming into it trying to force his way through. Once they shoved it open a few inches, a hand came out and a spear went in. Cody pulled back quickly before the thing fell and took the spear with him. He was learning. They drug the Santa Clause looking man out onto the sidewalk and left him. This would be a place they would be coming back to from time to time and there was no use letting the body stink the place up.

Once Murray was inside, they spread out to go shopping. The Outdoor Store was big. It was overstuffed with auction lots of military gear haphazardly stacked beside displays of expensive hiking boots from Timberland, Keen and Columbia. Arc’teryx and North Face jackets hung next to military issue ACU’s. Mannequins wearing World War Two uniforms were standing on boxes of Mountain Home long term storage food. China found a bag of beef jerky and Murray had a captive audience once the wolves and the panther smelled it.

“Great.” he grumbled. “I’ll just wait here, feeding your animals. You guys have fun!”

“Thanks Murray.” Swan said as she disappeared into the gloom, completely missing, or maybe ignoring, his sarcasm.

“Don’t forget Vanessa!” he yelled after her. “Size six!”

China grabbed the bag out of his hand and darted to the top of a pile of old BDU uniforms tossed in a bin, chittering happily as the wolves watched their food disappear. They tried to go after her and things started falling over, clattering to the floor and starting a small chain reaction.

Cody chuckled and headed to the rear of the store as Murray cursed, the monkey chittered and the wolves whined. Yewan ignored them all with a flick of his tail and padded after Donny.

The animals hadn’t alerted to any more undead but he wanted to be sure, wanted to check the bathrooms and managers office before he completely relaxed and started hunting for a pair of hiking boots. He shone his light around the door leading to the storeroom and saw the dirty handprints, blood smears and scratch marks on it. The jolly zombie had been trying to get in. Cody turned the knob and pulled opened the door, his hammer ready to bash something in the head if he needed to. The smell nearly made him gag. It wasn’t a dead smell; it was a bathroom smell. A raw sewage, unflushed toilet and unwashed body smell that may have been worse than the rotting meat of the zombies. There was a stack of boxes blocking the pathway but he easily shoved them aside. The room was crammed with more military stuff and a set of small, dirty windows set up high in the block wall let light filter in.

“I’ve got a gun. Move one more muscle and I’ll blow your stinking head clean off.” A trembling voice came from deep in the shadows.

“Whoa.” Cody said. “I didn’t come to steal your stuff. We didn’t know anybody was here.”

“What happened to that thing outside the door?” the voice said and Cody zeroed in on it.

“We killed it.”

“Bullshit. Those things are invincible. It’s been out there for months. It doesn’t eat, it doesn’t sleep, and it scratches on the door day and night, week after week. You can’t kill them.”

“We’ve killed a bunch of them.”

“Liar.” the voice spat.

Cody kept the flashlight trained on the wall of junk in front of him but his eyes were adjusting to the gloom. He spotted a kid no older than himself huddled in the corner with a machete in his hand.

“Don’t look at me.” he barked “I’ll shoot you! I’ll blow your friggin’ brains out!”

Yewan walked up, curious about the new voice and Cody spun the light full the kid. He was blinded but not before he saw the giant, black cat. He squealed and dropped the blade. Yewan stood beside him, as tall as his waist, his baleful yellow eyes pinned the kid to the spot. A wet spot spread across the front of the boy’s camouflage pants as he covered his face and whimpered.

“Don’t let him eat me.” he begged. “Please don’t let him eat me.”

“Dude, chill out. He’s harmless.” Cody scratched the cats’ neck then pushed him towards the door. Yewan left with a flick of his ears and small snort. He didn’t like the smell either.

“Geez, you’ve been trapped in here since the beginning?” Cody asked, trying to put the boy at ease. “That had to suck.”

He was repulsed by what he saw. The kid had made a toilet out of a wooden ammo crate and liquids were oozing out of it, staining the floor in one corner. His makeshift bed was only a few feet away, a bunch of clothes thrown on the ground. There were old girlie magazines laying on it, open to his favorite pictures. There were empty MRE packets and other garbage strewn around but not a trash can in sight. Stacked against one wall were cases and cases of the standard military field food. Probably recently expired and bought cheap at a surplus auction.

“You really got rid of the zombie?” the kid finally asked when he realized he wasn’t in any immediate danger.

“Yeah, easy as pie once you know how.” Cody couldn’t help but brag a little.

“Who are you talking too?” Swan’s voice drifted back to them from the shoe section.

The boy’s eyes got big when he realized there were more of them and at least one was a girl. He looked quickly around the room, at the open toilet, the squalor and his filthy clothes. He’d even pissed his pants. He looked like a cornered animal, not grateful somebody had freed him but mortally embarrassed that they were going to see how he’d been living.

Cody hesitated before he answered. Would he want to be found like this? No, he guessed not. Who knew what the kid had been through? He wouldn’t humiliate him any further.

“Myself!” he yelled back. “Did you find a jacket for Vanessa?”

“Working on it.” Came the reply, far away and echoed.

“Look, we have a pretty good place if you want to join us.” Cody told the boy.

“You guys have food? Is it safe?” he asked

“Yeah, completely fenced in and we have food now, we just raided the store. Besides, we could always use more help.”

“I’m not going to be your slave.” the boy said, getting some of his bravado back.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Cody replied, a little exasperated. “I mean, it’s a big place, we all have work to do and somebody else helping out would make things easier for everyone. You don’t have to, you can stay here. I don’t care.”

“No, it sounds good. I’ll come.” he said, afraid the boy with the panther would change his mind.

“Okay. Cool.” Cody said. “Um, if you want, go ahead and get cleaned up. I’ll wait for you outside.”

The boy eyed him coldly as he backed out of the room, shut the door and took a deep breath of the fresh air. How could anybody live like that? Why hadn’t he just killed the zombie and been done with it, there was only one. Why hadn’t he at least used a plastic bag for a toilet and tossed it out the window? Cody went over to the military boots section and started prowling around, looking for his size.

The kid took his time getting cleaned up. Cody had given up waiting around the back of the store for him, had loaded his boots and coats into the cart and was helping Murray back to it. He told them about the boy he’d found, glossing over the grossness of it, and finally finished by saying he wasn’t sure if he would be coming with them or not.

“If he doesn’t show up in the next few minutes, let’s go.” Cody said as he laced up his new boots.

“I want to get back before dark and he may have changed his mind. I think the animals scare him.”

Swan snorted. “He won’t be much good at the Park then. Let’s go.”

“Give him a chance.” Harper said. “He’s been trapped for weeks. Poor guy.”

Donny signaled you want me to start? Indicating him and Yewan would lead the way.

Cody shook his head. “Let’s all stick together. Those things could be anywhere, more may have wandered in while we were here and be on the road.”

Donny nodded and waited, one hand gripping his spear, the other scratching the panther behind an ear. The twins spotted a tattoo parlor and slipped over to peek inside.

“We’ll be back in a sec.” Tobias said and they were gone before Cody could say anything.

The door finally opened and the kid stepped outside on the sidewalk. He stared at them, at their animals, at the cart and trailer loaded up with supplies and announced “I’m ready.”

He was wearing all new military gear that didn’t quite fit. The pants legs and sleeves were too long. He had on brand new shiny black boots, not the dull brown ones or hiking boots everyone else had chosen. He had a machete on both hips tucked into a belt and a big oversized pack stuffed full of things on his back. Even though the uniform was too big, his belly still hung over the belt. The baby fat, as his mother called it, on his cheeks reddened as they stared at him and didn’t say anything.

“This will need to go in the cart somewhere.” he said as he came over to them. “I guess we have to walk? How far is it?”

Cody hid his annoyance and signaled Donny to get him started on a slow jog back, running point and looking for danger. The big cat loped along beside him.

The twins came back out of the tattoo shop and sprang to their mounts. They had grins on their faces and a bulging satchel.

Harper introduced herself and stuck out her hand from the driver’s seat.

“Gordon Lowery.” he said and handed his pack to Cody to put on top of the stuff in the already overloaded cargo area.

“Gordon Lowery, the guy that owns half of the county?” Murray asked

“That would technically be my father but since he hasn’t been heard from in a few months, yes, I suppose it would be mine now.” Gordon replied.

Cody caught his time reference again. It had only been a few weeks, not months, since the outbreak. Maybe being trapped in the store room messed with his head.

Swan rolled her eyes and led her wolves to the rear. She didn’t bother to introduce herself and was already wishing Cody hadn’t invited him to join them.

18

Tribe

The flames licked at the night sky as the bonfire burned brightly. Smoke drifted lazily on the breeze. Everyone was boisterous and cheerful, happy they had something new and different to eat. They sat around the fire roasting Vienna sausages or marshmallows on sticks celebrating the success of their first raid and their new member. Otis smacked his lips in anticipation of the tasty treats Cody shared with him.

Gordon tried to be pleasant with the group but was in a foul mood. He looked on in disgust as Cody and Otis shared the tiny sausages. The bear was obviously a danger to everyone, it was running around without a chain or muzzle or anything. His feet hurt, he had blisters. Nobody told him he’d have to walk miles and miles. They should have let him ride, he could have drove or the cripple in the wheelchair could have rolled along, he didn’t have to worry about getting blisters. Nobody had really spoken with him, they stayed separate on the endless trudge back to the Park. The animals didn’t like him much, either. That was okay. He didn’t like them. Cody had promised him food and warmth. This wasn’t food, not like he was accustomed to before the world collapsed. Junk food and canned meats. Potato chips, snack cakes, and stale crackers. Cody had made it sound like they had a good setup, that it was nice and almost normal like it was before. It wasn’t much better than where he had been staying. The only good thing he’d seen so far was there wasn’t an undead thing constantly scratching at the door. He was already thinking he should have stayed in town. If he’d have known all the zombies were gone, he probably would have. There had to be better places than this crappy zoo left in the world. There wasn’t any electricity or hot water. There weren’t any steaks or ice cream and that creepy quiet kid actually ate cat food. He wrinkled his nose as he watched the mute boy spooning some out of a can and smearing it on crackers, eating one and giving the other to the huge black panther that never left his side.

The house was old and drafty. The rooms dusty and the floors creaked with every step. They seemed content, but the whole situation felt beneath him. They all slept in the same room, too. There was no privacy. You had to carry a bucket to the bathroom to flush the toilet or walk to one of the fancy outhouses along the trails. Cody told him there were rooms on the top floor if he wanted and that was probably just a ploy to get rid of him so they could talk about him behind his back. He told them he had blisters but nobody seemed to care. One of those weirdo albinos told him there was an aide station if he wanted to get some Band-Aids but nobody went to get him any. They all acted like they were too busy unpacking the cart and feeding the animals. Nobody had cooked, either. They were eating junk. He hoped it wasn’t like this every night. What was the use of all that food he’d had to help lug into the house if nobody was going to whip up something good? He sat by himself and listened to the talk as they worked on improving their weapons. Most of them had dangerous animals right beside them. He’d tried to join in to different conversations but they were talking about stuff he didn’t care about. Easier ways to file spear points. Fish traps and logs they’d spotted for firewood. Proper ways to wrap a handle so the paracord wouldn’t come loose. All they cared about was work and the stupid animals. What was with all the mediaeval weapons? Why didn’t they all have machine guns? And didn’t anyone play video games anymore? His iPad was full of them and when he found out they had a way to charge it, he wanted to plug in. They said he had to wait, Murray needed the charger for his book reader.

The twins made him uncomfortable. They were strange. The kid in the wheelchair was always amped up, fueled by energy drinks and junk food, the monkeys always climbing on him and making noise. It was disgusting to watch him take a bite out of a candy bar and then share it with one of them before taking another bite himself. Savage Ones, he’d heard the term used about the scavenger animals, but to him it seemed like these kids were pretty savage in their own right. He eyed Harper, now that was a good-looking girl. He liked blondes. All of his favorite girls in the magazines he’d brought were blonde. The other girls were pretty too, but other than Vanessa, she was the only one who didn’t weird him out. Swan and her wolves were creepy. Annalise, her polar bear and the tribal tattoos she drew on her arms was a little disturbing. He moved closer to the fire and a little closer to Harper. At least she didn’t have some animal sitting beside her. She’d said she had a giraffe and he’d almost laughed at her. Out of all the animals here at the Safari Park, she couldn’t pick out one more practical? A dog maybe?

Cody was talking about food and his ears perked up.

“If we ration carefully, we picked up enough food to last us at least a month on this trip. One or two more raids and that should be enough to carry us through the winter.” Cody said.

“Now that we know what kind of stores are in town, I have some ideas for some projects we can build,” interjected Murray. He was wrapping paracord around the handle of a homemade war hammer. “We can even build a windmill to pump water.”

Cody nodded. “Food first, then we’ll worry about that. We also need to do something to insulate the chicken coop and goat pens before it gets too cold. Hopefully in the spring, we’ll have some new chicks and it won’t be long after before we have plenty of eggs to go around.”

Swan lay on a blanket and stared up at the clear night sky. There were no artificial lights to interfere with the view anymore. The stars looked close enough to touch. She stretched a finger towards one.

“You know,” she started. “We are all connected. The stars lined up perfectly to bring each of us here so that we could survive. Some of us were strangers, but now we are a tribe. We are a part of everything; everything is a part of us. Mother Earth provides everything we need if you will look and listen for it.” She traced designs in the air with her fingers. The wolves lay on either side of her, lazing in the warmth of the fire. The others paused in their work or idle chatter and listened.

“Squirrels gather nuts, store them for the winter. They lose a few along the way and a new tree grows. The tree provides shelter for more squirrels. More squirrels means more for my wolves to eat. They make sure the squirrels don’t overpopulate. It’s a perfect design when people don’t mess it all up.” she said with a sigh.

Donny lowered the file he was using to sharpen his spear point, Yewan curled protectively around his feet. It was an odd speech but she was a strange girl at times. Her mother had been active in the tribal council and she’d been attending gatherings and pow wows her whole life. She was proud of her heritage and its closeness to nature. She saw mankind as a negative influence on the natural world. Her wolves could shred some small animal they’d managed to catch and she didn’t bat an eye but if talk turned to taking down one of the gazelles for meat, she became agitated and would often storm off to be alone. The subject of hunting had been broached a few times during Mr. Baynard’s discussions before the fall and she visibly bristled. They had no right to hunt the creatures of the forest, we should become vegetarians she’d insisted. She wasn’t so vocal about it anymore. She knew the store shelves would be empty sooner or later and her wolves didn’t eat vegetables. They were lousy hunters, it was only luck if they ever caught anything by themselves and she didn’t know how to teach them.

She talked on about harmony and balance, about the trees and the bees in her melodic voice and how maybe this was all a big reset from Mother Earth. Man had grown too greedy, took too much and the world had had enough of it. They’d forgotten how to live in unity with nature. Nature always provided if you knew how to see it. Some of it made sense to them. Cody thought a lot of it was wistfulness and hopefulness. No one had any idea what had happened to cause all of this. All they really knew for sure was that they were alone and outside their protective fence was a world full of death.

19

Donny

Every night after he got the spear Donny and Yewan would slip out of the back gate and attempt to bring in some fresh game. He’d spent hours throwing it at haybales and finally had it perfectly balanced. It flew straight and true and most of time he could get pretty close to the bullseye. He’d filed the blade to a fine point and it could cut cleanly, penetrate deeply and take down an animal before they knew what hit them. He couldn’t call to his cat so he’d taught him to obey different sounds he made by tapping his ring against the steel of the spear. They were simple commands they could both remember. A double tap meant come. A scraping of steel on steel meant stay. They were basic but it was all they needed to understand each other.

They’d spent night after night stalking prey or waiting to ambush an unwary deer. On this, the ninth night of luckless hunting, the rising full moon cast the forest in a dim glow as they sat unmoving on the limb above the game trail. It was just past twilight, full dark barely settled in and he was feeling good about their chances. He’d spotted fresh tracks on the trial so he knew it was frequently used.

Donny shifted slightly, careful not to let his improvised armor creak. His mind was still and clear as he tried to channel his ancient ancestors, tried to have patience and peace. Dressed all in black with pads and guards of various sports gear, he was protected from bites but could move easily. He had modified it to look a little more like Samurai armor. Like the rest of the crew, he was exploring the freedom from society’s constraints. A few months ago, none of them would have even considered painting their faces or tattooing their skin. It simply wasn’t acceptable. The old rules didn’t apply now. There were no grownups telling them what to do or protecting them from being frightened, hungry and cold. They had killed the undead who were trying to kill them. They had stolen from stores and ran with wild animals. Everything was different now and the ways of the past were gone. It didn’t matter if you knew how to do algebra, it mattered if you knew how to milk a cow. Actions they took now had real consequences. Life and death hung in the balance and there was no fallback plan. If any of them made a mistake, it could kill them all.

If they were to be magically transported back to September as they were now, back before the outbreak, their family and friends wouldn’t know them. They moved differently. They looked at things differently. They listened differently. They could be violent and even the smallest among them would never be bullied again. The other children would shy away, they would sense the savage and the wild just below the surface. They looked untamed with the best movie quality Halloween costumes any kid ever had but they weren’t costumes. They were functional tools and the weapons they carried weren’t plastic. The blood stains on them weren’t fake.

The twins had embraced their Nordic heritage and looked more like Vikings every day. Swan looked every bit like an Indian warrior and Donny was trying to emulate his brave and fierce ancient ancestors. His hair was getting long again. He’d kept it short during the summer but now it was already over his ears. By the time the winter snows came, it would help keep him warm. He had taken to wearing his armor all the time and it felt as natural as a shirt or pair of blue jeans. So far, the park had been secure but anything could happen at any time. The speed and fury of the outbreak had shown them that. Beside him, Yewan sensed something coming and twitched his tail in anticipation, his golden eyes focused and unblinking. They were both learning patience, the panther learning his commands by sound and touch.

A pair of whitetail deer walked along the game trail towards the tree that concealed the hunters. They moved cautiously in the low light, stopping often and sucking up the acorns that littered the forest floor. With their sensitive noses analyzing every scent and their keen eyes alert, they searched the night for predators. They sensed something was amiss but their noses and sharp eyes weren’t registering anything. They didn’t look up. Lowering their heads, they continued their walking graze inhaling the fallen acorns by the mouthful.

Donny laid a hand on Yewans neck, trying to transmit his thoughts to the black panther. Not yet, he thought. Not yet. Impatience had cost them a chance at a kill more than once over the last few nights. They couldn’t rush in and chase them down. Donny wasn’t very good throwing at a dead run and the deer were wily and quick. Yewans speed would have helped him in an open field but the brambles and underbrush slowed him while the deer bounced right through it with graceful leaps. As the pair moved beneath them, Donny removed his hand from Yewans neck and stepped from the limb.

Before the startled deer could react, Donny dropped the ten feet and drove the spear through the ribs of the one right below him. Yewan landed on the back of the other, sank his claws into its sides, his fangs into its neck and rolled it to the ground. Sharp teeth sheared through the spine, instantly paralyzing the deer as the taste of warm blood filled his mouth.

Ancient instincts flared to life as the flow of fresh blood reawakened them. He hunched low and let out a growl, guarding his kill. His first but now that he knew how, it wouldn’t be his last. Donny’s heart hammered as he looked at the results of their ambush. Not one, but two fine animals that would help sustain the carnivores and feed his tribe. After weeks of trial and error, of chasing and waiting, of fruitless nights that ended with disappointing results, they had finally figured it out.

Donny gave him time for the blood lust to calm, then dropped to a knee, rubbing Yewan behind the ears. The big cat leaned into him and boy and beast reveled in the glory of their first kills. He bled and gutted them so they’d be easier to carry then shouldered the first one to haul it to the back gate and the golf cart waiting for him there.

He pulled up near the campfire where the other kids sat assembled with some of the animals and felt himself swelling with pride as they gathered around the back of the cart, congratulating him and Yewan on their hunt. Otis shuffled up cautiously, giant nostrils overwhelmed by the smell of fresh meat. Donny stroked Yewan who was growling a warning to the big bear. Otis ignored him as he continued his inspection, his mouth watering at the delicious smell of something other than dog food or a tiny rabbit.

They decided it would probably be best to get the fresh meat away from the animals before they started fighting over it and hurried it over to the storehouse. They strung them from the ceiling and chose the one Yewan had chewed up for the animals. With saws and hatchets, they carved it up and carried chunks of the still warm meat to their companions. The wolves and the bears tore into it hungrily as Cody carved off slices for the foxes they kept penned up at night to keep them from being too tempted by the chickens.

Swan watched, battling her feelings about hunting innocent animals and couldn’t help but feel slightly repulsed by what Donny had done. She had felt the anticipation and trembling of Lucy and Zero when he’d first pulled up though and realized how much they needed the meat, especially Lucy to feed the cubs growing inside of her. They couldn’t keep eating dog food. The world had changed and if she wanted to live, she had to change with it. She had to put aside yesterday’s thinking that killing any animal for any reason was wrong. Those were childish thoughts; she was part of a pack now and it would be getting bigger soon. Her wolves still couldn’t hunt, still couldn’t take care of themselves and it was her fault. They needed her to teach them like Donny had taught Yewan.

Donny sensed her watching him and turned to meet her stare.

“Teach me to hunt,” she said, “so I can feed my pack.”

He nodded once. She turned away and went back to her wolves.

It was cool enough so the meat wouldn’t spoil, it was already dropping down below freezing some nights. Tomorrow they could break out the books, follow the directions and carve the other deer properly so they didn’t waste any of it.

After the others left the storehouse Donny cut the heart loose and carried it out to the campfire. The deer kills meant something big and they knew it. They had entered a new phase in their lives. They wouldn’t be reliant on fish and the occasional rabbit. They wouldn’t have to butcher their goats to survive the winter if a horde moved in and they couldn’t get to town. He held it up for all of them to see then sank his teeth into it and tore off a small piece. He swallowed it down before he lost his nerve and gave the rest to the big panther standing at his side.

They wanted to cheer and clap to honor their hunter and the first kill but that wasn’t appropriate, they’d learned to stay quiet and not make unnecessary noise. Cody pulled his Warhammer from its sheath and held it high in the air. The others followed suit with their spears and tomahawks, Gordon holding his machete aloft along with the rest. Donny smiled and bowed slightly to them. He wiped the blood from his chin, picked up his own spear and left the warm glow of the fire. Yewan followed him silently on padded feet and the pair disappeared into the night.

Gordon watched the others and sat back down when they did. He’d learned to try to blend in, to pretend he didn’t hate it here, that they were all crazy to spend so much time with wild animals. These kids weren’t right in the head, he’d decided. After a few weeks, Cody had said he’d throw him out of the park if he didn’t stop complaining and start doing his share of the work. They’d do it to. He believed him. He wasn’t afraid of them, not really, he had his machetes. He didn’t trust them not to sic one of their bears on him though. Or those wolves of Swans. He hated them and they never missed a chance to growl at him if he came too close. They’d be happy to tear into him.

20

Swan

Like Donny, Swan had also abandoned the house for the comfort of the pack on the warmer nights. Nestled beneath her blankets, cuddled with the wolves, she would stare at the sky, wandering if her Mom and Dad were still out there. Maybe they had found sanctuary.

As the days passed and the chill November winds blew in, she moved back into the house. This time the wolves came with her. Lucy was preparing for the birth of her cubs; her natural instincts had her hunting for a protected spot and Swan built her a den in the corner of the unused office.

Swan sat with Lucy’s head in her lap, the first-time mother panting with the exertion of giving birth. Zero approached, submissive in his posture and lowered his head to lick her muzzle. Lucy growled at her mate to keep his distance. Cowed, Zero backed away but kept watch over her and the soon to be born cubs.

The first pup came minutes later, followed by two more. Swan cried at the sight of their tiny, mewling bodies. They were so helpless with their eyes still closed and their legs moving in uncoordinated ways. Her pack was growing. She swelled with pride and stroked Lucy’s head.

Lucy pulled away and began licking her cubs. Cleaning them and forming the emotional and physical bond that let them know she was their mother. The puppies whimpered, blind and helpless as she guided each of them to her nipples so that they could take their first meal. Swan was in love with them already and began thinking of names. River, Valley, and Meadow, she decided for the two males and the female greedily suckling their mother.

The other children gathered at the door, anxious to meet the new arrivals. All but Gordon, he knew better. He took advantage of a rare opportunity when everyone was preoccupied gushing over the babies and hurried into the kitchen. The creepy twins were in charge of the cooking and they were stingy with the food, especially the good stuff. He opened the pantry and pulled out a handful of Twinkies, making sure he closed everything back up before sneaking them up to his room. He had the only one that locked and that’s why he’d chosen it. He found the key hanging on a rack in the kitchen but now he wore it around his neck.

Swan finally shooed them out of the room to give the new parents some time to themselves and joined the rest as they gathered around the fireplace in the living room. The babble was excited and Murray was skimming through his eBooks, trying to find out about polar bears and if they would be having any babies soon. Swan ran her fingers through her black hair. It was wild and growing longer than she’d ever worn it. She’d never been fashion conscious, preferring loose baggy clothing that hid her developing body and maintenance free hairstyles, usually opting for a braid or a ponytail. She had an idea for it but would need Annalise help her pull it off.

Swan had been hunting with Donny twice so far but had been unsuccessful in her efforts taking anything larger than rabbits or squirrels. The wolves hunted differently than the panther, preferring speed over stealth to take prey. She found lying-in ambush to be boring, the wolves hunted by sight and smell, preferring to run their game down. She couldn’t sit still and quiet for hours barely moving a muscle. That was Donny’s way of hunting but it didn’t work for her.

She needed to learn the bow and arrow but she still struggled with the one Tobias had taken from the sports store. He had given up on it when he found it too hard to pull. It was all he could do to cock it and lock an arrow, his skinny arms trembled with the effort. He abandoned it and once she decided she was going to learn to hunt, she’d been working with it. With Murrays help, they changed the settings so the compound bow was easier for her to pull. She did pushups to build her strength and practically ran everywhere she went, also wearing her armored pads, developing muscles that would help her in pursuit of the fleet footed game they pursued. She couldn’t let her wolves run down game like they would in the wild, though. She couldn’t keep up; they might travel thirty miles without tiring and they could run twenty miles an hour. She didn’t feel safe that far from the Park, there were hordes of undead roaming around. She needed to get better with the bow, it would let her bring down bigger game like the deer that were in abundance. Gordon had said they were stupid for not using guns. He said it would make life so much easier. She agreed with Cody, though. There were a hundred undead at the front gate trying to get in. It was solid steel and the fences at the front of the park were the best and strongest, a reassuring sight for the tourists. In the back of the park, where they would be shooting, the fences were old and rusty. They were only there to keep the gazelle inside and if they attracted a huge horde of the undead with gunfire, they could probably tear right through it.

Swan had a pair of tomahawks she’d taken from the sporting goods store. A sharp blade on the front edge and a spike on the back gave her a double opportunity at landing a fatal blow. She’d picked them up because she thought they looked cool and it was a weapon her ancestors had carried. She’d learned how to be deadly with them though. At first, she hurled them at the barn door, her aim wild and all over the place. Once she learned how to make them stick every time, she moved to smaller targets. There was a science behind the skill, the hatchet rotated as it was thrown. You just had to be the right distance so it had time to spin and hit the target with the head and not the handle. Once she figured that out, it was no harder to learn to hit the bullseye than it was throwing a basketball through a hoop. Now, after a month of practicing hours every day, she could hit a fence post from thirty feet in a full sprint. She got better every day and could kill a scampering squirrel with the lethal steel most of the time. Her wolves were eating better and on a good day, there were a few extra for the twins’ stewpot.

21

Kerry

Time had passed slowly for the first few days when he hadn’t come back, each minute dragged on for hours. He’d given her very specific instructions and she promised she would do them. If he didn’t return, she had to run. She had to take the kids and go. They’d die here if she didn’t.

Don’t come looking for me because we both know what it means if I’m not back in a few hours. But don’t worry he’d added. I’ll be careful. I’ll be back. Really, it’s no big deal, I know how to deal with those things.

They were down to the last bag of dog food. Chris had skipped over the Alpo and Old Yeller when he was looking in the neighbors houses for food but she didn’t. It wasn’t so bad when softened with water and cooked with eggs. The children had long since stopped complaining about the food, they would happily eat a can of spinach if it would take away the empty ache in their stomachs. They asked about Chris for a day or two but finally stopped. She had forced a smile and told them a lie none of them believed.

“Daddy will be home soon. He’s fine.”

She dozed fitfully in the chair, keeping a vigil every night, feeling the ache of loss deep inside her. Her tears were quiet and when the sun rose, she knew her wait was over. There was frost on the ground. It had been weeks; he was gone and they were dying. There was nothing left to eat and winter was coming. If they didn’t go now, they never would. Chris had put a fresh battery in her minivan, stolen from Mr. Hardy’s big Kubota tractor, and had filled it with siphoned gas

“Just in case.” he’d said when he kissed her goodbye. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it and we’ll be having spam steaks for dinner.”

There was nothing for breakfast but the kids wouldn’t complain. They had aged a hundred years in the past few months.

“Hey guys, I need you to gather up your backpacks.” She said as she woke them. “We’ve got to leave. We’re going to Lakota.”

They didn’t ask about Chris and she didn’t say anything about her plan. She knew it was a long shot, knew she wouldn’t find him, but she had to try. She had to at least look. Just a quick drive by of the grocery store, it wasn’t really out of the way.

She led them into the garage. She’d packed the van with the few supplies she had which was only their clothes, some blankets and a gun. She was stoic and kept her eyes dry. She couldn’t show them fear and she couldn’t succumb to it herself. If she started crying, she might never stop. They had seven hundred miles to cover in a minivan long overdue to be traded in for something newer. She would have to find gas but she knew how to siphon, Chris had shown her. They’d be okay. They had to be. There was no other choice. They loaded quickly and strapped in. She had known this day would come and had been preparing. She’d blacked out the back windows to protect the kids from seeing any of the horrors they might encounter on the road. She made sure they had their ear buds in and switched on the DVD player in the headrest. Something to occupy their minds, distract them and keep them from looking around and asking questions. She had no allusions of battling a horde of zombies, fighting valiantly and overcoming overwhelming odds. She would try, she would do everything she could to make it to Lakota but if she couldn’t, if they got surrounded, she had an option. She double checked the load in the gun Chris had brought home from one of their neighbors. Six bullets rested in the chamber, enough to do the job. Enough so they wouldn’t have to become one of those screaming undead things.

She sat facing the garage door and thought about Chris one last time. This trip was supposed to happen in the truck, the one he’d armored up and had extra gas cans in the bed. The one he’d taken into town for a quick supply run. I just need to test it out before we hit the road, you know, run down some zombies so I know it works. If the town’s empty, I’ll grab some food from the supermarket. If not, I’ll come right back. No worries.

They should have stayed together, tested out the truck along the way and made the trip on an empty stomach.

Steeling herself, she hit the key, not a hundred percent sure it would fire up until it did. Please, she prayed. Don’t let me down this time. It had given her problems; it had been in the shop twice this year but there never seemed to be enough money to fix it right. They could only afford one car payment at a time and there had been two more years on the truck before it was her turn for something new.

She hopped out, double checked through the little windows to ensure nothing was around and slid the door open.

She dropped the van in gear and didn’t bother to close the garage door. She’d never be returning. To come back was slow death by starvation.

The van protested and shuddered for a few minutes before it smoothed out and started running right. It was the first time it had been started in months. As she eased out of the subdivision, she passed wrecked cars and open doors in the houses. Curtains flapped in broken windows and long dead bodies were on overgrown lawns and driveways. The GPS was already programmed for Lakota, she followed the mechanical voices instructions, driving around abandoned cars and checked the gauges. Three hundred sixty-four miles until empty. That would put her past Des Moines and out in the middle of nowhere. It would be an easy place to find food and siphon gas.

She turned south as she exited the Rolling Hills estates and gripped the wheel tightly. There was no traffic at all. No kids playing on swing sets. Nobody mowing their lawn. No one working in their garden. She hadn’t expected to see people but the stillness of everything was disturbing. Leaves covered the road and one set of tire marks was still barely visible in places.

She was following Chris’ path.

Occasionally she saw a car in the ditch or just pulled to the side with the door standing open. In one of them someone was still moving, struggling to get out. It was half eaten by something and the seatbelt held it in place. Its empty eye holes tracked her as it reached out in desperate hunger, its jaws snapping open and closed. She shuddered and sped up. She would be in Putnam in a few more miles and at least she would know what happened to him. The truck would be easy to spot.

What if she saw him all ripped up and gnashing his teeth at her like that thing back there? Her mind was awash in uncertainty. No, she told herself. He had the carpet coat. He’d killed those things before, he’d had to put a few down when he was raiding the nearby houses. He could be safe. He could be trapped on a roof or something. He could be waiting on her to come rescue him. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and ground her teeth. She could see his tracks cutting through the downed branches, leaves and pine needles. He might be there she told herself. There was a chance, stranger things have happened. She smiled a little, almost convincing herself it might be true. The van thumped and the wheel jerked hard towards the ditch.

Everyone screamed as she twisted it back on the road, barely avoiding an abandoned car. The van careened wildly for a moment as she sawed the wheel back and forth, over correcting and sliding on the damp leaves every time. Steam was hissing from the radiator and she almost started screaming in frustration as she brought it to a halt. She sat there for a moment frozen with indecision, not knowing what to do. Putnam was only few miles away, they were close. The van would make it to the grocery store and the truck. She had the spare key on her ring, the battery had to still be good and it was fueled up and ready to go. Maybe Chris was still there and he’d be waving from the rooftop. She could save him and they’d be on their way.

It could happen.

It could be like that.

She calmed herself, hushed the kid and opened the door. She had a plan. She must have hit one of those branches in the road. She’d make sure it was clear then they’d be on their way. She stepped out then screamed as cold hands snaked out from under the van and rancid teeth sank into her calf. She jerked away and the upper half of a rotten zombie came with her, fingers sunk deep into skin and its jaws open wide for another bite. Kerry danced and jumped but the thing kept biting, kept climbing up her leg with inhuman fingers as liquefying intestines were pulled out and stretched along the road, it’s bottom half still jammed under the van.

She grabbed the thing by its greasy hair and tried to pull it off as it took another bite. She didn’t even feel her ripping skin being torn loose; her mind was a red cloud of mind-numbing terror. She tried to run but it tangled in her legs and she fell. It lost its grip and she crabbed away kicking at its face when it clawed after her. The kids were all screaming louder than her and the thing turned its gaze towards them then reversed direction, dragging itself back to the van.

“NO” Kerry yelled when she saw what it was after and jumped to her feet. She ran faster than it and threw herself in the drivers seat, slamming the door on the reaching hands. Bones crunched and she hit the gas, dragging the thing and leaving a long, bloody trail on the road. She had a death grip on the wheel and tried to shush the kids, maneuver around the fallen branches, control the pain starting to throb in her leg and calm her racing heart. Steam still poured out of the broken radiator. She was dead and she knew it.

Oh my God. The kids. She was at the verge of panic. Of completely freaking out. She was gonna turn, she’d seen her neighbors do it. She wouldn’t eat her own flesh and blood. She had to keep moving. Get them to some kind of safe place, some empty house where they might be okay. The kids were crying, ignoring the Disney movie and her leg was trembling, making it hard to keep steady pressure on the gas pedal. She had three chunks of it missing and in that things belly. It was bloody but not spurting. At least she wouldn’t die of blood loss. She could feel her leg growing colder, an iciness spreading through it. The virus. She wondered how much time she had. Probably not much. She had to protect the children, make sure she didn’t kill them. She was a little amazed at how clear her mind was working. She would have guessed she’d be a jabbering, incoherent wreck unable to think from fear but she was calm now. She knew she only had a few minutes to act and her babies would live or die based on what she did in those minutes.

She slowed the van and spoke calmly to the kids.

“Caleb, honey. Go in the back of the van and get mommy that rope. There’s a big coil of it in Daddy’s pack.”

When he brought it up to her, he started crying again when he saw her shredded pants and bloody leg but the coldness was moving faster, she didn’t have time to coddle him. She lashed her right hand to the steering wheel with the stout cord as she talked, telling them they all had to be brave. She pushed the old van and the temperature gauge continued its slow creep towards the red line.

She wasn’t sure if she could last until they made it to the supermarket and if she did, they wouldn’t be going anywhere else. Chris was dead. She knew it with certainty now. Those things moved so fast, one had killed her in just a split second. She had to find a house the kids could hide in, hopefully one with enough food to last them a while. She felt feverish, nauseous and the skull pounding throb of the worst headache she’d ever experienced. She kept talking to them while choking back the urge to vomit. Kept telling them they were going to have to take care of themselves now. In the few minutes they had she tried to tell them everything she could, any little thing that could help them live.

“Listen to me. Mommy is sick. I may act crazy soon. I can’t hurt you though. See I have my hand tied up. When that happens, I want you to run. There are scary people out there. Stay away from them. Do you hear me? Stay away from them. Look for nice people. Tell them you need help. Tell them I got sick and you need a place to stay. Do you understand?”

“I want my Mommy,” Clara cried.

“I know sweetie. I know, but Mommy’s not here and I need you to listen to me. Can you do that for Aunt Kerry?”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

She battled another wave of nausea, pressed the accelerator harder as the steam from the cracked radiator billowed from underneath the hood and tried to find a promising house. Something off the road and sturdy. She told herself it would be okay. Kids were tough. If she found them shelter and food, they’d be all right. They’d figure it out.

She didn’t believe it. They were seven years old. They would be dead in a week if not sooner and the tears rolling down her face wasn’t from the pain of the bites or knowing she was dying. It was for them.

She saw it then. Her children’s salvation. Faint smoke off in the distance. Someone was still alive; someone had a fire burning.

22

New Arrivals

It was a lazy Sunday and everyone was loosely gathered around the campfire. Chores were done and the twins were working with their polar bears using fish as treats for well performed maneuvers. The pair had quickly adapted to the saddles they had rigged up.

Vanessa and Ziggy were playing a game. She’d blown up some balloons and would hit them with her laser pointer. Ziggy waited to see which one was next and would attack, either popping them with her beak or gouging them with her sharp claws. Every balloon destroyed earned her more of the popcorn she was so fond of.

The boys were practicing spear or long hammer spinning, twirling them around their arms and necks and doing karate poses. Maybe showing off a little. Otis and Yewan dozed, completely uninterested in watching them dance around. Donny had gotten really good, even mastering some of the outlandish moves he’s seen in old Kung Fu movies. His spear never left his side, even when he slept, and its point had tasted deer blood often.

Swan was working a piece of deer leather, softening it up so she could make herself a buckskin shirt as her wolves and cubs enjoyed the warm sunlight.

Murray was playing toss with his monkeys but more often than not they wouldn’t bring the tennis ball back and he had to coax them in with snacks. They seemed to like the game of keep-away with the foxes better than fetch.

Harper was filing down the end of a bolt to make it pointy. She was making herself a morning star and was bound and determined to teach the giraffe how to follow simple saddle commands.

Gordon sat near the fire toasting a marshmallow just to show them he wouldn’t be shut out and that he didn’t care what they thought but he was fuming inside. He’d been working for hours chopping wood, doing his share of work, but Swan had sneered at the pile he had when he was finished.

“Vanessa can cut twice as much in half the time.” she’d said. “And she’s only ten. We need to change the rule from how long you cut to how much you cut.”

Cody had stepped in before they wound up in another shouting match.

“Gordon is still getting used to the work, he had blisters for weeks, remember? It takes a while to toughen up.”

Gordon hated him for butting in and pointing out that he was soft. He flipped them both off when they turned to leave. He hated this place. It was too much work, the animals needed constant care and he couldn’t understand why they didn’t put them outside the gate and forget about them. Every time he tried to tell them a better way of doing things, Mr. High and Mighty Cody would act like he was considering it and then tell him no. Sometimes he wouldn’t even think about it, like when he kept telling him they should move to someplace easier to maintain. Someplace that wasn’t so much work. You can leave if you want but we’re staying was the only answer he got to that suggestion.

The squeal of tires and the tortured sound of an engine on its last legs brought everyone to their feet and the monkeys scurrying for safety under Murrays’ jacket.

A minivan swerved into the lot and there was a roar from the undead milling around the front gate. It bounced off the wrecked school bus, slid sideways into the parking lot and rolled to a stop. It lurched forward again and jerked left and right; the driver seemed to have no particular destination in mind. It hit a few of the fast zombies then sped away, smoke billowing out from under the crumpled hood. The kids sprinted to the front gate and saw the van circle the expansive parking lot with the undead chasing behind. It looked like it was going to lead them away, get back on the road and go, but it swerved at the last second and took off down the long straight stretch leading to the oversized parking area at the far end of the lot. It was empty now but, in the summer it was a place for campers and trucks and RV’s to easily maneuver and sometimes spend the night. The van swerved sharply again, tilted precariously to one side, then raced right back towards them. Its motor was clattering and they could smell the burning rubber of overheated hoses. Halfway across the lot, there was a clang of metal breaking, something deep and fatal in the engine and a different kind of smoke started pouring out but the driver didn’t let up.

It was all or nothing. Kerry could see them, the people at the gate. She was right, it had been a campfire. Part of her was steering the car and keeping the gas mashed, getting her babies to safety. The other part was roaring and jerking towards the fresh flesh only a few feet away behind her. The screaming and crying little chunks of meat that would be filled with warm, red blood. Kerry fought it harder than she’d ever fought anything in her life. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, completely tore through it hoping the pain and the blood would satisfy the craving for just a few more seconds. She was close. So close. She kept the wheel straight, her foot to the floor and saw them with clarity for a second.

It was kids staring at her through the iron gate. Wild looking children with warpaint and spears and there were animals standing with them. Bears and panthers and wolves. She saw foxes and monkeys. Her eyes dimmed to black and she smiled a bloody smile. Her babies would be safe, she had found a warrior tribe of feral children who would teach them to be fierce.

They watched as the woman behind the wheel slumped over and the van slowed to a crawl. The undead were halfway across the parking lot, screaming and keening in a hungry frenzy. The engine made a final wheeze and seized up, bringing the smashed-up minivan to a halt near the sidewalk. Without the grinding, gasping sounds of the motor, they heard crying and then the driver sat bolt upright. She snarled and launched herself towards the rear and whoever was in it started screaming in terror. They watched wide eyes and speechless as the thing was jerked back into its seat, held in place by rope around the steering wheel.

“GO!” Cody yelled before he could think of any of the ten thousand reasons they shouldn’t.

“Wait!” Gordon yelled but the others were already sprinting through the gate, racing the undead for the prize in the van.

“Get the kids!” Cody yelled at Harper and Vanessa. He was running straight for the fastest of the runners, Otis overtaking him in a few quick bounds. The giant bear knew who the enemy was. He could sense the unnaturalness of the screaming things, the same as the rest of them. If his master was running to kill them, then he would kill them too. Donny and Yewan passed them, the pairs speed unmatched by any one else and they met the first sprinter head on. Yewan sprang and claws like butcher knives sank fast and slashed deep. Donny’s aim was true and the next one flew off its feet when sharpened steel drove through its head. The twins thundered by riding high on Popsicle and Daisy, a battle cry on their lips and saw bladed axes in their hands. They swung them with wild abandon, their tattooed bodies as pale as their mounts, their fearlessness unmatched. The bears roared their challenge and slammed into the horde, bowling the undead aside with their huge shoulders. Cody and Otis fought side by side, claws and hammers finding faces and heads. Their mottled gray bodies broke and bled, were torn apart and crushed, destroyed with fury and rage.

The thing in the driver’s seat was thrashing wildly when the girls ran up.

“I’ll cover you, get them out!” Swan yelled and put herself between the two girls and the first of the undead running at them. She gripped her tomahawks, one in each hand and crouched, adrenaline and fear making her heart pump fast. Zero and Lucy stayed by her side, growling and snarling their warning. Their lips peeled away from long, sharp teeth as they tensed to spring. Swan had the same snarl, same wrinkled nose and same low growl in her throat. When the first one was twenty feet away, she loosed her tomahawk. It spun once and buried itself with a dull thunk into the thing’s forehead. It dropped and the second screeching woman stumbled over him. She almost got her balance again but Zero sprang at her, driving her to the ground. She snapped yellow teeth at him and he tore most of her head off when he popped her skull in his powerful jaws.

Ziggy hovered protectively around Vanessa, her throat swelling as she cried out her warnings and she danced and flapped her wings.

Harper ignored the torn lipped thing lunging at her from the driver’s seat and grabbed the sliding door handle. She could hear at least two kids, maybe three, shrieking in terror at the frothing monster only a few feet away from them. She saw the ropes digging into the flesh, peeling the skin away as the black-eyed thing jerked and raged. The blood-soaked jeans and the bite marks on her leg told the story. Harper yanked with all of her adrenaline-charged strength and the plastic handle snapped in her hand. The door was locked from inside and she almost fell over backward when it gave way. Neither girl was armed, they had both run out with nothing, hadn’t thought to grab a weapon. Harpers half-finished morning star was where she’d left it and Vanessa only had the laser pointer still gripped in her fist.

“Ziggy” she said to catch the big bird’s attention and pointed the red dot at the glass window in the sliding van door.

. Ziggy reared her head back on instinct and her long neck propelled her beak against the glass. It disintegrated into a million shards, revealing three very scared children. Tear streaked faces yelled even louder when they saw the giant eyed bird staring at them.

“Hurry.” Harper said and held her arms through the opening. “If you want to live, we have to hurry.”

She pulled each of them through the broken window as fast as she could as Vanessa pointed them towards the gate and told them to run. It was closed but Gordon was there, he’d open it. The second the last little boys’ feet touched the ground she yelled for the others to come back. It was hard to be heard over the sounds of battle but they’d been listening for the retreat order. They had killed their way through the first of the runners but the main horde was bearing down on them and was only seconds away. They couldn’t fight those kinds of numbers, they’d be overwhelmed. Cody shouted ahead to the crazy twins and Annalise acknowledged with a wave of her axe. They had aimed their bears into the heart of the horde and a thousand pounds of pissed off Polar’s were plowing them down, running full speed through the midst of them with the wild-eyed kids whooping, swinging their battle axes, screaming in defiance and sending blood sprays in high arcs.

Donny rang his spear twice with his ring, the metal on metal a signal to his panther to come. Yewan heard and obeyed. He crushed a head in his jaws then heeded the call. He ran for his pack brother. The man cub who taught him to hunt and kill. The boy who showed him his true nature.

Cody yelled for Otis and ran, he didn’t wait around to see if he followed. The horde was almost on top of them and the bear could take care of himself.

Donny caught him easily and they saw the others stacked up at the gate as soon as they rounded the van.

“Get inside!” he yelled, breathing hard. “What’s wrong?”

Are we locked out? Was the first thing that crossed his mind. How did that happen?

He felt Otis bound up beside him as they left the parking lot and ran along the walkways to the ticket takers booths. The gate opened suddenly and everyone poured through it, humans and animals alike sensing relief at being behind the fences. Away from the unnatural things. The twins came in last, only yards ahead of the horde and dismounted with a flourish as Cody and Donny rammed the gates shut and turned the lock. Mottled, weathered faces slammed against it, arms shot though, hands reached for the warm meat that was so close. The children hurried away from the mob as they stacked up, away from their cries of hunger and away from the stench of rotting bodies. Across the parking lot, dozens of broken undead crawled forwards on shattered bodies. Dozens more lay unmoving with splashed open or missing heads, snapped spines and crushed backs.

As they neared the fire pit, Cody rubbed his bears’ ears, put his forehead against Otis’s and held it there for a moment, thanking him for his help.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, buddy.” he said and tried to convey his feelings, to let his friend know how he felt. The feelings of love and relief and gratitude were almost too much. The bear sent a big wet tongue up his cheek and Cody laughed.

“Gross.” he said and wiped the slobber off.

He swung a leg over his back and gigged him closer to the others. Otis obliged for a few paces then twisted, sending him rolling towards the ground. He wasn’t like the Polar’s, he didn’t like anyone riding him.

Swan stood over Gordon with a Tomahawk in each hand, ready to sink one into his face. Zero was by her side snarling a warning and ready to rip into the boy if his mistress willed it.

“You son of a bitch, you nearly got us killed.” she shouted.

Cody grabbed her arm before she could swing

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said and pulled her away from the boy whose lip was bleeding and already starting to swell. “What’s going on?”

“That bastard locked us out!” she yelled, pointing a tomahawk still dripping with black blood at Gordon who was struggling to his feet.

“I had to check for bites!” he shouted right back. “One bite is all it takes to kill us all!”

“You could have checked after we were inside!”

Swan was livid and had a right to be but Gordon had a point.

“Stop it, both of you.” Cody said. “He’s right. Everybody check each other out. Swan, take Zero and go for a walk before he kills Gordon.”

“I wouldn’t shed a tear.” she said but stalked off with the wolf trailing her.

When everyone calmed down and started examining each other, Cody eyed the boy coldly.

“Never put the lives of the tribe in danger.” he said quietly.

“But…” Gordon started to protest

“Never put the lives of the tribe in danger.” Cody repeated then turned away.

Harper and Vanessa were fussing over the newcomers who were trying their best to stop sniffling and crying. They weren’t babies anymore, they’d seen things over the past few months. They’d grown up hard and fast since September. You had to or you died.

The three children stood in awe of the older kids and the magnificent animals. It was like something out of one of those movies they weren’t supposed to watch but did anyway after their parents were asleep. The chittering of monkeys caused them to turn their attention to a boy in a wheelchair. Four cute little brown furballs were hanging off of him, peeking at them with open curiosity.

“Welcome to Piedmont Animal Sanctuary.” he said, in his best impression of John Hammond, welcoming his guests to Jurassic Park. He laughed as the monkeys swarmed over them, checking their pockets and hair for something to eat or steal. Clara shrieked but it turned to a giggle and the capuchins chattering and playfulness made them forget, for just a moment, the horror they’d just survived. The foxes were curious too and came close, their inquisitive noses sniffing out the new smells, their long, bushy tails wagging happily when they started being petted. They were used to attention from hundreds of kids a day in the petting zoo but hadn’t been getting much lately. They relished the human touch and curled themselves around the trio, whining happily and licking away the salty tears.

23

Gordon and Harper

“Hi, Harper.”

She turned to find Gordon staring at her and wondered how long he’d been there. She set the pitchfork aside, brushed her long blonde hair back out of her eyes. She’d been working with Bert, mucking out stalls and lugging water buckets for the petting zoo all morning. Her back ached and her hands were calloused from the daily routine. Her clothes were dirty and in need of a good wash. She loved it. She loved the zoo and the animals, especially Bert.

Teddy, the buffalo lowered his huge head to grab a mouthful of feed pellets from his freshly filled trough. Cody had been working him all morning dragging downed trees out of the woods. The shaggy beast was old and tired and deserved his rest but not until he devoured his lunch.

“Hi, Gordon.” she forced a smile at the boy, although her patience was running thin. Most of the others didn’t even try to be nice to him anymore and the room temperature seemed to drop about twenty degrees whenever he and Swan were in it together.

He’d either skipped out on his chores or half assed them again. No way was he done this early in the day. He leaned casually against the gate post of the buffalo enclosure, hands in the pocket of his khakis. He wore a multi pocketed vest and a button-down shirt, his hair carefully combed. He looked like he was posing for an LL Bean catalog. He never wore his armor, she wasn’t even sure he had any, and all the clothes he’d taken from the surplus store were overpriced brands that didn’t hold up very well to everyday work. They were for city people who wanted to look like they were outdoorsmen. Too many pockets and zippers and buttons. He was supposed to be cleaning out Millie’s pen. Cody had taken him off of the wood chopping detail and had him working with the animals. They’d hoped he would settle in and bond with one of them. So far, that hadn’t happened.

She sighed. They’d get nothing out of him again today. Until it was time to eat anyway. Then he’d load his plate with food and return for seconds. When he was done, he would go to his room to do whatever it was he did up there.

“Aren’t you tired of this place? The flies and the crap and the creaky old house?”

“I like it here.” she said, running her hand over Teddy’s head. “It’s safe. We have everything we need, and I get to spend all the time I want with Bert.”

“Bert,” Gordon snorted. “He’s gross. Always farting and drawing flies to him.”

Harper cut her eyes at him disapprovingly.

Sensing he was losing ground, Gordon changed his tact. Even with her messy hair and dirty clothes, she was still the prettiest girl left alive. The only one who had a little something in the chest department pressing against her armor.

“Yeah, he is pretty cool to watch, maybe if you changed his diet, he wouldn’t be so gassy.”

“Maybe,” she answered.

“But, you know, there’s a whole town right down the road. There are some pretty nice houses just sitting empty. A couple of generators from the hardware store and we’d be set.” he said slyly.

“I don’t think Bert would like living in town, hitting his head on stoplights and all that. This is the best place for him and all of the other animals too.”

“It’s not too far to visit.” Gordon pressed. “They could stay here, we could live in town. Have you seen the stuff just sitting in the jewelry store? There’s gold necklaces and diamond earrings and platinum watches just waiting to be plundered.”

“I don’t care about that kind of stuff.” she shrugged, wiped her hands on her dirty tactical pants and armor pads. “It’s kind of useless, really.”

“Yeah, but surely you’d rather wear something besides those clothes and hockey pads.”

“They’re comfortable, and once you get used to the pads, they aren’t so bad. You should get you some, just in case the zombies ever get inside the gates.” she told him.

He scoffed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in those rags.”

He tugged at the hem of his vest, trying to draw her eyes towards him. She obviously had the hots for him. She never looked him in the eyes. She was hiding her feelings. Probably didn’t want to break Cody’s heart, he thought smugly. He knew they all but worshipped Mr. High and Mighty.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, we should leave, just you and me. You can come back anytime you want and visit Bert. We’ll live it up, eat good food, have hot water and surround ourselves with all the finest things. Sooner or later someone is going to come through and rescue us. We can move into one of those fortified towns and live like civilized people. If we stay out here, we’ll miss them.”

His tone was sharp, almost condescending. He’d watched his Dad reduce people who owed him money to tears and begging with the same tone and he copied it the best he could. Maybe she just needed a firm hand to get her priorities straight. Maybe she needed to be told what to do.

“You think we aren’t civilized?” she smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

“No, not you,” he said, backtracking a little. “These other kids. Sleeping and eating with the animals. It’s just nasty. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than that creepy house. It makes so much noise I can barely sleep for all the creaking. It’s going to fall or burn down someday; I don’t want you to be in it when it happens. That’s all. We should think about going someplace better.”

“I’ll be just fine, Gordon. We’ll be just fine. I don’t need to be rescued and I don’t want to live in town, there’s no protection from the zombies if they wander through. We have a good life here, and you could too if you tried just a little.”

Harper wanted him to join them, not be an outsider. She wanted for everyone to get along and be happy. For everyone to do their fair share, it wasn’t that hard if everybody pitched in and helped.

“It doesn’t matter who you were before this happened.” she continued. “All that matters is who you are going to be. I don’t want to go to a fortified town and have people trying to tell me what to do. I’m not going to give up Bert or go back to being a cheerleader. My parents are dead. All of my family are dead. If we did find a town, they would put me in foster care or something and split everyone up. This is my family now, Gordon. It can be yours too, if you would try. We don’t ask for much, just do your part.”

Gordon shook his head and she could see he would never understand the gift they’d been given. He would never be happy living like animals as he thought of it. He wanted the old world back but it was gone. She almost felt sorry for him.

“Look, I’ve got a lot of work to do and you probably do too.”

Bert strolled lazily towards them. The giraffe angled slightly in his direction, in an attempt to mash him between his body and the gate. Gordon stepped swiftly aside. He wasn’t finished talking to her but the stupid giraffe filled the space between them and put his back towards Gordon. He lifted his short tail and dropped a load of manure in the boy’s direction. Gordon jumped out of the way but didn’t avoid getting dung splattered on his pants. He hated the giraffe.

Harper stepped around him and headed for the barn with Bert following close behind. Her bodyguard. He gritted his teeth in frustration but grabbed the pitchfork and headed over to knock out the jobs Mr. High and Mighty had assigned him for the day. Putting on his best clothes had been wasted on her, she hadn’t even noticed. He’d play along, though. He’d bide his time and wait for his chance. He’d prove to her once and for all that he was the man for her. Once he got her away from all this drudgery and back to civilization, she’d change her mind. She’d never want to come back and he certainly never would. Not unless he had a gun to put a bullet in Bert’s head.

24

Gordon

Gordon was miserable and smelled like animal dung. He’d been trying for a week or so but his plan of going along to get along was just too much work. He hated it here. It was cold, his room was drafty and he never seemed to be able to get Harper alone. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was avoiding him. Sure, this place was maybe a little better than the room where he’d been trapped for months but not by much. Or weeks, as they kept correcting him. Whatever. It felt like months. He had nothing in common with the others. After his little talk with Harper he’d tried to fit in but he was simply too civilized to be with these people. They all thought they were Tarzan or something the way they ate, slept and bathed with the filthy animals. Hell, they were becoming animals. Even the new kids were running around with the foxes and wolf cubs like they were harmless puppies, not dangerous animals that could turn on you. It only took them a week and they were nearly as savage as the rest of the idiots.

He was tired of hauling feed and cleaning up after them. He ought to just refuse. He’d chop wood, he could see the sense in that, but there was no reason to keep these stupid animals. They should drive them all out of the gate and be done with them. What would they do if he just stopped working, let Swan beat him up? She’d just got lucky last time. He hadn’t been ready. If she tried it again, he’d knock her teeth out.

The only job he didn’t really mind was stabbing zombies at the front gate. Whenever they started piling up, wandering in off the road for some unknown reason, they would have to go to the entrance and spear them in the head. The coyotes and buzzards and whatever else ate dead things would drag them off and have a feast. Gordon liked that job and would even volunteer for it. The others would get it over quickly, it stank pretty badly up there, but he liked to make it last. He’d jab them in the eyes, watch the gooey orbs run down their cheeks and was fascinated as they ignored their blindness and still tried to snap at him. Sometimes there was a woman zombie that wasn’t too messed up. He didn’t care if she was missing an arm or something, he’d learned to ignore bones sticking out and things like that. If they weren’t all rotten and gross, he’d hook the spear and rip their clothes off. He’d stab them in their hairy parts between the legs or poke their saggy boobs to see if they would deflate any more. Once he’d tried to count how many times he could stab one but got tired after fifty. It had holes everywhere but still tried to bite him. He wondered if he could tie one up, one that wasn’t too gross, and have a little grown up fun. The few magazines he’d brought with him were getting pretty worn out. He was fifteen, almost sixteen, the oldest of them all, and he had needs. But still, he didn’t think he could. He’d need help tying her down and besides, what if he caught something? What if the zombie virus was like an STD and his dong started rotting off? What he needed was for Harper to come to her senses and run off with him.

The rhino had nearly stepped on him twice while he daydreamed and cleaned out her enclosure. Stupid blind creature, and the flies! Buzzing around her ass then landing on his face. It was disgusting and demeaning. Then to top it off she had sideswiped him and knocked him down right into a pile of dung. Sure, he’d given her a little jab with the pitchfork to make her give him some working room, but it didn’t hurt her with that thick hide. Ungrateful half blind bitch, he thought.

They should be back in Putnam living it up. He’d been embarrassed when he saw the empty streets and the stores standing deserted after his rescue. All that food for the taking and he’d been surviving on army rations that were barely fit to eat. If he’d known there was only one of those zombies or how easy it was to kill, he could have gotten out. He would have, too. He would have figured it out sooner or later. He hated that Mr. High and Mighty had seen him living like he’d been. He’d seen all the girly magazines with the sticky pages. It was worse that he hadn’t told the others, like he had some big secret and was lording it over him. Like he was blackmailing him and would tell everyone if Gordon didn’t do everything he said. If he didn’t cut wood or clean the stalls.

Yeah, Gordy was so chicken he pooped in a box, slept right next to it and looked at dirty magazines all day. Speaking of chicken, did you choke yours very much, Gordy?

They’d all laugh at him and snicker behind his back. He hated them all.

The town had been deserted; he could have been a king when they came instead of a prisoner. All the zombies had chased the survivors down the road and had never come back. The few that were there were locked in the deserted buildings.

He cursed his father who’d run out and abandoned him and he cursed himself for not staying home that day. He’d gone along with him because the old man was going to kick the store owner out. He was going to shut him down for breach of contract and Gordon wanted to watch it happen. He wanted to see Gordon Lowery Senior, known as the Bulldog in certain circles, lower the hammer and watch the old shop keeper beg for another chance.

“He was late with the lease payment for the second time and that is grounds for termination.” His dad explained on the drive down to Putnam in his new Mercedes. “When I had the contract drawn up, I made sure our lawyers put that in the fine print. I’ve been waiting for over a year for him to be late again. That old junk shop he’s been running for the last decade has become prime real estate. I can double the rent with a health food store. We’re going to demand for him to immediately vacate the premises. I’ll show you how it’s done, son.”

The old shopkeeper had been wearing his stupid Proud Veteran hat and eating a greasy takeout breakfast at his desk when they confronted him. He’d done everything his dad had predicted and Gordon had a hard time keeping the grin off his face. He’d blustered, he’d gotten mad and finally he’d begged. His father had come down on him so hard the old man had gotten sick and had run to the bathroom. They had done a little fist bump when they heard him retching and his dad had mouthed pathetic then went out into the store to determine how he wanted to remodel it. Gordon had stayed in the office and was peeking in the drawers when he heard the snarl of something inhuman and his dad scream. There was a scuffle and when he looked out, his father was running out of the front door. Gordon yelled something, he couldn’t remember exactly what, and the bloody old store keeper turned towards him. He slammed the door and had been trapped for months. Or weeks as they claimed. Whatever. It felt like months.

Jokes on you Dad, he thought as he tossed another scoop of rhino dung into the wheelbarrow. He was probably out there wandering around with the rest of the undead in his expensive suit, shuffling around in his overpriced shoes, self-winding Rolex still keeping time on his wrist.

He leaned on the shovel and thought about last night. He finally got her by herself but that hadn’t worked out so well. He knew it wasn’t visible, but he still felt the imprint of Harper’s hand when she’d slapped him. He just wanted a kiss. She was the only one old enough for him to be interested in, the only girl that had boobs, and she should be grateful for his attention. She didn’t have to be such a tease. She was always teasing Cody too, laughing at his jokes or agreeing with whatever he said. The infallible Cody. Mr. High and Mighty. What a prick.

Cody said we need more firewood.

Cody said we should each pick a skill and learn it from the books.

Cody said clean out the stall.

Cody said you have to cut hay.

Cody said it’s your turn to walk the fence.

Cody said you have to kill zombies at the front gate.

Cody said this.

Cody said that.

Cody, Cody, Cody.

Who put him in charge anyway? So what if he’d been a Boy Scout and had a few skills? So what if he knew the zoo better than anyone else? It was the end of the world and rules didn’t apply anymore. I’m almost a year older than him, it should go by seniority. Gordon thought. And we should be in town or back home. There were probably survivors there, it was a gated community.

But, no.

Cody says we’re gonna keep a low profile.

Cody says it’s safe here in the freaking sticks out in the middle of nowhere.

Cody says the animals need us, and we are gonna need them if those zombies ever get in.

Last night, he’d listened to everyone drone on and on around the fireplace as they discussed the weather, Christmas coming up, supplies on hand, training they were doing and things they’d learned. If they lived in town, they wouldn’t have worry about all this survivalist crap. There was plenty of food and they wouldn’t have to take care of all these stupid animals. When Harper had made another trip to the kitchen to pull the brownies out of the oven, he volunteered to help. She was the only one who was nice to him and he knew why. She had probably been thinking about getting away, thinking about him and how easy life would be in town. After all, she had baked them because he said chocolate was his favorite. If that wasn’t a blatant come on, he didn’t know what was. He was the oldest, the richest and had a plan to get them out of this zoo. Of course, she had the hots for him.

She’d acted surprised when he’d slipped up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist then went to kiss her neck. She acted like she didn’t like it, that she was offended. She’d spun and slapped him.

He’d ran off to his room when what he should have done is slapped her right back and told her things were going to change. He should have taken charge, told them all that he was the oldest and he would be calling the shots from now on. Angry at the memory, Gordon threw his pitchfork on the ground. He didn’t care if Millie hurt her hooves on it or not. He hoped she did, dumb animal. He still seethed at the little tease, one of the others had probably put her up to it. Swan, most likely. She hated him for no reason. That was okay. He hated her back. One way or another there was going to be a change of leadership around here. Lowery’s gave orders, they didn’t take them.

Gordon lashed out at Millie, kicked her hard and she ambled off. He was incensed, working himself into a full-blown rage. He was through cleaning out stalls and doing everything Cody said. He was a survivor, he had lived through the outbreak and he’d done it on his own. He hadn’t had any help. He had as much right as any of them to make decisions. More actually. He was the oldest and he had been born and groomed to be a leader in the community, not a go-fer or shit shoveler. He came from money, prestigious parents and expensive schools. He was their better and deserved to be treated as such. He paced back and forth, getting angrier by the moment. He’d tried to do it their way but that was over. They were going to do things his way from now on. He was the biggest and if he had to, he’d beat the crap out of all of them. He touched the machete handles tucked in his belt, nodded to himself, then set out in search of Cody.

25

Cody & Gordon

Cody and Harper stood in the kitchen of the old house giving Otis a promised treat. He opened the last can of Spam and tossed the jelly coated hunk of compressed meat to his pal. Otis caught it out of the air and gulped it down, waiting expectantly for more, it was his favorite snack.

“That’s the last of it,” Cody said and wiped his hands. “I’ll look for more when we go back into town.”

He poured Otis a bowl of dog food. The Kodiak chuffed, but ate it anyway. It would hold him over until someone brought in some fresh meat. Swan and Donny were getting good at hunting and it was rare when one of them didn’t have something hanging in the storehouse.

Great, Cody thought as he watched Gordon storming towards him. He reeked like dung. How could he get covered in it? All he had to do was scoop it out and dump it in the fertilizer pile. Murray had plans for a big garden in the spring so they were keeping all the droppings together instead of spreading them anywhere out of the way. Cody’s wrinkled nose at the smell pissed Gordon off even more.

“I’m not feeding them or cleaning up after them anymore. We should either move into the town and get some real weapons and a real place to live or send a scout up to my old neighborhood. I told you it was gated and private. Most of houses have solar panels and generators. I have family there, you could probably have your own house. A mansion with a hot tub, not a dump like this! This place is just a flop house, my God, you all sleep in the same room. I can hardly even go in the den anymore because it stinks like animal,” fumed Gordon.

“The town isn’t safe, Gordon.” Cody explained again. “We’ve been over this. It’s empty now but those hordes are on the move. What if a huge one wanders in out of LaCrosse or Cedar Rapids? What would we do then?”

“At least we would be on a main road!” Gordon exclaimed. “At least we’d be somewhere we could get rescued if help comes. They’ll never find us out here.”

“Nobody is coming to save us.” Harper said flatly. “You’re living in a fantasy world. There is nobody else out there with a city like it used to be. Nobody is scouring the countryside looking for survivors. If there are other people, they’re doing the same thing we are, just trying to make it through the winter.”

“But we hear them on the radio!” Gordon practically screamed. “We know there are others.”

“We hear bits and pieces of people talking on CB’s or something.” Cody said. “Murray told us they’re using super powerful radios, probably stuff that was illegal before, and it’s bleeding over onto the emergency channels. We don’t know where they’re at or what they have. It might be only two or three people and they could be anywhere in the world.”

“Fine.” Gordon said. “But we can’t stay here. We need to send somebody up to scout out my old house. I’m telling you, we had security guards and high fences, better than these, and everyone had generators and lots of food. They still have electricity. We could live normal again!”

The twins came in to start dinner and made a face at Gordon when they saw he had tracked dung all over their floor. He ignored the two weirdos.

“Who’s going to go check it out?” Cody asked, trying to get Gordon to see reason. Trying to let him realize he was grasping at straws. “You?”

“Donny is the fastest.” he replied. “He could get up there in a week. Heck, once he finds people somebody there can come get us. They’ll have cars.”

“What makes you so sure they would want you back, Gordy?” Swan asked as she came out of the den holding one of the cubs. “If I were them, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“Nobody asked you, dog girl.” Gordon said and glared at her.

Swans lips curled away from her bared teeth and a slow, guttural snarl came from her throat.

Gordon stepped behind the island, putting a little distance between them but he wasn’t finished. He needed to make them see reason.

“Look at her.” he said and pointed. “This place is going to your heads. She thinks she’s a wolf.”

“And look at them.” his angry finger went towards the twins. “Is that normal? They’ve got tattoos all over their bodies and they’re only twelve years old. They look like circus freaks and I’ve seen them eating raw fish with those bears. You’ve got those little kids we rescued starting to act like animals, too. Normal people don’t act like this. Normal people would have you all locked up for child endangerment!”

Gordon had to get it off his chest, had to make them see they were all going crazy, they had to get out of here and back to civilization.

“You’re all turning feral and acting like cavemen. Have you looked in a mirror lately, Cody? You look like an extra on some survivor show. What’s with the beads in your hair and that stupid necklace? This place sucks. The animals suck. My family would be appalled to see me living like this, eating this garbage you call food.” he finished angrily.

“Then don’t eat our cooking.” Annalise said, “make your own.”

Tobias nodded his head and set his jaw. He would get not one bite of their meals anymore. He’d toss it to the zombies first.

Cody was running out of patience, but tried one last time to reason with Gordon, “We aren’t going anywhere. We have a great setup here. Besides, the animals…”

“The animals!” Gordon screamed cutting him off, spittle flying from his lips.

Everyone was against him. Everyone hated him. This argument wasn’t going as planned and he was getting so mad he was out of control, just lashing out.

“Always the damned animals! It’s a goldmine out there and you want to stay here and play with your teddy bear. People are gonna hit the towns to take the food and all the good stuff. Nobody is coming here. We’ll never be found or rescued if we stay here. These stupid animals don’t matter. The zombies don’t eat them, and they can fend for themselves.”

“Then go,” Cody said coldly. “Get your gear and go. You’ll be home in a week.”

He’d had enough. “I won’t stop you, but I won’t be there to save you next time either.”

“Save me? Save me?” Gordon nearly shrieked.

He was livid, more afraid that Cody would tell them how he found him cowering in his own filth than he was of being thrown out. He was ashamed of the others finding out and couldn’t let him say anymore.

“You didn’t save me, I was doing just fine by myself. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you!”

Harper placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “He’s upset, just let him cool off. He’ll come around.”

“You always take his side! He’s hiding from the world instead of trying to find other survivors. All for some stupid promise he made to his dead mama.” Gordon screamed and mimed a shuffling zombie.

Before he’d realized it, Cody shoved Harper aside and swung on Gordon. His fist slammed the other boy hard, Gordon’s lips split open and he fell to the floor. Blood poured freely down his chin and onto his chest. Otis reared up on his hind legs, banged his head against the ceiling and roared, shaking dust down from the rafters. Cody was livid, was tempted to let Otis rip the bastard apart but saw the wide, fearful eyes of Clara staring at him from the den. He put up a calming hand on Otis’ chest and stopped the bear from attacking.

Gordon pushed himself to his feet and stood, fists clenching and unclenching, murderous rage in his eyes. He dropped his hands to his machetes but before he could pull them Swan had a tomahawk in each hand, her fists choked up near the head, ready to slash into him. Annalise and Tobias both had instantly gripped big carving knives and were ready to spring. He stared at Cody with tears of impotent rage in his eyes and blood streaming down his chin. He raised his hand and mimed a pistol. “POW,” he said softly, turned and ran up the stairs to his room.

Cody fought the urge to chase him down and finish kicking his ass. Grab him by the hair and drag him out the gate. Gordon had brought nothing but trouble to the group. He complained about everything, what chores he would do were half assed and he ate twice as much as anyone else. He was careless around the animals, he left tools laying around that could cause injury and they all shied away from him. That spoke volumes to the rest of them.

For some reason, he resented Cody. He’d only tried to help the boy, but he had a chip on his shoulder the size of Kansas. He was always angry and upset whenever he didn’t get his way. They heard him slam the door to his room and tensions eased. Weapons slid back into holsters or knife racks. Otis dropped down to all fours and went back to his favorite spot in front of the fireplace.

“It’s okay, Clara. The boys were just arguing. It’s over now.” Harper kneeled in front of the little girl and pushed hair out of her eyes. “Boys just being boys. You want to help with dinner?”

Donny caught Cody’s eye and turned his body away from everyone else so they couldn’t see what he said. He pointed to himself, made a slicing motion across his neck, pointed upstairs then raised his eyebrows in a question. Cody shook his head and Donny nodded. It was over, it was just a fight. They weren’t savages. They didn’t kill people just because they were mad at them. Cody grabbed a potato and started peeling, a mindless job because his mind was on something else. What Donny had asked scared him a little. If he would have said yes, he had no doubt the silent boy would have walked calmly up the stairs and killed him. If Gordon had pulled his machetes, Swan would have sunk her steel into his head. It was a sobering thought because nothing would have happened to them. No repercussions for murder. No police. No courts. No jail. No nothing except someone would have to drag the body out and bury it or toss it to the coyotes.

His hands shook a little and he had to concentrate to control them. He had the power over life and death. That was a scary thought. Maybe Gordon saw that tonight. Maybe he finally understood the old ways were gone. The problem with Gordon was that he thought he was better than everyone else and had shown disdain for them once he was safe behind the gates. Harper was the only one he wasn’t constantly arguing with and something had changed with that. Even she didn’t stick up for him this time and she had always been the peacemaker. Maybe she’d finally had enough of him too. He wasn’t even mad at him anymore; he was afraid for him. Afraid of what would happen to him if he didn’t change his ways.

26

Murray

Murray sat alone in the lab section of the zoo’s animal care center. He watched the virus cells on the slide under the microscope. He knew what normal cells looked like, according to the pictures in the books. He had some of his own blood on a different slide. This looked nothing like his. There was no healthy cell activity in this sample, just a strange looking glob moving lazily about. He was worried about the animals in the zoo becoming infected if the virus jumped across the species. There was no way they could handle one of the bears or the other carnivores if they became infected and there was a really good chance of exposure since the animals had engaged with the zombies.

He ignored the chomping of the decapitated head in the basket on the counter. He had asked Donny to bring it to him and to keep it to himself. He didn’t want to cause any more stress on the others. They were busy stocking the zoo for winter and gathering wood. Things he wasn’t able to help with, but he felt he had to do something to pull his weight, and this was too important to ignore.

He referenced one of the books from the shelf on animal medicine. He compared the picture of healthy cells to the sample he had taken from a sleeping Otis the night before. Otis appeared healthy with no sign of the foreign invaders in his system. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He had a test in mind, though no way would it be totally conclusive, but with his limited knowledge of viruses and the equipment at his disposal, it was the best he could come up with.

He lifted one of the brown mice from the aquarium. Another gift from Donny, the six mice scurried about seeking cover while he captured one of them. The small furry creature looked at him with its beady eyes and let out a small squeak.

Donny lifted the syringe filled with the zombie blood and injected it into the mouse.

“Sorry, little guy.” he said.

He put a small white band around the rodent’s leg and returned him to the aquarium. He scooped up another mouse and this one was injected with saliva from the undead head still gnashing its teeth in the basket. That wasn’t something he was interested in doing again anytime soon. Even in its decapitated state, the head still wanted to bite, and he’d come close to losing a finger when he drew the sample. Completely disconnected from its circulatory, respiratory, and central nervous system, it was still animated, something still drove it to attack

The second mouse got a blue band and Murray put him back with the others. Now to wait and watch. If they attacked the others and the virus spread to them, the tribe was in a world of trouble.

Murray made sure the lid was secure to the aquarium, popped the top on a warm Dr. Pepper and flipped through the pages of a book he’d found in the house. A novel about repo men in California, something to take his mind off of heavier things. He turned to the dog-eared page he had marked and continued reading.

Murray watched them on and off for hours while he finished his book. He wondered if the author was out there amongst the undead or holed up somewhere safe, either way, he didn’t see a sequel coming anytime soon. The mice showed no signs of aggression, no change in their movements or behavior. Just mice being mice. They were huddled together in one corner of the tank, sleeping. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was rudimentary by any means, but he was pretty sure the virus wouldn’t jump to the zoo animals from battle wounds. He made a mental note to try and get hold of one of the Savage Ones. It would be interesting to see what their blood looked like under the microscope.

27

Gordon

There was an uneasy truce and most of them tried to forget about the fight. The twins would glare at him when he took food from the community dishes they cooked but Cody must have told them not to say anything. Swan pretended he didn’t exist and wouldn’t even look at him. He was fine with that, too. He hated her and the stupid wolves more than all the rest of them combined. All Cody had said the next morning was the new chore list is up. They watched him, waiting to see if he would refuse to do anything, probably hoping he would so they would have some lame excuse to throw him out. He was smarter than that, though. His dad had taught him a thing or two. Sometimes you had to do things to lull the competition into thinking you were defeated, that they had won. Sometimes you had to swallow your pride, smile in their face and plot your revenge. When they weren’t paying attention is when you would swoop in with a lower bid or bribe the right official to hassle them with zoning codes or maybe leak those pictures your private investigator took of that mistress in a hotel room. Gordon could play the game. After all, he was a Lowery and the Lowery’s owned this county. He had to bide his time and make his plans. He pretended he’d been taught a lesson but under the cool exterior he was filled with icy anger. Everyday his rage toward Cody grew as he watched him act like the big high and mighty leader. He had dared hit him! He had dared to lay hands on a Lowery. In a normal situation, he’d be in a jail cell and his father would make sure the judge threw the book at him. They were golfing buddies and Judge Brady knew where his bread was buttered. He knew where his campaign contributions came from. Mr. High and Mighty would be facing twenty years of hard labor.

Every day he watched her but always at a distance. She was the one he thought about when he stared at his magazines with a flashlight when everyone else was sleeping. He wondered what she looked like under her clothes. He could never get her alone to talk, to explain that he hadn’t meant anything by grabbing her. He knew she was purposely avoiding him but she couldn’t keep it up forever. She was the oldest girl here and since he was the oldest boy, they should be together. It was only right. Older people had needs, adult needs, and they should be taking care of each other. Surely he could make her understand and see the sense of it.

He would take her with him when he went back to his home to live. They could make the journey together. Maybe they could ride that stupid giraffe, it was high enough so any undead they ran into couldn’t get them. The only problem with that was Bert hated him for no reason. When she wasn’t hanging out with Cody or any of the rest of them, she was with the giraffe. He would aim his noxious ass in his direction, or swipe at him with his big head if he got anywhere near Harper. She would tell him to go, he was upsetting the stupid thing. She refused to leave it and come talk to him alone. We’re training was always her excuse.

He needed to make her understand that Cody was wrong, being slaves to the animals was wrong and acting more like them every day was wrong. If she left with him, they could go back to where people were civilized. He was sure his old community was safe behind their walls. They had to be. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. This group was acting like savages in a jungle. They called themselves a tribe, they hunted animals with spears, they swam in the frigid water with the polar bears, they cavorted with those ridiculous monkeys and they slept with the furry creatures like pack animals. They’d turned the living room into a barn stall.

If she left with him, he would bring her the finest clothes and drape expensive jewelry, just sitting there for the taking, around her neck, wrists and on her fingers. They’d leave this place with the animal noises that kept him awake at night and the never-ending lists of chores. There were other survivors back home; he knew it in his bones. His community wouldn’t have been overrun so easily. He had family there and it was gated and fenced. Million-dollar homes with separate servants’ quarters. You can bet they weren’t living in a barn with wild animals stinking up the place. It was a virtual paradise and all they had to do was get there.

Sooner or later, someone would come to Putnam and find a ghost town. They’d load up the stores of food and valuables and be gone, leaving him behind in this hellhole with no way to replenish supplies. Putnam was the only place close enough for a cart to go before the battery died and if it got cleaned out, they’d starve to death. If they wouldn’t risk traveling north to his home, they should at least be there. If they weren’t going to bring all the food to the park, they should at least be in town to defend it against bandits. No one was coming to the safari on purpose, it was too far off the main road. Nothing else was out here. Nothing worth taking anyway.

Gordon daydreamed as he filled the wheelbarrow with buffalo dung. He plotted and planned, thought of ways to get even and ways to escape. He knew he couldn’t take Cody in a fair fight, even though he was bigger and stronger. If he had a gun he could, but there was still the bear to contend with. He didn’t think a few bullets would stop the thing if it was mad and if he shot Cody in the back, it would probably be mad. If he was honest with himself, he knew he’d never convince Harper to run away with him by herself. He’d have to convince the whole group to leave. Going by himself was out of the question, there was no telling what kind of trouble he might run into on the road. If he brought a whole group, he’d arrive home like a returning hero and his dad had hunting rifles. They couldn’t use their animals to bully him anymore and he’d make rugs out of most of them. They’d do what he said or he’d kick them all out.

It all came back to the Cody problem. He knew he couldn’t do anything to him, hell if Mr. High and Mighty stubbed his toe halfway across the Park, they would find a way to blame it on him. Cody wouldn’t leave as long as it was safe and without him, none of the others would either. He would have to force their hand somehow, take away their reasons for staying. Make it so they had to find someplace new and he would be just the guy to take them there. If he could engineer some bad luck, maybe a few accidents here and there, he could kill two birds with one stone. If they didn’t have all the stupid animals to take care of, they wouldn’t be trapped here. If he could blame it on bad decisions made by Mr. High and Mighty, they wouldn’t think he was so great and do everything he said. All he had to do was start taking out the animals and he was fine with that. Nothing would make him happier than to see Swan blubbering over her dead wolves.

Gordon grunted with the weight of the wheelbarrow as he made his way over to the compost pile. There would be no more hauling crap around, either. They’d leave this dump and these stinking animals and in time everyone would realize he had been right all along. All the girls would be his and the boys would do whatever it took to stay in his good graces. He smiled at the thought of Harper sitting beside him, Vanessa and Annalise bringing his meals and seeking his attention. Swan would be on permanent cleaning duty and he’d have those wolves of hers turned into rugs. He’d make her do all the worst jobs like cleaning the bathrooms. He’d make sure he missed every time he used the toilet, too. If she didn’t do a good job, he’d make her clean it with her tongue. His smile was huge at such pleasant thoughts.

He’d banish Donny the freak. He couldn’t be trusted; you never knew what he was thinking. Tobias would be kept in check by the hold he kept on the boy’s sister. The young kids would fall in line if they knew what was good for them. Murray, that pathetic cripple, had his uses so he’d keep him around. He grinned through split lips at the thought and actually started humming as he plotted his revenge on all of them. Yes, life would be good.

He’d be patient. He’d wait, and when the time was right, he’d strike. The book hidden under his mattress held the key to changing everything.

28

Vanessa

Vanessa wiped the dust from the mirror on the vanity before her and stared at her reflection. Pride swelled her bosom as she reflected on her actions of the past months. She wasn’t the studious little girl she had been. She had killed monsters. She had saved lives. She’d dashed fearlessly towards those stranded children with no thought of her own safety. Ziggy had performed flawlessly, shattering the glass so they could drag those three kids to the security behind the iron fences. Her daddy would have been so proud of her. He was selfless like that. She remembered him buying food for homeless people when they were out in the old neighborhood where he had grown up. He paid no mind to their dirty clothes and unwashed smell as he chatted with them, learning about their lives. She’d watched quietly, sitting on tree shaded benches as they ate and he talked to them, listened to them and shared a little gospel. Most people walked by society’s forgotten cast offs, ignoring their requests for change or offers to work for food. Not her dad though, he had a big heart and always told her it was her responsibility to look out for the less fortunate. To be a bright light in a world of darkness. She missed him so much sometimes. She prayed often that he had survived somehow and was safe with a group of good people.

She’d done all she could to be that light. She’d sat up late the first night as the three small kids cried for their mama. She answered the best she could when they asked her why their mother and aunt had tried to get eat them. She sugar coated it a little but not much. The kids had seen things, they weren’t dumb and they were old enough to know the truth. Telling them lies could get them killed. She’d held them until sleep took them and the skulk of foxes helped. They sensed the unhappiness, chose the child and comforted them with their presence. She had colored page after page with them in books taken from the gift shop, read them stories and made sure they did their chores. Always give more than you take, she’d encouraged them. We all have to do our part to survive. Never go outside the fences, never open the gates. It’s safe in here. The tribe and the animals will protect you.

It had been her idea to put them in charge of the petting zoo. The helpless animals were invaluable to their long-term survival. The chickens supplied them with fresh eggs, the goats would be a steady source of meat and cow gave them milk.

She’d laughed along with them when Bessie had knocked Cody from his stool into a pile of manure as he instructed them on how to milk her. He’d dusted himself off, and continued as though nothing had happened, his face red with embarrassment. Squirt, squirt, squirt and the bucket gets full he sang a little song to get the rhythm as he worked their teats back in forth to fill the plastic pail.

They’d taken to the foxes or in actuality, the foxes had adopted them. They were the smallest of the omnivorous creatures in the zoo and it was a good fit. They were playful creatures and weren’t big enough to hurt them accidentally. They spent hours together, their worries shoved aside as they chased and wrestled with the little red balls of fur.

They’d done well at their tasks. As time marched on, they cried less frequently at night about their parents and instead asked questions about fighting the zombies and going on scavenging runs. They did their chores and tagged along with the older kids as they tended to the other animals. They moaned and groaned about the lessons that she, Harper and Murray gave them. They didn’t care about reading or learning math. It didn’t matter they argued. She’d chastised them. Of course, it did she’d reassured them. Without reading, how do you know what you are eating is safe? Without basic math, how did you know you were giving the animals the right amount of food? They’d given in and were decent students. She’d never thought much about teaching before the world ended, but found she enjoyed it. She’d also discovered parts of her heritage she’d never read about as she devoured the books on African history gathering dusts on the shelves of the vast library in Piedmont House.

She was fascinated by the changes of her group over the past few months. They’d gone from typical kids who usually couldn’t be trusted to set the garbage out without being reminded a few times to cunning and savvy survivors. They knew what had to be done and knew the consequences of not doing it. They had all gone a little wild but their situation warranted it. They weren’t living in ordinary times anymore. There weren’t any adults to tell them what they could and couldn’t do and there never would be again. There were things at the gate that were trying to kill them. They had figured out how to manage on their own and they had learned to fight back. They learned from their companions, their animal friends who showed no fear, knew no restraints and didn’t have remorse. They matched violence with violence. Death with death. Savagery with savagery. Their weapons, their animals and their wits were all that kept them from becoming one of the shuffling undead and they never forgot it.

Tobias and Annalise had always been a little different with their pale skin and nearly white hair but now they didn’t try to suppress their unusualness. They embraced it and like the Viking ancestors they claimed, they started covering themselves with strange tattoos. Intricate knot work and rune patterns gleaned from downloaded books covered their arms and legs, drawn on with permanent marker. She’d watch them painstakingly recreate them by the glow of the fireplace every evening, experimenting with different patterns before they made them permanent with the tattoo gun. They looked like relics of the Viking age with their braided hair and battle axes.

She thought about Swan and her face paint. The buckskin clothes and the decorations she wove into her hair. The girl never spoke of it or bragged of her heritage; she didn’t have to. Her native American blood was evident in her straight raven black hair and the dark complexion that was bronzed by the days spent in the sun. Even her choice of weapons, the tomahawks and the bow, were a nod to the Indians of the plains.

Donny had a lot of Chinese in him but he’d developed a range of skills that borrowed from many of the Asian countries. His armor looked vaguely like a Samurai’s. He fought with the spear and could spin it like the fighting staff of a Shaolin monk and he’d taught himself to move as stealthy as his panther.

Cody and Harper were as American as apple pie and neither knew much about their ancestors. I think we came from Germany, Cody had answered when asked about his forefathers. Harper had just shrugged and said Iowa.

Vanessa picked up the battery powered clippers that once belonged to Derek. She’d found them in the back of one of the golf carts amidst empty Dr. Pepper bottles, empty feed sacks and foul-smelling buckets that had been used to lug raw meat around. She stared into the mirror at her dark, nearly ebony skin. Her full lips and high cheekbones. Her father had called her his Nubian Princess. She didn’t know much about her history beyond her grandparents. They were simply Americans. She didn’t know where her ancient fathers had called home but she knew it was somewhere in Africa. They may have been slaves or they may have been free men but she knew they had once been warriors. They had once lived or died by their skills, their cunning and their wit, and now she did too. Like Donny, the twins and Swan, she embraced her people’s history and drew from it to give her courage and strength.

She touched her hair, ran her fingers through it one last time. It was long and unruly, the tight, kinky curls refused to be tamed without creams and conditioners. Her kind of hair couldn’t be put in a ponytail and forgot about. She had to be careful not to get it soaking wet or it could start to mold. When she tried to wear a hat, she had to have it so tight it hurt her head or it would fall off. Braiding it was too much trouble. Dreadlocks could easily be snagged by reaching, undead hands and besides they stank. No wonder the African women kept it short, she thought, they didn’t have time to mess with it every day.

She turned on the clippers and pressed them to the skin above her ears, shearing backwards carefully. Within minutes she was running her hand over the smooth sides of her head and staring at her new mohawk in the mirror. She smiled. She liked what she saw.

She unscrewed the cap on the white makeup and dipped three of her fingers into it, dragging horizontal lines down each side of her newly exposed scalp. It made her look fierce, she thought.

That was the easy part, she said to herself then picked up the razor blade sitting next to the small can of ashes taken from the bonfire. She’d read everything she could find about ritual scarification, a practice by warrior tribes to attest to their prowess in battle. The scars of the warrior reflected at a glance their skills in battle.

She had saved three, had risked her life for theirs and it was fitting that the first marks on her flawless skin would be for them. A reminder to her and the world that even if she never did anything else worthy of honor, this she would have forever.

She made an incision beneath each eye, wincing at the pain and the reflected image of blood pouring down her cheeks. She cut slow and deep, felt the sharp burn and ignored it. This was nothing, this was but a scratch and she would not flinch. She dabbed her fingers in the ash then worked it into the cuts to promote swelling. When it healed, it would leave a prominent scar. She wondered how many more self-inflicted cuts she would bear before the world resumed some form of normalcy.

She sat and watched until the blood finally stopped running and the ash sealed the wound. She wiped the remnants of blood from her face and stood. She looked different and she felt different. She was leaving her life before the fall behind. Her clothes were different, her attitude was different and now her face was different. She let her machetes find their place on her hips, grabbed her spear, slipped the laser pointer into her pocket and went to find her ostrich.

29

Swan

The children all giggled incessantly at Murray as he sucked in another mouthful of helium from the tank and his high-pitched voice rang out. The animal sanctuary had always been a popular place for kids’ birthday and other events so rounding up some party items had been an easy task. Balloons floated against the high ceilings while others were tied off to chair backs. The youngest children chased each other in a high-speed game of tag through the hallways. Otis lay in front of the fireplace, soaking up its heat and snoring heavily. Yewan was curled in a window sill absorbing the last rays of warmth as the sun made its slow descent into the western sky.

The monkeys chattered excitedly, bouncing from cabinet to chair to shoulders and swinging from the light fixture above the massive oak table in the formal dining room. They leaped for the balloons floating lazily against the high vaulted ceiling. Sage, one of the feistier capuchins, tried to mimic Murray and breathe in the helium. Her own voice scared her and the rest of monkeys and they all darted for the safety of Murrays’ jacket. An assortment of gifts lay sloppily wrapped on the table. This was supposed to be Swans surprise birthday party, she was a teenager now, but she was late. Harper had been secretly planning it for weeks and made sure Cody’s job roster had her on fence detail. It only took a few hours to make the rounds, she should have been back before dark. Maybe she was getting a few more rabbits for Lucy who was still nursing the cubs.

Donny kept watch at the window, looking for any sign of her and the wolves. He caught a glimpse of her in the lengthening shadows and motioned for everyone to take their places and get ready. The house fell as silent as a tomb as children tried to stop giggling and ducked behind doors or into empty cabinets ready to leap out and yell surprise.

Swan entered the front door, followed by Zero padding softly behind her. Candlelight lit the big house, casting long shadows. She saw no sign of her friends, just the snoring bear in front of the fireplace and the black panther dozing in the window.

She sighed and hung her jacket on the coat rack, surprised no one was hogging the fire. Well, if you didn’t count Otis but he was always hogging it. Hunting for survival was hard. She was a little miffed at herself for missing a sprinting rabbit not once but twice. Both tomahawks had fell short and stuck harmlessly in the ground. The experience was real, it was tough, nothing like she’d imagined. Trying to outsmart one of Mother Earth’s creations wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. Every creature had a will to live and even the most adorable animals had the instincts to fight back when cornered. The concept seemed ok to her, a small mistake and they didn’t have fresh meat that day, success and her pack feasted. It was fair, she didn’t have guns and an unfair advantage. She didn’t shoot an animal from a half mile away where it had no chance. She hunted with her pack and they killed for need, not sport.

She thought back to her first success with the compound bow and still felt the adrenaline rush of their first kill. A small buck had finally fallen under one of her arrows and she’d watched as the wolves ran down and finished off the wounded animal. She’d thanked the deer for its sacrifice and fell in beside the wolves as they feasted. The meat was hot and bloody. She’d only tried a taste before the wave of revulsion hit her but it was an important ritual with her pack. They hadn’t warned her off. Zero had moved aside to give her room, acknowledging her as alpha. She let them eat as much as they wanted from that hunt before she gutted it and carried the remains back on her shoulders. She much preferred her venison cooked.

Her mouth watered at the memory of the tender venison they’d roasted in aluminum foil buried in the campfire coals. She wondered what the twins were cooking for dinner and headed for the kitchen. When she passed through the dining room, a crowd of children exploded from cover screaming surprise. Zero and Lucy went into a defensive stance, teeth bared and hackles raised, startled by the sudden noise. Swan crouched, had both tomahawks in her hands and a snarl on her lips when she saw the shocked looks on everyone’s faces.

Embarrassed, she lowered her weapons, spoke softly to calm the wolves and smiled as her eyes drank in the presents, balloons and the cake with the thirteen candles. She didn’t think anyone remembered. Didn’t think it even mattered with the world dead. Most days she didn’t know or care what the date was anymore. Murray kept up with that kind of stuff, not her. She was focused on caring for her pack and honing her skills.

“Thanks guys,” she said with genuine gratitude.

Hugs and happy birthday wishes were given as each of her tribe made their way forward. She stood there, armed and armored and smiled happily at the outpouring of love. She smelled of wood smoke and sweat and her face was darkened with soot. A black triangle shape extended across her forehead and blended with her hair. It covered her eyes and tapered down to her chin, giving her a wolf like profile in the dim light of the candles. Her hair was twisted into a long braid with acorn beads and a raven feather woven into it.

She wiped at her eyes, overwhelmed by the love and support of these other orphans. Thrown together by chance they were strangers who became a family. A family who became a tribe. They were all so different, yet here they stood as one, laughing and eating cupcakes the twins had whipped up.

She stood at the head of the table and took them all in. The cogs in a wheel, the members of her tribe, each with an ability and skill that helped them survive.

Tobias and Annalise, with their ethereal appearance of almost white hair braided and beaded with the intricate tattoos covering their alabaster skin, were the fishermen and the cooks. They were berserkers on polar bears.

Vanessa, with hand-crafted ostrich plume earrings dangling from her ear lobes, her mohawk and ritual scars was their quickest when she rode Ziggy. She could dart into town and back for a bag of supplies in less than an hour and she had learned to lead the dead away from the front gate. They’d give chase and she would get them started on the road north then cut back through the woods. They kept going once they started running and were never seen again. New ones stumbled in, usually one or two a day, but she kept their numbers manageable and covered a lot of territory around the Park.

Cody, tall and handsome with the hair he was constantly brushing from his face had shown them how to live with their companion animals. He had held them together and kept them alive during those first chaotic and frightening days and continued to lead them and make wise choices.

Harper was the sister she’d never had, the peacemaker and smile bringer who could see farther than anyone when she rode high atop Bert.

Donny, strong and silent was her hunting partner who didn’t fear the woods and kept them in fresh meat.

Murray, the boy with the books who always had an answer for everything and could figure out how to fix anything.

There was Caleb, Landon and Clara, the triplets they had started calling them, who had completely taken over the duties of the petting zoo, freeing up the older kids to do other work.

Then there was Gordon who was finally trying to fit in and be friendly. He would smile and laugh with them but it sounded forced. He was trying too hard. His lips were scabbed over and still healing from where Cody had hit him. Should have hit him harder she thought. Or hit him more. No matter how nice he was trying to be, she didn’t trust him and didn’t like him. It had started on the first day they met and he’d made them wait forever while he packed his stuff. She didn’t like the way he looked at her either. It felt like he was always trying to imagine what she looked like under her clothes.

She reached for one of the cubs who were playing at her feet, held the small creature to her lips and kissed it softly. She returned the wolf to his littermates when Cody hollered over the din that it was time to open presents. She took her place of honor at the head of the table as Landon and Caleb struggled to slide her heavy chair forward. Clara placed a homemade cardboard crown on her head, complete with glued on macaroni designs and crude wolfs head drawings.

She squealed with delight as Murray handed her his gift, a pair of fine sharpening stones and oil for her tomahawks. Harper gave her a heavy winter cloak with Mother of Wolves embroidered over the breast. She hugged her tight and swung it around her shoulders. It would be warm and quiet and wouldn’t restrict her movements.

Custom tooled knee-high leather moccasins from the twins came next followed by a fine bladed field dressing knife from Cody. She unwrapped the gift from Vanessa, a pair of high-end sunglasses that would certainly come in handy when the snows fell.

Caleb, Landon and Clara gifted her with pictures of Lucy and Zero taken from coloring books in the gift shop. The wolves were rendered in greens, reds, blues and pink and were scribbled outside of the lines. She loved them.

Gordon gave her a handful of arrows for her bow and told her happy birthday, although a little stiffly. She thanked him. He was trying at least. Maybe that punch to the face had knocked some sense into him.

Donny came last. She tore open the wrapping and pulled out the present. Pieces of antlers from the first small buck she’d taken were drilled out and threaded on a leather cord. He’d polished each piece until it shined. Overwhelmed, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

They sang happy birthday to her at the tops of their lungs and Cody lit the thirteen candles one by one with the old Zippo lighter. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and blew them out, whispering her wish as the last flame was extinguished.

None noticed when Gordon slipped away from the party for a few minutes.

She fell asleep that night so thankful for her tribe. She’d been on every trip to Putnam and they didn’t stop at any of the stores where her gifts came from. They went in and out fast, loading up the golf cart as quick as they could hurrying back to the safety of the Park. She had tickled Clara until she was breathless with laughter and threatened to tickle her until she peed her pants if she didn’t tell how they did it. She finally got the answer after tickle torturing Caleb and Landon. Vanessa had ridden in on Ziggy. She could be there and back in no time and could outrun any zombie no matter how fast it was.

As she drifted off with her wolves bedded down to either side of her and the cubs snuggled up for warmth, she hoped her parents were thinking of her, wherever they were.

30

Teddy

They stood around the buffalo, huddled in their winter coats, as it wheezed and tried to push itself to its feet. Teddy, named in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt, was lying near Bert’s feed trough. The great shaggy beast’s chest heaved with the exertion of trying to draw in breath. He usually stayed in his enclosure at night, it was the only home he knew. He’d been living in it for almost twenty years and rarely wandered very far on his own. For some reason, he had traveled halfway across the park. No one had an explanation or knew what to do for him.

There was worried, quiet talk about the virus jumping species to infect the animals despite assurances from Murray that it wasn’t possible. Donny and Vanessa stood ready with their spears in case it turned into a 1000-pound version of the monsters outside the gates.

Murray insisted it wasn’t the virus, Teddy didn’t show any signs of zombie infection. He flipped frantically through the veterinary manuals on his tablet but there just wasn’t enough information to go on. He hated the feeling of helplessness as he watched the majestic animal suffering.

The buffalo drooled heavily, thick mucus streamed from his nostrils and his eyes rolled back in his head. His body fought against whatever was destroying him from the inside but he was losing.

“I don’t know, I just don’t know.” Murray muttered as he searched one book after another. “This doesn’t make any sense; he has the symptoms of food poisoning.”

Teddy took a deep, wheezing gasp and let it out with a shudder. One last plume of breath fog came from him, dissipated in the cold air and his chest didn’t rise again.

Confusion ran through the children and Swan knocked an arrow as Harper ushered the triplets away. They had to be ready if Murray was wrong, if it was the infection. They would have to put him down quick. They waited, weapons at the ready and fear in their hearts but after several tense minutes, Teddy remained where he lay. It wasn’t the virus and they all felt relief. They couldn’t imagine having their companions turn on them.

Gordon tried to look as shocked and upset as the other children. It wasn’t hard, he was good at pretending and he actually was surprised. The giraffe was supposed to be the one lying dead on the ground. It was a useless animal and she spent entirely too much time with it. Besides, if Harper had a broken heart then he would have been there to offer comfort. His plan hadn’t worked as expected but that was okay, maybe it was better this way. Without their beast of burden to drag logs for them, they would have to work that much harder and longer to get wood. Something they wouldn’t have to do if they left this place and went somewhere civilized.

The Dangerous Plants of the Midwest book hidden in his room had given him the idea. It had been one of the thousands in the Piedmont House library and he’d secreted it away when he’d been thinking about poisoning Cody. There was nothing deadly enough that he could find to get rid of Mr. High and Mighty but there were other ways to get rid of someone. Better ways. Make everyone think he was incompetent and then take his kingdom away.

He’d mixed a double handful of chokecherry leaves with the fresh alfalfa he left in Bert’s feed trough. Highly toxic to animals and growing wild in the woods of the park it was easy enough to make it look like an accident. The stupid buffalo must have followed him and the smell of alfalfa last night when he went by his pen. They didn’t bother locking the grazing animals in anymore, they let them wander freely although most of them went back to their homes every night.

When Harper called for him, they saw Bert peek his head up down by the river. He ignored her and went back to foraging, looking for anything still green or tender that grew along the shore. At least he was okay and they were starting to think Murray was right. Teddy must have eaten or drank something. Maybe he got into some rat poison or antifreeze somehow.

Cody stood there, saddened and shocked by the unexplainable death. He felt guilt over the fact that he’d once considered eating Teddy before they discovered that Putnam was deserted. Otis sniffed at the buffalo’s snout and chuffed, backing away. He wondered what disturbed his big friend. Teddy was an old animal, but this didn’t seem like death from old age. This was something different.

“We need to double check all the sheds and the garage.” Cody said. “Make sure they’re still locked up. Maybe he got poisoned from one of them. Do you think he would eat weed killer? Is it sweet to the taste maybe?”

“Never tried it.” Murray said “but I wouldn’t think so.”

They all stood and stared, wondering what to do next. They couldn’t just leave him lay there. Swan squatted by the deceased animal, the wolves taking position on either side of her as she caressed the shaggy head and hummed a melody that only she knew the words to. She asked for the Earth to reclaim him and for his spirit to move on, unburdened and at peace. Cody pondered the situation. Teddy was gone, there was no bringing him back. The meat would go a long way to feeding the carnivores, but Otis had already sensed something wrong, something tainted so they had to get rid of the carcass. They had no way to move him, he was simply too big and heavy. He groaned inwardly at the thought of digging a hole big and deep enough for him.

When she finished her ceremony, she stood with the rest of them for a few moments in silent farewell. He had been a gentle giant who had been an immense help and had worked tirelessly for hours on end dragging logs for them.

Harper wiped tears from her eyes and led the triplets away.

“Come on, guys.” she said. “Let’s check the outbuildings then we’ll gather eggs for breakfast.”

Swan leaned over, spoke softly to Donny and he nodded his agreement.

“We’ll take care of Teddy.” she said. “I’ve already committed him back to Mother Earth. He may be contaminated, we can’t risk our animals catching whatever it is.”

Cody turned to the others. “Let’s check everything, make sure the sheds are secure and make sure none of the others are sick.”

Thankful for the opportunity to be anywhere else as Swan and Donny began their grisly task, the children hustled off. They’d seen enough death already in their short time on Earth and hoped they wouldn’t find more.

31

Trial and Error

“Cody is going to be so mad.” Clara whispered and tears sprung up in in her eyes.

The chicken coop resembled a slaughterhouse. At least half of the hens were dead. Butchered and mostly eaten, reduced to a few piles of feathers. Harper had sent them ahead to gather the eggs while she checked the garage and storage sheds. The gate had been standing wide open to the petting zoo area and the foxes were doing what foxes do. They chased them out but the damage was done. They surveyed the carnage and didn’t have any idea what to do.

“I’m scared.” Landon said, on the verge of breaking down. “Cody told us we had the most important job in the zoo, and everyone was counting on us. I know we latched the gate last night. I know we did. I gave it a shake like he showed us to make sure.”

“He did, I saw him.” Caleb said nodding in agreement with his cousin. It didn’t matter if he did or not, he was gonna back up Landon regardless.

“We should hide, Cody might kill us like he did those monsters. Or let Otis eat us.” Landon said wide eyed, his youthful imagination getting the best of him.

Terrified at the prospect of being eaten by the bear, they were making plans to run away when Harper came up behind them and gasped.

“What happened guys? How did the foxes get in to the hens?” Cody asked.

The tribe was seated at the big table and there was a definite shortage of eggs when the twins brought the breakfast platter out.

“You won’t hurt them will you Cody?” Clara asked, her hands twisting and turning her napkin. “You won’t kill our foxes?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes or anyone else’s. All three hung their heads in shame and fear, not sure what the punishment would be. She stared at her nervous hands and sniffled.

“That’s your biggest concern, your pets?” Cody asked sternly and looked around at the others. Some had small smiles of pride and nodded their approval.

“Yessir.” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt them.”

Cody let them shift around uncomfortably for moment and kept a frown on his face as they snuck peeks up at him. The chickens were a loss but he didn’t blame the foxes, they were doing what foxes do. They could probably get more chickens, there had to be some still alive at the nearby farms. Like the others, he was touched about their concern for them. They didn’t care if they got punished, they cared about their animals.

Gordon stood off to the side waiting for Cody to scream at the kids. To explode and really tear them a new one. He’d left the gate open last night when he snagged the armload of Alfalfa. He hadn’t planned on the foxes doing the damage they did but that was just an added bonus. More dead animals. Another failing of Mr. High and Mighty.

“Nobody is going to hurt your pets.” Cody finally said. “We would never do that. But who left the gate open? Did you forget with all the excitement of the birthday party?”

Relieved, all three children tried to speak at once. They swore it wasn’t their fault. They’d been careful. Followed the rules. Locked the gate. Double checked it and gave it a shake. It wasn’t their fault.

Cody listened to their voices running together making excuses and tried to think of a suitable punishment. He believed them, that they thought the gate was closed, but he also believed they must have been in a hurry to get ready for the party and had made a simple mistake. He decided the loss of the chickens would be enough of a reprimand. Every time they ate breakfast, they would see the results of their carelessness. They would see there weren’t enough eggs for everyone, let alone any for the wolf cubs. He let them make their excuses and shed their tears for a few moments and was getting ready to tell them it was over, just don’t let it happen again when they caught him by surprise.

“Please don’t let Otis eat us!” blurted out Caleb, real fear in his voice.

Cody looked confused for an instant, then laughed. He crouched down and pulled them all into a hug.

“Don’t be silly.” he said. “Otis won’t eat you. He loves children. But from now on, I want all three of you to check the gate when you leave. I want a triple check, you understand?”

They nodded, assured him they’d really, really, really make sure it never happened again.

“Good. You need to clean up the mess, though. I know it’s gross, but it’s your mess. Dig a hole and bury them.”

They hung their little heads, relieved at not being eaten by a bear, but still pretty sure they’d latched the gate. Grownups never believed anything a little kid said but it wasn’t so bad. Nobody seemed to be mad at them.

Gordon silently cursed a blue streak as he waited to load up his plate. He’d expected Cody to lose it with the kids. At least scream at them some. Cause some friction, maybe some lingering hard feelings but it had turned into a hug fest. Hell, the kids were starting to believe that they’d been in a hurry and hadn’t closed it properly. Everybody took tiny little portions of the scrambled eggs but screw that. He was hungry. He took what he normally would and if they didn’t like it, they could kiss his ass.

He thought about the chokecherry leaves as everyone wolfed down the meal. The ruckus with the buffalo and then the chickens had everyone running behind with their duties. He still had some hidden in a sack under his mattress. Nobody got mad about the dead buffalo. Nobody got mad about the dead chickens. Nobody was fighting and thinking they needed to leave or maybe get a new leader. If anything, the killings had brought them closer together. He needed a new plan and he thought he knew just the thing.

If he couldn’t turn the others against Cody, he’d turn him against himself. Otis was the key. Cody would tear himself apart if something happened to the bear. In the aftermath, he could get rid of the other animals one at a time. There would be a new death every week until they finally gave up and abandoned this place. They’d never figure it out and after a few of the animals had passed on to the great hunting ground in the sky, they would be glad to leave. They’d be too afraid to stay. He smiled at the thought. Otis loved that nasty canned meat. He’d put the poisonous leaves inside of it, toss it to him then wait. Wait for the bear to die and Cody to fall to pieces. He felt confident, this was the answer that had eluded him and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He ate slowly, ignored the conversation around him and let the others finish and leave to go do their chores for the day. Mr. High and Mighty had him on perimeter duty and that suited him just fine. The bear would be in front of the fireplace hogging all the heat. All it did was sleep, sometimes for days at a time. Hibernation light is what the cripple called it. Whatever. He’d wake up if he smelled the Spam then he could spend the rest of the day checking the fences. No one could blame him for what was about to happen. By the time he’d finished eating he had the house to himself. He hid his grin as he swiped off his plate with his sleeve, set it in the clean pile and practiced his sad face.

32

Harper & Cody

The November wind blowing out of the north ruffled Cody’s hair and tossed it around his face. It was getting long and hung down to his collar. Longer than he’d ever worn it. Like the others, he was starting to look a little wild. Not as much as the twins or Swan or even Vanessa but he was embracing the animal’s nature, becoming more like them. Harper had twisted a few small braids into his hair and adorned them with beads. A small ostrich plume was woven into one of them. It had been a gift from Vanessa. She’d told him it was what a chief should wear.

Cody and Harper were checking the fish traps in the Mississippi since the twins were making a run outside the fences to look for more chickens. Their polar bears were as tame as horses, almost as fast and about a hundred times deadlier.

They sat together on the bench overlooking the muddy water and Harper slid in close. She shivered a little from the northern winds and he slipped an arm around her for warmth. They wore their armor whenever they left the house and it made bundling up cumbersome. Winter coats didn’t fit over it very well and it was too restrictive if they strapped the pieces on over heavy jackets. Soon they would all be wearing capes like Swans, she had shown them how practical they were.

“You didn’t seem too keen on the buffalo robe they said they were going to make.” she said.

“I dunno, just seems weird, I guess.” Cody shrugged. “I grew up here, saw Teddy every day. Brushed him, fed him, and cleaned up behind him. It just seems wrong somehow.”

“I think it would be ok. I think he’d be glad you had it.”

“I know, I heard Swan. We are a part of everything, everything is a part of us”

“Don’t forget Mother Earth provides.” Harper added, imitating Swans voice. “But seriously, it’s ok Cody. Teddy doesn’t need it anymore. I’m sure he’d be proud to know that after all the years you’ve taken care of him, he could return the favor. It will keep you warm and those monsters can’t bite through it. Besides that, it sets you apart as our leader.”

Cody balked at the words. He didn’t consider himself a leader, not really. He didn’t want a throne to sit on or for anyone to call him your majesty or anything. He knew what needed to get done and let everybody know. They all had to work together to survive. He thought of himself as part of a team where everyone had input. Murray was much smarter than him and Donny had become a master hunter, providing fresh meat for everyone. Swan was always so confident, even if she was a little weird. Vanessa, the youngest of their core group, had a natural way with the small children. Any of them were just as suited, if not more than him, to lead.

He snapped back to the moment, missing what Harper had just said. “Huh.”

“I said, what do you think really happened to everyone? What made them turn into monsters?”

“I don’t have a clue. Maybe it’s like Swan said and the earth just had enough of our pollution and destruction. Maybe it’s something that a scientist created in a lab and it got loose. Doesn’t really matter at this point. We’re safe in here. It’s secure and off the beaten path so we don’t get too many zombies wandering in. We have each other. Food is easy to come by. I do miss my PlayStation though.” he grinned.

“Do you think there are more people out there somewhere?” she asked.

“There has to be. We found Gordon and the little kids came from somewhere, so there’s gotta be pockets of people still alive.”

“I miss the old world too,” she said “but if it had to end. I’m glad I’m here.”

“With you.” she added, barely above a whisper.

He looked at her. They’d just been talking, friend to friend and she was easy to talk to but the way her voice became soft caused something to click and shut his brain down. He was suddenly aware that his arm was around the most incredible girl he’d ever met. She stared into his eyes and all he could think about were her lips, so red and soft and slightly parted. He wondered how they would taste, how they would feel. His heart started slamming into his ribs and he couldn’t think of anything to say. She leaned a little closer and he could feel her warmth, saw the flush in her cheeks and moved a little closer himself. Her eyes were only inches away, their noses almost touching and he breathed in her scent. They stayed that way for a long time, too unsure to move any closer but knowing they didn’t want to move any farther apart.

“Cody.” she breathed and, on her lips, it was an adoration.

A confession.

A declaration.

He closed the short distance before he lost his nerve and his lips found hers. Soft and gentle, unsure and hesitant. She rose to meet him, pushed against him brought a hand up to twine in his hair.

Gentleness became more insistent. Uncertainty fell away and he pulled her close, armor against armor, and his tongue found hers. It was so easy, so natural. All the questions he had about kissing girls, what you did with your nose or did your teeth bash together and did it hurt if you pressed too hard were answered in an instant. None of those things mattered and it was the most wondrous feeling he’d ever had. He could kiss her for hours.

For days.

Forever.

“Get a room, you two.” Gordon said and glared as he stomped by on his long journey around the fence line. “And put a condom on it, last thing we need is another mouth to feed.”

They pulled apart quickly, plastic armor got entangled and they fumbled to loosen it. Both of their cheeks burned in embarrassment and they looked anywhere but at each other.

Cody stood quickly, muttered something about checking the traps and practically ran for the river.

Harper was mortified. It was the first time she’d kissed a boy, a real kiss not a birthday peck on the cheek and Gordon had to ruin it. She kind of understood why Swan didn’t like him now. He didn’t have to be so hateful. She resettled her armor and smoothed her hair. Well, at least she wasn’t cold anymore and a smile crept back across her lips. It had been nice. So nice. She would get him alone again and pick up right where they had left off. Maybe after the Thanksgiving meal, wasn’t there a tradition of kissing under mistletoe? Who said it had to be only at Christmas? She set off to find Murray, he would have a book with pictures of it and he’d know how to find some.

33

Busted

Swan needed her sharpening stones, the grizzly job her and Donny were doing was a lot more work than they had anticipated. The buffalo was huge, a thousand pounds at least, probably closer to two thousand. They had only dressed deer before and they weighed maybe a hundred and fifty pounds for a big one. Moving quietly had become second nature to her, something she did without thinking and her choice of armor and clothes helped her move silently when hunting. It was something she’d learned from Donny and her wolves. She stepped over the creaking second step on the porch out of habit. She avoided the warped board by the planter because it squeaked and before she opened the door, she stopped when she heard Gordons voice.

“Wake up lazy ass.” he said and she heard a thwacking sound. She stepped to the side, peeked through the living room window and saw him hit Otis again with a poker from the fireplace.

The bear grunted but didn’t open his eyes. He slept a lot, it was his hibernation season, but it wasn’t true hibernation. He’d wake up and mosey around every few days.

“C’mon you big stupid idiot.” Gordon said. “Got something tasty for you. Yum yum yummy, it’s your favorite food.”

He tossed a chunk of meat right in front of his nose and Otis grunted again then opened a bleary eye. Swan moved fast, ran back to the door and shoved it open. She heard the back-door slam and hurried over to see what Gordon had been trying to feed the bear. She snatched it up as his big tongue was reaching out for it and he snuffled a surprise when it wasn’t there. There were a handful of leaves stuffed into the greasy lump of Spam and her eyes narrowed. She double checked, made sure there were no more then carried the whole mess into the kitchen. She put it in a Tupperware container and snapped on the lid before she headed upstairs to the third floor. His door was locked but she kicked until it broke open. She wrinkled her nose and went immediately to the window to open it. The room reeked of unwashed body and something else. Something she couldn’t identify but it smelled dirty. The bed was unmade and the sheets were filthy and stained. There were nasty books on the floor and some of them were open to pictures of blonde girls spreading their legs wide. Some of them looked like he’d been spitting on them or something. She was thirteen, she wasn’t stupid but it took her a minute to realize what she was looking at. Her girlfriends had giggled over video clips on the internet of men and women doing the things men and women did but this was gross. This was disgusting. She looked around the room, averting her eyes from the disturbing images her mind was conjuring up of Gordon hunched over the pictures that looked like an older version of Harper and… and…

She couldn’t even think it, shuddered and started opening drawers using her cloak so she wouldn’t have to touch the handles. If he had any more of the leaves, she wanted to find them. She didn’t know what they were but if he was trying to feed them to Otis, they had to be something bad.

Swan wasn’t subtle. She dumped out the contents of the desk, the old chest of drawers and pulled everything off the hangers in the closet, everything off the shelves. She didn’t particularly try to smash his iPad but didn’t bother to step over it either. The screen shattered under her foot. When she was finished, she had a small collection of trinkets gathered on the desktop. One of her feathers she used to braid in her hair. It was jet black, a ravens, and she thought it must have come loose and she lost it in the woods. Vanessa’s bracelet she’d made from pieces of hand sanded oak beads. Harpers locket on a gold chain that went missing and they had blamed on one of the monkeys.

She hadn’t found any more of the leaves but there was one more place to check. She went all the way back downstairs to get a fireplace poker to pull the blankets off and toss them aside. When she tipped the mattress over her eyes widened.

“Bingo, you bastard.” she said.

She ignored the other magazines and pulled out a Ziploc bag of leaves that had the same coloring as the ones in the Spam. She was surprised when she looked up to see Donny standing in the doorway. He was wondering what was taking her so long and now he knew. He had a question on his face and she held the bag up.

“Know what these are?” she asked

He shrugged and mimed smoking a cigarette.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s not dope. Gordon was trying to feed some to Otis.”

He raised an eyebrow and mimed the wheelchair sign and she nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s ask Murray.”

He pointed to a book she had tossed on the floor along with the sticky magazines and she picked it up. It was from the library downstairs and was about dangerous plants.

By the time he got back, the bear should be dying or dead. Gordon practiced his surprised look, his concerned look and finally his commiserating sad look. Should he put an arm around Cody and say something like I’m so sorry, buddy? Would that be pushing it a little too far? He’d play it by ear. Meanwhile, he had enough leaves left to get rid of two or three more animals. The wolves for sure. They’d definitely be next. After that, if he had any left, he could get rid of the panther.

He walked slowly along the trail worn along the fence line, taking his time and stopping to relax often. He was supposed to do some other stuff when he finished his rounds, he couldn’t remember exactly what, but whatever it was would be forgotten by everyone else when the bear got sick. Probably mucking out more stalls. It was cold when he was in the shadows but not too bad if he stayed in the sunlight. He moved away from the fence line, away from the overhanging branches and didn’t bother checking for holes from something burrowing under it. Zombies didn’t dig and he had always thought it was a waste of time to do the checks every day. A few times a month would be more than enough. His mind drifted back to how it would be in another few weeks. How he’d lead them all back to civilization inside the gated community. He walked right past a fallen branch bending the chain link fence nearly double. He had forgotten to bring the saw and ax in his hurry to get away from whoever had been coming in the house. Whatever. Whoever made the rounds tomorrow could cut it up and fix the fence if they wanted. He ambled along, lost in his delicious thoughts of Harper and the fun they would have once he got her away from the Park.

It was nearing dinnertime when he got back, he had stretched the walk out as long as he could. He’d even gotten a little nap on one of the benches that was in a patch of sunshine. There wasn’t any commotion happening as he neared the house and he wondered if anyone had even discovered the bear was dead. All it did was sleep so maybe they hadn’t. He’d have to play it cool, maybe he could notice the bloody foam coming from his mouth when he went to the fire to warm up. He had the perfect alibi so why not? He could be the hero who tries to save the beast.

When he stepped inside, they were gathered around the table and it wasn’t for dinner. They turned to stare at him and he saw the bag of leaves sitting on the polished wood. He froze and his mind raced. He should run. Right now.

Donny ghosted in behind him with Yewan silent by his side.

Running was out of the question.

“What’s up?” he asked and started taking off his heavy winter jacket.

“I ran into some trouble at the back of the Park,” he said. “There were some branches over the fence and it took me a while to fix everything.”

No one answered, they just stared and they had hard looks on their painted faces. He had to think fast but he had to know what they knew so the lie would work. He adjusted his armor, settling it in to more comfortable positons.

“We having salad for dinner?” he asked, buying time.

“Come in and sit down.” Cody said.

“Uh… sure, bud. We having a meeting?”

As he approached the table, he saw a handful of the chewed up leaves they had cut out of Teddy’s stomach and the glob of Spam with the leaves still stuffed into it. The book he’d hidden under his mattress, Dangerous Plants of the Midwest was opened to the page he’d earmarked about chokecherries. The little pile of stolen treasures was there, too. He froze and a spear point prodded him forward. Not gently, either.

“Have a seat.” Cody said coolly and Swan pulled the one at the end of the table out for him.

She smiled a wicked smile and her teeth nearly glowed under her soot blackened face. Cody’s face was striped in war paint too. All of them were, even the little kids had their faces shaded so they looked like their fox companions.

Gordon sat and swallowed hard. This had the feeling of a tribunal; some primitive court room and he was the one on trial. Whoever he’d heard on the porch had found the poisoned meat meant for Otis. They’d searched his room and found the rest of the leaves and then cut open the buffalo to see what killed him. There was no way he could lie his way out and that was why Swan was all smiley.

Gordon feared the wild girl but tried not to let it show. Out of all of them, she had to be the craziest. The twins were tattooed up like circus freaks but they didn’t ooze crazy like she did. She had gone feral and like her wolves, he didn’t think she knew how to feel remorse or guilt. She would happily sink one of her tomahawks into his head if she had a good reason. He had only poisoned a stupid animal, though. They might be mad but you didn’t kill people for that. Normal people didn’t, anyway. You could never tell what this group would do.

“Chokecherry.” Murray said reading from the book. “Highly toxic and will kill animals who ingest it. Herbivores will eat it by mistake while grazing.”

They all looked at him, waiting for a denial or an excuse or an apology. Something. Anything.

“Yeah, it’s mine.” he finally said, grasping at an idea that might work. “I was doing some research on how to kill the Savage Ones. You know, we have to thin them out, more and more come every week and they’re getting aggressive. I was doing my part, trying to help out.”

The more he spoke, the more plausible his story sounded. He slapped his hands on the table like he’d seen his father do and stood, raising his voice.

“I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do here.” he said indignantly. “It looks to me like you’re trying to blame me for Teddy’s death. I found those chokecherries and he could have too. If anything, blame Mother Nature.”

Swan sat back in her chair and slow clapped a few times.

“That’s admirable.” she said. “Except you left out the part where I saw you trying to feed them to Otis. You left out the part where you mixed the chokecherry leaves with the alfalfa during my birthday party and snuck out to feed it to Bert. You left out the part where Teddy followed you and ate it instead. And finally, you left out the part where you didn’t shut the gate behind you and the foxes killed half the chickens.”

“And let us take the blame for it.” Landon added.

Gordon stammered but couldn’t find words. His story had unraveled and there was nothing left to say. There was no lie he could come up with they would believe. Realizing the ruse was up, he went for the one thing he could always fall back on. Righteous anger.

“Yes, I did it!” he exploded, yelling at them, trying to make them back down. “Ok, is that what you want to hear? Because I did and I’d do it again. I had to!”

“You aren’t fit to lead!” he pointed at Cody and jabbed his finger at him. “You’re letting these people, YOUR so-called people turn into a bunch of cavemen! Look at them! You’re failing them in every way. We could be in nice houses with solar power and generators instead of this septic tank you call home!”

He opened his arms to all of them, imploring them to understand.

“I’m trying to save you from yourselves don’t you see? I did it to open your eyes. We have to get out of here! All I asked for was a scouting team to be sent to my old home. It’s safe, I know it is, but he won’t even allow it. He wants to keep you here and you are all gonna die if you stay! Follow me! Let him stay if he wants, I’ll show you a better life!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he ranted.

He pointed to the youngest, the triplets, then at Swan.

“Do you want them to grow up to be like her? Thinking they’re an animal? She thinks she’s part wolf now!”

No one came to Gordon’s defense. No one nodded their heads in agreement. They sat there and stared, unmoved by his speech. He waited for someone to say or do something.

Cody looked at the tribe. Gordon had made his case; it was up to them to decide.

“Does anyone want Gordon to lead us?” Silence.

“Does anyone want to leave and go with him?” More silence.

“What do we do with him?” Cody asked.

Swan spoke first. “Kill him.”

Donny slammed the shaft of his spear on the floor in agreement.

Gordon’s eyes got big and he looked around fearfully. They were crazy. They would do it and he couldn’t get away. He didn’t even have his machetes with him, they had been forgotten in his room.

“Banishment.” Murray said

There was a murmur of voices and a few heads nodded. No matter what Gordon had done or tried to do, they weren’t murderers. They wouldn’t hang him or cut his throat. Most of them, anyway.

Cody gave them a moment then said “Show of hands. Who wants death?”

Swan and Donny were the only two to raise them.

“Banishment?” he asked

Everyone else held their hands high.

“It is agreed, then. Effective immediately.”

“But you can’t.” Gordon blurted. “It’s getting dark. You have to wait until tomorrow at least. What am I going to eat?”

Cody turned to the pale faced boy who had tried to ruin everything. Had tried to kill Otis.

“Get out, Gordon.” he said. “You have five minutes. If you’re inside the fences after that, I’ll let Swan and Donny have you.”

They both smiled at him, toothy grins in blackened faces, and Swan drew her tomahawks slowly out of their holsters.

“What time is it, Murray?” she asked.

He was the only one that still wore a watch.

“It’s five fifty-seven.” he said.

“Tick tock, Gordy.” Swan said and her smile grew more animalistic.

34

Gordon

Gordon ran from the painted faces. The grim ones and the smiling ones. He didn’t even think to grab his jacket as he bolted for the front gate. When he rounded the corner of the snack shack, he skidded to a halt. There were dozens of the undead pawing at him through the bars and he suddenly remembered what his other job had been today. Spearing the zombies. It was starting to get dark and the savage ones were coming out for their evening meal. A coyote ragged viciously on a keening woman’s leg and tore a chunk out, peeling skin away all the way up to her knee. It slunk off to feed in peace but he would be back for another bite. The red eyed possums were wallowing in from their hidey holes for the walking buffet. Their mouthful of sharp little teeth slashed and tore at the foul-smelling meal as they grew fat and lazy with such a plentiful supply.

Donny and Swan moved quiet as shadows but he saw them and their horrible companions move into position and watch him. Swan had Murrays watch in her hand and she tapped a finger on it, reminding him time was ticking away fast. The back gate was the only way out, there weren’t any of the undead around it. Was there? He couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been paying any attention when he walked past it this afternoon. It was too far away, though. He’d never make it before they caught and killed him, he couldn’t outrun them and he knew it. They knew it too by the looks of satisfaction on their faces. The others were coming out on the porch to watch. He wanted to pull his hair in frustration but there was no time.

“It’s not fair!” he screamed. “It’s not fair!”

“Should have done your job today.” Swan said.

“Shouldn’t have tried to kill Otis.” Cody said, raising his voice to be heard over the screeching of the undead.

Gordon turned in circles, feeling trapped. Caged and about to be executed. He saw the golf carts by the nurse’s station and ran for them. He could make it to the back gate with one of them, he could get away. Murray yelled a warning but it was too late, he was in the first one and had his foot to the floor. There was a crashing sound as he sped off and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw dangling cords and solar panels smashing along the trail behind him. Murray had wired all the panels together to charge one battery at a time otherwise it took days of good sun just to get a few hours drive time. Gordon didn’t slow, he only had minutes to cover miles. Wolf girl and Panther boy wouldn’t be able to keep up with the cart but if they turned their animals loose, they probably could.

The clattering and banging of the panels finally stopped when the last cord broke and the cart seemed to pick up speed. He kept it floored and stayed on the trail that was the most direct route to the back gate. It was a service entrance that had long been out of use. The gravel driveway that led up to it off the main road was over grown and filled with potholes. It took him long minutes driving full out to make it through the winding paths and across the open field. The gazelle and antelope ran from the bouncing cart and he knew his five minutes were up. He knew the two biggest psychos of the tribe were hot on his trail, running like the wind with wolves and an inky black panther tracking his scent. The sun had dipped behind the spidery branches of the winter trees and it was getting dark fast. Cold, too. He topped a gentle rise and spotted the gate a quarter mile off and turned towards it. In the distance he thought he heard the howl of a wolf and he urged the cart to go faster.

He slid to a stop next to the gate and jumped out. It was locked. The fragging gate was locked! He’d never noticed the chain and padlock before but it must have always been there, it was old and well worn. He looked up and knew he’d never be able to climb over. He’d never make it through the barbed wire at the top.

Maybe the river. He could make it down to the river and swim around the end of the fence.

Right. And die of hypothermia. It was already down in the forties and would probably drop below freezing again tonight. He grabbed the gate and shook it, noticed the bottom was loose. The wires holding the chain link to the metal frame were rusted and some of them broken. He looked back over his shoulder and saw two dark figures top the rise. The animals could be anywhere in the tall grass, they might only be yards away. He ran for the cart and backed it up about thirty feet then slammed it into the forward gear. It picked up speed slowly but it hit the gate in the weak spot and punched its way through. The metal fencing dragged along the roof, ripping the last solar panel off and gouging holes in the plastic but he was on the driveway and picking up speed. He turned around and flipped them off, nearly plowed into a tree when he hit a big pothole and cursed as he swerved back on the road.

He kept the pedal mashed for nearly a half hour before it finally died. It had been getting slower and slower as the battery ran down and he kept it pointed north. He wasn’t far enough away if they chased after him but he didn’t think they would. Mr. High and Mighty had said he was banished. He was allowed to leave. He didn’t say the psycho’s would be allowed to hunt him down. They might do it on their own, though. He knew they hunted in the north woods but they’d be more concerned about fixing the fence than chasing him. It was full dark and freezing cold before he came across a house. He approached carefully, trying to stay quiet and hidden but his teeth kept wanting to chatter. The front door stood wide open and one of the windows was broken. That was a good sign, it meant nobody was home. Living or dead.

Gordon slipped inside and jammed a chair against the door to keep it closed. The house had been empty for months, and from the moonlight he saw evidence of breakfast remains on the counter. The empty packaging had never made it to the trash can. The owner had been eating a greasy breakfast, he guessed, from the moldy cast iron skillet left sitting on the stovetop. He wondered if there was something in the food, if that’s what had started the outbreak. He was too exhausted to think about it and too afraid to stand there in front of the window where he might be seen. He found the bedroom and burrowed under the covers, shivering for a long time before he fell into fitful sleep. A deep, thundering boom that was miles off woke him in the middle of the night and he only wondered about it for a moment before dozing off again.

When he awoke, he was afraid. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of those things that came out of nowhere, snarling and hungry. They were untiring and relentless with no capacity for mercy, no understanding of how important he was and his potential in this new world. He was afraid of being wrong. What if there weren’t any survivors back home? What if it really was something in the food? No place would have been safe. He couldn’t go back to Putnam; they would find him there and one of them would kill him. Or worse, let their animals tear him apart. He had to go north. Maybe he could find another golf cart, a gas powered one, or maybe a quad. He could ride one of those. His older cousin had one and let him drive it on occasion.

He was angry with all of them, all of the savage little kids who thought they were one with their spirit animals or whatever that loon Swan was always going on about. They had run him out and he’d only been trying to lead them to a better place. They’d get what was coming to them one of these days.

He crept around the house quietly once the sun was up and prowled through all the drawers. There were jackets in the closet and winter clothes in boxes on the shelves. He found a nickel-plated revolver in the nightstand. It took a minute to figure out how to open it but when he did, he found six bullets in the chambers. A full load. He practiced pulling it out of his belt in front of the full-length mirror and it didn’t take long before he learned the trick of pulling it out quickly without snagging it on his clothes.

“What was that?” he asked the image facing him. “You think I should leave?”

He whipped out the pistol and shoved it into the face staring back at him.

“I don’t think so Mr. High and Mighty. I think I’m taking over.”

He whipped the gun to the left and said pow, pow then shoved it back towards the face. In his mind, the two wolves’ heads exploded and Swan fell to her knees screaming in pain and sorrow.

“Shut up, bitch.” he said coldly “or I’ll blow the cubs away too.”

“No!” she cried. “Please don’t Gordon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything you ask, please don’t hurt them.”

Donny came from the shadows at him, his spear cocked and ready to throw and the panther leaped for him, a snarl on its lips. Gordon whipped the gun around and fanned the hammer faster than an eye blink. He sent a dozen rounds into the panther and Donny and everyone shrieked as they were sent flying across the room and crumpled to the floor. Buckets of blood poured out of them, painted the walls red and saturated the carpet. The rest of the animals fled away or cowered in the corners.

“Anybody else want to try me?” he asked as the smoke curled up from the barrel of his gun and framed his face.

Cody fell to his knees and the rest followed his lead. They bowed to him. He snapped his fingers at Harper and she came. Hesitant at first but she melted when he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Things are going to be different around here.” he said, “I’m running the show and if anybody gives me any trouble…”

Gordon aimed the gun right between the eyes of the image in the mirror then screamed and dropped it when it went off, shattering the glass and creating a deafening roar in the room. He snatched it off the carpet and ran. Gunshots attracted the undead, that’s what Cody always said. Who knows, it might be true. He wasn’t going to hang around and find out.

It was true.

Gordon heard them coming, heard their keening cries of hunger and got off the road. He went down the embankment and slipped behind a root bundle of a fallen tree near the icy waters of the Mississippi. Sound carried for a long way in the stillness of the new world and he heard them run by, flapping shoes slapping the pavement or bare feet worn down to bones making their own haunting sound. He waited for a long time after he heard something dragging itself along the asphalt but no more came. Just that half dozen or so. They had been close, maybe at the next farmhouse up the road so it was probably a good thing he’d fired off that shot. If he hadn’t, they might have caught him by surprise. Gordon smiled despite the cold because the fates were taking care of him. They always smiled on a Lowery. He dragged himself out of the mud and cut through the woods until he found the road again and started the long trek north. A half mile later, he saw where the runners had come from. There was an old-fashioned country church and from the tattered clothes and shoes around the front door, it looked like they had been hanging around it for a while. He wondered if there were survivors inside and crept closer to listen. He heard them milling around and chanced a peep through a stained-glass window set high in the stone wall. It was full of the undead, scores of them, just bumping around the pews and stumbling over each other. There would be no shelter there. He snuck away and kept moving north.

Before the world went to hell Gordon and his friends would have ruined a punk like Cody. They would have ridiculed and scorned him for his Walmart clothes and his job shoveling dung. They would have made his life in high school miserable. What kind of people even thought about work until after at least four years of college? Trash, that’s what kind, he thought with disdain. The platinum Visa still in his wallet had ensured Gordon never wanted for anything. That was the difference between him and them. They didn’t know any better. They were content to wallow in the muck and eat garbage food and live like animals. He wasn’t. He was a Lowery. He knew better. He knew living like a medieval peasant in some drafty old hovel wasn’t his lot in life. He deserved better and he would have better.

He walked all day, eyes constantly searching for danger. He’d seen the pack of coyotes following him, always at a distance. He had been tempted to take a shot or yell at them but he didn’t. He was afraid of what the noise might attract. The houses were few and far between on this desolate stretch of road and some of them had people inside. Dead people. He could see them wandering around, wearing a path in the rug. At one of the farms he found a small utility vehicle, some kind of John Deere ATV but it wouldn’t start. The key was in it but nothing happened when he turned it. He couldn’t tell if there were zombies in the house and he didn’t want to chance it. He slept in the barn that night wrapped in a smelly horse blanket. The owner was in his stall but he didn’t stink much, he’d probably been dead since right after the outbreak. Starvation most likely.

He found a house the next morning he knew was empty. The door was hanging on one hinge, a rotted body was on the porch and he could see brown stains of old blood on the walls. There was canned food in the cupboard and he ate cold creamed corn while staring at the mummified corpse with half its head blown off. He didn’t find any more guns and there wasn’t a car in the driveway. Whoever had lived here was long gone and from the looks of the place, they had left in a hurry. He found an oversized ski jacket that fit over his armor and slipped it on. It had a furry hood and would be warm if he had to spend a night outside.

He wasn’t moving very fast, it seemed like he had to run off the road and hide all the time. Sometimes he’d heard a zombie or two shuffling along with no destination in mind. Sometimes it was the wind playing tricks on him. A few times it was the coyotes and he’d watched them tear into a crawling woman as she ignored them and kept moving south. They followed her, taking bite sized snacks. They weren’t skinny coyotes, either. Not at all like those he’d seen in movies or in pictures. They were fat and waddling, stuffing themselves on the easy meals.

He found a bicycle with air in the tires and thought long and hard before throwing a leg over it. It would be faster but he might ride up on a horde of them. When he was walking, he could stop and listen often. On the bike, it might be too late and he knew once they got the scent, once they started chasing something, they never stopped. He would have to ride until he got there. No breaks, no stops. Just keep pedaling unless they would catch him. Not worth the risk, he decided. It might take him another day or two at the rate he was going but at least he would make it there alive. He would be welcomed home, back to his people. His tribe.

The closer he got, the more devastation he saw, the less confident he became that he would find the welcoming gates of Smiths Landing standing firm against the outside world. If the infection had been in the food like he was beginning to suspect then no one would have been safe. When the long stretches of farmland and woods became more populated with houses his pace slowed to a crawl. He darted from corner to corner, watched and waited and listened before running to the next. He would never admit it but he had learned a lot from the little kids at the Park. His months of forced labor had hardened him. His chubby cheeks and belly fat were gone. He’d learned how the undead moved and “thought”. He knew they were stupid, felt no pain and would never, ever, ever give up if they caught your scent. As much as he hated them, he was afraid to be without the snotty little brats. He was afraid to be alone. They were good fighters, they could have protected him and if he had convinced them to come, even if the Landing was over run, they could have cleaned it out.

The sky was overcast and snow flurries danced in the wind. He was cold, hungry, afraid and full of self-pity. He hadn’t had a decent meal in days and eating stale crackers and cans of nearly frozen vegetables had his stomach cramping. He’d seen nothing but empty houses and wandering dead since he left. No smoke from fires, no human noises, no people or cars. This had been a mistake. He should have believed Cody when he said the rest of the world was dead. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to kill off the animals, at least the twins whipped up some pretty good meals. His fingers and toes were numb. He’d been standing as still as a shadow for over an hour while a group of twenty or thirty dead things shambled aimlessly down the street. They were moving a lot slower now that the cold weather had set in but when they wanted to, he knew they could still run. Easily outrun him and drag him down. He had to wait until the last dragging crawler was long gone before he dared move. His guts roiled and he was afraid he was going to mess himself before it was safe to drop his pants. He snuck into an empty house and barely made it to the bathroom in time. He sat there shivering for a long time and when he was finally finished, there was no toilet paper.

He wanted to cry. He was going to die out here all because of those damn kids who wouldn’t see reason. Days of walking and nights of no sleep had left him too exhausted to be mad. Too fatigued to care about anything anymore. Constantly on alert, always listening and looking had left his nerves frayed. He didn’t know what he would do if Smiths Landing was crawling with the undead and the closer he got, the more sure he became that it would be. Everything was dead. Only he and the kids had survived. Even if he could make it back to the Safari Park without getting killed or dying of hunger, they would never take him in. Maybe he could beg. Maybe he could promise he’d never doubt Cody again. Maybe he could be their slave and do whatever they said. Anything was better than this. Tears and snot started streaming down his face and he was ready to give up. Ready to curl up and die. He sat down on a musty couch in the living room, pulled a comforter over him and sobbed himself to sleep. Cody had won. Cody had broken him.

35

Smith’s Landing

Gordon woke up with a scream as something bit into him. It was full dark and a thousand needle sharp teeth ripped at his hand. He sprang up and flung the thing off, heard it slam against the wall and felt his flesh rip away. He stumbled over another furry body that had latched on to his leg and ran for the door. In the moonlight he saw them; a grin of opossums with their beady red eyes and rat like tails chased him out of the house. They were attacking him like he was one of the undead, looking for an easy meal. He stomped at the one on his leg, heard it squeal and felt the bones crush under his boot. Gordon ran. He ran blindly and they gave chase. They smelled his blood and they were as frenzied as the zombies. He didn’t have time to think, he could hear their skittering claws on the pavement coming for him. He sprinted for blocks, unsure of where he was going, he only knew he had to get away. They were worse than the undead, they didn’t stop after a few bites. They would eat him alive one chunk at a time.

He rounded a corner, out of breath, lost, his hand spasming in pain and unsure where to go. There was a faint glow on a hilltop off in the distance and his eyes got wide. He realized where he was and his heart soared with renewed hope. He was at the base of the knoll where the exclusive golf course community of Smith’s Landing had been built. He had made it and that was electric lights burning bright like a beacon calling for survivors. All of his uncertainty, fear and doubts fell away and he almost laughed out loud. He had made it home!

He easily outpaced the little monsters chasing him and slowed to a jog. As he got nearer, he heard music blaring and the screams of the undead at the front gate. That wasn’t what he was expecting, the gate guard or the security patrols should have been on duty and keeping things under control. He dashed into the little strip mall just outside the decorative brick walls flanking the winding driveway that led to the gated community and took cover behind the Starbucks. The front gate was choked with the undead, they were ten deep trying to force their way in. Hip hop music blasted from speakers and a bonfire was burning brightly in the middle of road just inside the gates. He heard the revving of dirt bikes and the whooping of people having a party. A couple on an ATV zoomed up and down the streets driving the undead into a frenzy.

A slow smile crept across his face. His friends and neighbors were gathering all the undead, pulling in whatever ones were left in town so survivors could sneak around to the back entrance to get in. It was a great idea. He would be able to get to the rear without worrying about running into any of the undead. He swelled a little with pride. His people didn’t cower and hide. They were bold as brass.

He tore off a piece of his shirt to wrap his bleeding hand, forgot about his hunger, his cramping stomach and his utter exhaustion. He had made it and he’d been right all along. His people were living like the kings they were and he was about to be welcomed home like a returning son. His father was the richest and most influential of all the other families in the Landing and he would take his rightful place as his successor. It would have been nice to have the kids with him. He would rub their noses in it for doubting him and with his family and friends to back him up, they could have killed the animals easily, stripped them of their weapons and made them his servants. He might have to go back and get Harper. After he got inside and got established, he could lead an army back down to the Park. He’d show them. He’d teach them that you didn’t treat a Lowery like they had. The thought gave him pleasure as he slipped down the side streets and worked his way through the woods to the back of the compound. He picked up a tail, some moaning undead thing that was dragging a broken leg. He tried to outrun her but he was too tired. He stayed a good way ahead of her, it wasn’t hard, and all he had to do was get to the gate.

He paralleled the tall fence running along the golf course that kept stray balls in and riff raff out. He was shivering again when he reached the back entrance as it neared midnight. The long trek had sapped him of the last of his strength. All he wanted was to get inside, get back home and go to sleep in his own bed. When he approached the gate, a couple of men were standing around a burn barrel with rifles slung on their shoulders and warming their hands over the flames. Gordon sighed heavily with relief. The military were here and everything was going to be fine. He had made it.

“Hey.” he yelled when they didn’t see him walk up.

Both turned and nearly dropped the bottle they’d been passing back and forth between them. Gordon frowned. They shouldn’t be drinking on guard duty, even he knew that. They should be alert to protect the people inside. To protect him.

“What?” asked one of them.

Gordon stood there for a moment, completely nonplussed. What did they mean what?

“Let me in.” he said and looked over his shoulder. The old woman was still a long way off but she kept coming, slow and steady like the ticking of a clock.

“What’s the password?” one of them said and took a swig from the bottle.

“I don’t know, I just got here.” Gordon said. “Let me in, there’s zombies out here.”

“No password, no entry.” The first guard said.

“I live here.” Gordon was starting to get pissed. “My father owns the biggest house in the Landing. I’m a Lowery, open the damn gate.”

“oooooowwwww.” The second one said. “Well ain’t you special. Take a hike punk, before I call up some more of the undead to chase you off. Unless you got something to trade, something we want, we ain’t taking in any freeloaders.”

Gordon couldn’t believe it. He had come all this way only to find out some raiders had taken over. The zombie with the dragging leg was closing in, he could hear her scrapping along the cobblestones.

“Wait a minute.” the first guard said. “You say your name is Lowery? You related to Richard Lowery?”

“He’s my cousin.” Gordon said, grasping at hope. “We’re really close, best friends even. He’s here? He’ll want to see me.”

“Yeah, he’s here.” the first guard said. “He kind of runs the place. I don’t remember him mentioning you, though. You sure you’re not just making things up? Are you sure you’re not somebody’s husband come back to get their wife or daughter or something?”

The man wavered on his feet and passed the bottle back to his buddy as Gordon shook the bars. The woman was getting closer.

“Do I look old enough to have a kid or even be married?” he nearly shouted. “Let me in, I’m Gordon Lowery! I live here!”

“Okay, okay, don’t get all excited.” the man said and weaved his way over.

He was just a kid, not more than sixteen or seventeen. He fumbled the keys and the woman started to keen, she could smell the blood dripping from Gordons hand.

“Oh shut up.” the second guard said and shoved his rifle through the bars and pulled the trigger as fast as he could.

He emptied the magazine as Gordon ducked for cover and the other guard covered his ears.

“Dammit, Flame! Quit wasting ammo and let me know before you go shooting.” the first guard said, mumbled under his breath and finally found the right key.

The woman was still coming. If any of the thirty bullets hit her, she wasn’t bothered by them. The bone of her broken leg drug on the stones, the skin and muscle long since worn away. It made a noise like fingernails on chalkboard and Gordon wanted to scream at the man to hurry up but was afraid to distract him. The instant he turned the key and loosed the lock from the chain, Gordon shoved and sprang inside. Both men fell and the magazine he’d been trying to reload bounced away in the dark. Gordon shoved the gate closed just as the gray-haired thing slammed into it and reached for them with searching fingers and gnashing teeth. He breathed a sigh of relief and the fear flooded out of him. He was safe. This was a scenario he was used to from the Park. Reaching arms, hungry faces and a spear in his hands. He grabbed the guard’s AR-15 off the ground and thrust the bayonet into her belly, slicing all the way to the breastbone. Rancid coils of guts spilled out and the men scuttled away to get out of the slop zone.

“Gross. Why’d you do that” one of them said, gagging on the smell.

The smell didn’t bother Gordon, he had gotten used to it from all the hours he’d spent at the gate doing this very thing. The woman started to shriek at him so he thrust the blade into her voice box and twisted. The snapping sounds of cartilage was louder than the splashing of fresh, black blood and she was quiet. He was almost enjoying himself, paying her back for all the fear her kind had caused him over the last few days. He jabbed out her eyes and they ran down her withered, old cheeks.

“You’re sick, man. Why don’t you just kill it?”

“If you knew how to shoot, she’d be dead a hundred yards from here.” Gordon replied and tossed him the gun. He was feeling more like his old self than he had in months. He was home, he was safe and his family was in charge.

“Where’s Richard?”

“Up at headquarters.” the first guard said then added, a little unsure of himself as he held out his hand. “Uh, they call me Smoke and that’s Flame. Say, you won’t tell him about this will you? We were just goofing, you know. We wouldn’t have left you out there.”

Gordon let the boy’s hand hang in the air, refusing to shake it. A little trick he’d seen his dad do on occasion. It set the mood and let them know who was in charge.

“Yeah.” the second man said. “We didn’t know you were family. Honest. We don’t want trouble with him.”

Smoke let his hand drop and they both tried to sober up. Gordon wondered why they were afraid of Richard. He was a bully; he might dump your lunch tray at school but these guys seemed genuinely afraid of him. Like maybe he would do something a little more than embarrass you in front of your classmates.

“I’ll keep quiet.” Gordon said. “But you owe me. You understand? You owe me.”

They both nodded and apologized again as he turned and walked off, wondering what the heck had just happened.

Gordon considered things as he made the long trek across the over grown golf course back to his house. Those two idiots at the back gate had nearly let a zombie inside. If he would have been on guard duty, he never would have opened the gate until it was dead. Hell, they didn’t even check him for bites. He needed to have a talk with Richard. The undead were stacking up at the front gate and pretty soon, they’d be able to climb on each other and make it over the top. Mr. High and Mighty was always going on about that, said that’s why they had to keep the numbers down. Gordon hadn’t minded that job, though. He liked to see how many different ways he could kill them and see how bad he could butcher them before they finally collapsed. More than once he’d pictured Cody or Donny’s face when he stabbed them with a pitchfork, twisted the tines and pulled ropes of guts out to spill on the ground.

He stood outside the house and watched from the darkness for a long time, his hunger and fear forgotten. It was lit up bright, the music was blasting and all he saw was teenagers drinking and smoking. No adults at all and no one wore armor. They had on their hockey jerseys or wore designer clothes. It was a party, just like any other party before the fall except this one was a little wilder, a little louder and a little meaner.

Gordon watched through the giant windows, not feeling the cold. He had been alone for weeks when he was trapped in the old military surplus store. He might as well have been alone in the Park since everyone hated him. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes and if he wasn’t careful, Richard would be making him the butt of his jokes again. Most of the kids looked older than him, they were seniors in high school and college kids but they looked soft. He hated the thought of it but the stupid brats in the park could have whooped any of their asses. They’d been living it up and partying since the outbreak and he would bet they’d never known a moment of discomfort. They had everything he had wanted all along but now he saw. Now he realized it made them weak. He couldn’t be seen as weak, he wouldn’t become a servant to them. He was a Lowery and his rightful place was next to Richard. They would share power like their fathers had. They must never know he’d been a scared little boy, jumping at every noise and so afraid he’d pissed his pants. They could never know how he’d been run out the park, blubbering and crying and afraid.

His uncles’ place was a mirror image of theirs, the two brothers had them built at the same time to the same specs, each one dwarfing the other million-dollar homes. They were ostentatious and larger than life, much like their owners.

He didn’t really care much for his cousin. They played together as kids but Richard was three years older. That was a lot when they reached high school. Gordon was still playing with action figures while Richard was sleeping with every girl that would let him. And some that wouldn’t, if rumors were true.

Their fathers were brothers, heirs to a large financial portfolio that had its beginnings back in the prohibition era. Their grandfather, Gordons great grand dad, had learned quickly that paying the right men the right bribe would make sure his loads of booze coming out of Canada didn’t get intercepted. He was one of Al Capones suppliers and the money pile kept growing and growing. By the time President Roosevelt ended prohibition in 1933, Ezra Lowery had already moved his money over into real estate. He snapped up properties cheap during the great depression and after the War, the Lowery Family became one of the richest in Southern Minnesota.

His and Richards step mothers were both trophy wives, more than twenty years younger than their husbands. The brothers were in constant competition and never let a chance go by to one up each other. Gordon’s mom had passed away under suspicious circumstances but the grand jury could find no wrong doings on his dads’ part and he was remarried six months later. Richards’ dad, not to be outdone, had divorced his wife and his shrewd lawyers had made sure she didn’t get a dime. His new mom was twenty-two, only a few years older than him. The new wives were gold diggers who knew their place and knew how to keep the men happy. They had won the lottery; they knew it and would do whatever it took to stay in their men’s good graces. In return, they had huge allowances and spent their days shopping and looking down their noses at the working class. The brothers had been born into money and grew that money by buying and selling companies, real estate developments and stock trading. They were ridiculously wealthy, and their ventures had increased their wealth to the point that none of their children would ever have to lift a finger to make ends meet.

Richard was a jock and a bully. He was famous for his parties and popular with the girls. He was the goalie on his high school hockey team and a minor celebrity in the Minnesota town where he played as well as the star pitcher on the baseball team. Tall with a bodybuilder’s physique, rumors of illegal steroid use lingered around him but were ignored by coaches and faculty. He’d taken them to State three years in a row.

He had a reputation as a trouble maker and was always in some predicament with the law. Poaching, drag racing the Dodge Hellcat he’d received on his eighteenth birthday, possession of stolen goods, drug trafficking and the list went on. The rules didn’t apply to him and Daddy’s money always made the problems go away, including two different underage girls who claimed Richard was the father of their children. The claims were silenced when the large checks cleared the bank and Richard carried on. He was invincible on the streets and a hero on the ice. Before the outbreak, he’d been courted by all of the prestigious colleges, playing them against one another to see who promised the largest compensations if he blessed them with his athletic prowess.

Gordon stripped out of the colorful ski jacket he’d scrounged, tossed it aside and adjusted his armor. His jeans were ripped from the possum and his bloody hand was wrapped in a rag. His hair was a lot longer than it had been the last time he’d seen Richard and he was a lot thinner. Working like a slave at the Park had toned him and put on muscle. He’d never appreciated it before; he was always the laziest and the slowest and the weakest of the kids but here it was different. From the looks of things, they’d been drunk and stoned since day one. They looked sloppy and soft. He’d bet money they’d never been outside the wall. Here he could be a bad ass. He adjusted the gun in his belt as he considered the story he would tell.

36

Gordon

Gordon found his cousin Richard sitting under an outdoor propane heater by a covered swimming pool, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and his other swatted at the ass of a girl who danced drunkenly around him. A blue haired girl sat on a stool beside him. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of her skin and she had oversized gauges that formed large holes in the lower earlobes. She was tattooing a hockey mask with a joint in its mouth on Richards’ heavily muscled exposed chest.

Richard took a long swig of Jack and looked up at the newcomer. He spit liquor and laughed as he recognized the disheveled boy standing in front of him. “Gordy!” Richard started making oinking sounds. The crowd gathered around the pool laughed with him as Gordon’s face tightened.

Gordon hated that nickname. It came from some stupid kids’ movie Richard had watched too many times about a talking pig. Gordon was heavy when he was younger and Richard would oink every time he saw him. He’d terrorized Gordon and his other cousins whenever they were together.

Gordon wasn’t laughing along like he usually did and Richard took a long hard look at him. He was dirty, trail worn and wearing plastic armor that had seen some real-world abuse. A bloody rag was wrapped around his hand and he was lean and muscled. He wasn’t chubby Gordy anymore. Not a little piggy. In fact, he looked a little intimidating.

“Take a break Tasha,” he told the tattooed girl, pushed her away and stood.

“Sasha,” she corrected him. Richard waved her off, threw his arm around Gordon and offered him the bottle. He motioned to a dreadlocked guy to turn the music down.

Gordon took it, pulled a long swig and felt the burn as the liquor made its way to his stomach.

“You look like hell, man.” Richard said. “Welcome home, cuz.”

The drunken teens wandered outside to see what was going on then turned their attention to Richard.

“Everybody, this is my cousin Gordon.” Richard said. “We thought he was lost but now he’s found.”

Cheers went up and one drunk girl flashed her chest at him. Catcalls and laughter echoed in the night as he was welcomed by the group.

He was introduced to the dozen or so guys and the four girls that were at the party. They had ridiculous names like Jester, Maggot, Trish the Fish, Pole, Gargoyle that Gordon didn’t try to make sense of. The ATV rider he’d seen from the front entrance and the girl with him were Skull and Squirrel. Cause she’s nuts, Richard had whispered. They were all either high or drunk or a combination of both.

“You’ll meet the others later.” Richard said. “The light weights are already passed out.”

Moaning drew Gordon’s attention to the covered swimming pool.

“What’s with that?” he asked and Richard made a flourish with his hands then hit the remote to retract the cover.

Wandering around the bottom of the dry pool were four of the undead. Only one of them could stand, the others were mangled and torn so badly they could only crawl and snarl at the teens gathered around the rim above them. Empty liquor bottles and cigarette butts littered the bottom of the pool. Raucous laughter erupted as the guy called Gargoyle stepped to the end of the diving board, unzipped his fly and whizzed a golden arc on the zombies.

“Battle trophies.” Richard said and as the music cranked back up he pulled Gordon away from the crowd. He was stumbling drunk and kept his arm around his shoulder for balance and support.

“Where you been man? Honestly, I hadn’t given you much thought, figured you were like the rest of them outside the gate, just moaning and wandering around looking for a handout.” he laughed at his own joke.

Gordon told his story leaving out the bad parts, exaggerating the good parts and made himself out to be a double-crossed hero. A handful of the more sober teens came over to listen, Gordon was the first outsider they’d met. As it turned out, the fires and lights weren’t a beacon to help others, to show them a safe haven. They were just burning stuff and as far as the lights, how were they supposed to party without lights? As they listened and passed around a bottle, he told them how he had saved a bunch of kids from a horde. He led them out of town, fighting the undead the whole way and found them a sanctuary at the animal park

“I lost a lot of them.” Gordon said with feigned remorse, his voice dropping so they had to lean in to listen. “It got real bloody and I couldn’t save them all.”

There were murmurs of approval and they raised toasts to him.

“I showed them how to live.” he continued. “I had them start training the animals but one of them got jealous. A punk named Cody. White trash. I had a lion who was a savage, a huge beast, but he poisoned him. Killed him because he wanted my girl.”

Gordon went on to describe the battle that ensued where they turned their animals loose on him and without his Lion, he had no choice but to flee. He told them about Harper and the other girls and the teens were really interested in them.

“We should go get them.” somebody said. “Get Gordon’s girl back and the rest of them, too. Teach that jerk Cody a lesson.”

“They sound a little young.” Gargoyle said.

“Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed.” Maggot said and everyone snickered.

Gordon heaped praise on Richard for all he had accomplished and spread the compliments around to all the others. As he spun his tale and listened to their responses, he realized they had been drunk and stoned since the outbreak. They never sobered up, they were aimless and didn’t have any plans for the future. They were partying at the end of the world and from everything he’d learned during his time at the park, he knew it couldn’t last. If this bastion of hope were to survive, there would have to be some changes made. The way they looked at him, with respect and a little bit of awe, made him start thinking he could be their leader. First, he had to get Harper. She’d see he was right and she could help him turn this community into something better, not just a drunken free for all quickly running out of supplies. It could be a great place if he was in charge.

Everyone nodded along to the story, interrupting to raise drinks to Gordon or spit curses at the ones who had wronged one of their own.

“Somebody needs to teach those kids a lesson.” Richard said as he wound up the tale of how he fought his way north to find them. “We could really use some new girls. If you haven’t noticed, we have a serious shortage of female companionship. We could use some fresh meat around here for me and the boys if you know what I mean. Tell me more about this harem that bastard Cody is trying to keep all to himself.”

Gordon described each of the girls, detailing their looks and ages, exaggerating a little on the size of their boobs. The rest of the survivors joined them and listened raptly as he spun a story of how good it would be if they captured all of them and made them do all the hard work.

“They could keep this place clean.” he said. “They could fetch water and cook and whatever else we wanted them to do.”

More nods, more drunken cheers.

“You mean like slaves?” Tasha or Sasha asked

“Nah, they’d be like hired help.” Richard said. “Instead of money, they get paid with a roof over their head and protection from the zombies. Sounds like a fair trade.”

“And like any good servant, we can do whatever we want and they can’t say a damn thing about it.” Skull said to the laughter of the others.

He and his father were known for forcing themselves on their cleaning staff. Mr. Abelson only hired illegal aliens who had no choice but to comply or have immigration called on them.

The party kicked into high gear when one of the girls brought out a bottle of tramadol stolen from someone’s medicine cabinet. She crushed it on the coffee table and they gathered around to snort long lines of it.

Richards step mom and another one of his crew came out of a room and joined them. He had a big smirk on his face as she adjusted her mini skirt, pulling it down to cover most of her thighs. She grabbed a bottle of whiskey and gargled then swallowed. A moment later, Gordon’s step mom came out of the same room, spotted the lines on the coffee table and made a bee line for them.

Richard winked at the stupefied look on Gordons face and explained it away. “They didn’t want to leave.”

“But that’s Misty. She’s your mom.” Gordon said. “And my mom, too.”

“No, they’re not, Gordy.” Richard said harshly. “They were both gold diggers and they still are. Hell, both of them are young enough to be our dads’ kids, not their wives. They made their choice, they’re free to leave anytime if they don’t like it.”

“That’s not a choice.” Gordon said.

“You’re still young.” Richard said and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out. There aren’t any rules anymore.”

“Where is your dad?” Gordon asked. “He wasn’t out of town on business, was he?”

Richard pointed to one of the creatures crawling along the bottom of the pool.

“He was one of men who tried to take over. Tried to tell us what to do. Tried to lay down some rules. There are no more rules, Gordy. You can do whatever you want to whoever you want. That’s the new reality.”

He hit the remote on the pool cover to hide them away again then walked over and to grab his step mom. He pulled her towards the bedroom and she followed along, wiping the dust from her nose.

Gordon mingled, stayed mostly sober and when Richard came out of the bedroom an hour later, he learned why there were only a bunch of jocks and a few girls left inside the gates.

Most of Richard and his teammates had been passed out at his house after a wild post-game party. The mansion sat well off the road and had its own gate at the end of a long driveway. Decorative shrubbery hid the fencing and the undead ran past it, following the sounds of screams or racing engines. The outbreak started early as it did everywhere else with breakfast and it didn’t take long for most of the gated community to be affected. The first minutes of the outbreak had neighbors stepping outside to see what the noise was all about or rushing to aid bleeding neighbors. Those staring in horror out of the windows and trying to call the authorities were seen and the growing horde crashed through to bite and rend and add to their numbers. Some managed to get in their cars and flee with hundreds of undead chasing them. The sensors kept the exit gate open until most of the zombies were gone and before any of the teenagers woke late in the afternoon, the battle for Smiths Landing was over.

It took the hungover teens a long time to come to grips with what had happened but Richard rallied them, kept them in booze and drugs for days until it became their new normal.

Wake up whenever. Take a pill or two to dull the pain. Bloody Mary’s for breakfast and start the party again. When the electricity went out the generator kicked on automatically and the party continued for another week until the fuel was gone. After that, they had to be careful and turn off some of the electrical things like the hot tub and space heaters. The solar panels couldn’t keep up with the demand.

When the booze and his pill supply ran out, some of the undead were still inside the fences of the Landing and outside the gates of his home. They took his fathers guns and killed them. When they started raiding the other houses for more party supplies, they found other survivors huddling inside. Men who tried to shame them for their behavior and tell them what to do. Men who tried to take the guns away and demanded they stop pillaging everyone’s house. It was so long ago Richard claimed he could barely remember it; the whole incident was a hazy half memory. He didn’t know who fired first, it may have even been an accident, but when the shooting was done, a dozen people were dead. They drank more, smoked more and took more pills to erase the ugly afternoon from their minds. Their blood lust was up and they took the women by force. Outnumbered and outgunned, they ran the men out of the gates. The women and girls who stayed could have followed, they weren’t guarded or kept in chains, but chose not to. They grabbed a bottle and joined the party. It was better than being dead.

The houses were loaded with food and valuables. Prescription meds and stashes of weed and cocaine the upstanding citizens of Smith’s Landing hid from their neighbors behind closed doors. Liquor cabinets were filled with the best booze. Freezers were full of steak and lobsters, all there for the taking. During a moment of clarity, Richard had organized a gathering of all the food and made sure the perishables were stored in freezers of the homes with solar panels. They had a lot when the job was finished. Entire rooms full of canned and boxed goods, deep freezers full of meat and case after case of booze.

Richards house remained as their main residence, there was plenty of room for them and it had more solar panels than all the others, except for maybe Gordon’s place. With the big banks of batteries charged from the sun providing the power, running water and hot showers were available for all. From the unwashed smell, Gordon didn’t think most of them were taking advantage of the opportunity. He would kill for a hot shower. The memory of weeks of washing in cold well water from the pump in the kitchen of the old house were still fresh in his head.

The party was winding down near dawn and as Gordon was rewrapping his hand with a fresh bandage Richard wandered over and sat beside him.

. “Who’s in charge?” Gordon asked.

“Nobody, everybody, hell who cares,” Richard said, shrugging his shoulders. “You wanna be in charge Gordy?”

Gordon bristled at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.”

“Ok, bro, don’t be so uptight. You wanna be in charge? You wanna run this band of miscreants and delinquents?” Richard laughed.

“Somebody has to.” Gordon said. “You can’t keep this up.”

“Why not?” Richard asked. “It’s working out just fine. We got you here, now. A zombie killing badass. When we run out of booze, you can get us more.”

“Maybe.” Gordon said “But there are other things to consider. Where is the water coming from? When is it going to run out?”

“You worry too much but that’s okay. Maybe we need that. Hey everybody!” Richard shouted to get their attention. “Gordon is in charge!”

Tired whistles and whoops rang out as everyone cheered and then they went back to whatever it was they were doing. For most of them, it was going back to sleep.

37

Gordon

Everyone in the Landing agreed they needed to go and teach the brats a lesson and get themselves some new servants but no one wanted to actually do it. Maybe tomorrow, man, was the answer whenever he brought it up. They were too busy having fun and besides, there were zombies out there. They had everything they needed and so far, no one had dared venture outside the fences. It was too risky. The quads were fast on the roads, pretty good in the fields but there were long miles of deep woods along the road. They couldn’t plow their way through the underbrush and fallen trees. If they met a horde, they might be in trouble. A big pack of four wheelers couldn’t get turned around fast enough. They would get overrun.

Gordon was a few years younger than the rest of them but they quickly learned that he was a stone-cold killer. He went out alone and speared nearly all of the undead at the front gate and took it upon himself to patrol the perimeter fence. A tree had toppled over and a whole section was down. They had been lucky all the undead were attracted to the bonfire and hadn’t wandered along the fence line. Using one of the side by side four wheelers and its winch, he and Skull made the repairs. Gordon gained their wary respect and Richard let him do whatever he wanted. The kid was taking care of things and as long as he didn’t get too big for his britches, he would let him think he was running the show. It was easier to have him voluntarily do all the work than try to get somebody to sober up long enough.

Richard didn’t trust Gordon completely. He still remembered him as the spoiled, overweight tattletale who would say anything to get what he wanted. He wasn’t sure how much of the story Gordy told was true but the kid had got hard, that was obvious. He wasn’t the same whiney brat. Before he committed his men to an all-out assault, especially if they really did have trained attack animals, he wanted one of his guys to check it out. He wanted a second opinion.

One of his best men was Smoke, the only guy he trusted to watch the back gate. He’d been worried about some of the angry residents that he’d kicked out coming back with guns but so far they hadn’t. He didn’t have much ammo left, not enough to have a gun battle with anyone. The whole development had been advertised as an environmentally friendly green community and had attracted a lot of progressive families. Richard didn’t care one way or another how anyone voted but wished there had been a few more NRA members living here. At least there would have been more guns. All they found were a few pistols and the rifles from his dad and uncle. It had been weeks since he’d run them out though and they were probably dead by now. It was probably safe to stop guarding the rear entrance. Richard told Smoke to sober up and go with Gordy, he wanted a full report.

The ride down to the park only took a few hours on the quad. It could easily go fifty miles an hour on the clear sections. Gordon had been full of bravado when they left but the closer they got, the more the old doubts and fears crept back in. He couldn’t let it show, couldn’t display weakness in front of the older boy. He had his nickel-plated revolver; he wasn’t afraid of the undead. They were pretty slow, the cold weather seemed to be affecting them and, in a worst-case scenario, he could always shoot Smoke and let them attack him while he got away.

They parked a good distance from the back gate and snuck up through the woods. He knew Swan and Donny hunted at night so the only thing they had to worry about was the roaming fence checker. They waited and watched for a few minutes and when no one came from either direction Gordon pulled the wire snips from his pocket and cut the retaining clips down low. They slid under the wire, stayed crouched in the tall grass and ran across the field. Smoke was amazed at the gazelles and antelopes who raised their heads and watched them.

“I didn’t even know this place was here.” he said. “They let the all the animals run loose?”

“Yeah.” Gordon replied “There’s bears and panthers and wolves so keep low and keep quiet. We can see the main house from that hill up there. That’s as close as I want to get.”

They stood by a lone tree on the rise and shaded their eyes, trying to see the house a half mile distant. As they watched, the Twins came into view riding their polar bears. They had come from their river traps with a basket of fish.

“No fragging way.” Smoke said. “They set those things on you?”

It took Gordon a moment to remember the lie he’d told then nodded his head.

“Right after they killed my lion.” he said, “And look, see that crazy looking girl with the wolves? She’s the worst of all of them. She’s going to be my personal slave. I’m going to beat that bitch every day.”

Donny followed her out of the house with Yewan padding beside him.

“I don’t know, man.” Smoke said. “We can’t fight against that. I mean, look at them. I’m sorry they turned on you Gordon but they’d wipe us out.”

One of wolves raised his head and sniffed the air then looked in their direction.

“Get down!” Gordon hissed and they both dropped below the waist high grass.

“Think they saw us?”

“I don’t know.” Gordon said, “But let’s get out of here.”

They ran hunched over and tried to stay out of sight.

“We’re going to pass on this one.” Smoke said as they neared the fence. “I’m telling Richard he’s going to have to do without these girls.”

When they stood upright both were surprised to see Harper examining the fence where they’d cut their way in. She whirled and had her blade in her hand while they both stared at her in shock. Bert stomped a hoof at them and while Smoke gaped skyward at the towering giraffe, Gordon pulled his pistol and aimed it at her.

“Drop it.” he said, and a smile crept across his lips. “Or I’ll shoot.”

What kind of good luck was this? His Harper had appeared like a gift wrapped present.

“I’ll chop your face off before you can pull the trigger.” Harper spat.

Smoke glanced over at Gordon. “This was your girlfriend?” he asked.

Harper snorted in derision.

“That’s what lazy ass has been telling you?” she asked, “Can’t wait to hear what else he’s said. I wouldn’t date that back stabbing piece of crap if he were the last person on earth.”

Gordons face reddened as Smoke looked back and forth between them.

“She just needs to be disciplined.” he said, and moved the gun over to aim it at Bert then watched as her eyes got big.

“I said drop it.” his grin came back, “Or I’ll shoot.”

“Don’t Gordon.” she said and color drained from her face because she knew he was capable of it. He would do it just out of meanness. “Please.”

She lowered the blade, let it drop to the ground and raised her hands.

“You’re coming with us.” he announced, “Cuff her, Smoke.”

“A feisty one. I think I like it.” he said, and unhooked the handcuffs he wore dangling from his belt loop.

Harper tried to pull away as he neared.

“Knock it off.” Gordon yelled and took a step closer. “I’ll blow him away and you know I will.”

Something moved in his peripheral vision and he looked back at the giraffe just in time to see its big head swinging right for him. Gordon didn’t have time to react before he felt a sledgehammer blow slam into him. The gun went off as it flew out of his hand and he went sprawling backward to bounce off the fence some eight feet in the air. Smoke started to yell something but the words were abruptly cut off when Bert kicked out with a twelve-inch hoof nearly as big as his head. There was a nasty, wet crunching sound as a surprised face turned into splintered bone and bloody gristle. Smoke’s neck snapped as his head was nearly knocked completely off. He was dead before he crumpled to the ground in a boneless heap.

Yewan and the wolves arrived first with Donny and Swan close behind. Gordon was trying to suck in air but all he could pull in were tiny little gasps. If he hadn’t been wearing his armor, his ribcage would have been splintered like matchsticks. He grasped at the fence to pull himself up but a snarling face inches from his froze him in place. He eased back down and Lucy’s growl was replaced by Swans. She looked wilder than ever and her teeth were bared. Gordon was afraid she might snap and bite his nose off.

“I didn’t…” he started to say but her growl grew more insistent and Zero moved to within an inch of his face. The warm air of their snarls blew across his cheeks and he closed his eyes. He was going to die, ripped to shreds by the wolf girl and her pack. His bladder let go and Swan jumped back.

“Gross, Gordy.” she spat, “You’re a disgusting pig.”

“Call them off, Swan.” Cody said when he came up, panting from the long run.

A gentle hand on their necks was all it took and the wolves went over to sniff at the dead boy.

“Donny, can you and Vanessa help Harper catch Bert. The shot scared him, I don’t want him to hurt himself.”

Donny nodded and took off on a path to intercept the spooked giraffe. Vanessa swung herself onto Ziggy’s back and they raced away to cut him off before he slammed full speed into a fence or broke a leg in the marshy areas near the river.

“What do you want me to do?” Swan asked.

“Stay here and look scary.” Cody replied.

She smiled, pulled a tomahawk and squatted in front of Gordon.

Cody saw the handcuffs and tossed them to her. She snapped one end around Gordon’s wrist, the other through the chain link. Cody scanned the horizon for the polar bears and Otis. When they’d heard the gunfire, they’d ran the other way.

“Big babies.” he muttered.

He saw Bert’s tall head disappear over the rise and sighed. It might be a while before they got him calmed down. The bears were probably inside the house, they’d be fine. He turned back to Gordon and crossed his arms.

“I told you I would let Swan and Donny carry out judgement if they caught you inside the fences.” he said, “I think your five minutes were up a long time ago.”

Gordon struggled to his feet, and grimaced at the pain. He felt like he had busted ribs, armor or not.

“They made me.” he blurted out. The first words that came to mind. “Him and his buddies.”

He pointed at Smoke who couldn’t defend himself. Once the lie was out, Gordon knew he had to sell it before Harper came back. He had to get them to let him go before she told what really happened.

Cody held a hand up to Swan who had pulled her other tomahawk and was staring at Gordy with a smile.

“Who is they?” he asked.

“Them.” Gordon said, pointing at Smoke again. “It’s a big gang. When you threw me out, I found them up north. I told them about the animals and they thought it was cool.”

“I bet.” Cody said. “How big is this gang and what did they want? Why did you come back?”

“I told you, it was nothing bad. Honest. They couldn’t believe you were living with the animals, they just wanted to see, that’s all. They wanted to meet you.”

“Why did you fire the gun, then?” Cody asked examining the pistol.

“It was the savage ones.” Gordon said, thinking fast. “We went under the fence to get in and one of them must have followed us. It was going after Harper so I shot at it to save her. It spooked Bert though and he attacked.”

Gordon looked completely sincere and he almost believed the story himself. It was a good story. Now he had to get away before Harper could come back and ruin it.

“Uh huh.” Cody said doubtfully.

“Honest, Cody. I’m not mad at you guys anymore. I found a good group. We’ve got electricity and everything, we just came here on a peace mission and one of our guys got killed. If you let me go, I can smooth it over. You don’t want trouble with these guys, believe me.”

“Yeah. I think we’ll wait to see what Harper has to say.” Cody said and shrugged the buffalo hide cloak a little higher on his shoulders. The December winds were biting and the first of the big snows looked like it was moving in.

Gordon kept talking but nothing he said could convince them to free him. He finally ran out of lies and stood there waiting for his judgement. When they saw the rest of the tribe returning, Harper riding high above the rest of them on Bert, Swan and Cody went out to meet them. He needed to hear her side of the story. As soon as their backs were turned, Gordon pulled the snips from his pocket and clipped the wire holding him in place. He was lucky Swan hadn’t put the cuff around one of the bars. He rolled under the fence and ran for the four-wheeler. He ran like he’d never run before and he heard their shouts behind him. He threw himself inside it, hit the switch and stomped the gas pedal. The machine roared to life and shot down the road. He had the pedal floored and was going fifty before he dared to turn around to look over his shoulder. The wolves were falling away fast but the panther seemed to be gaining on him, its’ sleek black fur a shadow on the road. Gordon urged the machine faster, willed it to hurry before he felt those claws rip him out of the seat. He hunched low over the steering wheel and when he looked back again, the black cat was nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t slow down until he was miles away.

38

Murray

There wasn’t much they could do about Gordon although Donny and Swan wanted to try to track him. Harper told them what really happened and they hoped losing one of their members would scare the gang off. They decided the best thing to do was stay vigilant and keep preparing for winter. When Gordon had stolen the golf cart, he destroyed all of their solar chargers so their trips into town took a lot longer and they could carry less in the saddlebags made for the bears and wagons they pulled by hand. In the spring they would figure something out. Murray thought they could rig up some big carts for the bears to pull if they worked with them through the winter to train them on the harness. On a few trips they came back empty handed. They had to abandon the run because of wandering hordes moving slowly down the main road.

No one said much about the dead boy they had buried in a shallow grave. None of them knew anything about him so the makeshift service they held had been short. They didn’t have much, if any, sympathy for him. He’d come on their land, tried to kidnap one of their tribe and failed. He had paid for his mistake in a currency all too common in this harsh new world.

The days got shorter, the nights grew colder and time went by quickly as they laid in supplies for winter and everyone started getting excited about Christmas. They didn’t talk about it but beneath the festive decorations and boisterous board games by candle light, there was a quiet fear of repercussions from the death of the boy. Gordon had found someone to take him in, maybe even the gated community he’d talked so much about, but he had returned for a reason. Scouting for an attack, most likely. They couldn’t have planned on taking Harper; it had been a crime of opportunity. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If they were the kind of people who would kidnap a thirteen-year-old girl, who knew what else they were capable of. Revenge for sure, especially with the tale Gordon would have spun for them. Cody had no doubt he’d told them some ridiculous story of slow murder and torture of their friend.

How many more were there? Could they be reasoned with if they knew the whole story? Maybe. Maybe not. All they could do was be vigilant.

Murray had expressed concern over the changes in the group to Cody but he shrugged it off, told him they had to be tough or perish.

“Maybe we should try to tone it down a little.” he’d said. “Tobias and Annalise have been using that tattoo gun nonstop, they want to add some to their faces next.”

“As long as they charge the batteries back up, I don’t care.” Cody said. “The old world isn’t coming back. Every time Vanessa leads some of the zom’s away from the front gate, she looks for other survivors. Donny and Swan have traveled for miles in all directions and we’ve been in town eight or ten times. Everybody is dead, there’s no one else around here except Gordon’s gang and they want to hurt us. They failed this time but they’ll probably try again when it warms back up. We need be fierce and look fierce. Maybe it will scare them off.”

Murray was worried that they were becoming wilder, losing their culture, but nothing could be further from the truth. They were losing the twenty-first century culture of smartphones, unlimited channel TV’s and twenty-four-hour connectivity to social media but those were frivolous things. In the new world, they didn’t have time for electronic distractions. Murray had rigged a bicycle up to an alternator so they could charge the car batteries and it gave them a little power when they needed it. He’d had enough foresight to download tens of thousands of books on every imaginable subject and they spent free time reading. Each of them was rediscovering how their early ancestors had lived and survived by their wits and skills. Cody had Vikings, Indian and African warriors, a ninja, and a pioneer woman in his tribe. Murray was his mechanical wizard and he considered himself a mountain man like Jeremiah Johnson. They discovered new skills and taught each other. They learned from their cultures and brought ideas to the table from all of them.

Every day was filled with work, patrols and training. Cody was learning how to hunt. Harper was teaching Donny to sew. Swan taught Murray and the triplets to become deadly accurate with throwing knives and the bond between them and their animals became closer. They honed their fighting skills, practicing for hours with spears, war hammers, battle axes, blades and arrows. They knew they were no match for a grown man in hand to hand but the weapons and the animals evened the odds. They hoped it would be enough. They hoped they would frighten anyone away who were looking for easy conquest. From the history they read and from what they’d seen so far, they didn’t think anyone they met would be kind and helpful. The world had lost its thin veneer of civility, there was no fear of the law and the strong would take from the weak.

Murray tossed another log on the fire, rolled around the triplets and the foxes playing some strange game that included a lot of giggling and went to stare out of the window. It was nearly noon and still snowing, thick and wet, adding to the three or four inches already on the ground. It had moved in late last night and everyone was excited to have a white Christmas. They had given up on decorating a tree and putting presents under it. Between the monkeys and the panther, it was constantly being knocked over or the gifts torn open. It and all the presents were currently in the garage and they were going to bring it in after dinner. If they were all in the room, they could probably keep the curious animals away from it and keep it standing for a while. At least until gifts were exchanged.

Cody came in with another propane bottle, dusted the snow from his buffalo cloak and hurried it to the kitchen. The twins were beside themselves with worry and snatched it out of his hands to swap bottles. They had a cake in the oven and were afraid it would fall.

Murray pulled out his inventory notebook and made a little check mark. They had four more full bottles. Enough to keep the converted stove working until maybe mid-February if the twins didn’t do a whole lot of baking. They were getting better with the dutch oven and cooking some things over the open fire.

“There’s the same fifteen at the front gate.” Cody said, letting Murray know that no more of the undead had wandered in overnight. “But they’re barely moving. It’s like they’re frozen or something.”

“I guess that makes sense.” he said, chewing on his ink pen and staring at the ceiling. “They’re probably like reptiles, they don’t move around much when it’s cold.”

“They’re still really chompy, though.” Cody said. “Their mouths move well enough.”

“You’re going to leave them at the gate, right? Not going to kill them?”

“Yep. I think you’re right about keeping them as a little deterrent for Gordy’s Gang if they decide to come back.” Cody said and picked up his Warhammer leaning against the wall.

“I don’t expect any trouble out of them until it warms up.” Murray said. “The roads are slick and ATV’s aren’t all that great in the snow.”

“You’re probably right.” Cody said “but I feel better with them there.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try something on Christmas Eve.” Swan said, bundling up herself to bring in more firewood. “He’s a lowlife.”

“Maybe.” Cody said. “It’s my turn to do a perimeter check, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Dinner is at early tonight!” Annalise yelled from the kitchen. “Before dark so don’t be late.”

“Take Otis!” Clara complained. “He’s hogging all the heat!”

“Yeah, take Otis.” Caleb and Landon chorused, adding their two cents. “Heat Hog. Heat Hog!”

“Didn’t you just hear Ana tell me to be back before dark?” Cody asked. “I’ll be gone till January if I take him. You know he’s slow and grumpy in the cold.”

“He’s taking up all the room!” Clara said as she scrambled on top of the big, lazy furball. “Make him move!”

“You make him move.” Cody said and laughed when all three tried to push him.

It was a game they played and Otis would probably amble off to a corner in a few minutes. Or not. He might ignore them as they climbed all over him.

Murray watched from the window as Cody cut towards the gate and disappeared in the falling snow. He was aware of his own physical limitations and practiced for hours on end with his throwing knives to try to make up for it. He was far from helpless; he could use them to strike from a distance since close quarter fighting left him at a disadvantage. He had machetes strapped to his chair but they were last ditch weapons. His visit with the disabled Army vet was burned in his mind and kept him focused but he knew no matter what they did, if Gordons’ gang had firearms, their blades and hammers would be useless. They would be bringing knives to a gun fight. They had avoided guns so far; they got along fine without them and didn’t see a real need. Besides, nobody knew anything about them, the gun store in Putnam had bars on the doors and windows and the animals got skittish around loud noises. That would have to change. They were going to have to get some and learn how to use them and teach the animals not to be afraid of them. It was doable, it only took a little time. They were going to work on it over the winter and maybe by spring time they would be ready if the other gang came after them.

He spent most mornings working in the house or, when it wasn’t too cold, at his shop in the converted gift store. He was making hard copies of all the most important information in his eBooks. He filled notebook after notebook with all manner of things he considered essential knowledge. He felt that learning to grow their own food was a critical skill. The stuff on the store shelves wouldn’t last forever and they needed to start now. He wasn’t a green thumb and doubted if their first or even second crops would do well. It was trial and error but the books would help. It was fall when the outbreak started and the hardware store didn’t have much of a seed selection. They would have to try and save seeds from the crops they planted next year. They had plenty of fertilizer from the animals and an ideal spot to plant along the fertile land on the banks of the Mississippi.

He devoted a few hours every day to working with the capuchins. They were fast learners and picked up the new tricks and skills quickly. He trained them using the Halloween dummies to attack on his command, to bite and claw and harry their opponent, using their numbers to their advantage. He also taught them simple skills like retrieving things he couldn’t reach or placing items on shelves. They were eager to learn, mastery of a new trick meant a treat. Their new-found skills aided him greatly in managing his daily tasks, most importantly they made him laugh and gave him hope.

39

Gordons Gang

It was late afternoon; the snow was still falling and everyone except Cody was back from their duties and chores. The twins were adding the final touches to Christmas dinner and had to keep shooing everyone out of their kitchen. Harper had the tree up in a corner and they kept a constant eye on it to make sure the animals didn’t go after the ornaments and tinsel. Murray watched out of the window for Cody. He wasn’t worried, not yet, but darkness was creeping in early and the snows were getting deep.

The animals heard the sound of engines first and heads cocked at the noise, something they hadn’t heard in months.

“What’s wrong with Mr. Ringtail?” Caleb asked when his fox ignored him and stared at the door, his nose high looking for a scent.

Murray shushed everyone and they heard the high revving two stoke motors roaring into the parking lot. It wasn’t a friendly sound, and they heard shouts and laughter cutting through the twilight. Headlights arced across the walls and the wolves had low growls in their throats. Donny and Swan reacted first and dove into their armor. Clara tried not to cry but she knew something bad was happening. Everyone looked afraid. The twins came rushing out of the kitchen, tossed their aprons and grabbed their gear. The noise increased as the machines came to a halt and revved their engines, splitting the twilight with the angry mosquito noise. It was an aggressive sound. It was a challenge.

“Got a little something for you!” they heard Gordon shout as the engines all cut off at once. “Better hurry!”

There was laughter of young men. Drunken laughter with a mean edge. Donny and Swan flashed hand signs at each other at a furious pace then ran for the back door with weapons in hand.

“We’ll flank.” she said to the twins as they disappeared.

“Keep the animals inside.” Tobias said, as he and his sister strode out into the cold wearing their coyote fur cloaks, beaten leather armor and sawblade axes.

“Hey, freaks.” Gordon said when the tattooed twins stopped just short of the iron bars. “Where’s the rest of the circus act? Too afraid to show their faces?”

The undead at the gate had turned towards the sound of the engines and were in a slow-motion frenzy to get to the fresh blood. Their mouths ground and chomped at the air but their bodies moved like they were trying to walk through thick molasses.

A dozen snowmobiles were lined up some twenty or thirty feet away and Cody was strapped cruelly across the front of Gordons. His face was battered and most of his armor was missing. Shirtless, arms tied wide to the handlebars, his head lolled to one side. Blood oozed out of a gash that ran across his forehead and down one eye. Gordon stepped away from his machine and let a chain dangle from his hand.

“Looky what we found.” Gordon said and yanked Cody’s head up by a handful of hair.

The eye that wasn’t swollen shut popped open and he snapped at Gordons wrist, trying to sink his teeth into a vein. Gordon jumped back and swung the chain, lashing him across the chest with an ugly flesh tearing sound.

“Stop it!” Harper screamed and her hands flew to her face in horror. “What kind of monster have you become?”

The zombies made their slow way across the sidewalk, low moans in their throats and hands inched up, reaching for the fresh meat.

“Sure.” Gordon told her. “I’ll stop. I’ll even let you have him back. I’m offering a trade. You for him.”

Grins from the other riders. Rifles and shotguns were laid across their handlebars.

“I have a better trade.” Tobias said “Cut him loose and I’ll let you live.”

There were guffaws of laughter from the teenagers.

“Shouldn’t you be playing with your Lego’s, kid?” one of them asked.

They were unimpressed by the skinny albino twelve-year old’s, evil looking axes or not.

“Better make up your mind fast, darling.” Gordon said. “At the rate these dead bastards are moving, I’d say you have maybe a minute to decide.”

Cody found Harpers tear filled eyes and shook his head.

“Don’t.” he told her between gasps.

“Shut up.” Gordon said and stepped farther away as the deaders struggled forward on their uncooperating frozen legs.

The mob pushed their way through the snow, inching closer and their hunger grew more intense. One of them toppled over and caused a chain reaction. More fell and struggled to find their feet again. Gordon shook his head, the teens on the snowmobiles laughed and drank from bottles as the other undead kept trudging forward.

“Tick tock.” Gordon said, and smiled, throwing the phrase back in their faces. “Times a wasting.”

Vanessa came out of the petting zoo and ran to the gate with machetes unsheathed, her dark, scarred features seething with rage. She looked fierce and wild but she was only ten and the guns that came up went back down again. She was just a kid playing dress up.

“Damn, Gordon. When you said there were some babes here, I didn’t think you meant babies.” Maggot said and there was more laughter.

“The wolf girl is older.” Gordon said peevishly. “But you’ll have a hard time taming her.”

“Challenge accepted!” Skull said and raised his bottle high.

The undead grew closer to Cody, they were only feet away.

“Stop them Gordon!” Harper yelled “This has gone far enough; they’re getting too close!”

“The gate isn’t blocked anymore. Come on out and I will.”

Cody struggled with the ropes but they cut into him and he couldn’t get leverage. He was draped across the windshield and cowl, his arms spread wide and his legs stretched behind him and tied viciously tight.

There was a whisper of the air being disturbed then the zombie reaching for him toppled to the ground with an arrow sticking out of its head. There were shouts of surprise and the guns came up again and aimed in the general direction where they thought it came from. There was another whoosh of air and the head exploded on the next zombie and a long spear imbedded itself into the cowling of Jester’s snowmobile. He jumped in shock and fell off the seat as chunks of blood and brains splattered across his windshield. Guns pointed the other direction and but there was nothing to see. It could have come from anywhere.

“I’ve got your ugly face in my sights.” Swan’s voice rang out and guns moved back towards the shadows to their left. The laughter stopped and the teens gripped their rifles tighter. Fingers rested on triggers but there was nothing to see, just shadows on shadows in the gloom and falling snow.

Another spear whispered through the air and another of the undead tumbled to the ground.

“Where the hell are they?” Gargoyle asked a little panic in his voice, his pistol jumping from one building to the next, looking for a target. They were supposed to kill all the animals when they showed up. It was supposed to be like shooting fish in a barrel with the gates separating them.

Tobias shoved the gate open and the four kids strode out.

“Put a spear through the first persons’ head that aims a gun at us.” Tobias told the shadows, as the nervous men glanced at each other. Guns wavered and didn’t know where to point.

Vanessa and Harper went straight for Cody as the twins ran for the other undead and started swinging their axes. The sawblades tore into them, ripping through legs and sending arms flying with syrupy thick blood painting the snow. The teens sitting on the snowmobiles didn’t know what to do, the spears and arrows coming from the shadows could be aimed at any one of them. The voice didn’t say which ugly face had an arrow in its crosshairs. Gordon seethed and itched to pull his pistol but he knew where Swans bow was pointed. He knew who Donny was ready to spear next. The black rune tattoos stood in stark contrast against their pale white skin and blood splattered faces as the little kids moved like half sized demons through the undead. Tobias ripped the legs from a woman in threadbare, graying rags and Annalise spit her skull with an overhead swing. She pulled her jagged blade out with a sickening slurping sound and half the woman’s hair ripped out and dangled from the saw teeth. The teens sitting on the snowmobiles didn’t think the kids were so funny looking or harmless anymore. Before most of them had time to react, while they were still trying to figure out where the others were hiding, the babies tore through the undead in seconds leaving grizzly, mangled corpses in their wake.

Gordon backed off further when Vanessa slashed the ropes holding Cody in place and watched with impotent rage as her and Harper slung his arms over their shoulders and hurried back to the gate.

His superior numbers and firepower had been rendered useless by a bunch of tweenagers. His crew sat helplessly on their machines and looked on as his prize was taken away.

“This isn’t over.” he told them, as they latched the gate behind them. “You killed Smoke. We owe you.”

“You killed him.” Cody said and separated himself from the girls, used the bars to support himself. “You killed him when you came back.”

“I could gun you down right now.” Gordon said, his voice cold anger. “I could shoot you all.”

“Then do it.” Cody said and pulled himself taller, the feeling in his legs starting to return. “Go ahead, Gordon. Grab for your gun.”

The snow fell thick between them as they stared at each other, bitter hatred and cold anger. Cody had been so easy to capture it was almost laughable. They had been at the back gate with plans of sneaking in when Mr. High and Mighty came strolling along. He didn’t even see them until he had a dozen guns in his face. It was easy to strap him to the front of his snowmobile like a big trophy then put the fists to him. Easy and fun. It galled him how fast he lost control of the situation.

“I can finish him now.” Swans voice came faint but clear from somewhere off in the shadows, maybe from a rooftop.

Gordon’s eyes darted toward the sound and he hunched his shoulders.

“Let’s go.” he finally said and straddled the machine.

He had no doubt an arrow was centered on his back until he was out of range.

40

Gordon

Gordon was livid and embarrassed and knew they were laughing at him. At his grand plan that was supposed to be foolproof. It had been so perfect. They should be taking home their Christmas prizes of animal trophies, new servants and Harper. He knew she would come around and grow to like Smiths Landing after a little while. She’d get over her stupid giraffe in a week or so and everything would be fine. Instead of a victory celebration, there would be derision and ridicule from Richard. He ground his teeth as they flew down the road, past the abandoned golf cart and the first house where he’d spent the night after they ran him out. As he flew past the little church, he suddenly braked hard and cut his engine. At first, he didn’t think the others were going to stop but when they did, he had a smile of his face.

“Yeah, it might work.” Skull said, slipping away from the stained-glass window. “But who’s going to bell the cat, Gordon. Who’s going to lead them in?”

Gordon looked around at their hostile faces and knew none of them would volunteer. They didn’t trust his plans anymore.

“I will, of course. You just make sure the hole is open and you’re far enough away they don’t smell you.”

They looked at each other, shoulders shrugged and nodded. It might work and since none of them were going to be in danger, why not? It might knock some sass out of those brats.

He and Skull looped the chain through the front doors and hooked it to the back of Gordon’s snowmobile while half the gang went to cut the fence and the others filled empty beer and whiskey bottles with gas. They stuffed rags in the necks then circled the church to wait for the signal.

“Throw ‘em hard so they break!” Skull yelled at the others. “Then ride like the devils on your ass. You want to be out of hearing distance by the time he rips the doors off.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Jester said. “We’ll be long gone. We’ll meet back up at the cutoff to the Rolling Hills Estates a few miles north of here.”

It only took a few minutes to toss the firebombs through the windows and start the blaze. They ran to their snowmobiles, rushed to get away and Gordon was alone again, sitting on his machine and getting ready to do something really brave or really stupid. He wasn’t sure which. He was having second thoughts. Something could go wrong. Anything could go wrong. Hell, everything could go wrong. He tightened the helmets chin strap, looked at the lighter he’d stolen from Cody months ago and his resolve hardened. His hatred was stronger than his fear. He took off a glove, flicked the zippo and the flame burned strong. He stared at it for a moment then lit the rag on his bottle. The wick had been in too long, was soaked with gas and his whole hand went up in flame. He yelped, nearly dropped it in panic then threw it as hard as he could against the doors. There was a crash and a whoomph as the bottle smashed and covered the ancient wood in hungry fire. The dead inside had been milling around but like the others, they moved slow and listless. The fire would thaw them out and he would lead them to the kids’ front door. Fast, aggressive and hungry, they would ruin any celebrating the brats were doing.

The fire got real hot real fast and it felt good at first. It didn’t take long and he had to move away, his snow dampened clothes were starting to smoke. Gordon fired up the Snowmobile and goosed it. The treads dug in and he shot forward. He nearly flipped over the handlebars when the chain snapped taut but the old doors tore loose and he regained control. He quickly unhooked it and fought the urge to leave now. Get out while the getting was good but he kept his hand off the throttle and watched the door. He waited for the undead to see him and give chase as the fire reached the roof and burnt bright in the night sky. He could hear the crackle of the flames and the hissing of melting snow but not the hungry sounds they made when they were chasing prey.

“Hey! Dumbasses, I’m out here!” he yelled with more bravado than he felt and revved the engine, worried they might stay inside and burn up.

One of them stumbled out to the stoop and zeroed in on him. His hair was starting to smoke and his jacket was singed but he recognized fresh blood. He shrieked and sprang down the stairs, landing only yards away from the idling snowmobile. Gordon screamed and hit the throttle and was nearly thrown off the machine as it careened out to the road. He’d never seen anything move so fast. He’d never come across a zombie that had been inside since the beginning. One that wasn’t chewed up from animals, broken down from ceaselessly chasing the living or worn out from the elements. They poured out of the church and came for him, some on fire, some just smoking but all of them fast and hungry. The snow on the road was packed down by snowmobiles and the dead were sprinting for him, clothes and hair aflame Gordon had to slow down not to leave them far behind. It only took a few minutes to cover the distance back to the Park and he saw the gaping hole they had cut in the fence line. He left the hardpack and shot through it with those things screaming and reaching for him only a hundred yards behind. He raced across the field towards the house. They would probably all be inside, they shouldn’t be expecting another attack. They were probably fussing over the beating he’d given Mr. High and Mighty. He had to get close but now too close. Donny and that psycho Swan were deadly with their primitive weapons and he was a big target.

Drawn by the noise and flames, two huge hunchbacked shapes loped along through the darkness. They smelled the seared flesh, remembered the taste of cooked meat and followed the shrieking horde through the hole in the fence.

41

The Tribe

Almost as one, the animals stiffened and turned their heads. Otis sniffed the air, abandoned his spot by the fire and joined Yewan and the wolves by the big picture window. Daisy and Popsicle were enjoying the snow, rolling around in the yard and both stood and stared to the north. The little capuchins abandoned their game of chase with the triplets and scampered over to Murray, each trying to hide under the blanket covering his legs.

“They’re back.” Swan said.

Cody stood, brushed Harpers hydrogen peroxide and cotton swabs aside.

“They’ve come to kill.” he said. “If not us, then the animals.”

“Then we kill them first.” Swan said and shrugged back into her gear. “I knew I should have put an arrow through his head.”

Cody thought furiously but there was nothing they could do. They didn’t have any place to hide and running blindly away in a snowstorm would only get them lost and frozen. They’d be easy to track anyway. They could try to talk but he knew how that would end. More beatings, butchered animals and the girls being carted away. Maybe all of them. Had Gordon’s gang degenerated to slavery?

The others were throwing on their equipment and they knew the stakes, too. The animals were growling and chuffing and Yewan was pawing at the front door. In the distance they heard the rev of a snowmobile coming in from the back of the Park.

“Hit them hard and fast.” Cody said as he jumped into his spare armor. “They won’t be able to shoot anything while they’re riding. With the animals charging them, maybe they’ll be too scared to get off and take aim.”

Donny threw open the door and Yewan bounded along beside him as they leaped from the porch and melted into the darkness. Swan barked a command at her wolves and they flew past the twins as they swung bareback onto the Polar Bears, battle axes in hand and a war cry on their lips.

Vanessa and Harper ran for the barnyard to get their companions as they strapped on their protective armor. Halfway there they saw the headlight of a lone snowmobile in the far distance dancing across an open field. They heard the screams of the undead, too. They were faint and far away but they were coming. They were being led in and from what they could hear, there were a lot of them.

Cody almost didn’t catch up to Otis as he jumped off the porch and ran toward the intruders. He caught a handful of fur, swung up on his back, bent low and urged him to go faster.

When he topped a rise, Gordon saw the panther first and knew Donny and his damn spear had to be close behind. Yewan was running straight for him, standing out in stark contrast against the snow. A second later he was gone, the headlight beam picking up nothing but falling snow. Gordon didn’t know what to do. If he turned now, the horde would follow him. If he got any closer, he might have an arrow sunk in his chest or a wolf tear him off the machine. He crouched down low, hiding his whole body behind the front cowling and windshield.

A little closer. He told himself. I want the horde to be on top of them.

He rode down into the next small valley and gunned the machine towards the top. He would turn once he was over the rise. The horde wouldn’t see him and that would be close enough. He craned his neck around to see how close they were and was satisfied as he saw them streaming down the last hill. When he looked to the front again, he screamed and involuntarily jagged the handlebars. A nightmare visage with a soot blackened face was jumping for him, a tomahawk in each hand. The machine turned and she missed plunging them through his face shield. She twisted and sunk the spike ends of her hatchets into his back, tearing deep into his heavy coat and imbedding in his plastic armor. Gordon was ripped off backwards and landed with a grunt when he hit the snow. Swan rolled to her feet, had a snarl on her lips and dove for him. Lucy got to him first. Gordon got an arm up as the wolf tried to tear into is neck and she bit down on plastic instead. While Lucy tried to crush his arm, Swan aimed her spikes at his face. Gordon screamed again, was jerked sideways by the wolf savaging him left and right. Her tomahawks bounced off his helmet and before she could choke up on them and start using them to slash him to ribbons, a spear whizzed by them and into one of the undead only yards away. Zero leaped past them to plow growling into a keening blood hungry child. Donny retrieved his spear without breaking stride and aimed for the next one running through the snow.

“Take care of him, Lucy.” Swan said then joined Donny to fight the more immediate threat.

The polar bears crested the hill with the twins screaming their battle cries and urging the beasts to go faster. Their war axes would drink deeply from the blood of their enemies this night. Vanessa was right behind them and Ziggy knew what to do. All of the animals did. Their keepers and their wards were in danger and they knew no fear. The unnatural things that smelled of death but didn’t die still had to be destroyed and they didn’t hesitate. Bert ran right through them, stomping and breaking as many as he could. Harper swung her morning star and sent gouts of slow rotting brains and blood splashing across the snow. The undead screeched and reached for her but Bert drove them down.

Cody rode into the fray swinging his hammer as Otis plowed into the middle of the horde, snapping his massive jaws and ripping them apart. He reared on his hind legs and slashed with long, sharp claws. He bellowed his rage and Cody rolled off, got his back against the bears and started swinging with both hands.

Yewan fought silent like his master. He didn’t waste energy on snarls and growls, he ripped and tore and bit as Donny spun his metal spear to impale faces or crush heads.

A group of three lunged at Cody and he met them head on with skull popping blows from his hammer. The heavy steel crunched through bone, destroyed the brain and the zombies dropped. He spun, swung his hammer like a baseball bat and shattered the head of another. The third one was almost on him when Otis turned with a roar and raked a paw across its face to send its head flying away with a streamer of black goop painting the snow.

Donny withdrew his spear from the face of a well-dressed old lady, sent hundreds of pearls flying from her broken necklace and drove the butt of his spear backwards through another a chomping mouth and out the back of its head. Yellowing, splintered teeth joined the pearls and the zombie joined the growing pile of unmoving corpses.

The battle raged as animal and warrior worked through their ranks. There was no order to the fight, only chaos, the undead cared about nothing but biting and spreading the virus. They shoved and clawed at each other to get closer to the untainted blood and were met with tooth, claw or steel.

Vanessa guided Ziggy with her knees and used her spear to thrust through heads until it was ripped from her grasp. A machete filled each hand and she continued the fight, slashing without mercy with a war cry on her lips. The ostrich danced and slashed, her wings up, her talons tearing open the undead and her powerful beak caving in their heads.

Swan worked beside Zero and the pair were merciless. Her arms moved like machines as the wolf tore into them and she caved in heads. They were on the outskirts of the mayhem; she didn’t dive into the center of the mob like those riding their animals did. That didn’t slow down the fight, though, they kept coming to her, mindlessly chomping and reaching for her pure blood.

Gordon still screamed, his terrified voice lost in the battle cries of the animals and children and the shrieking of the undead. The wolf was jerking him around like a rag doll, the only thing preventing her from ripping his arm off was his armor. They rolled over to the idling snowmobile and slammed against it. Stark raving terror and uncontrollable panic was blinding him to everything except the snarling wolf shredding his arm. Blood poured freely from the punctures and every time she snapped and bit, more armor was torn away. He tried to push himself up and his hand fell on his machete strapped to the inside of the cowling. Lucy shook her head and ripped loose the last bit of plastic protecting his arm. She spat it out and sprang again for him and he swung with the strength of a man knowing he is about to die. The blade bit deep into her shoulder and she yelped in pain as the blow knocked her aside. She found her feet and turned to attack again

The hulking, hunchbacked shadows had been pacing on the outskirts of the fight, waiting to join until they saw weakness. Saliva dripped from their toothy maws as they smelled the living, breathing, warm blooded animals and humans. They hadn’t had a warm meal in months. They couldn’t catch the rabbits and the deer smelled them from long distances and bounded away before they could get close. They’d been feasting on the undead and the smell of freshly blooded meat had the hyenas drooling. They weren’t picky: human, bear or giraffe, which ever fell first, they would be there to finish it off and eat their fill of meat where the blood still ran hot. The cry of pain from one of the wolves sent them running for the sound. It meant weakness. It meant little resistance. It meant fresh meat.

Swan spun towards the sound of one of her pack in pain. Gordon had a machete and swung wildly at Lucy but missed. Her wolf darted aside and readied herself to spring again but blood was spurting from a slash in her shoulder. She yelled for Zero over the screams and shouts and roars and snarls of children and bears and wolves and he came. They ran for Lucy but when she saw the laughing shapes leap out of the darkness, everyone heard her shrill cry of warning over the pandemonium of battle.

Diablo and Demonio sprang, the scent of Lucy’s’ blood hot and thick driving them wild.

Gordon fell over the snowmobile then threw himself onto the seat. He snapped the throttle all the way open and launched away in a high-pitched flurry of noise and kicked up snow as both hyenas blindsided the injured wolf. She turned her teeth against them and slashed and tore at the one snapping at her spurting shoulder as the other clamped bone crushing jaws around her haunch. Swan shrieked in fury and fear as she landed atop the spotted beast splintering Lucy’s hip. She drove twin spikes into its massive humpbacked shoulders and felt them bottom out against bone. It yipped a bark of pain and swung its gaping, blood drenched jaws around to rip her off but it couldn’t reach her leg. She clamped her knees and held on as he bucked and twisted in a frenzied effort to throw her off. Zero launched himself at its throat and with Swans spiked tomahawks pulling him off balance the wolf tore into the exposed flesh, found the jugular and ragged viciously back and forth. Demonio shrieked a high-pitched hyena shriek and ran. He bound after the snowmobile, chasing the light away from the pain and the hurt. Zero was pulled off his feet and dragged along but locked his jaws and ground them deep into the muscle as hot blood splashed across his muzzle. Swan pulled a spike, held on with the other and drove it back down into the undulating shoulders. She repeated with the other hand, pulling them out and driving them in, stabbing over and over, trying to sink one into its head. Blood covered her legs and thighs, the thick heavy snow blinded her and the hyena ran after the fleeing headlight and through the hole in the fence. He followed the road where he could run the fastest for a while but he couldn’t out run the girl on his back or the wolf with its jaws locked on his throat. He dove into the woods, running in blind panic and pain through the brambles and thick undergrowth. A plunging paw caught one of Zero’s bouncing legs and ripped him loose. A mouthful of muscle, fur and veins tore free and came with him. Demonio stumbled, lost his footing then plowed muzzle first into the snow. Swan tumbled free, slammed up against a tree and lay stunned for a moment. She heard Zeros challenge to something, shook her head and choked up on her blood slicked hatchets, the lanyards the only thing that kept them from flying free.

Diablo stopped in his tracks when Demonio didn’t rise and fight. He had the she wolf in his oversized muzzle, intent on dragging her deeper into the woods to feed in peace. He was confused when his brothers’ prey stood and snarled but his brother lay still, his life pouring out into the snow. Zero laid his ears back and bared his teeth, the rumble coming from his throat vicious and promising death. Diablo dropped the dying Lucy and crouched, ready to answer the challenge. He was twice the size of the bloody wolf and would gorge himself on both of them. Swan pushed herself to her feet and crouched beside Zero, a snarl on her lips and hate in her eyes. Diablo took a step back. He was a killer of opportunity and didn’t like to fight very hard for his food. Lucy whimpered as he snatched her up and ran.

42

Tribe

The clouds scuttling across the moon threw the valley of death into deeper shadows but enough light reflected off the snow so they could see their enemy. A few were still moving, those mauled by the bears, but Donny and Vanessa were darting from corpse to corpse thrusting spears through heads. Cody was leaning on his Warhammer, still breathing hard as Harper tried to fuss over his wounds that had torn open again. The twins were arguing over who killed the most and were debating about taking trophies. Ears or something.

“No ears.” Cody yelled over at them. “Come on, you know how bad that would stink?”

They reluctantly agreed then went after Donny and Vanessa to make double sure the undead stayed dead. The bears and Yewan sniffed around but they ambled away from the killing field, the smell was too much for them.

“Where’s Swan?” Cody suddenly asked.

Everyone looked around then at each other.

“The wolves are gone, too.” Vanessa said.

“Who saw her last?” Harper asked “I lost track of everyone; it was hard to keep Bert under control.”

Donny pointed away from the piles of dead, near the snowmobile tracks where she and Gordon had been fighting.

“You think Gordon snatched her and the wolves went after?”

“Swan getting whooped by that moron? I doubt it.” Annalise said. “It would take more than him, even if she was unarmed.”

Donny shook his head vehemently and pointed at the churned-up snow and the blood starting to freeze. He looked closer at it and held up an almost frozen piece for all to see. It was red, not black. Human or animal, not zombie. They looked around and there was a lot of it. Way too much to come from one person. Or animal. The snowmobile track was still visible and as they followed it past the where the fight took place they could see the prints of two animals. A blood trail ran along with both sets of tracks but there were no human prints at all.

“What the hell made those?” Tobias asked as he placed his own booted foot in the snow beside one of them. “They’re not from Lucy or Zero. It’s huge.”

“Hyenas.” Cody said. “And one of them had something in its jaws.”

The imprints were filling in quickly but they could see the smeary blood and wide drag marks in the scattered snow.

Donny signed with his hands and they watched. He was the best tracker and hunter and he could read the tracks better than anyone.

“He says the thinks Gordon has Swan and the hyenas had a wolf each in their jaws.” Harper said.

“I don’t believe it.” Annalise said. “No way, no how could Gordon take Swan.”

“No way.” Tobias agreed. “She’d beat him stupid with her bare hands.”

“Unless he shot her.” Vanessa said. “There is a lot of blood.”

43

Swan

Swan chased after the hunchbacked beast, her fury raging too much for the tears to seep through. Zero ran beside her as they followed the trail though the underbrush. The blackness was thick in the woods where the snow fell heavy and the evergreen trees blotted out the meager moon light. They ran until her lungs burned. They ran until her soot blackened face was whipped and scratched from slapping branches. They ran after the monster, following the tracks when they could and Zeros nose when they couldn’t. The snow fell heavier and muffled their sounds, it blanketed the forest in silence. It was thick and wet and soon she was soaked to her knees. They ran deeper and farther than her and Donny had ever hunted and the woods stretched on. They ran until they found Lucy cooling in the snow. What was left of her. Swan fell to her knees with great anguished sobs she could barely get out from her tortured lungs. She pulled the wolf mother close and buried her face in the fur. She had never known such ache and tears weren’t enough. Crying wasn’t enough. When Zero loosed his pain and howled his sorrow at the moon, she joined him.

44

Cody

Cody leaned heavily on his Warhammer and tried to ignore the pain of his bruised ribs, throbbing eye, rope burned wrists and tender nose. Reminders of the beating Gordon had given him. Now that the fight was over, the adrenaline rush gone, he felt weak and tired and hurt all over. It felt hopeless. They could never catch him, he was miles away by now. The snow would cover any tracks he made before they could chase him down but he had to try. He couldn’t give up if there was a chance, no matter how slim. Maybe she’d managed to get away from him. Maybe she was lying on the side of the road injured and freezing to death.

“We have to go after her.” Cody said.

“You’re not fit to go anywhere.” Harper told him. “You can barely stand.”

“We’ll go.” Tobias said.

Donny shook his head and pointed to himself and Yewan. The three started arguing in the Pidgeon sign language he used and the twins were getting louder in their defense of why they should go too. Cody closed his eyes for a moment. It only made sense, Donny and Yewan could cover more ground faster than anyone else and the Panther was a lot better at following commands than the bears were. They might decide they wanted a swim in the river and there was nothing the twins could do to stop them.

“Enough.” he said. “Donny, you go.”

He nodded and set off at a fast jog, pacing himself. He knew it might be a long night with miles to travel.

Cody stared at the bodies of the undead littering the ground. They’d fought well, despite the odds but it was hard to feel elated at the victory with three of their own missing and most likely dead. They’d have to burn them or drag them down to the river but they would keep for now. They’d be frozen solid and easier to move by tomorrow.

“We need to find out where they came in. Can you guys backtrack the trail and see how bad it is? If you can, just pull the fence back in place, we can repair it properly tomorrow. I’ll check the back gate.” Cody said.

Vanessa and the twins hurried to their animals to mount up and ride.

“I can cover more ground than you on Bert.” Harper said. “You should go to the house and let Murray patch you up. You’re bleeding again.”

“Bert hates the cold.” Cody said. “You need to get him back in the barn before he gets sick.”

He didn’t know if the giraffe would get sick or not but he didn’t want to argue with her. He whistled for Otis and they started the long trek across the fields. He needed some time to himself. He needed to rethink his so-called leadership. He’d learned a lot during his hour of captivity and it changed his whole world view. He couldn’t turn the other cheek anymore.

The boys were apparently the only survivors in a place called the Landing. It was one big nonstop party and most of them hadn’t been sober in months. They had realized they could do whatever they wanted and there was nobody to stop them, there was no reason to follow the rules anymore. They wanted more girls because the few they had weren’t enough and from the armor they wore, he assumed they were hockey players. Unlike the tribes which was a mishmash of all kinds of different things, the teens all had the same gear, almost like a uniform.

He knew the Riders wouldn’t quit. They’d been embarrassed by a group of kids they thought were their inferiors and had loosed a horde on them in retaliation. They’d be back. Gordon was consumed with revenge and he’d dragged all those other boys into his web. He knew they’d keep coming, they were just as bad as him, probably worse. All of them had pointed their rifles at him. All of them had laughed and cheered once he was bound hand and foot and they started throwing the fists to him. All of them had taken pleasure in watching the beating and one boy had put a cigarette out on his chest. They were drunk and stupid and mean and he had no sympathy for them. He knew boys like them before the fall. Bullies who thought giving freshmen swirlies in the toilet or random wedgies walking down the hall was the height of hilarity. They were mostly harmless and sometimes their pranks were even funny as long as they didn’t happen to you. They towed the line, though. They knew not to really hurt anyone, not to take it too far or there would be repercussions. They could get suspended or banned from the team. They could get a record and not be able to get into their college of choice.

It was different now. It had been months and the only law of the land was whatever they said it was. They would have killed him and that thought kept running through his mind. He had been strapped shirtless across a snowmobile in freezing weather. The ropes were so tight on his hands and feet that they had turned purple. It took a long time for the blood to return and they stopped stinging. Another twenty minutes and he probably would have lost them to frostbite, that is, if he even lived that long. They would have killed his people. They turned a horde of the undead loose on them. If Swan was still alive, if she recovered from whatever Gordon had done to her, they would kill her too. She would force them to do it because she would never submit. She would fight them until her last breath and curse them with it.

Cody Wilkes was unable to stop them. He was weak, still bound by the teachings of his old life. He still tried to follow the rules. Still tried to be someone his mom would be proud of. That way of thinking, that life was over. It had to be or they would die. He had been reluctant to accept that things would never be the same again. Everyone he’d ever loved before the tribe was gone, it was all any of them had and his weakness had nearly cost them everything. He was wrong when he thought they could lock those gates and ignore the rest of the world. Wrong when he naively believed in live and let live.

He had no idea where the Riders came from, no way of taking the fight to them. They had gas cans strapped to the machines so it had to be miles away. Twenty? Fifty? He didn’t know.

They had powerful snowmobiles and he understood the genius of using them. They may have been limited to only riding when it snowed but they could go anywhere when it did. The Christmas snow wouldn’t last, it was still getting warm during the days. It would start melting away in the morning. January was when the snows blew in and stayed for the rest of winter. In another few weeks they would come before the hard-cold set in and they would linger until spring thaw. When that happened, the Riders would be unstoppable for the next two or three months. They either had to run away or be ready when they came back and he knew they’d be back. They wanted the girls. Gordon knew the few dozen zombies he let in wouldn’t be able to defeat them, he’d been there for at least part of the battle. He’d seen the Tribe cutting them down.

He would return to the scene of his crime and he wouldn’t like what he found Cody vowed to himself.

He and Otis came to the back gate and he found his buffalo robe nearly buried in the snow. He brushed it off and swung it over his shoulders. The weight felt good and he wrapped it tight, holding in the warmth. He continued along the fence line towards the river, his mind still puzzling things out and coming to grips with the way things were. They had been alone and isolated and had tried to be good, to do what was right. Murray had voiced his concerns that they were acting too much like their animal companions, getting too uncivilized, too wild. Murray was wrong, though. He needed to become more like Swan and the twins. He needed to embrace the animal in him and not be concerned with things like mercy or forgiveness. In the animal world, you fought, you killed you moved on. You didn’t dwell on what was right or wrong. You did whatever you had to do to live even if something else had to die.

When Swan wanted to kill Gordon up before they voted to banish him, he was pretty sure it was just an act. She was putting on a front to scare him. She was still a thirteen-year-old girl on the inside. She could have killed him with an arrow tonight but she hadn’t. She wasn’t a cold-blooded killer no matter how hard she tried to convince them she was. Somebody had to be, though. Somebody had to be the executioner.

Things were different now. No one outside the Tribe could be trusted. If he were faced with the same situation again he had to be fearless enough to destroy the threat, not let it loose to come back and attack. He had to become more like Otis, unburdened with complicated thoughts.

He was failing them with his old way of thinking, he understood that now. If he didn’t change, they would be walked on, taken advantage of, imprisoned and enslaved. He had to be just as cold and devious as the enemy and he had to learn to show no mercy. Offer no quarter. Cody Wilkes couldn’t do it though. He had to let go of his old life, embrace the one thrust upon him. This life was hard, dirty and bloody. It could kill you for being decent, for trying to help the wrong people. He would have to be more discerning in the future. Learn to trust his instincts. He’d had qualms about Gordon from the first moment he met him but had pushed them aside to do the right thing. Never again. His mistake had cost them dearly.

He went back to the spot of his first kiss with Harper. Back to the place where Derek talked to him about what it meant to be a man. Where he gave him his first beer and the old Zippo that he’d lost. Back to the spot where his mom said her goodbyes to Derek and floated his body down the river. He knew she was still out there somewhere wandering around, still leading the horde away, but that wasn’t his mom. Not anymore. He believed the undead were soulless. When they died the first death, the spirit departed and left a shell that didn’t know it was dead.

He wished he was strong like Otis, the mighty oversized Kodiak. The word lingered in his mind. Kodiak. Feared. Respected. Nothing in the wild took anything from the big bears. Nothing crossed them. Other animals ran. Ran in fear for their lives. Cody squatted on the riverbank and put his hands in the water. It was cold. It was pure. It rolled on and on, an unstoppable force taking anything that stood in its way with it. If his tribe were going to survive in this ruthless new world, he needed to lead them in a ruthless new way. He needed to do what they couldn’t.

He rose and stripped off his weapons, armor and clothes until he stood naked in the falling snow. The old Cody had to put away childish things, to die and be baptized into something new.

He dove into the cold, slow moving waters of the Mississippi and swam for the bottom as the frigid river worked to force the air from his lungs. Numbness settled into his muscles as he found mud then dug his hands and feet into it. He forced himself downward, let out a little air so he could lay on the bottom and faced the surface. The cloud of muddy water was swept away and he lay there still and silent and felt the mighty river gently tug at him. The clouds slid away from the moon and the world at the bottom of the river brightened. He could see the snow falling and disappearing as it hit the surface. He willed his weakness away, demanded the river to take it and carry it to the ocean. When he came out of the water, he would be a new man he told himself. He wouldn’t surface until he was sure he had the guts to be as hard as he needed to be.

At church, he’d seen the miracle of baptism. He’d seen drunken Willie Hodges finally join his wife after she’d come alone ever since Cody had known her. Willie was a mean drunk and a lay about that liked to smack her around. They lived in a run-down trailer and everyone said he was white trash, and that she deserved better. When he finally got saved and came up out of the water, he was a changed man. He put down the bottle, got a steady job and went to service every Sunday. He had become a good man. Everyone said it was a miracle and Cody needed one now. He would stay on the bottom, in the mud, until he was sure he had it. Until the old Cody was gone and a new one emerged.

They attended a Baptist church and the preacher liked his fire and brimstone sermons. In Sunday school, when he was little, they’d learned about Jesus and love and charity and helping the less fortunate. When he started staying upstairs with his mom for the grown-up sermons, the preacher spoke of an angry God who gave men power to destroy their enemies. Bad men were used to do good things. The icy waters slowed his heart and he knew he needed air, the edges of his vision started turning black, but he waited. He prayed his weakness away and willed himself to become who he needed to be. To have what it took to save his Tribe. To be a bad man so he could do good things. He would wait until he died if he had to before he rose up too soon. He wasn’t cold anymore and the river seemed crystal clear. He saw a face in the moon and the mud wrapped around him felt warm, like an electric blanket. A fish swam lazily by a few feet above his face and there was a sudden explosion on the surface. Otis dipped his head in the water so fast the fish didn’t have time to react. Sharp teeth clamped down and before it could thrash its tail, it was jerked out. Swift, violent death in an instant. Cody was so startled he almost gasped in a lungful of water but held still. In less than a second, even the ripples disappeared and the face in the moon was still smiling down. The fish was gone, as if it never existed. He had his answer. Some things died so others may live. On the verge of passing out, he pushed out of the mud toward the surface and kicked his legs upward.

Cody Wilkes never emerged from those icy cold waters, what remained of the innocent boy was swept away in the current of the mighty Mississippi. Disappeared like the fish. A ruthless warrior that came to be known as Kodiak waded ashore.

45

Tribe

“Cody’s coming.” Murray said from his spot by the window. It had been hours and the twins were already discussing going to look for him. Relief flooded their faces and Harper ran to the door to open it. She threw her arms around him then exclaimed and dragged him over to the fire to warm up. It was roaring in the hearth and Otis nudged the triplets out of his favorite spot.

Cody looked around the room, at the unopened presents under the tree and the table still set for Christmas dinner then asked the obvious. “No word from Donny?”

Murray shook his head and looked at his watch again for the ten thousandth time. It was nearly two in the morning. The snows had finally stopped and the thermometer showed twenty-nine degrees.

“If he found her, he wouldn’t try to bring her back. It’s not ten below zero, it’s not a killing cold but he would get her inside someplace.” Harper said again, same as she told the others before. “A nice, warm bed with plenty of blankets.”

“There’s no use going to look for them, either, Cody.” she added. “We’d never spot them in the dark and the tracks are long covered.”

He nodded, didn’t offer an argument and turned his back to the fire to face them.

“It’s my fault this happened.” he said. “I didn’t want to change. I wanted our old world back and I thought any other survivors would too. I was wrong and I see that now. People like Gordon don’t change. They don’t suddenly turn into nice people; they just get meaner and we have to be as ruthless as them if we’re going to make it. My kindness, us giving him chance after chance to fit in has ended in disaster. I should have let Swan and Donny kill him. I should have killed him myself. If you think I’m still fit to lead, I won’t make the same mistake twice. The Tribe is all we have. It’s what keeps us alive and we can’t let outsiders take us down.”

“Of course, you’re fit to lead.” Harper said and the others joined in. “It wasn’t just you, we all gave him second and third chances.”

“Not us.” Tobias said. “I wanted to throw him out months ago.”

“Then call me Kodiak from now on.” Cody said. “It’ll be a reminder every time I hear my name of who I have to be.”

“Can I have a warrior name too?” Landon asked “I can fight.”

Murray watched the banter as all of them thought of new names they liked but it was all in fun, something to joke about. He noticed something subtlety different about Cody. Or Kodiak as he wanted to be called. He couldn’t put a finger on it and point out exactly what it was but he wasn’t the same boy who had left to make a perimeter check earlier that afternoon. Maybe it was the way he carried himself as he ignored the cuts and bruises and rope burns. He was a little harder. A little more predatory and his eyes never stopped moving.

46

Richard

They drank heavier than usual and the mood was black once they finally made it back to Smiths Landing. Richard had a celebration planned but it was more like a funeral party. They had returned half frozen, miserable and empty handed after the long, cold ride. They had risked their lives for nothing and had run away from a bunch of little kids like whipped dogs. They had no plundered booty, no animal heads as trophies, and no girls as new play toys. Gordon tried to turn their defeat into a victory, tried to brag about leading the zombies in to teach them a lesson but Richard was scathing with his reply.

“I thought I sent you down there to get girls, Gordy. I wanted you to bring them back, not turn them into more zombies!”

Nobody stood up for him. Nobody admitted they thought it was a good idea at the time, that they all wanted a little payback.

The more they drank the angrier they became and for some reason Gordon got most of the blame. He was supposed to know the lay of the land, he had lived with them for months. He should have known they would have tricks. The only thing he’d warned everyone about was the animals. They were dangerous. They were vicious. They were unpredictable. They needed to shoot them the instant they saw them. Once the animals were down, the brats would be easy to control. They hadn’t seen a single one of the so-called fearsome beasts and had been outsmarted by a bunch of ten-year old’s. It didn’t sit well with any of them.

“Maybe they’re hibernating.” Squirrel said, commiserating with them. “Maybe they’re not dangerous in the winter.”

“Well those damn kids were. Pinpoint accuracy with those spears and arrows.” Jester complained, “and we had no idea where they were coming from. We were sitting ducks.”

“We do things different next time.” Richard said. “Next time we do it my way.”

“I say we leave them alone.” his step mom said. “They don’t have anything we need.”

Richard eyed her coldly and she dropped her gaze. She had spoken out of turn and bit her lower lip. Richard wasn’t kind when he was angry.

“They have something that I need.” he said, his eyes boring into her. “I want this Harper girl everyone is saying looks so wonderful. This beauty queen who hasn’t been used up.”

The words cut her but she knew better than to argue. Her husband was still stumbling around in the empty pool and that was all the reminder she needed that he could be cruel. If she knew what was good for her, she would keep her mouth shut.

Gordon started to protest, Harper was his girl, but stopped mid-sentence when Richard turned to stare him down, dared him to say something.

“You had your chance.” he continued, then turned to address the room. “They killed Smoke in case you’ve forgotten. He was my best friend. They can’t be allowed to get away with that. They started this war and we’re going to finish it. Next time, I’m leading us down there. Next time, the Landing doesn’t get its ass kicked by a bunch of little kids with oversized pets. Next time, we teach them who’s in charge.”

Richard raised the bottle then took a long pull of the tequila. He had sent his guys down expecting an easy victory and a few new girls but it had become more than that with the second defeat. He wasn’t used to losing, not in Hockey or baseball or life in general. Lowery’s were winners. Period. He absolutely positively would not let a bunch of middle schoolers embarrass him.

He had misjudged Gordon’s ability to lead. How hard could it be? They had superior numbers, superior firepower and the snowmobiles made it too easy. They could go anywhere; they weren’t confined to the roads or trails. If they ran into a horde, no problem. Take a left and go around them. Even the animals, the much-ballyhooed killer animals hadn’t made an appearance. Squirrel was probably right; they were all hibernating. It was too bad Smoke had gotten killed and not Gordon. Smoke had a head on his shoulders, he could be trusted.

Richard decided he would ease up on Gordy a little, let him think he was in charge of something. He’d let him strut around like he was important because the idiot got things done around the Landing. He liked to brag about how he’d survived in the wild and how he had killed more of the undead than all the rest of them combined. He talked big talk but so far, Richard was unimpressed. Gordy seemed to be fine as long as he was inside the walls. He fretted about the fences and supplies and that was good, somebody had to. He didn’t drink much or argue over whose turn it was with the girls so he had his uses. He’d proven that he couldn’t be trusted with any big plans though, any war plans, and there certainly would be war. Gordy couldn’t think on his feet, he couldn’t adapt and overcome.

Now that they’d been outside the gates, now that they’d seen it wasn’t so scary out there after all, there were whole new opportunities to explore. The undead were slow in the cold and the snowmobiles could take them anywhere so he started working on a plan of his own.

47

Donny

Donny ran, following the snowmobile tracks out of the hole in the fence and down the road. He paced himself and the big cat loped along beside him. The trail got confusing with all the undead footprints and other riders tracks but one set was a little fresher, a little less obscured by the falling snow. They had left him behind, his path much clearer and newer than the others. It was obvious Gordon wasn’t trying anything evasive, he was on a straight line right back to where ever he came from and Donny picked up the pace. Maybe he would have to stop to refill or maybe Swan would figure out some way to slow him down. Maybe he could catch him then.

Yewan stopped by the side of the road and waited. Donny looked back then slowed his pace. He tapped metal on metal.

Come.

Yewans yellow eyes watched him, a black shadow on white snow and flicked his tail. Donny stopped and retraced his footsteps to see what was intriguing the panther. He spotted the paw prints halfway down the slope and there was a splash of blood still visible. They hyenas had taken off through the woods but he wasn’t interested in them. He wanted to chase Gordon and Swan. He placed a hand on Yewan and tapped the metal again.

Come.

The cat ignored him and sprang lightly down the incline and disappeared into the woods. Donny glared after him but guessed he couldn’t smell Swan and Gordon, probably only the metal and gas of the machine. He could smell the wolves though and Swans smell was all over them. He was following that scent. He couldn’t leave him, he was no match for the two hyenas and he didn’t want to follow, he wanted to chase Gordon. He finally slammed his spear in frustration and plunged in after him.

He was sniffing the body of one of the huge hunchbacked creatures when he burst through the brambles that grew thick at the side of the road and into the woods. The snow wasn’t as deep, the evergreen and spruce trees acted as natures canopies. The darkness was deeper, though. The same trees blotted out the moonlight. He spotted boot prints, small ones, and his eyes grew wide. One of them must have been carrying Swan. There were wolf prints, signs of a scuffle then all three sets went deeper into the forest. Donny was confused by what he saw but Swan had to be chasing after the Hyena, if it was chasing her, it would have caught her in a few quick bounds. He placed his forehead against Yewans, thanked him, then they were both running again, this time he let him lead.

They followed the prints and the smells across fields and back into woods. They wound down by the river and through the yards of long abandoned houses. They found the half eaten, half frozen body of Lucy but the trail continued, the wolf and the moccasins followed the giant paw prints of the Hyena.

The moon was waning and the heavy snows had tapered off when he found them. Yewan was sniffing a mound of snow at the base of a massive downed tree. Zero chuffed from inside the snowbank when he stooped to see what held his interest. He dug through and found them curled up in the hole the oak had left in the ground when it tumbled over. The roots, covered in years of vine growth, and the snow had made a cave and the two were huddled together. He crawled in with Yewan right behind him. He didn’t care much for the cold, he’d been fighting and running most of the night and it was warm and cozy inside.

“They killed Lucy.” Swan whispered and snuggled in closer to Zero, giving them room to lay down.

She was drained, completely exhausted from the fight, the long run and the heartache.

“Close the door.” she mumbled and drifted back to sleep.

He obliged, piling the snow back up to block out the cold and spread his cloak over them. He was worn out too and within minutes they were all sound asleep.

48

Diablo

Less than a mile from the tree where Swan sheltered, Diablo lay beneath an overturned boat near an empty cabin on the riverbank. His long tongue licked gingerly at the wound in his shoulder where the wolf had torn the skin and underlying muscle. It throbbed incessantly, eliciting a whine from the savage creature. His body was covered in bites and claw marks from the she-wolf’s vicious attack. He’d never encountered another creature that was so fast and powerful and fearless. Even wounded with both of them tearing into her, she had punished him with fangs and claws. The cold and the snow perplexed the beast. It was arid, dry and hot in the warmer climes of the southwest where’d they’d been raised.

His clan mate was gone. He felt the loss and emptiness; they were social animals and rarely wandered by themselves.

He kept his senses alert. He was alone now and aware how other predators perceived a wounded animal. They would smell the blood and smell weakness. They would think he was easy prey. They would find out different. Diablo was a predator never seen in this part of the world and even wounded he was a match for anything that roamed the wilds.

Thirstily, he lapped mouthfuls of snow, seeking to parch his dried throat and rumbling belly. He’d have to hunt soon, the few bites he’d had of the wolf weren’t enough. He’d tired of carrying her mile after mile but the ones following him wouldn’t let him stop and eat. They kept coming. Even after they dropped her, they chased him for more miles before they finally stopped. After he could no longer sense them, he traveled farther. They were a danger; they had killed his clan mate and they were hunting him.

He crawled from under the shelter of the boat and instinctively sought higher ground to increase the chance of scenting some prey. The rotted ones on two legs were easy pickings, yet he didn’t smell any of them on the wind.

He limped slowly, the battle then the long run from the fight had greatly exhausted his energy reserves. His body burned calories much faster in an effort to keep him warm.

Unfamiliar smells caused his nose to twitch as something drew near. He exaggerated the limping motion of his walk, hoping to lure whatever predator that stalked him in closer. He whined, made a pitiful, helpless, wounded sound and sniffed the wind to know where the attack would come from. Soon he would feed.

The limbs above his head were filled with the flapping of wings as crows and ravens lighted on the icy, snow-covered boughs. They were too high and too quick and fell into the not food category. He ignored them.

The sounds of many feet crunching in the snow caused him to turn and face his downwind side. They stood there watching him. A multitude of eyes from a dozen different kinds of animals.

Diablo didn’t know what these creatures were. Most had unfamiliar scent patterns, more new things in this strange new land.

The scavenger animals stared at the wounded hyena. They were many in number and had learned to work together to bring down their prey. They were an unnatural selection of coyotes, raccoons, opossums, stray house cats, foxes and pigs gone wild. There were a few dogs still wearing their collars mixed into the bunch as they slowly formed a circle around the injured Diablo. They acted like a pack even though they were all different and this confused him more. How could such strange and diverse creatures hunt together?

He growled to warn them, low and rumbling from his thick chest. The pack alpha, a large mixed breed bullmastiff answered the growl and stepped forward. This Diablo understood. His former master had pitted him against such an animal many times in the past.

Diablo struck quick and the two slammed together, each pawing and ripping, snapping and biting, trying to sink teeth and tear flesh in a bloody mix of fur and fangs. The bullmastiff had been a family pet up until the fall of man. He was powerful and strong, twice the size of the coyotes in his band and had never lost a fight. He was the biggest, the most ferocious and led the mixed band of animals because they all shared the same hunger. The same craving, the same addictive need for the infected meat of the shuffling dead. He was fifty pounds lighter than the Hyena and he didn’t lack courage but he had never encountered a beast like Diablo.

The mastiff never had a chance.

The hyena had jaws that could snap water buffalo bones and when he clamped down on the dogs neck, he didn’t bite and tear. He didn’t rag him back and forth. He crushed down with the force of a hydraulic press and the Mastiff went limp. Diablo ground his jaws until the head popped off and the body fell to the snow. He growled at the band of animals again then held the dog in place with an oversized paw as he bit open the belly, snapped ribs and gobbled down the still beating heart. He stuffed himself on the entrails and never took his eyes off the surrounding pack. A coyote darted in to grab a bite and Diablo slashed at him. The coyote yipped and melted back into the hungry animals to lick his wound.

The hunchbacked creature stood in defiance, wolfing down the flesh of the dog as the pack stared motionless at him. His shoulder was bleeding freely but he ignored it. He was asserting his supremacy, daring any of them to attack.

His appetite momentarily sated, he turned and limped through the forest, seeking a new place to rest and heal his injured body.

The remaining animals quickly stripped the flesh from the corpse of the dog, leaving only bones for the birds to fight over. They picked up the trail of the hyena and followed the scent of their Alpha.

49

Kodiak

The tribe fretted and worried all the next day. They fixed the fence, took care of the animals, milked the cow and fed the chickens, but mostly they stayed in the living room and waited. The sun made an appearance in the cloudless blue sky and the snows were melting fast. They had tried to follow Donny’s tracks but it was already too late by the time they could no longer sit still and wait. They couldn’t follow what was no longer there. Annalise puttered around in the kitchen and made comfort food, the triplets played with their foxes and the wolf cubs and everyone else tinkered with their armor and weapons to make minor improvements. Yesterday’s battle haunted some of them: it was the first time they had experienced the violence and brutality of kill or be killed in such a chaotic fight. They all had close calls whether it was a zombie clamping filthy teeth down on protected arms or losing their grip on a blood-slicked weapon. They remembered how it happened, too.

Gordon.

They didn’t understand how anyone could be so cruel, so evil. He wasn’t alone, either. Every one of the snowmobile boys had been willing to kill them and it was all for nothing. They weren’t starving, they didn’t need a protected place to stay, and they didn’t need anything. In fact, they had much more in their gated community than the tribe had. They had electricity and hot running water and guns.

They were slowly coming to grips with something Kodiak already understood. Some people didn’t need a reason to hurt someone, they did it because they could and they couldn’t be reasoned with. They only understood and respected superior strength. Fear was the only thing that would keep them away and they didn’t fear the children or the animals. They had been over confident and had been outsmarted but they weren’t afraid. They were angry. They would be back for revenge; they had no doubt about that.

“Donny and Swan are back.” Murray said from his watch on the window and the room emptied to run outside and greet them.

Zero was favoring one paw and had drying blood in his fur but most of it wasn’t his. Swan was wearing the hide from one of the hyenas draped over her shoulders. It was huge on her. With the head acting as a hood, the tail dragged the ground. They hugged and didn’t have to ask about Lucy, she told them and most had tears in their eyes when they heard.

“You two get inside, get some dry clothes.” Harper told them. “Vanessa and I will stretch the hide.”

Swan shrugged it off, still bloody with bits of hanging flesh, and handed it to them. It would make a fine cloak once it was cleaned and cured and the hatchet slashes were sewn.

Donny handed him his old cigarette lighter, the one Derek had given him.

“It was at the church.” Swan said. “We saw the smoke when we came out of the woods, it was still smoldering. It had been full of zombies, that’s where he got them.”

So, Gordy had stolen it, too. He should have guessed. One more reason for payback.

They celebrated Christmas a day later but a cloud of apprehension and sadness hung over them and continued for weeks after. As the weather stayed a little above freezing, the zombies started returning, stumbling into the parking lot and congregating at the front gate. They were too slow to lead off, it would take forever so they wound up spearing many of them. The warm spell would be over soon, though. A white Christmas in Iowa was never a sure thing but zero-degree temperatures in January were.

They talked of leaving but they would have to travel far to be out of the reach of Gordon and his gang and who’s to say there wasn’t someone just as bad or even worse a hundred miles down the road. They did what they could to fortify the house and had drills to see how quickly they could gather and put the wood shutters over the windows. There was no way to monitor or protect the fence line, it stretched for miles so the house became their fortress. Their last stand. Swan had extra arrows placed in strategic locations and they added perches on the roof where she could have a clear shot at those below. Vanessa and Donny used up all the supplies they had to make spears and then started carving more from tree limbs.

Kodiak oversaw it all but knew it was futile. He put himself in Gordons place and asked what would Gordon do?

Gordon would come with the next snow because it was the way they traveled and the threat of the undead was low.

Gordon wouldn’t be overconfident next time.

Gordon would be careful.

Gordon would have a sniper shoot anyone that popped up, especially the animals.

Gordon would set fire to the house.

Gordon would win.

The snow melt turned to ice and it stayed frigid halfway into January. Kodiak was healing quickly and spent long hours away from the rest of them. Sometimes he roused Otis from his favorite spot in front of the fireplace and sometimes he went alone. The sun was bright in the sky but it didn’t give off much warmth. The breeze from the north brought the temperatures down and they kept the fire roaring to ward of the cold.

His buffalo robe kept him warm as he made preparations, sometimes using Otis, sometimes working by himself. He didn’t answer them truthfully when they asked him where he’d been all day. Just double checking the fence line he would say. It’s our weakest point.

They were all busy. The cold made every task harder and they took much longer but they were doing all right. Sometimes Kodiak had to remind himself of that. They had managed to survive when almost everyone else hadn’t.

Them.

A bunch of kids who should have been dead the first week.

They had toughened up, all of them had grown hard. Six months ago, he couldn’t imagine seven-year old’s getting up at the crack of dawn, dressing themselves and going out to milk the cow and feed the chickens. Somebody would have called child protective services. He couldn’t imagine the twins walking into school with braided hair and covered in Celtic tattoos. Somebody would have been going to jail for allowing it to happen. He grinned when he thought of Donny and Swan walking down the hallways with their wolves and panther padding quietly by their side, faces blackened with soot and blooded weapons in their hands. Somebody would have called a SWAT team. Or Vanessa with her tribal scars and spears wearing little more than a loincloth and feathers riding an ostrich like it was a chocobo from a video game. He could imagine the gasps and wide eyes of the other kids as he and Otis lumbered into a classroom. It would be a heck of a show and tell.

They had done more and grown up faster in the past few months than most people did their entire lives. They had spilled the blood of their enemies, fought and killed and had faced death more times than they cared to remember. He was proud of his tribe.

It felt like it was warming up a little, there wasn’t much wind but it was coming from the south and it didn’t have the same frosty bite. Kodiak grabbed his robe off of an abandoned car and surveyed his handiwork. Otis saw that he was finally ready to go and hauled himself to his feet to nuzzle him. It had been a while since he’d had his ears scratched and nobody could do it as good as the boy. He knew just the right spots. Kodiak smiled, scratched his friend and listened to him grunt in pleasure then stretch his neck so he could get to the good spots under it. The sky was darkening and the clouds were heavy and hung low in the sky. Some of them were almost a deep purple color. The air was still and it looked like snow. A lot of it. They started the long trek back home as Otis hurried along with his pigeon-toed walk. He had a spot in front of the fire waiting for him.

50

Tribe

It was full dark by the time they made it back to the house, even though it was barely four o’clock. The snows were coming in from the north, thick fat flakes that covered the ground quickly. It fell heavily on Piedmont house and showed no signs of slowing as the twins brought out the bowls of venison chili and their first attempt at home made cheese. It was lumpy and had the consistency of runny playdoh, not at all like orange shredded cheddar they used to pile high on Coney dogs. Tobias looked defiantly around the table, daring them to say something, anything at all, about his cheese. It had taken him nearly a month to make it and he was determined to eat it no matter what. Under his glaring eye, they all complimented him on the chili and made their excuses to pass on the gooey bowl of yellowish slop.

“Good. More for us.” he said, and tried to spoon some into Annalise’s bowl. She covered it and jerked it away quickly.

“Uh, I’m on a diet.” she said.

“Since when?” he asked. “If anything you need to gain weight.”

She ignored him, shooed one of the monkeys off the table and started in on her chili.

“Fine.” he said. “The animals can have your share. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He set it on the floor for the foxes and cubs who were there begging and they backed off after one sniff. Neither would touch it.

Swan started giggling, tried to disguise it as a cough. Her face was turning red from trying to hold the laughter in but it was contagious. As they watched Tobias try to get any of the critters to try it the snickers and coughs got worse. Cody was fit to burst, his eyes bulged from holding his breath and holding in the booming laugh that was going to break free any second. One of Murrays’ monkeys finally took a proffered piece of it and stuffed it into her mouth. She screamed her high-pitched monkey scream, spit it out and ran and they couldn’t control themselves any more. The dining room erupted in raucous laughter, purifying laughter that had tears running down their faces. Every time they would taper off to catch their breath, someone would scream like the Capuchin and it would start again.

“You guys suck.” Tobias said, but even he finally admitted the cheese was pretty rancid.

Candlelight, children’s laughter, the warmth of the fire and love filled the rooms as a soft, yellow light glowed through the windows pushing away the darkness and the falling snow.

Kodiak listened to their even, steady breathing over the sounds of the wind whipping through the eaves and couldn’t sleep. They had gotten into the habit of winding down and going to bed early, usually shortly after nightfall, because they got up early. It was the real first snow in weeks, the first chance Gordon would have to come after them, and it was turning into a regular blizzard. Would he wait until the weather was calm? Would he come in the daytime? Was he wrong and maybe they weren’t coming at all? He had an uneasiness settling over him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He couldn’t leave his tribe unguarded and vulnerable.

What would Gordon do?

Gordon and his band of goons would probably use darkness and the storm as cover. They would come like a thief in the night because they didn’t want to kill everyone, probably just him. They wanted the girls. They could be sneaking up on the porch right now with cans of gas. They might be planning on burning them out and taking them prisoner as they fled. They might have gunners at every door waiting for the animals to panic and…

He sat up and Otis chuffed at him. He felt the tension in his companion and didn’t hesitate when Kodiak threw aside the blankets and clicked his tongue for him to come.

When they stepped out onto the porch, he almost changed his mind. The gusts pulled at him and whipped snow across his face. The moon and stars were hidden as the storm gained strength and started to dump its full fury on northeastern Iowa. The wind howled out of the northern sky, eliciting mournful moans and creaks from the old house and it promised more. He thought about the long walk ahead that would probably be for nothing, the weather was turning worse and only an idiot would be out in it. He thought longingly of his bed that would still be toasty warm near the fire. Then he thought of all they would lose if he was right, if Gordon would want to use the storm to his advantage. If he decided to do the easy thing and go back to sleep, they would have no advance warning. Gordon had already tried to kill Otis once; he had no doubt the bear would be their first target. He rubbed his ears where he liked them to be rubbed and made his decision. He pulled the hood up on the buffalo cloak and started down the steps.

“C’mon, Otis. I guess we’ll be fools tonight even if no one else is.”

Kodiak set across the park in a steady jog, one he could keep up for hours and set a quick enough pace where the bear wouldn’t get distracted. They made it to the old stone church with its caved in roof, shattered stain glass and fire scorched walls and sought shelter from the wind. He’d been working on and off, making his crude defenses for weeks. He knew when they came, it would be in the snow and it would be cold. They had heated snowmobile suits and hand warmers and all he had was Otis but it was enough. The road curved in a long, looping horseshoe around a bend in the river and from the church, he could see them coming from a long way off. It wasn’t far as a crow flies but if they followed the road, it was a mile or two. He had a windbreak with good visibility and between the bear and the buffalo robe, he wasn’t worried about freezing to death.

Otis was snoring softly within minutes as Kodiak settled in beside him and watched for headlights. Would his traps work? Would they stand a chance when it finally went down? Was he wasting his time waiting for something that might not happen?

His thoughts wandered. Their survival was a miracle in itself. Of all the places he could have been, he was in one of the safest spots in the world. They hadn’t seen another living adult in the months since the outbreak. If it had been a Monday, he’d have been sitting at school stealing glances at the pretty girls he’d never had the nerve to talk to. He would have been watching the clock, wishing for lunch so he could feed his growling stomach and looking forward to after school. He and his friends would race to their homes and fire up the game consoles and wage war with and against each other. Now, he was getting ready to wage another kind of war. One that didn’t have a reset button if you got yourself killed.

He was angry. He was defiant. He was tired of it all. He had worried about the threat the Riders posed for weeks. His stomach had been in knots at the thought of what he would have to do to keep his tribe safe. Even after he came up from the water, baptized and changed and convinced he was right, the old Cody nagged at him.

He was going to hurt them.

Hurt them bad.

Probably kill a few of them if his ambush worked out.

He would be a murderer.

He didn’t want this. He wanted to live in peace. He’d tried to help Gordon. Tried to do what was right. He didn’t have a beef with the others but they had made their choice and they would have to live with it. Maybe die for it.

He’d made peace with his decision. He told himself he would feel no more remorse for them than a bear felt for a fish when he killed it. He didn’t do it for meanness or spite, he did it to survive. Kodiak was doing the same thing. He wouldn’t have to hurt them if they weren’t coming for him. He wouldn’t have to kill them if they would have stayed home and left him alone.

He was warm and comfortable wrapped in his robe, soaking up the heat coming off Otis and he must have dozed off. It took him a moment to recognize that the lights cutting through the snow far up the road weren’t reflections. He heard them then, the wind carried the high-pitched whine of screaming engines and Otis raised his head.

They were coming.

They were coming!

He sprang to his feet and raced to the old maple tree. He grabbed the cable TV wire and yanked it tight. It popped up from the road, sending the covering snow flying away as he tied it in place about three feet above the surface. He ran to the next tree, pulled thicker electric line into place and locked it in position less than a foot from the asphalt.

Otis stood, shook the snow from his fur and sniffed the wind.

The mosquito buzz of the two-stroke engines was getting louder and he could make out the individual headlights. They were running single file and spread out for a long way. He’d hoped they’d be bunched up, running in a tight pack down the road so he could take most of them out but his ambush wouldn’t get them all. Maybe only two or three if he was lucky.

It won’t be long, he thought. He felt the churning in his stomach, his nerves raw and on edge. He would do what he had to tonight.

He’d hurt them.

He’d kill them.

He’d do it so maybe the others wouldn’t have to. He felt a twinge of regret, not being able to say goodbye because he was pretty sure he knew how this was going to end. He couldn’t get all of the riders and it was too late to abandon the plan and run. They’d see his tracks and follow. They’d kill Otis for sure, him more than likely, then continue to the house where they were all nestled under their blankets by the fireplace. Warm and safe.

He had to take the battle to them, maybe if he did enough damage, they’d get scared and turn back. Maybe he could tell them the others were waiting with similar ambushes and they’d all be dead before they made it to the house.

He pulled the last cable tight, tied it off, gripped his Warhammer and waited. Otis felt his tension, growled and started chuffing. He sensed a fight was coming, he could smell the machines and hear their angry buzz over the wind and whipping snow. He stood on his hind legs and roared a warning.

A panther answered and Kodiak whirled to see them running out of the woods by the church. They materialized in the snowy mist like phantoms. Yewan, ebony black against the pure white snow and Donny: armored and armed with his spear with only his eyes visible through the protective gear. They hurried toward him and he felt a new chill run down his spine. His brother was here. The hunter and his cat.

Behind him came Tobias and Annalise, battle axes in hand, cloaked in coyote hides, astride their polar bears. The big bears puffed out white smoke as they galloped along, the twins had their faces painted for war like Vikings of old and Kodiaks heart swelled.

Swan appeared other worldly in her hyena cloak, its ears sticking up, its head covered hers and Zero loped alongside her. Both were painted for war and wore collars of hyena fangs and claws; hers for decoration, his for protection. She wore red slashes of paint on her soot blackened face and Zero had red handprints on his hindquarters. The beads and feathers and acorns twisted into her dark hair clacked together like a wind chime.

She had her bow slung over a shoulder, a quiver of arrows protruding over the other and her tomahawks hung in their holsters. She wore a grim expression and Kodiak wasn’t sure if she looked like an avenging angel or a demon from the pits of Hell. Maybe a little of both.

Vanessa and Ziggy followed behind, ready for whatever was going to happen. She had her spear in one hand and with the other she tried to reassure Ziggy who was agitated and unaccustomed to the severe temperatures.

Bert faded into view out of the snow with Harper riding high on his back, a morning star in her hand.

Kodiak wasn’t surprised to see them but he had been prepared to fight the Riders alone. Prepared to die alone if it came down to that.

But he wasn’t and he realized that he’d never been alone. The tribe had been there every step of the way since this all began months ago. From the time they’d comforted him over the loss of his mother and through all his decisions, good and bad, they’d been there. Solid and dependable. More than friends. More than family. A tribe.

“We knew what you were doing.” Swan said “And we know why. It’s not your fight to fight alone. It’s all of ours.”

The headlights dancing through the trees were getting closer, they were on the long curve just before the straight stretch and his traps.

“We have to hurry.” Kodiak said and snatched up the wooden spears with the road flares attached a few inches down from the points.

He handed them up to Vanessa on the side-stepping ostrich and pointed up the road. “Light them when they stop. Aim for the gas cans strapped to the machines.”

She nodded, gigged Ziggy and they raced off to find a place to get out of sight.

“The rest of you spread out, both sides of the road.” Kodiak said. “Remember, they have guns. We have to hit them hard and fast. If one guy starts shooting, he can kill us all.”

They melted back into the shadows of the woods, disappeared in the snow storm, and each shivered in anticipation.

51

Gordon

Gordon and the other Riders flew down the highway, the snowmobiles eating up the miles on the covered roads. They were built for whatever winter threw at them: top of the line, high dollar machines that were popular in the north. They drove fast, warm in their heavy suits and motocross gear they wore beneath them. He could taste the victory already and he smiled under his full-face helmet at the thoughts of revenge. The plan to attack tonight had been Richards but he’d helped by answering hundreds of questions. It was a good plan, he approved. With most of the animals either hibernating or penned up in the barn, they would only have a few to deal with. They all crashed out in the same room, gathered around the fireplace, and at two in the morning they would catch them sleeping. They never locked the doors and they would wake up to the sounds of gunshots putting down their animals. They’d never expect it with the storm raging, it would be a quick and easy victory. They could tie up the boys, maybe beat on them a little if they got sassy then break in the new girls. He knew he’d never get first dibs on Harper or any of the others for that matter. He’d come to terms with it, though. They’d get tired of her after a few months and then he could move in and claim her as his own. He’d get Richard to tell them to leave her alone. They were family so he probably would. He was looking forward to seeing Skull or Gargoyle have their fun with Swan. Those two were pretty rough on the girls back at the Landing and Richard had to tell them to tone it down more than once. If they kept it up, they were going to break them. That would teach the wolf girl to get on his bad side.

The snowmobile handled like a dream, the heated seat and handlebars dispelled the cold, the fairings kept the wind off him.

He carried a .32 caliber revolver tucked inside the pocket of the snowsuit. Richard had called it a popgun with its little bullets, but Gordon liked how small it was and easy to hide. He’d turned down the big guns offered to him by the other guys. It would do just fine for the job he had in mind.

He couldn’t wait to hear Cody beg and plead. He planned on sitting on top of Otis’s bullet riddled body with Cody trussed up at his feet listening to Harper scream and cry as they took turns with her. He wanted to laugh at his pain and when the time was right, he’d shoot him in the knee caps with his little pop gun. It wouldn’t kill him but he’d never run again and he’d never be able to win a fight. One little tap to the leg would send him tumbling to the ground.

They were getting close; the old church was just ahead. He was near the rear of the pack, right in front of Richard. His cousin wanted him close in case he had any questions. He took another sip of whiskey from his camelback and didn’t even grimace. He was getting used to the taste. Like the others, he was half lit from the alcohol in his hydration bag. He was sixteen now. He drank and smoked, took turns with the girls and popped pills the same as the rest of them. He was a man.

Pole was in the lead and knew the fun was about to begin when his headlight caught the church they’d burnt down. They were just around the corner and the back gate was only another mile beyond it. He came out of the bend, took another sip of tequila and goosed it. The machine shot up to fifty miles an hour then slammed into something solid. He didn’t see the cable stretched across the road. It caught the snowmobile right above the skis and sent it tumbling end over end before it snapped. Pole flew through the air, arms waving frantically and bounced off a telephone pole. His leg bent in places it wasn’t supposed to bend and he screamed when he felt the bone break and spear through his flesh and snowsuit. His machine continued to spin and roll, fiberglass pieces and bits of metal flying in every direction, headlight flashing like a strobe. He howled in agony at the pain and nearly passed out when he saw the sharp, bloody end of his bone sticking out of the snowsuit.

Jester was right behind him, dodged to the right to miss the wreck and caught the second cable strung across the road. It caught the tip of his fairing and rode it up, smashed through his windshield and caught him across the chest. He was going thirty when it snapped his ribs, sent him flying in one direction and the snowmobile in another.

Two more riders, reaction time dulled by booze and blowing snow, the vibration of the machines and the warm electric suits, jerked the handlebars to avoid Jester who was flying right towards them.

They slammed together and Cappy’s gloved hand slid over the thumb throttle, revving the big Polaris to redline. It answered instantly. The studded track dug in, lifted the front skis skyward and powered the machine up and across Maggots back. The steel barbs shredded the seat, his snowsuit then sent chunks of muscle and flesh spraying across the snow.

Cappy tried to scream but choked on a mouth full of alcohol as he held on for dear life. The machine launched into the air, hit the same cable and snapped it. The flying end caught the wildly spinning track, tangled in the sprocket and jerked the sled towards the tree where it was tied. Cappy went flying the other direction, landed hard and the camel back flattened. It shot a half liter of booze down his throat. The impact knocked the air out of him and his coughing fit turned into drowning as he sucked the tequila into his lungs.

The rest of the machines slid to a halt, helmet visors were flipped up and they started yelling questions at each other.

“What did they hit?”

“What the hell just happened?”

A war cry erupted from the wood line, a flaming spear shot through the darkness, an arrow from a compound bow drove deep into a rider’s heart and screaming children on polar bears charged out of the night swinging saw bladed battle axes.

“Shoot them! Shoot them!” Gordon shrieked in panic and fought to rip his gloves off so he could grab his own gun.

The Yamaha behind him erupted into a geyser of flames and someone ran past him beating at a burning suit, trying to tear it off.

Two shadows leapt from the ditch line, one with a spear and one with claws, and a rider trying to pull his rifle from its scabbard was knocked sideways off his machine. Snarling white fangs sank into his shoulder as claws tore his snow suit to ribbons. The man tried to scream but vomited blood inside his helmet when something hard and sharp tore through his belly. Donny withdrew his steel shafted spear from the man’s stomach, twisted it to cut lose the trailing bits of guts and let Yewan finish the kill.

Skull tore his AR-15 out of its bag and aimed at the big, brown bear that felt like it was making the ground shake as it thundered towards him. He squeezed the trigger, heard the bear roar in pain and fury before an arrow knocked his aim off. It hit the hard plastic of his hockey pad and shattered but it caused his bullets to go wide. The boy they had tied to the front of Gordon’s machine leaped for him, a wicked looking Warhammer swinging for his face. Skull jerked the gun up just in time to block the hammer from knocking his head off, iron smashed against metal and plastic, sent the rifle flying away. He grabbed the boy by a handful of hair as he fell over the seat and pulled him down into the snow while flaming pieces of plastic rained down all around them.

Swan sent arrow after carefully aimed arrow into the bunched-up machines, silent death coming at them from the shadows.

Richard couldn’t get his gloves off to pull his pistols; they were velcroed to his suit to keep out the cold. In his panic, he pawed at the slick, waterproof material and kept slipping. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Half his guys were already down and screaming, being mauled by crazy looking kids in war paint and monster animals that were supposed to be hibernating.

Another flaming spear came out of the dark and another snowmobile splashed bright orange, lighting up the night in a ball of flame. Roiling black smoke from burning plastic joined the wind whipped snow to shroud them with a haze that was hard to see through.

The fight was over before it even began, he had to go. He had to get away. He’d just seen half-naked kids riding polar bears and swinging homemade axes cut down one of his men. How did you fight something like that? Gordon had lied, this was no easy way to get a few more girls, and this was a slaughter. He stopped trying to pull his gun and hit the throttle of the idling machine.

Kodiak twisted his hammer, tried to hit the hand curled in his hair but it was knocked aside. Skull was three years older, fifty pounds heavier and still heavily muscled. He head-butted the boy with his helmet then rammed his face into the Kevlar track. Blood exploded from Kodiaks nose and Skull jerked him back to slam it again and again but was suddenly lifted off his knees and flung through the air. Six inch long claw as big as cigars shredded his armor, slashed through flesh and tossed him some ten feet away next to one of the burning snowmobiles. Otis towered above him silhouetted by flames with blood matting his shoulder where the bullet had hit. He roared, the polar bears answered and the savage growls of the wolf and panther drowned out the screams of terror and war cries of fury.

Snowmobile engines revved to life adding to the cacophony of horror as riders tried to escape from the nightmare. Otis clawed at a passing rider, sent him tumbling towards the ditch then dropped to all fours to chase a fleeing machine.

Kodiak wiped the blood out of his face and saw Skull reaching for the rifle. He rolled to his feet, double fisted his hammer and raised it over his head as he catapulted high in the air. He drove it straight down against the rider’s helmet, putting all his strength and all his weight behind the blow. It was a solid hit, cracked the plastic and slammed him back down to the ground. He swung again like he was wielding a baseball bat and trying to knock one into the stands. Chunks of the helmet broke away and the rider stopped reaching for the gun. He pushed himself unsteadily to his knees and tried to crawl away. He had no more fight left in him. The helmet pieces fell to the snow as he hung his head and in the dancing firelight, Kodiak saw blood oozing out of his ears. The boy was helpless, was trying to crawl away but was headed back into the madness. Gordon’s gang member had tried to shoot him, had hit Otis at least once. The boy had tried to break his skull and blood still cascaded from a gash across his eye. Kodiak gripped the long, iron handle, raised it high over his head and aimed for the back of boys’ neck. It would be like slaughtering a pig, all he had to do was bash his head. It was unprotected. The boy would never even feel it. Kodiak held the Warhammer high for a moment then let it fall. He kicked him instead, knocked him flat again.

“You’re going the wrong way, idiot.” he said then ran into the smoke, looking for targets that could fight back.

Richard spun his snowmobile out of the cluster, ducked low behind his windshield and raced around the roaring bear for the open road. Otis slashed out, splintered the front of the machine and swept his paw across the boy’s chest. His massive claws sent him flying, sheared through the snowsuit and raked four deep gouges across his ribs. His machine careened through the ditch and came to a halt with its nose against a tree. Richard hit the ground, staggered to his feet and ran, clutching his wounded chest. He fled towards the forest, hit the ditch and stumbled. A wolf came out of the darkness, ripped into his leg, pulled him down. His screams were lost in the night, mixed with the others as the wolf shredded his clothes, anxious to get at the flesh beneath. The snarling beast was jerking him around like a rag doll but he managed to get his knife out of its sheath and slashed at the thing trying to rip his leg off.

Swan dropped her bow when she heard Zero yelp. She had a tomahawk in each hand as she left the woods and ran to the ditch to join the fight. Zero had backed off, a long gash across his muzzle but his teeth were bared and he had a rumbling, snarling growl deep in his throat. Swan hurled one her tomahawks as she leaped down the embankment and slid to a halt by Zero, her own growl on her peeled back lips. The spike slammed into the boy’s shoulder, buried itself to the head and he looked up at her in shock and surprise. Richard turned his hunting knife towards her, stared at the soot blackened face, the spotted hyena hide she wore over her shoulders, and knew he was going to die. These kids weren’t human, they were something else. Something vicious and wild. Another snowmobile exploded into flames and the screaming albino twins were slashing at anyone they saw. Their bears ran them down after they had smashed through the clustered snowmobiles, scattering everyone in panic. Nobody was firing their guns, nobody was fighting back, it was complete chaos and the feral children were butchering them one by one.

He dropped the knife and held up his hands.

“Please.” he said “Please…”

Swan stopped short of driving the blade into his skull, put a hand on her wolf to stay his spring. To stop his killing lunge.

His terror filled eyes were wide, his hands held up in a feeble effort to protect himself from the wolf girls’ terrible anger. From the gleaming tomahawk in her hand.

“Please…”

Swan hesitated, ground her teeth. He flinched and gasped when she snagged her other tomahawk out of his shoulder then stepped back.

“Run.” she said.

It was a limping, ungainly run that left a trail of blood melting the snow behind him but he fled as fast as he could.

Vanessa lit the flare and tried to spot another gas can, another target, through the swirling snow. She heard the twins yelling their battle cries, the roaring and snarling of the animals, the screams of men in pain. The winds lashed the flames and illuminated the ambush area in dancing orange light. Dark smoke whipped through the pandemonium of battle. One of the riders had managed to strip off his burning suit and armor, dig out his pistol and fired as he ran straight at her. Bullets whizzed by her head, splintered bark from the tree, but she didn’t cower and hide. She let her spear fly, its duct taped magnesium flare sending a shower of red fire out of the end. It flew true, hit him square in the chest and sunk deep. He dropped the gun, sank to his knees, gripped the spear and stared in shocked disbelief. His insides were on fire, he was glowing pinkish red and smoking. She came out of the woods, small, dark and silent, running at him with a machete.

He was being killed by ten-year-old.

A dark-skinned girl with scars and paint on her face.

She had a tight mohawk, feathers and beads around her neck and he was so stunned he didn’t feel the blade as it sliced open his neck when she ran past.

Gordon screamed his frustration and jumped on a sled that didn’t look damaged. The crazy twins and their bears had scattered everyone and smashed most of the machines. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They had the numbers and they had the guns. It wasn’t fair. They were losing and everyone was running as fast as they could. He didn’t know where his cousin was, he thought he saw him take off a few minutes ago, and he really didn’t care. Pole pulled himself along in the snow, trying to get back to the sleds, a mangled, broken leg left a blood trail behind him. Gordon goosed the machine to knock a twisted snowmobile out of the way and almost didn’t see the crawling boy in the confusion. He heard the snarl of Swan behind him and didn’t have time to go around. Pole would understand, nothing personal, he would have done the same thing. He bumped over him, dodged around Donny and Yewan as they appeared out of the smoke and pressed the throttle. The machine shot forward, out of the reach of Swans tomahawks and Yewans fangs. He saw Cody when he passed by the burning sled and cut the skis.

He grinned maniacally as he bore down on him. It was small revenge but it was all he was going to get this time. At least he would accomplish something on this messed up mission.

Kodiak heard the quick revving buzz of the engine, threw himself out of the way as Gordon sped by. The handlebar caught his buffalo robe, jerked him off his feet as the snowmobile jagged sharply and caught the rear end of a burning sled. One of the skis on Gordon’s machine hooked something solid and snapped off. The fiberglass and plastic fairing exploded as he fought for control. It nearly jerked his arm out of its socket but the machine righted itself and he leaned his weight to the opposite side to keep it moving forward. He breathed a deep sigh, threw a hateful look over his shoulder and gave gas again. The machine would ride with one ski. It might be hard to handle but that was okay. It was better than being dead. He turned around just in time to see a giraffe appear out of the darkness and a flail of spiked steel coming straight for his head. He threw up his hands barely in time to stop it from impaling his face and screamed in terror as he went sprawling off the sled. The tough, padded armor saved him from two shattered arms but the plastic tore free on the spikes. They gouged through his flesh, leaving bloody rifts in both arms. The machine came to a halt a dozen yards up the road and he scrambled to get back to it. To get away from these lunatic children. To escape.

A huge yellow and black head swung for him and once again the giraffe sent him tumbling away. Harper spun in her saddle, hopped on to Bert’s long, sloping back and slid to the ground, using his tail to slow her fall. Gordon tried to clear his head, tried to stand but she knocked him flat before he could get to his feet. Harper stood over him, her blonde hair whipping in the wind, her face painted like the rest of them, her morning star ready to bash his head in if he tried to move. He heard other snowmobile engines revving and fading as they took off through the woods or down the road, running for home. Swan and Donny came out of the smoke and snow, bloody wolf and bloodier panther padding slowly beside them. Kodiak appeared, him and Otis both bleeding but they walked steadily forward. He heard more cries of pain, more engines starting up. Headlights split the night and shot down the road, injured riders crouched low and fleeing for their lives. Leaving him behind. The fires behind the kids turned them into shadowy wraiths as Gordon crabbed slowly backward, away from the girl with the tomahawk. Away from the boy with the spear. Away from the animals who would shred him alive and feast on him as he died. The twins materialized out of the snow, white on white and splashed with red.

Harper kept pace, not trying to stop him, just watching him with an inscrutable look on her painted face. Gordon’s eyes flashed to each of them looking for mercy but saw none. He remembered his gun and fumbled with the zipper of his suit. As Kodiak approached, he pulled the pistol from his pocket, pointed it before anyone could react and squeezed the trigger. Fire erupted from the barrel and the bullet hit Kodiak at nearly point-blank range. He stumbled as it struck, felt the burn as it plunged through the thick buffalo robe, his plastic breastplate then buried itself into his chest.

Barely.

The children’s response was instant and Gordon would have been speared, flailed, hatcheted, macheted and slashed to ribbons with sharp toothed axes if Kodiak hadn’t yelled for them to stop. Donny was the quickest and barely altered his thrust to snap Gordon’s wrist instead of plunging the steel through his faceplate.

They heard the bone break, saw the pistol spin away to be lost in the snow. Kodiak reached under his chest plate and plucked the flattened little bullet out. It was still hot so he let it drop the ground and sizzle in the snow. The fire in the background was slowly dying out, but there was enough light to illuminate the panic and terror on Gordons face as he cradled his broken wrist.

“I’ll do it.” Kodiak said. “I’ll carry out the judgement.”

They backed off, formed a half circle as he approached and adjusted his grip on the hammer. Their bloodlust was still high, these men had come to kill, rape and enslave. They didn’t have pity and they wouldn’t show mercy. Gordon started to keen, a drawn out high pitched nooooooo coming from somewhere deep inside him.

They heard someone crying, a girl, and turned to watch as a naked woman staggered out of the smoke, most of her hair burnt off and smoldering bits of Gore-Tex snowsuit fused to her skin. They smelled her then, the sickly-sweet smell of burnt flesh as she stumbled and sobbed, her body raw, blistered and red. They slowly lowered their weapons and their faces softened.

“She came to kill us, too.” Swan said. “She deserved what she got.”

Her heart wasn’t in it though and when the girl fell, Swan was the first to run help her.

52

Diablo

Diablo slunk through the tree line, his senses alert. The smell of burnt fuel irritated his nostrils and he sneezed. There was another scent though, blood. His acute nose homed in on it and he approached stealthily towards its source.

Behind him, the Savage Ones followed. The crows, ravens and vultures soared overhead in oblong circles. The raccoons, opossums, feral hogs, stray cats, dogs and foxes followed in his wake. Some of them had felt his ire when they got too close. Powerful jaws crushed fragile bones and his laughing bark warned them to keep their distance. The fallen became food for the many as they fought over the scraps of whatever unfortunate had met Diablo’s wrath. Yet they followed still, drawn by his power and commanding presence. They had been eating the undead for months and it changed them. Subtly altered the way their brains worked. The virus that turned the humans into frenzied flesh eaters almost instantly was caused by microscopic man-made nanobots. It didn’t affect the animals in the same way, it didn’t turn them into undead monsters. The more of the infected flesh they ate, the more they wanted. It was addictive, easy to hunt and plentiful. It slowly changed them over time. It didn’t make them undead, it made them crave the same thing the undead craved. It made them hunger for human blood. The more dead flesh they ate, the more living flesh they wanted.

Diablo crept forward, his infected shoulder was stiff, weeping pus, but it would hold. He was the most fearsome creature roaming these woods and even wounded, he would shred any animal that crossed him.

He eyed the roadway warily, keen night vision taking in the machines that man rode and the rapidly filling depressions in the snow where the blood scent emanated. He growled a warning at his followers, letting them know this was his find. He would feast first; he would have the choicest bits. The hearts and kidneys and liver. His wounded body craved the blood enriched protein and drool ran from his massive jaws as he crept slowly forward. He feared no creature but man. Man meant pain. Man meant beatings with leather straps and shocks with cattle prods. He inhaled the scent of his enemy, the wolf, but it was an old scent, faint and fading. He had no desire to tangle with the wolf again, but he didn’t fear him either. The scents of the bears and the other animals still lingered but his nose told him the danger was long past and the spoils were his.

He dug into the first cavity, ignoring the pain from his wound. He found the body beneath and with his powerful jaws ripped through the clothing until he reached the flesh. It was hard, nearly frozen but he forced his muzzle through, sharp canines snipping through flesh and tendon to the warmer treats inside. He sensed the approach of the others and growled another low warning. They watched him feast, keeping plenty of distance between them. He gorged on the internal organs; his muzzle coated in blood until he had eaten the choicest bites. He moved on to the next, the Savage Ones quickly fell onto the remains he left behind, snarling and biting amongst themselves as they fought for position around the corpse. The rotten ones they’d been feasting on were scarce lately and their empty stomachs drove them to near madness. Some of them were devoured in the frenzy by their own pack as their first taste of untainted blood pushed them over the brink.

Diablo, sated at last, moved towards the shelter of an abandoned car and put his back to the vehicle. None of the ravenous beasts would flank him. He watched as they devoured his scraps. There was more meat not far from here. The ones who’d caged him. The ones who’d hurt him. His instincts told him he wasn’t prepared to attack there yet. He would heal then seek out the weaker ones inside the fences to fill his belly.

He rose to his feet, turned back into the wood line and disappeared. They would follow, his scent was unique to these woods. These things didn’t concern him. Sleep and the warmth of a den beckoned. He set out in search of a suitable place, the snapping and snarling, the crunching of bone and ripping of flesh echoing in his ears as he disappeared into the forest, leaving the carnage behind him.

53

Smith’s Landing

Richard slammed the door behind him to the startled looks of the girls who had stayed behind.

“Where’s everyone else?” Misty asked then shrank back from the baleful glare, his torn suit and the blood running down his leg.

A few of his guys had made it back before him and they didn’t look injured. They were the ones who ran away first. Cowards. He’d deal with them later. He hobbled to the bar, grabbed a bottle of tequila and turned it up. He chugged deeply, the fire making its way down his throat to burn in his stomach. His leg throbbed and blood flowed freely from the spike hole in his shoulder. The alcohol gave him the illusion of warmth and dulled the pain. The whole miserable ride back it had taken every ounce of his willpower. Every jostle and bump in the road made him hurt more.

“Gordon” he muttered under his breath, turning the name into a vile curse word. “He did this.”

He flung the half empty bottle against the wall. It shattered and the gold liquid soaked into the expensive rug covering the floor. He should have known better than to let that lying little weasel talk him into the raid. His libido always overrode his good sense. Girls were his weakness and Gordy had promised him girls. An easy victory and beautiful girls. He hadn’t said they were wild and untamed like that painted up wolf girl who stabbed him. He had escaped, he was alive when others were dead and he was trying to forget how he begged for his life from a twelve-year-old. Those kids weren’t normal, they were as savage as anything he’d ever seen and she was like a honey badger, vicious and unforgiving. He’d watched the rest of the battle from his hiding spot in the tree line and they scared him. He’d rather fight a horde of zombies than face them again. Their animals were even worse, he’d seen the polar bears grab someone and rip his arm completely off. His whole damn arm. And those pale white savages riding them, they scared him more than the wolf girl the way they swung their axes, splitting helmets and cutting down his men. He was glad they were separated by so many miles and he was thankful for the storm. It would cover his tracks, they wouldn’t be able to follow.

“Get over here, Tasha.” he spat at the pale faced girl.

Or maybe it was Sasha. He couldn’t remember.

“Get some bandages and get me sewn up.”

He looked at the hamburger that was his calf, which the wolf had ravaged. This was gonna hurt.

The rest of the Riders trickled in one by one or in pairs and Richard realized he had been lucky. He only had a hole in his shoulder, bear claw slashes across his chest and a chewed-up ankle. The others were scattered around the living room, the few that were left anyway. They were all wounded. Broken arms, broken ribs, broken legs and cracked skulls. Frostbite, slash marks, bite marks, arrows that punched through armor, missing fingers, gut wounds that probably wouldn’t heal, third degree burns, jagged gashes and then there was Squirrel. The pretty little party girl that thought everything was a joke, who lived in a constant state of inebriation, was a blackened mess. She’d been splashed in gas, caught fire, panicked and ran. It wasn’t that bad at first, only her jacket was burning. She had Everclear in her camelback and when it caught fire, she’d been engulfed. If she would have dropped into the snow and unzipped her suit, she would have been fine but she didn’t. She ran and it melted into her. She probably wouldn’t survive either but if she did, her good looks were gone forever.

His crew would be incapacitated for months. He’d lost friends. Their loss meant more than Gordon was worth. He hoped he was dead. He hoped the bear had killed him or that he’d had his head bashed in by the Warhammer the boy in the buffalo robe carried. The last he’d seen of him, he was on the ground with the kids and their animals gathered around him.

They’d had guns but barely got a shot off. They’d had superior numbers and powerful machines but a few cables across the road had stopped them in their tracks. It had been a perfect ambush and he should have known better. He’d done something similar a thousand times in a hundred different video games. It never occurred to him that the kids would do it in real life.

The girls that stayed behind couldn’t wrap their heads around what happened. Little kids and big animals had killed or maimed everyone. How did Richard let that happen? Were the men of Smith’s Landing really that weak or were the tweenagers almost God-like warriors?

Richard sat in a recliner, his leg elevated, and surveyed the oversized living room that had been turned into a hospital ward. He’d heard their stories as they told what happened to them, how they had gotten injured. He called BS on every one of them. None of them had stood to fight like they claimed. None of them had been brave, him included. They all ran. Moans and groans and curses filled the house. Nearly every one of them were wounded and he still wasn’t sure who was dead. More survivors may be coming.

He looked at Skull. Blood trails ran out of both ears, his head was puffy and misshapen, his nose flattened across his face. The boy with the Warhammer had done a number on him. He chewed Oxy like it was candy.

Maggot was busted up bad from Cappy running over him. He looked terrible, his back looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to it before they bandaged him up. He was black and yellow with bruises and stared blankly at the wall, drool pooling on the couch from the corner of his mouth. He kept moaning that his guts hurt. Richard tuned him out. There was nothing he could do for him except pump him full of drugs and alcohol.

Gargoyle was gone. The panther had killed the shit out of him. He’d miss Gargoyle.

Boonie was dead, that crazy wolf girl had punched his ticket. He was pretty sure Rooster was dead because he was pretty sure it had been him getting his arm ripped off.

They’ll just have to rot out there, he thought. No way was he going anywhere near those crazy bastards and their animals. If they ever left the compound again, no one would ever be allowed to go south. Ever.

Cowboy and Shaggy were chewed up from the psycho albinos on the polar bears. Jagged sawblade axes had sliced through their snowsuits and found soft flesh. Cowboys back had been laid wide open. Shaggy’s was no better but at least he wasn’t crying about it like Cowboy was.

Bong lay passed out next to his namesake. He couldn’t even tell them what happened. One minute he was riding, the next he woke up freezing cold, all alone with an arrow in him and his helmet cracked open. At least a concussion there, he thought. Bong was brain damaged enough already without taking a hit like that.

He took another swallow from the bottle as he watched the girls tend to the broken boys of Smiths Landing.

He listened to Pole moaning from his place on the floor. The compound fracture of his leg had him drifting in and out of consciousness. The girls were afraid to try to set it, they didn’t have any experience in such things. Pole would be lucky if he didn’t die of infection and if he survived, he would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. His hockey days were definitely over.

Juicy was missing two fingers from his right hand. The boy stared at the bloody bandage with an unbelieving look on his face. Part of him was missing. A ninja with a razor-sharp staff had sliced him as he was trying to aim his gun then disappeared back into the smoke. He didn’t even know if he was remembering it right but he knew he never wanted to mess with the kids again.

Richard guzzled more booze and told Trish to get the Oxy from Flame. He needed one. Or maybe two.

The front door burst open and Gordon staggered in.

He looked scared. He looked around at the wounded and his eyes met Richard’s. His cousin glared at him.

Gordon shed his snowsuit and moved over to stand over one of the heater vents. His pulse raced and his heart pounded. His broken wrist throbbed and the holes in his arms from Harpers ball and chain had soaked his thermal shirt.”

“I figured you for dead.” Richard said. “And truth be told, I wouldn’t have been one bit sorry. You were supposed to know these kids, Gordy. You promised us it would be an easy raid but we got our asses handed to us.”

There were mumbles of agreement from around the room.

“Yeah, well you guys left me behind. I had to fight them off by myself. At least I put a bullet in Cody, he’s probably dead by now and so is the bear.”

He snorted and turned his back on his cousin, falling back on the old standby when someone was winning an argument. Righteous indignation. Twist the truth and put the blame on them. He needed a drink to calm his nerves

Richard eyed him suspiciously. “So, you shot him and the rest just let you go? Sounds like a Gordy story to me.”

“No, they didn’t just let me go. I kicked ass and got away in the confusion. We could have won if you hadn’t chickened out.” The lies slipped easily from his mouth but no one was listening and wouldn’t have believed him if they were.

“Look around you idiot! No one was in any shape to fight. Half the guys were dead before we even knew we were under attack! I’ve got friends laying out there in the snow, food for the animals and it’s all on you!”

Richard tried to rise but his wounded leg screamed in protest. He slumped back into the chair with a groan.

“Sasha, take a look at my wrist.” Gordon ordered.

“Do it yourself,” she answered.

She was pouring hydrogen peroxide over the bone sticking out of Pole’s leg. He screamed as the liquid hit his exposed nerves. Misty and Trish held him down as she gave a sharp tug on his ankle, pulled the bone back into place. She felt it slip into position then cleaned and stitched the torn flesh as best as she was able before wrapping it in a splint. She moved onto the next boy. It was gonna be a long night.

54

Piedmont House

The mood at breakfast was somber, they were lost in reflection over the fight. Murray had cooked when the twins didn’t show any interest as they sat around the fire cleaning gore out of their weapons. Each of the tribe had gone to sleep as soon as they made it home last night, the adrenaline rush gone and the long walk back sapping the last of their reserves. They had won, a decisive and absolute victory, but it felt hollow. It had almost been too easy. Most of them didn’t even have a scratch and they had put a lot of people in the grave.

The crying girl, her body burnt and scarred, her hands melted lumps, had sapped their fury. Their determination to kill them all and be done with it. She had changed everything, shamed them when they realized they were getting ready to butcher the injured and unarmed. They couldn’t kill Gordon or the rest of them in cold blood, couldn’t sink spears into helpless people.

Kodiak wondered if all survivors felt guilty for being victorious. If maybe that was why so many soldiers committed suicide, they couldn’t get the images of what they had done out of their heads. He didn’t know how things could have been different, it was kill or be killed, but it was a lot bloodier and uglier than any movie or video game. It wasn’t clean and easy.

Instead of killing them, they helped the injured, the ones who hadn’t already ran away, and sent them back to where ever it was they came from.

Even Gordon.

Outside, the snow continued to fall in big fluffy flakes. The storm had passed, almost as if it had spent its fury during the battle, dying out as the adrenaline faded and the spilled blood froze.

Murray and the triplets had a million questions about the fight.

The tribe ignored them.

Harper promised details later. Much later. It just didn’t feel right to talk about it.

“They won’t be coming back,” was all Kodiak said. “We hurt them pretty bad.”

He had been hurt the worst, his face felt like mangled hamburger.

“I’ll have to teach you how to fight.” Swan had said and made faces as Harper cleaned and closed up the wounds.

It almost didn’t seem fair. They had killed a half dozen of the gang, broken the rest of them, some permanently damaged, and he was the only one who’d been seriously injured. He couldn’t see very well out of his swollen eye that got slammed into the snowmobile track but at least it hadn’t blinded him. Harper said the scar gave him character so that was okay. The others had bumps and bruises, sore muscles, a sprain and Otis had a gouge in his shoulder but the bullet had passed right through. He’d acted like a big baby when Murray cleaned the wound and stitched it up but it gave him an excuse to be fussed over and hog the floor in front of the fireplace, as if he really needed one.

The traps and their vicious ambush had worked. There was so much confusion among Gordon’s people they had broken and ran almost as soon as the fight started. Harper hadn’t even been in it. The first gunshot startled Bert and it took her a while to get him to stop running and get turned around.

After breakfast they lounged around the fireplace playing games, reading or brushing their animals. Kodiak stared out of the window, questioning his decision to let Gordon go once more. When it came down to it, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t kill him in cold blood, even after everything he’d done. He might be a killer but he wasn’t a murderer. There was a big difference.

He was proud of his tribe. Proud of the way they’d stood in the face of superior numbers and firepower. Proud of all the long hours spent with their animals, not even training them for battle, just being with them. Being their friend and teacher.

Swan sat in one of the wide windowsills, sharing the ledge with Zero. She cradled River, the cutest of the wolf pups, while his brother and sister tussled on the floor nipping and biting each other, fearsome growls emanating from their tiny bodies. She thought about the life she’d taken. His blood still stained her tomahawk. It was dried now, dark and rusty looking, nothing like the bright red spray that splashed her face when she buried her blades. She’d thought revenge would be easier to swallow, but she felt empty inside. A few months ago, she’d have laughed if someone told her she’d be a fearsome killer and run with a pack of wolves. If she was like this a few months ago, she’d be all over the headlines and sitting in a jail cell. But so would Gordon. He’d shot Kodiak and they’d simply let him leave.

They had it coming, she thought, they could have just stayed away.

This world didn’t favor the weak. In the bright light of the day, she wanted to disagree with their decision to let Gordon go. He needed killing. He was too dangerous to let live but the crying girl had stopped them. She had made them see the stain it would leave on their souls. Maybe the snow would take care of the problem for them. Maybe the snowmobile had left him stranded and the crows and ravens would feast on him in the spring. Maybe one of the zombies would get him. She’d love to see him at the gate, clawing and snarling, his eyes dead and flesh rotting on his bones. She savored the thought, nursed her hatred. She liked the idea of catching his zombified corpse and putting him in one of the animal enclosures. He’d make great target practice for her bow and tomahawks, as long as she didn’t hit him in the head. When the pups grew older, she’d use him to train them to attack. She smiled at the thought. River yelped and she snapped out of her nightmare daydream. She’d been squeezing the poor thing.

Geez, Swan, what’s wrong with you? She nuzzled the cub and whispered her apology softly in his ear. River relaxed and nestled against her chest. She took a deep breath and tried to clear her head of thoughts of Gordon and his gang. She had to let go of her anger. She wanted love in her life, not hate. Peace, not war.

Tobias and Annalise faced each other over a game of checkers, each trying to outmaneuver the other as they stared intensely at the board. Popsicle and Daisy lay in a pile under one the windows, seeking to take advantage of the drafty nature of the old house. They would have preferred to be outside in the snow, but the urge to be near their children over rode their own desire. The twins showed no outward indication that just a couple of hours before they’d been screaming ancient war cries and cutting down running men with battle axes. Tobias smirked as he watched his sister make a rookie mistake; he double jumped her, said king me and she crowned his checker. She held her poker face for a moment but grinned broadly as his jaw dropped when he saw he’d been drawn into a trap. She effectively hemmed in his King and he couldn’t use it until she moved her blocking pieces. And if he knew her, those pieces would be there until the end of the game.

Vanessa sat with Donny, Yewan lay at his feet. The panther licked his paws and forelegs, purring contentedly. Vanessa sang softly as she braided his hair. He ignored the dull throb from his bruised shoulder, thankful it wasn’t his head. The fight had been chaotic and he didn’t know how many men they had battled. They had moved from one to the next as fast as they spotted them, stabbing or clawing, knocking them aside and moving on. He’d lost track of the others, the snow, the dancing fires and the smoke made it hard to see. It was easy to know where the twins were, they never shut up. He’d seen Swan ghosting in and out of view a few times swinging her tomahawks, Zero always by her side. He was pretty sure the snowmobilers’ armor protected them from the worst of their blows and most ran away out of sheer panic. Some fought back, the boy with a pistol in each hand had him in his sights. No doubt he would be dead, not getting his hair braided, if Yewan hadn’t struck when he did. He shivered as he thought about the sickening crunch of the boy’s neck when she had closed down on it with those powerful jaws. He wanted to feel remorse, he wanted to be repulsed at the thought, but it eluded him. They had done what needed to be done to protect the tribe. There was no dishonor in that. He finally had a place. He finally had a family that loved him. He had Yewan, a companion and protector. He felt no remorse, he felt peace. It radiated out from somewhere deep inside him. He glanced at his sister, his friend, as she sang softly and braided a trophy into his hair. A small metal piece from a snowmobile, a reminder of the Gordon war. He took in his tribe scattered around the parlor, each dealing with the aftermath of the battle in their own ways. It took the end of the world to find his place in it and he vowed to never let it go. He’d killed for his tribe and he’d die for them if it was required.

Harper stared at Kodiak from the comfort of the recliner she lay in, nestled under a thick blanket, a book in her hands. She worried about him, he tried to take on too much. He and Otis would have fought the Riders alone if they hadn’t seen through his ruse. They would have died out there and become food for the Savage Ones. She loved him for it but cursed his stubbornness at the same time. She felt sleepy and sad. She didn’t know how many they’d killed; how many survived the long ride back to wherever they’d come from. Cody, Kodiak, she corrected herself, told them to help anyone they could and send them on their way. She hadn’t wanted to count the bodies lying in the snow when they finally left that cursed place. She’d be fine if she never saw the burnt-out church again. She sent up a little prayer that the fallen found peace and the injured made it back safely. She sighed contentedly as her sleepy eyes passed over each of her brothers and sisters, her tribe.

The triplets were giggling madly. They had taught the monkeys to ride on the foxes and it was a constant source of amusement or annoyance to watch them play.

Vanessa hummed softly to Donny while she tied off the little braid that hung behind his ear. Her spears had flown straight and true, she had probably even saved lives by adding to the confusion and chaos. Her Daddy would have been proud. She tried to forget the burning woman, tried to justify it. She never would have been hurt if she hadn’t come to hurt them.

She felt a little guilty about riding Ziggy in the snow but she had proven herself when they rescued the children and leaving her behind had felt wrong. She was brave in a fight and she felt safer knowing she was close by. Now she was nestled in her stall with thick hay to keep her warm. She’d clucked and gave Vanessa that funny sideways look of hers while she had sung to her and told her how brave she was and how much she loved her. Vanessa felt like she understood the intent, if not the words, and was sad to leave her in the barn for the night. She needed to go check on her and the rest of the barn animals. She finished the braid, hugged her adopted brother and dressed for the snow. She had some salve for the big ostrich’s feet and wanted to spend some time with her. Maybe they could move south in the spring time, someplace a lot warmer. She hated the cold.

Epilogue

Smith’s Landing

The house stunk of decay. Used bandages, empty whiskey bottles and dirty clothing littered the floor. Unwashed bodies and the lingering gangrene smell from Poles leg hung in the air. He had never regained consciousness, just a drowsy fever dream state. They didn’t know how long it would take for him to pass, but the infected, pus filled wound smelled worse by the hour. He wasn’t going to recover and all they could do was make him comfortable.

Richard hobbled with the assistance of his grandfather’s old blackthorn cane. He was healing slowly but he was healing. The rest weren’t so lucky. Tasha and the other girls had saved most of their lives but the crude splints and the lack of knowledge meant bones would heal crooked and the injured boys would be in pain for the rest of their lives. It was a disaster of the highest order and Richard placed the blame squarely on Gordon. If he hadn’t shown up, hadn’t gotten himself thrown out of the animal park, none of this would have happened. He should have been more suspicious. He should have interrogated him as to why, exactly, did a bunch of little kids want him gone. He tucked the pistol behind his belt, put on his heavy coat and limped his way to where Gordon sat watching a movie.

“We need to talk cousin.” Richard told him, then under his breath “Outside, where the others can’t hear.”

“About what?” Gordon asked, his eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s dark, can’t it wait till morning?”

Richards face twitched in barely controlled rage and it took him a moment before he trusted his voice.

“About moving to a different house.” he said, as nonchalantly as he could, “and other things. We need to make some changes.”

Gordon sighed, hit pause. “Sure.”

“After you.” Richard insisted.

Gordon stood and put on his own coat, careful not to jostle his wrist. He led the way to the double patio doors, stepped outside into the cold night air and turned to look at his cousin. Richard leaned heavily on the cane as he limped past him and over to the patio table. The propane heater was on and the covered area actually wasn’t too chilly. There was a dusty bottle of wine and a single glass on the table top and Gordon started to relax. He knew what this was about. Richard needed him to step up. Take charge again since his men were either crippled or stayed too drunk all the time. It had been nearly a week, the guys needed to get over being mad at him, it wasn’t his fault the raid had gone wrong.

There was only one chair and Richard sat heavily with a grunt then rubbed the bandages covering the gashes on his chest.

“These things itch like crazy.” he complained and picked up the bottle to fill the glass.

“This was one of dear old dad’s favorites.” he said. “A French Red from nineteen seventy-two.”

Gordon looked around for another chair but they were all gone.

“You won’t need one.” Richard said. “You’re not staying long.”

He hit the remote on the pool cover and it slid smoothly back. The dead inside were slow but they weren’t frozen. Mouths full of rotted teeth started gnashing and hands slowly went up, reaching for them.

Gordon’s eyes darted around, looking for an exit. He didn’t like the way this was going. The single chair and single glass took on a whole new meaning.

“So, what did you want to talk about? It’s cold out here.”

Richard pulled a pistol out of his jacket pocket and laid it on the table. His hand remained on it, ready to snatch it up.

“You damned near got us all killed. For what? Hurt feelings?”

“Hey, don’t put this all on me, you wanted to get those girls and so did all of the other guys, and don’t forget about Smoke. You wanted revenge for that too.”

“We wouldn’t even know about them if you hadn’t come in here spouting off about it. You said they were weak and easy targets. You said they were just little kids who would be a pushover. You lived there for months and you didn’t know how vicious they were? You had no idea they were so savage? My God, they ride polar bears! You didn’t think to mention that? You led us right into a trap, Gordy. They kicked our asses! My boys are crippled or dead, our machines are trashed. No, this is all you cousin.” He hissed the last word.

Gordon swallowed hard, eyeballed the hand on the gun. He had to spin this.

“Calm down, man. Everything is gonna be fine. We’ll get another chance at them, catch them off guard. We’ll have those girls and our revenge. I’m really sorry about the boys that died but think about it. Less people to feed and drink up the booze. Less people to share the girls with. It’s not so bad if you think about it like that.”

“They were my friends!” Richard shouted.

“My friends, Gordy.” he said quietly, “And you’re stupid if you didn’t learn a lesson from that ass kicking we got. Ninety percent casualty rate if you didn’t notice. Ninety percent of our entire community is dead or maimed. Countries have unconditionally surrendered for less, Gordy. I’m just glad they don’t know where we live. They could walk in here and finish us off. Hell, one of them alone could. We’re broken, Gordy. And you did this.”

Richard raised the pistol and on cue, the rest of the gang hobbled and limped out. They wanted to watch the show. Gordon heard the half-frozen moans of the undead behind him and realized what was happening.

This wasn’t an argument.

He wasn’t being told to leave.

They were going to execute him.

He hadn’t thought to ask who the others were crawling around in the empty pool but from the eager and evil smiles on their faces, he knew they had done this before. He was going to be their Friday night entertainment.

“You gonna jump or do I need to shoot you first?” Richard asked. “Either way, you’ll become one of them. You won’t bleed out before you turn. Just ask dear old dad.”

There was no way out. The rest of them were in a semi-circle behind Richard, out of his line of fire no matter which way he tried to run. He’d get shot and then tossed in, there was no way around it. No amount of begging, no swearing to change, no leaving and never coming back promises would work. Nothing would change their minds.

“Can I go off the diving board?” Gordon asked, trying his best to act cool. To buy a little time so he could think of a way out. “You know, walk the plank? I always had a thing for pirate movies.”

There were murmurs of approval. That would be different. They usually had to shoot whoever was sentenced to the pool and push them in before they died.

“Yeah, Gordy.” Richard said. “You can walk the plank. After all, we’re family.”

Gordon nodded and reached for the wine glass. Richard tensed, almost pulled the trigger, but relaxed when his cousin raised it in toast.

“I’m sorry.” he said, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Nobody softened.

Nobody looked down at their feet and started having second thoughts.

Nobody cared.

He put the glass to his lips, drained it and moved to set it back on the table. When he was close, almost out of the line of fire, he struck out at the gun. In the same instant, he spewed the wine he’d been holding in his mouth into Richards face. He kicked him in his wolf chewed leg as he pulled the trigger but the bullet went wild. Richard was blinded by the alcohol and excruciating pain of all his stitches being ripped open. He screamed and fought for the pistol as the others ran to help.

Gordon ripped the gun out of his grip, twisting and snapping his trigger finger backward and clubbed him across the face with his splint. They both roared in pain but Gordon managed to grab the chair and jerk it forward, throwing Richard to the concrete inches from the edge of the pool. He scrambled backward, away from the reaching arms, but when he grunted to his feet Gordon had the gun pointed at his belly.

“Goodbye, cousin.” he said, and pulled the trigger.

Richard only screamed for a few minutes as they all stood around, stunned by the turn of events and wary of the only person holding a pistol.

“There’s a new sheriff in town.” Gordon said, watching them. “Any objections?”

No one said anything.

“Go get Pole.” he said.

There was a moment’s hesitation and he waited. This was the deciding moment. If they did what he said now, they probably always would. If they didn’t, he’d gun them down until he ran out of bullets. The two healthiest of them finally broke off to drag him out as gently as they could. He was burning up with fever and delirious.

“Toss him in.” Gordon said and motioned to the pool.

They wouldn’t. Gordon waited.

“He’s dead anyway.” Misty said. “You’d be doing him a favor.”

“She’s right.” Jester said. “Just do it before you get us all killed.”

They did.

His eyes sprang open a few minutes later and he jumped to his feet, clawing at them. He kept falling and it didn’t take long before the bone was sticking through his pant leg again. He didn’t seem to notice.

As they filed back into the house, Misty came over to him.

“Let me check your bandages.” she said. “You’ve started bleeding again.”

He sat back down in his favorite chair as she fussed over him and Jester set a cold beer down beside him.

“Here ya go, boss.” he said, giving him a slight nod.

“Things are going to get better.” Gordon said. “Winter will be over soon. Let’s drink up, heal up and get ready for spring.”

They raised a toast to that.

Authors Note

We hope you’ve enjoyed this tale of the children and their companions. This story grew from their interaction with Jessie and Scarlet way back in Zombie Road 5. Wesley has written a few stories set in the Zombie Road world and wanted to expand on the kids who had managed to survive in the wild animal safari park. As of this writing, May of 2019, we are hard at work on the second book in the series.

I wanted to take a moment and really, really thank a few people that made this book happen.

First off, Wesley. All he had to work with was a few chapters from the Zombie Road book and a couple ideas I threw at him. From that, he created the whole safari world and most of the characters in it. He gave them personalities and names and made us care about them. He can be reached at Bisley356gnr@yahoo.com

Next, the cover artist. Erick doesn’t usually do book covers, he is a tattoo artist with incredible talent. I’d already commissioned two different covers from two different artists and they were rather dreadful. With a release date looming, my daughter showed him what I was going to have to use, there was no time to hire another artist. He said “hold my beer” and two days later, he had created the cover that graces the book. Beautiful. He’s agreed to do the next two covers for the trilogy and I can’t wait to see what he does with Swan and her wolves. Or Donny and his panther. Or should it be the little kids and their foxes? Murray and his monkeys? Vanessa in full African battle rattle riding Ziggy as she cuts down the undead? Harper and her giraffe? The twins with their sawblade axes charging through a Walmart on their polar bears? We may have to write more books just to get to see the covers!

Erick Holguin owns the Tattoo Dojo in Atlanta and has been inking for over nine years. If you need skin art, check out him or any of his talented crew. His portraits and detail work are world class. Follow this link and book in advance. A guy with his skill set stays pretty busy. https://www.thetattoodojo.com

Tamra Crow is my third set of eyes and editrix extraordinaire and Valerie Lioudis helped sort the cover layout.

If you would like to sign up for the Simpson newsletter, and get a free book with a few short stories, follow this link: https://subscribepage.com/r2r8n0

Although to be honest, it’s not much of a newsletter. I don’t fill your inbox with spam, just a note a few times a year letting you know when there is a new release or if there is major news about the game or movie that we’re working on.

To keep abreast on the latest goings on, join us in the David Simpson Fan Club group on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/265507950527733/ It’s a pretty active group and I’ll answer any questions you may have.

The obligatory author website (that doesn’t get much love) is www.davidasimpson.com

As always, if you could leave a review, that would be awesome. Amazon really does place a lot of emphasis on the number of reviews a book gets, it’s how they decide whether to promote it or make it more visible for shoppers.

Have fun, live life and don’t get hit by a bus

David A. Simpson

5/19/2019

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Feral Children 2

Savages

A Zombie Road Tale

This is a work of fiction by

David A. Simpson
and

Wesley R. Norris

ISBN: 9781672846554

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No portion of this text may be copied or duplicated without author or publisher written permission, with the exception of use in reviews

Cover by Ryan Schwarz
www.thecoverdesigner.com
www.facebook.com//groups//thecoverdesigner

Copyright 2019 David A. Simpson

All rights reserved

Prologue

July

10 Months After the Outbreak

Kodiak hunched low over Otis’s back as the big bear lumbered through the night. The strange procession that followed the savage boy and his massive bear moved rapidly with barely a sound. Occasionally the click of a claw against a rock or the plod of a hoof marked their passage to anyone or anything that was paying attention.

The scent of animal lather competed with the smell of blood seeping from torn stitches and the stink of infection from vicious wounds that hadn’t been properly treated nor had time to heal. Modern medicine was gone. You made do with what you could scavenge, or you went without.

The young warriors rode on the backs of armored beasts painted with stripes and symbols. The riders appeared little more than animals themselves in their mix of furs and battle-scarred armor. Their faces were streaked in war paint and soot. Their hair was adorned with feathers, beads and other mementos woven into braids. They carried Warhammers, tomahawks and primitive weapons they built themselves. Machetes and knives hung at their hips, were slung across their backs or lashed to saddles.

Anyone from the fortified towns would be laughed out of their favorite bar if they swore they saw a feral beauty barely in her teens with flowing white hair and Nordic tattoos riding a polar bear. Surely, the bartender would cut him off when he told of the tiny girl riding in front of her with a baby doll clutched in one hand and an icepick bunched in the other.

Kodiak peered through the darkness ahead, his eyes alert for the undead or signs of an ambush by their enemies. They pushed hard and ignored the exhaustion. They were in a desperate race against time. The tribe was down by two members. He couldn’t lose another. He was nearly overwhelmed with grief at the loss, at his failure, but he pushed it aside and let rage fill the holes in his heart. He resisted the urge to scratch at the rough stitches that itched under his armor.

His mind drifted as the miles disappeared behind them and moved them closer to what could be their last stand. He’d give anything to go back to those simpler times before the zombie virus wiped out most of the world, but that wasn’t going to happen. This was reality. Fighting and scratching out an existence in a post-apocalyptic world just for the chance to see another sunrise.

He thought about one of his most cherished memories before all of the blood. Before the undead walked the earth and the creatures of the forest went insane with unnatural hunger. At the time, it had been one of the worst and best days he’d had in his short life. He ran his fingers lightly over the stitches, swayed gently with the motion of the bear and let the memory replay in his mind. He pulled resolve from those fateful words. With what was to come, he didn’t know if he’d have another chance to visit old memories.

He remembered.

“When the mountains turn blue, it’s as cold as it gets.” Derek said with a laugh and twisted the top off a bottle of Coors Light.

He handed it to the gangly teenager sitting beside him on the bank of the Mississippi River. The soft gurgle of the slow-moving river was hypnotic and was the perfect spot to unwind after a hard day.

“Go ahead. I won’t tell.” Derek clinked his bottle against Cody’s, and then took a long pull. He smacked his lips and uttered an ahh.

Cody took a tentative sip. Ugh. The first swallow of his first beer went down hard. Burned his throat and the carbonation tickled his nose. He pressed the cold bottle against the black eye he was sporting.

Derek grinned at the look on the boy’s face. “The second one goes down a lot smoother.”

He was right. The second swallow did. By the fourth swallow the bottle was near empty and Cody decided beer was a good thing. He felt the warmth of his first alcohol buzz as it dulled the throbbing in his split lip and bruised eye. He let out a hearty belch and sighed.

Derek pulled himself another one from the cooler.

“You good?” He asked the boy.

Cody nodded. He was already in enough trouble and showing up drunk would only make it worse. He felt mighty fine from the beer though. If only he wasn’t dreading the impending doom his mom was sure to visit on him over his three-day suspension from school.

Derek watched the boy out of the corner of his eye. He’d had it rough in his short life but he was a good kid. His father was gone, he’d lost his life on the job as a fireman. The insurance settlement was a joke and his mom worked eighty hours a week to make ends meet. The boy had practically been raised by his surrogate family at the zoo.

“Buddy, I know I’m not your dad, but there’s things a young man needs to know, and your mom asked me to talk to you.” Derek flicked the wheel on the US Coast Guard engraved lighter, then snapped the lid shut. He didn’t smoke but always carried it. It had some special meaning for him that he’d never shared with anyone. He sat silent for a moment and gathered his thoughts.

Cody stared out across the river, slightly embarrassed. Was this gonna be the birds and the bees talk? He was a teenager, he already knew about that stuff. Had Mom recruited Derek to break the news to him that she was shipping him off to reform school for fighting and being a troublemaker?

“You’re at that awkward point in life. Not really a boy anymore, but not a man either. Not sure where you fit in the world or if you fit at all. But today, you did the right thing. Standing up for that other kid took courage.”

“Yeah, but I got my ass kicked.” Cody muttered.

His pride hurt more than his injuries. Mom had made him leave the principal’s office while she talked to them. Well, maybe talked was an understatement. He’d heard her icy, angry voice directed at the school administrators but couldn’t make out the words. She’d slammed the door on the way out of the office and hadn’t said anything to him on the drive. She surprised him by taking him to the zoo and not home to be loaded down with extra chores and grounding him for the next five years. She’d simply parked the car, spoke to Derek for a moment then walked to her office.

“What did you expect? Three on one is never a fair fight.” Derek chuckled. “Don’t let it get you down. No shame in getting your ass kicked when you are fighting for what’s right.”

“Mom is going to murder me and ground me forever.” Cody said forlornly.

She was probably going to take his Xbox away for a year.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “You might be surprised. Murder you? I doubt it. Ground you, possibly. But even if she does, it’s not the end of the world. Before you know it, you’ll be out of high school and off to college chasing girls and going to keggers. You’ll be making your own way in the world and all this stuff you’re feeling now will just be a memory, if you even remember it at all.” Derek said.

Cody nodded, unsure.

“But, doing all that and turning eighteen don’t make you a man. That’s something you gotta earn. You follow me?”

Cody shrugged.

“What I mean is, it ain’t easy. Every decision you make has a consequence. Every choice means something and sometimes every choice is a bad one, but you still gotta choose. Deep down you had to know they were gonna win, but you couldn’t stand by and do nothing either.” Derek paused. “I’m proud of you kid.”

Cody watched the beads of perspiration slide down the nearly empty bottle. Why had he stuck his nose in it? He didn’t even know that kid. It just pissed him off when he walked in the locker room and saw the three football players with the much smaller boy jammed up against the lockers.

“Life happens fast. I remember when your mom first started bringing you to the sanctuary. You were all snot nosed and toddling around. Trying to eat the animal’s food and getting into everything. Now look at you. Damn near six-foot-tall and breaking all the girl’s hearts. Enjoy it pal, before you know it, you’ll be an old man like me, and those girls won’t be so easy to get.” Derek tousled his hair.

Cody punched him in the shoulder. He was barely thirteen and had no idea what to say to a girl even if he got up the nerve to talk to one. Derek loved to tease him about girls because he knew he was scared to death of the fairer sex.

“You ever made a bad decision?” Cody asked him seriously.

“Yeah, I did, and people got hurt. A couple even died. I carry that every day in my heart. It was back in my military days, but it feels like yesterday. Thing is, I wouldn’t forget it even if I could.”

Cody let that sink in.

“Why?” He asked.

“You can’t really appreciate the good things until you survive the bad ones. Knowing how to win isn’t near as important as knowing how to lose. Somebody knocks you down, you get back up. You keep getting up no matter how many times they knock you down. You may lose anyway but you won’t have any problem looking in the mirror at yourself, because you didn’t quit. Those lessons you learn from failure shape your way of thinking so you don’t make the same mistakes again. Listen to me, your mom might be hard on you, but that’s because she loves you. She wants you to understand that real life mistakes have real life consequences. She’s probably not gonna tell you this, but she’s proud of you for taking a stand against those guys. I never met him, but I’ve heard stories about your dad and I really believe he would be proud too. I’d hate to have been in that office when she unloaded on the principal.”

Cody smiled. The effort hurt his busted lip. He could imagine Mr. Bracewell, the principal, all red faced and looking like a gold fish that’d jumped out his aquarium, gasping for air as he flopped on the linoleum. His mom could be a real fireball when her buttons were pushed.

“All I’m really trying to say buddy is that life ain’t fair. You gotta roll with the punches, but don’t compromise your values. You got suspended for doing what was right but I bet those guys don’t miss a single game. The world makes excuses and allowances for the privileged but throws the book at the regular guys like you and me. There’s no justice in that. There are always gonna be bullies. There’s always gonna be people that judge you by your looks or the brand name of your clothes. Truth is, none of that matters. What matters is that you lay down at night knowing you did your best and gave it your all. You hold the line for those that can’t. You could have walked away today and that pretty face wouldn’t be all skinned up, but you didn’t. You took a stand. You did what a real man would do. It’s ok to be scared. It’s normal to want to run when the odds are against you. I’ve known too many people that turned a blind eye to things they could have prevented and I wonder how they live with it. I don’t know what your future holds, but I’m pretty sure you will meet it head on. I’m proud of you and I’ll take a friend like you any day in my corner.” Derek flicked the Zippo again and snapped it shut.

“What’s the deal with that?” Cody asked him. “You always do that thing with the lighter when you’re trying to be serious.”

“That, my friend is a story for another time.” Derek handed him the lighter. “It belonged to someone who I owe a debt I can never repay. I want you to hold onto it for a while. It’s good luck. I ain’t giving it to you, so don’t get all mushy on me. It’s just a loaner until I ask for it back. You cool with that?”

Cody nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.”

“Alright then. Let’s go see what your mom has lined up for us.” Derek stood and dusted off his pants. He put an arm around Cody’s shoulders as they walked towards the zoo.

Kodiak snapped back to the present. His hand drifted to his pocket where the old Zippo rested against his hip. Derek’s words echoed through his mind. It was time. Time to make that stand. Time to end this, once and for all.

His physical wounds hurt but they would heal. Bruises, contusions, bites and gouges from sharp claws covered his body. No doubt there would be more scars. More of the roadmap of old healed wounds that crisscrossed his body. The wounds in his heart would never heal, though. That pain was too raw and too deep. Too new. He couldn’t process it, didn’t know how to process it and he didn’t have time to properly grieve. Grieving would have to wait until after the blood spilling was done.

He felt the power rippling through Otis as the bear padded along and tried to draw strength from his giant friend.

I’m coming Gordon. This time though, only one of us is walking away.

1

Late May

8 Months After the Outbreak

Kodiak

The winter snows had finally melted. The days became warmer and the fierce northwestern winds ceased their howling as spring gained its foothold in the forgotten corner of the world that encompassed the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary. The nights stayed cool, but the days grew progressively warmer and longer as the calendar inched towards summer and the new challenges that waited for the tribe.

Nestled in the northeastern corner of Iowa, the Sanctuary was off the beaten path, miles from the nearest freeway. It was a destination location that drew crowds from around the States but it was also one of those places that if you weren’t looking for it, you probably wouldn’t find it by accident. That was fine with the tribe. They didn’t want to be found. They were safe and isolated and that suited them just fine.

Abandoned cars blocked the roads that led to the zoo. The sanctuary was far removed from the death and destruction that raged through the big cities around the word. Its remote location and tall fences were one of the main reasons they had survived the roving hordes of undead in the early days. It was home for the eleven children and their animal companions, survivors of the virus that decimated the world’s population in a matter of days. The rival gang of Gordon Lowery and his crew were the only other living people they’d encountered in eight months. There’d been no sign of Gordon or his gang after the fierce winter battle that left their attackers broken and beaten. As far as they knew, they were the last humans on the face of the earth and they had been trying to kill each other instead of working together.

Kodiak stared at the rows of vegetables in the roughly tilled soil, ignored the moaning and keening that came from the front gate. The dead were always there. They let a few linger as a deterrent for anyone seeking to do them harm and as an early alarm system. The brutal winter had been hard on the zombies. Ceaselessly wandering through the frozen landscape with no protection from the howling winds and blizzards, their undead flesh froze and broke off in icy chunks. The scavenger animals, or the Savage Ones as the tribe called them, also played a part, and never ceased their attacks on the undead, stripping rancid flesh and cracking bones in search of the marrow to feed their ravenous appetites. Kodiak wondered what would happen when the supply of undead exhausted itself and the Savage Ones had no other easy food source. Most of those animals had never encountered a live human, they had avoided them at all costs. Now they had no fear of the creatures that walked on two legs. The undead were an easy food source and none of the carrion animals went hungry. They grew fat and lazy and followed the hordes for easy meals. The area surrounding the sanctuary became home to many of the flesh eaters as the wandering undead came down the road, smelled the living and made their way to the gates.

The packs were made up of animals that had no natural reason to be together but with the plentiful food source, they had no reason to fear each other. Swan had been further into the wastelands than any of the tribe. She told them about the coyotes and raccoons, opossums and foxes, feral pigs, stray cats and mongrel dogs still wearing their collars. They ran together in large groups following the walking meals and the tribe feared what would happen if they merged into one giant pack. Their behavior had to be related to the virus, each would treat the others as prey under normal circumstances, but nothing was normal anymore.

She’d reported seeing them tear into the undead and devour every scrap of flesh and bone while flocks of ravens and vultures circled overhead seeking the leftovers.

Before the harsh winter, there’d been no need to worry about the carrion animals attacking the zoo, there was plenty of food wandering around. It was easy to hunt, didn’t try to hide and didn’t fight back. The sanctuary was patrolled daily, everyone took their turn walking the miles of perimeter fence to look for burrowing holes or fallen branches but they’d seen nothing to give the alarm. Kodiak wasn’t too concerned, yet, the animals still tended to shy away from the living.

The long hours of working the plow behind Millie, the old half blind black rhinoceros, were starting to pay off. There had been several grueling days of hauling the nutrient rich compost made from leaves and animal manure while fighting off the flies that swarmed around the horrid smelling mixture. They buzzed incessantly, flew up noses, into ears and open mouths. Tempers had flared, curses were flung but the tribe pushed through it. Every seed had been planted by hand. They didn’t have modern farming equipment or the knowledge to use it, so they did it the old-fashioned way.

They had to know if they could do it. Had to know if they could bring food from the soil and sustain themselves. There were no adults to guide them. They couldn’t find old timers sitting in wicker rocking chairs whittling sticks or playing checkers to tell them the tricks of growing the juiciest watermelons and the biggest tomatoes. All they had was Murray’s books, the willpower and a yearning desire to make something out of nothing. The world was dead as far as any of them had travelled in any direction. They had to make it and make it on their own. Make it or die. So, they sweated under the sun, they endured the buzzing and biting insects. Blisters became callouses on their dirty hands and feet. They watched the skies for rain to turn the field into a sea of green. They made scarecrows to keep the animals away and as they ate Ravioli out of tin cans, they talked about the things they couldn’t wait to bite into.

Millie had bristled and snorted every time the crude harness attached to the single row plow was hooked to the yoke on her thick neck. She was old. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to relax in the comfort of her enclosure with a bin full of hay. Patience and bribery with a steady supply of canned beets had coerced her into doing the job and once she got in the groove, she didn’t seem to mind. They didn’t mind either, because they had plenty of canned beets and nobody liked them.

They were already enjoying the fruits of their labor. The corn was full and heavy on the stalks. The twins had roasted some every night since the first ears were ready for harvest and it was delicious. They were small ears and the corn worms ate their fair share but they picked the pests from the shucks and used them to bait their fish traps. It was all worth it when they bit into the first ears lathered in homemade butter and roasted in the shucks over open coals. Served with venison and freshly dug potatoes, they’d feasted on food that tasted so much better than anything from the cans.

Soon, beans would be ready for picking and canning. More stores to put away in the cellar alongside the potatoes strung from the rafters in the legs of pantyhose. Squash, tomatoes and peppers were already canned in Mason jars and lined the shelves in the cellar. It was trial and error but they studied the books and learned from every mistake. This was life and death, this was eating well all winter or barely scraping by and Murray didn’t let them forget it. The old shelves bowed under the weight of the bounty.

The green house was filled with carrots, onions, potatoes and different herbs. Plastic sheeting was duct taped over the windows that had broken during a winter storm. They made repairs with what they had and talked about building raised bed gardens next year to keep the rabbits out of their root crops.

The twins were trying their hand at jellies made from the abundance of blueberries and blackberries that grew along the fence lines. Each batch was better than the last and once they’d figured out how to turn corn and wheat into flour and meal, they’d enjoyed the pleasures of bread once again. It was flat and lumpy with no yeast to make it rise and another item was added to the list of things to scout for. No one realized how much they missed bread until that first loaf was pulled from the oven and they all got a thin slice. It smelled wonderful and even though it wasn’t fluffy they were all grateful for it. Tobias and Analise promised to find a way to improve the recipe and kept throwing meaningful stares at Swan. She wandered the farthest, she should be able to find the yeast in someone’s home.

It was a new beginning. There was no running to the corner store and grabbing a fresh loaf of Sunbeam or a gallon of milk. If you wanted milk, you got it from the cow in the petting zoo. If you wanted bread, you ground the grain between two rocks and made your own flour. All the bags they’d risked their lives to pillage from the tiny town of Putnam were filled with bugs. They thought they’d be fine in their paper sacks but the weevils showed them otherwise. It was a hard lesson, and not a mistake they’d make again. Plastic bins were everywhere for the taking, it just never occurred to them once the goods were in the cellar that they were still vulnerable.

Their food stores had barely seen them through the long winter. The heavy snows and never-ending blizzards had made hunting and scavenging almost impossible, dangerous even. They’d had to run a guide rope between the house and the barn where the larger animals wintered, just to keep from getting lost in the blizzards. The pipes that supplied the old hand pump in the kitchen had frozen. The heat tape on them needed electricity and they hadn’t thought about it until it was too late. Murray said it could be fixed, they’d have to dig deeper, insulate better and have the night watch pump a little water through the pipes every half hour or so. None of that would happen until spring, though so they melted snow for their water. Personal hygiene was tough to maintain and they had given up on baths. It was too much work to haul buckets of snow, wait on it to melt, heat it and haul it up the stairs to the old cast iron tub. Plus every time the door was opened, it felt like all the heat got sucked right out of the house. They set up a blanket wall near the fireplace and took sponge baths.

It had been tough being cooped up, even though the house had plenty of room for everyone to spread out when nerves got frayed and tempers flared. Board game pieces or playing cards were constantly disappearing, nabbed or eaten by one of the capuchins. Toy trucks and Legos brought curses from the older kids whenever a toe was stubbed. The wolf cubs chewed incessantly, the arms of the chairs and couch cushions all bore the marks of sharp canines. Clara cried when she found one of her baby dolls missing both legs and most of an arm.

Children and animals shared the floor space of the parlor and each jostled for position closer to the warmth of the fireplace. Otis wanted to be inside, so did Yewan and the foxes. They could endure the cold but didn’t like it. Otis hogged the fireplace and no amount of cajoling could budge him from his spot. The polar bears and wolves wanted to be outside and usually slept on the porch. They loved the cold weather. Zero would howl mournfully on the nights when the moon shone bright, scaring everyone out of their restless slumbers. The capuchins were restless and into everything. If it was shiny or could be eaten, they tried to get it.

Millie, Ziggy and Bert wintered in the barn. During the coldest days of winter, the tribe trudged through the snow that was often times up to their waist so that Vanessa and Harper could spend time with them. They cleaned their stalls, made sure the bedding was thick and deep. They filled fifty-five gallons drums with half rotted wood from the unused stalls and burned it to knock off some of the chill. The girls took the souvenir blankets from the gift shop to sew ponchos to help fend off the cold for the giraffe and ostrich.

Bert didn’t like it. He didn’t want to be cooped up in the barn, but he didn’t want to be out in the snow.

He was too big for the house and Ziggy was too skittish bedding down near the predator animals. Vanessa had tried putting her in a room by herself, but she pecked the door like a giant woodpecker until no one could stand it anymore. The carnivores would never hurt her, she was one of the tribe and able to defend herself, but millions of years of instincts couldn’t be changed overnight. Vanessa and Tobias almost came to blows over the situation. She finally relented when Ziggy knocked over a candelabra full of lit candles and the ostrich went back to the barn. They did the best they could to keep them comfortable.

The winter was long and hard. They’d severely underestimated their supply of firewood and had resorted to burning antique furniture from the third floor to keep the house passably warm. On the days when the weather broke, they bundled up and trudged to the forest to carry back armloads of dead wood. The house was more than a century old and drafty. Cold air seeped in around the windows and doors. Thin insulation let the chill in. The tribe stuffed every crack they could find with towels and rags, sealed off the unused rooms, wore multiple layers of clothing and buried themselves under thick piles of blankets. None except Donny had ever been through a winter without the benefits of electricity, furnaces and energy efficient homes.

Blankets were piled haphazardly when they weren’t in use and several times stray embers from the fireplace would land on them. There was a mad scramble to put them out before the old house went up in flames. They learned quickly, but usually painfully about surviving on their own.

Now, with June almost on them, thick green grass covered the fields in the old antelope enclosures. The soil was rich from the droppings over the years and the fence would serve to keep them and the gazelles from grazing on the crop vegetables. The lush green grass kept them sated once they had them all herded in there again. Many of them were nursing young ones born in the spring and they stayed in the smaller enclosure where they were given grains.

Kodiak ran his hands through the long hair on his head, scratched at his irritated scalp. Someone in the house had fleas and his head was covered in tiny red welts from their constant biting. He’d endured Harpers efforts to groom him like one of the capuchins as she tried to get them out of his hair. All of the boys opted to wear theirs long, adorned with beads, feathers, acorns and any shiny baubles that caught their attention during the scavenging runs. After having his hair used as a handhold in the battles with Gordon and his gang, he’d considered going to a buzz cut, but didn’t want to listen to the tribe make fun of his ears that stuck out too far. Besides, it kept them warm in the winter and prevented them getting sunburnt in the summer.

He sighed, just another problem to add to the list of never-ending work and responsibility. I’ll have Murray add flea and tick spray to the list. Along with all of the other things we are out of. I hope I never see the day when the world finally runs out of toilet paper, he thought.

He watched Otis soaking up the rays of the warm spring sunshine. The big bear was on his back, rolling side to side. He had a little gray in his muzzle hairs and along the thick fur of his back, but he was still an impressive beast to behold. He let out a satisfied moan and flopped to one side as he found the relief he’d been seeking. He basked in the warm sun and was soon filling the air with his rumbling snores. Kodiak smiled as he watched his friend, his namesake. He was the faithful companion that never faltered, never judged and was never disappointed if Kodiak made the wrong decision. Scratch his ears, bring him a can of Spam, keep the fire blazing and Otis was content.

He turned his attention back to the garden. It had a calming effect on him he didn’t quite understand. Many of the plants that now stood tall and proud had been loose seeds scooped up from the floor of the feed store after the mice and bugs had their turns at the bags. They just swept everything up from the deserted store into sacks and planted them. They spent hours poring over the pictures in the books trying to identify each one and some were a mystery when they went in the ground. Every seed was precious, their future depended on them. As he leaned on the hoe and gazed over the gardens, he was pleased at the turnout from their first efforts. None of them had experience growing food. All of their knowledge came from the electronic books and files that Murray had downloaded before the power went out for good. The soil was rich and fertile, perfect for farming and the huge compost pile of animal waste gave them an ample supply of fertilizer.

Kodiak was hopeful as he looked at the rows of corn, beans, tomatoes, squash and other plants he had no idea of what they were. They’d just have to wait until they produced something to know. He was pretty sure there were some pumpkins mixed in there somewhere. The triplets were already making plans for the jack-o-lanterns they would carve for Halloween. Tobias and Analise couldn’t wait to try their hands at pumpkin pie. Kodiak had no interest in Halloween and he didn’t like pumpkin pie, but he made sure he didn’t say anything that would dampen their enthusiasm. The scariest monsters in the world hung out around the main gate moaning and keening. Or they rode ATV’s and struck without warning, he thought bitterly as Gordon invaded his thoughts.

Donny, Tobias and he had spent weeks digging an irrigation canal from the Mississippi to their garden. They fashioned pieces of old pallets to make flood gates so they could control the flow coming from the long shallow ditch. It was all trial and error on their part. More error than anything, but progress was progress and the tribe was all smiles when the first juicy watermelon was sliced and shared amongst them.

Murray was wheeling about in his wheelchair energetically, enjoying the warm day. They’d all suffered from cabin fever when the snow was piled to the windowpanes, but Murray had it the worst. Even the mildest of winter days restricted him no further than the front porch while he watched the others engage in snowball fights or build snow forts. They tried to include him in the fun though. In their tribe everyone mattered. The triplets had hauled buckets of snow for him to make snowballs with and didn’t try too hard to dodge them whenever he finally shook off the winter funk and joined in.

Murray had finished checking feed levels in the barn. A lot of the hay had been devoured throughout the winter and they didn’t have the means to cut or bale more. He made a note to himself to look into how it was done before the advent of tractors and balers. His companions, four capuchin monkeys, jostled for position on his shoulders. Their eyes were always on the alert for a snack or something shiny they could pilfer and squabble over.

He rolled himself onward. He wanted to take a look at the antelope and gazelle Swan and the wolves had corralled. He needed to get a good head count of the herd. They’d been turned out to fend for themselves following the outbreak, but it made sense to keep them penned when the grass was lush in the expansive enclosures. The whole tribe was excited about the young fawns. It meant sustainability for the herd. Fresh meat and furs to use for years to come if they managed them properly. He hadn’t been too worried about the antelope over the winter. They ran wild across the Midwest and could take care of themselves, but he was curious about how the gazelle had fared. As he gazed over the herd and took a count, he was pleased at their numbers and their overall health. He jotted a few more notes and rolled toward the house. The monkeys could use a treat and so could he.

Bert plodded along lazily, Harper high atop his back. He had been difficult through the winter but he was back to his normal grumpy self, happily foraging the treetops and releasing thunderous farts. He was getting better about being ridden although he was still skittish around loud noises. She eyed the fences for damage or weakness that could leave them vulnerable. The big giraffe was scanning the leaves, picking the most tender shoots of the new growth that burst forth from the trees and she let him have his head as long as he kept moving in the right direction. He had gotten used to her weight and seemed to like it when she patted and rubbed his long neck. As they came over the rise, almost back to the barns, she watched Kodiak as he looked out over their fields. They had shared a few kisses months ago on the riverbank and some long looks, but he’d been distant since the fight with Gordon and his gang. They still cuddled by the fire and he held her hand when they went for walks with Bert and Otis, so she knew he still cared for her. There was something holding him back. It almost seemed like he was so afraid of losing what he had, that he wasn’t enjoying it while he had it. She would remedy that though. She had a basket of strawberries, a blanket and a few cans of Mountain Dew, his favorite, stashed away for a riverbank picnic as soon as the work slowed down.

Vanessa sat astride Ziggy, her North African Ostrich companion. The pair were engaged in a game of tag with the three smaller children. Ziggy whirled and darted, always out of reach of the kids outstretched arms. Landon, Caleb and Clara fell in tangled piles of skinny limbs as Ziggy constantly outmaneuvered them. They laughed and continued the chase while the foxes darted in and out between them, eager to be included in the fun. All of them enjoyed the warm spring day and giggles filled the air.

There were still chores to be done. Eggs to gather, animals to feed, cows to milk, wood to cut and weeds to pull but it was a perfect day for goofing off. Sometimes they needed to be kids for a while. Kodiak kept silent and let them play. Even the serious twins, Tobias and Analise, were down at the river swimming with their polar bears. Quiet laughter could be heard across Piedmont and he wished he felt that carefree. He plucked a ripe tomato from the vine and bit into it. Sticky juice ran down his chin as he savored the taste. He’d never cared much for vegetables, even though his mom made sure he always had some on his plate. This, though, was different. This was his tomato. He’d toiled for it. He’d watched it grow from a tiny shoot poking its head out of the ground to a fine vine. He’d watered it and kept the weeds from overwhelming it, protected it from scavengers and had carefully made the cages that supported it. He’d helped nothing become something. He couldn’t remember anything that had ever tasted finer.

He watched as Tobias and Analise walked up from the river trail. Popsicle and Daisy were laden down with baskets and his stomach rumbled at the thought of fresh fish. The long winter of eating canned food and tiny portions of meat was a memory he was eager to forget. The twins laughed at a joke that only they shared. Even from a distance, their tattoos stood out in sharp contrast to their pale skin and white hair.

Donny and Yewan hadn’t made an appearance yet, but the fresh tenderloins that were waiting in the cooling chest told everyone their hunt had been successful. Kodiak figured they were tucked in one of their favorite spots sleeping after a long night of stalking game.

No one was sure where Swan was. She’d left with just a grunt and we’re going outside the fence when she and Zero took off the morning before with the wolf cubs. Swan had been spending a lot of time with the three rapidly growing wolves, teaching them the ways of the hunt and to follow her commands. Zero was quick with nips and growls to ensure they stayed in line and integrated into the pack mentality. He was Alpha and would brook no dissent from the cubs. She’d taken to wandering further and further from the normal hunting ground. She used the excuse that she didn’t want to overhunt the home grounds but everyone knew that was nonsense. Donny and Yewan brought in a steady supply of venison for the stewpot and the smokehouse and he said the wildlife numbers were exploding. There weren’t thousands of hunters stalking the woods culling their numbers. In addition, rabbits and squirrels were everywhere, stealing fruits and vegetables from the garden whenever they could. The small number of animals that the tribe harvested to feed themselves was no threat to the population. Kodiak suspected that she was increasing her range for two reasons. The first being the hyena. She wanted to kill him and extract revenge for the loss of Lucy. They’d seen nothing of the beast since that night when Diablo and his brother, Demonio, had killed her. No tracks and no weird laughing bark carried on the wind. Maybe the winter had gotten him or he’d died of his wounds. That would be best, but Kodiak had a nagging suspicion that Diablo was still out there somewhere.

The other reason was Gordon. She blamed Gordon as much as she blamed Diablo for the death of Lucy, maybe more. It had been his thwarted effort to attack the tribe that had brought the hyenas back inside the fences. They still had no idea where Gordon’s compound was located. Only the clues from his boasting and the fact they always rode in from somewhere up north. There’d been no sighting of him or his gang since the night of the battle. The scattered bones of the fallen riders and wreckage of the snowmobiles by the ruined church were the only indications that anyone besides the tribe had ever been there. Kodiak was concerned that she would find them eventually, take them on by herself and end up dead. Or worse. They were cruel and heartless. They’d beaten him for no reason other than they could. It wasn’t a schoolyard fight, they had left scars and would have killed him as casually as they killed zombies. He shuddered at what they would do to the pretty girl if they got their hands on her.

She had been different since the battle, short tempered and moody. She trained constantly, snow, rain or blizzard. Cooped up all winter, she had gotten on all of their nerves with the incessant thunk, thunk, thunk as she threw her tomahawks at wooden targets. She didn’t smile or laugh very much. She rarely removed her war paint or armor, even in the safety of the house and she was never unarmed. She braved the winter winds and the snow, the spring rains and the midday sun to work with her tomahawks and practice with the bow. She was driven, she was ready to fight under any conditions, any circumstances, at any time. If she read anything from the house library, it was stories of soldiers and battles.

2

Swan

Swan chased the wolves as they darted through the trees. Her long legs and runners’ body let her keep pace for mile after mile. Her chest was getting bigger and it annoyed her. A year ago, she would have been proud, maybe even helped the pushup bra with a little extra padding, but now they were a nuisance. She had to wear her armor tight or wrap her chest when she hunted. She ducked under a low hanging limb, swerved around moss covered rocks, leapt gracefully and dodged the obstacles in her path. She never let her eyes lose track of the pack. She couldn’t match their speed, but she was fast and cunning, always looking for the easiest path. If they did lose her, a few yips from her upturned face and Zero would answer. He might outdistance her but he would never leave her behind.

She caught a flash of white from the deer’s tail as it darted up a rise. The young doe ran flat out in a desperate bid to escape the pack. River, Valley and Meadow flanked Zero, their alpha and father, as they spread out wide in a semicircle pattern, narrowing the does chance for escape. Any change in direction by the deer would put one of the pack on an intercept course. Swan leapt over a rotted log, swift and sure footed, the bow in her hands. She could nock an arrow, draw, aim and release the instant the opportunity presented itself. She altered her course slightly to hit the less elevated side of the hill, anticipating the deer to veer to the right once it crested. Her pack ran silent like her, no tinkling collars, no metal on metal rattles, just padded feet and even breathing. The doe seemed to favor right turns from the moment the chase began. She was being corralled; the pack was driving her towards Swans deadly arrow.

She topped the lower portion of the rise, heard the crashing of brush and drew back the bow string. Instead of the deer she was expecting, a zombie burst through the brush and started keening in hunger. It moved fast, day one zombie fast. It had been indoors until recently, it wasn’t broken down and worn out. It was fresh and vicious and headed straight towards her. She whistled loudly for her pack, set the bow aside and focused on the zombie. The pursuit of the deer was forgotten as her blood raced in anticipation of battle. The hungry creature had once been a young man, but now it was just a vessel for the lethal virus that destroyed the world and a training tool for her pack.

It sprang down the hill for her as she reached for the sheath under her left arm and drew her right-hand tomahawk. She waited until the monster was two steps away; side stepped and used the curved lower portion of the blade to catch the zombie above the ankle in a sweeping motion. The zombie went down in a crash of limbs, keens and snarls. The creature’s noise sent flocks of birds cawing out of the trees, fleeing for the sky. She heard a bone snap as the zombie slammed to the ground. It showed no signs of pain, no fear and ignored the broken arm hanging at an odd angle.

Zero came bounding down the hill with the snarling cubs close behind and before they could rip the thing to shreds she barked a command.

“Capture!” she said to her wolves.

The zombie staggered to its feet, only to be met with the flying body of one of the young wolves. River tore a chunk of rotted flesh from its shoulder as the zombie hit the ground again. Before it could rise, Meadow was in the fight. The young wolf grabbed the creature by one leg and held on. The monster thrashed as Valley grabbed an arm at the wrist and dug his claws into the soft earth. River rebounded from his leap and grabbed the other arm, pulled it in the opposite direction. Zero padded over quickly and seized the immobilized and spread-eagled zombie by the throat. The wolf waited for Swan to give the command to snap its neck and tear out its rotten throat.

She looked on with pride as the creature thrashed in vain, struggled to break loose from the iron jaws that held it in place. It keened and wailed, gnashed its yellowed teeth so hard that they broke. Every struggling movement caused the wolf cubs to dig in and pull harder to keep it pinned.

She’d been working with the wolves since they were big enough to walk without tripping over their own feet. She taught them to hunt using the pelts from rabbits and squirrels, or the tails from the deer she and Donny killed. She taught them to follow commands, to protect the pack and themselves. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing them like she did Lucy. They were her cubs now and she loved them with a mothers love. They were growing fast and were slightly more than half the size of their father already.

The zombie struggled with inhuman strength. The wolves dug their paws into the blanket of rotted leaves to hold it in place. Vicious growls emanated from their throats. Fur bristled along their backs and claws churned up the forest floor as they strained against the unnatural strength of the dead thing in their jaws.

Good. She thought proudly. Too bad that’s not Gordon. She had no intentions of letting Gordon Lowery survive their next meeting. She planned to wipe out him and any of his remaining tribe, no matter what. Kodiak and the others might be comfortable with the unofficial truce, but she wasn’t. Gordon was a plague on mankind. He was worse than the undead because he still had the ability to make choices. The undead couldn’t help what they were.

With the wolves mastering the art of capture, all she needed was just one of Gordon’s guys or girls to find out everything she needed to know. She’d make them tell her where their stronghold was, their total strength and whatever plans for revenge Gordon was cooking up. She wanted to take the fight to him, put him on the offensive for once. Let him be the one living in fear of where and when a surprise attack would come. He had to be planning something, there was no way would he let the defeat from the previous winter go unanswered. No way would he live and let live. It went against his nature. She’d argued this point to the tribe until she was blue in the face but it didn’t change anything. Everyone acknowledged that he was probably still out there, but until he showed himself, there was nothing they could do.

She spun her tomahawk in her hand, so the spiked side of the blade faced down and buried it in the forehead of the undead man. The brain died instantly, and it ceased its struggles. The cold rotted flesh became still. River jerked at the arm he held, tested to ensure it was no longer a threat. It was unresponsive. He looked to his master but didn’t break his hold until the command was uttered.

“Release.” She told the pack. The wolves let go of the still creature and backed away, kept their eyes and ears attuned for any other threat to their wolf mother. She dropped to her knees and nuzzled each of them, whispered praise and love into their oversized ears. They were her strength, her pack.

They wouldn’t take a game animal today, but she was still satisfied with their results. This was the first capture outside of controlled conditions and the wolves had performed flawlessly. She’d practiced this move with them in the old lion enclosure, despite Kodiak and the others misgivings. She had Donny standing by just in case something went wrong but she used a catchpole and it was pretty simple to drag a deader inside the gates. All of those zombies had been slow and weather worn. The harsh winter had been hard on already decaying bodies and most of her test subjects were barely able to walk with all of their toes frozen off and many of them had been chewed up by the Savage Ones. This zed had been fresh and full of fight but still no match for the pack.

She looked at the sun halfway to the western horizon, estimated the time to be a little after three. A check of her watch indicated her guess was close. Three seventeen. It was important to be able to read the environment. She’d learned hard lessons about being unprepared. Mistakes she wouldn’t make again. Technology couldn’t be relied on anymore; it was gone and wasn’t coming back. Cunning and skill were the things that gave you an edge. Mother Earth was a harsh teacher but Swan embraced the lessons.

She’d hadn’t picked up her iPad in months and didn’t miss it. Her home was in the wild. Her steel and her pack would protect her, Mother Earth would sustain her. She loved her brothers and sisters at the zoo, would die to defend them, but she cared nothing for the farming they were doing. She’d taken her turn tilling the soil. She’d hauled buckets of compost, sowed the seeds and weeded the garden but her heart wasn’t in it. Even though she enjoyed the fruits of their labor, she was happiest in the woods. She and Donny would bring the meat, the others could toil in the dirt.

She whistled the pack to her side and struck off east. Their chase had revealed a farmhouse nestled in the woods far from the road she hadn’t explored. She’d taken to raiding abandoned homes for supplies and peering into the lives of those lost and forgotten. Sometimes, the houses still had zombies in them. She set them free and took them down with arrows as they spilled from the house, hungry and enraged. She returned their bodies to the earth and freed their tortured souls.

The zombies trapped inside were fast, as fast as the ones on that first day at the zoo. Once she’d had to pick them off from the safety of a tree she scampered up inches ahead of their grasping hands and snapping jaws. That was before her wolves learned to kill quick and move on to the next, not savage the thing long after it was dead. They sensed the unnaturalness of them and had a deep hatred for the undead things. She’d learned to be more careful, to peek through windows so she wouldn’t be surprised when a houseful of them came streaming out when she kicked open the door.

Sometimes, the houses held the remains of families who’d taken their own lives instead of facing the new reality where the dead roamed the earth. These homes she treated with the sanctity of a grave. She walked their empty halls, singing a song her mother had taught her to ease their soul’s passages to the other side. She took nothing from these homes, only a feeling of sadness. There was too much stuff out there to be disrespectful to those spirits. She paid a quiet respect to the fallen occupants, looked into the lives they once led and left the homes as she found them.

In the empty houses though, she would spend hours walking through them, munching on something from the kitchen, studying the pictures of families. She raided the pantries. Looked under the beds and in the closets for things the tribe could use to survive. She flipped through dusty photo albums filled with yellowing pictures of smiling parents and happy children before the virus wiped them all out. She still felt the pangs of the loss of her own family, but it was just a dull ache now. The more time that passed, the harder it was to picture her parent’s faces.

She could go home. She’d toyed with the thought many times. A couple of days and nights of swift footed travel would put her at the small eco-friendly homestead she’d shared with her mom and dad. She had no fear of the undead, of the wandering hordes that still migrated through from time to time. The sharp senses of the pack would allow her to avoid any large groups and she knew they could handle any small hordes quickly and quietly.

She was more afraid of what might be wandering around the house she once called home. Her last contact with her mother was a frantic call from the highway, but the man who doted on her and called her his little Pocahontas had been home that day. She knew in her heart he was gone but if somehow, he’d managed to survive would he even recognize her now, with her war paint and budding chest that she tried to hide? His little girl was armed and armored, ran with a pack of wolves and bore the scars of battles fought and enemies vanquished. She was a killer of men. She wondered if he would be proud of who she’d become or appalled. Would he look at her with his kind green eyes and reassure her that she’d only done what she had to do to survive, or would he shake his head in disappointment knowing his daughter had taken lives? Both of her parents had abhorred violence of any kind. They couldn’t even stay in the room when she watched the National Geographic channel and a lion took down a zebra.

She shook off the thought. It really didn’t matter at this point. In this world, you were either the predator or the prey. Besides, if he was in their home, it wasn’t him anymore. Just another monster that looked like him wearing his pajamas. Some things were best left unknown and she abandoned the thought. She had things to do.

She whistled to the ranging wolves, corrected their course and picked up her own pace. Excitement of discovery coursed through her veins at the thought of the empty farmhouse. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky and find a clue about where Gordon was in one of the homes she explored. A picture with friends or family, a dusty school yearbook with his ugly mug in it. Anything that would give her a hint of where to find the murderous bastard. He had to have some connection to this area, or he’d never have been there the day of the outbreak. Swan vowed she’d never stop looking until she found him.

3

Gordon

Miles to the northeast of where Swan ran with her wolves, in the lavish gated community of Smith’s Landing, Gordon Lowery stared out of the bay window of his mansion. His, all his. His father was one of the wandering horde, a casualty from the first day of the outbreak. His cousin, Richard, was no longer able to contest his leadership. As a matter of fact, he knew right where Richard was and frequently relieved his bladder on his cousin’s undead corpse as it wandered aimlessly in the bottom of the pool. He clicked the remote on the cover and watched it slide open to reveal his collection of corpses. Careful to stop it at the halfway point so they couldn’t climb out, he took great satisfaction watching them. They were his lessers and a reminder to the living of what would happen to them if they crossed him. The only thing that could make his morning ritual more satisfying would be to see Kodiak and some of the other brats down there. Patience, he told himself. He would have his revenge eventually.

He’d put his cousin in there and didn’t regret it one bit. It was a matter of survival. A simple business decision was how he thought of the whole ordeal. After the battle with the snotty little brats from Piedmont, Richard had planned for Gordon to be stumbling around the pool for their entertainment. Gordon had been faster though, smarter. He turned the tables on his cousin, buried a bullet in his guts and let the zombies do the rest.

He gazed down at the dry swimming pool in the carefully manicured yard and watched the undead mill about aimlessly. Mindless and untiring. They raged and keened, tried to scale the smooth walls of the Olympic sized pool anytime anyone came close to it. They’d been next door in Richard’s pool when he first came to Smith’s Landing, his cousin had even put his own father in there. They’d disagreed on the proper way to act in a lawless world. The rape and pillaging were beneath a Lowery the senior Lowery had argued. Control the food and supplies and they’ll give it up voluntarily. Richard had disagreed. The strong take what they want.

Gordon enjoyed the benefits of having a collection of the undead trapped like that. It was a great motivator for the rest of his gang whenever they wanted to grumble about his leadership style. He’d personally put Richard in there and made the other’s throw their buddy, Pole, in with him. The boy had been gangrenous, and his moaning and crying had finally gotten to Gordon. He’d taken over that night and solidified his reign while they all suffered from their wounds from the battle with the brats.

Things were different under Gordon’s leadership. For one thing, he’d vacated Richards’s house. It smelled like a morgue and a landfill. The boys were slobs and the girls weren’t much better. Before he took charge, they partied and did whatever the boys told them to do. They didn’t have a choice. They were objects to be used by whoever wanted them.

After taking Richard out, Gordon changed the rules. My way or the highway he told them. Or more accurately, his way or the pool. Walk the plank, ye scurvy dog! He smiled at that. One of them had tested his resolve, he’d been dumb enough to say he wasn’t going to work in the yard like some slave. Gordon had told them he didn’t care how the rest of the compound looked, but his grounds would be kept in pristine condition or somebody would be going off the diving board. Jeremy had refused. Jeremy had taken a long walk off a short board. It had taken a few bullet holes in him to persuade him he didn’t have a choice. He had even tried to dive head first to break his neck so he wouldn’t be doomed to wander forever but the undead reaching for him broke his fall. Now he was another shambler wandering around the deep end of the pool. Even now with most of the world dead, appearances mattered to Gordon. His home showed it. His impeccable style of dress reinforced it.

His father would have no choice but be proud of his ruthlessness. As it turned out, Gordon had more spine than his old man ever had. He didn’t hide behind his lawyers and accountants, he fought his own battles. Cowardly bastard, Gordon thought as he remembered the day of the outbreak and how his father had run off and left him behind to fend for himself.

They’d kept Richard’s house as a makeshift hospital. A place where all the injured gang could heal or die. He needed them alive for his plans of revenge, at least some of them anyway. He didn’t care which ones it was. He had no love for any of them. They were Richard’s friends, not his. They were simply a means to an end.

The burned-up girl they all called Squirrel had disappeared. No one knew when she left or where she went. She was just gone one morning. He was glad, she was a constant reminder of the failed attack and the sneaky ambush the kids had sprung on them. Gordon figured she was probably dead and devoured by now. Good riddance, she was horrid to look at.

The surviving boys were tools to be used and discarded until something better came along. Something like the group up north whose radio chatter he had picked up while scanning the channels on a walkie talkie. They called themselves Soldiers of Anubis. He had tried to engage them but his handheld didn’t have the power to broadcast that far. It was only strong enough to pick up snippets now and then. Gordon was patient though. He had found a Ham radio in the basement of one of the other houses and was learning how to use it.

The tribe of kids at the zoo were never far from his thoughts. He hated them.

Hated them with a seething black hatred that bordered on obsession.

Hated them for feeling sorry for him.

Hated them for expecting him to get his hands dirty with those filthy animals.

Hated them for casting him out. For rejecting him.

Hated them for the crushing defeat they’d given him at the burnt-out church.

Hated them because he couldn’t control them.

No way would he hit them head on again, he’d be discreet next time. Those savage kids responded to force with even more force. They would get what they had coming when they least expected it. He’d find a way to take everything from them a piece at a time. He would have his revenge and take what he wanted and toy with them before they were crushed under his heel once and for all. He’d have that snooty little stuck up Harper as his personal toy and he’d cover the floor in his study with the hide of her giraffe.

He watched as one of his gang walked the fences, stabbing the undead with a sharpened piece of rebar. He liked to keep a few undead at the gates. Kodiak had done the same thing and as much as hated the boy, he saw the wisdom in it. They were a great deterrent and early alarm system. Their keening wails and howls erupted in full force whenever they sensed anyone uninfected. They had to be managed though. Too many at the gates and they would push it down with the sheer weight of their numbers or trample each other in their eagerness to spread the virus, effectively creating a ramp that would let them spill over the wrought iron bars.

He didn’t see any of the others outside. The rest of the crew had better be getting the other house in order. He didn’t go in there much since moving back into his own place, but when he did, he didn’t want to walk in filth. Filth was for the poor orphans hiding in a zoo. Filth was for nasty flea covered animals. He was a Lowery, and Lowery’s didn’t abide filth.

They complained, but not too loudly, about his tight control of the drugs and alcohol. They’d partied nonstop since the end of the world and would have continued right on with it if he hadn’t stepped in and taken control. They muttered under their breath about how he rationed the food. Bitched and moaned over being forced to spend the winter in Richard’s trashed house whenever there were hundreds of other houses they could use. A house they had trashed. Unchecked, they’d have eaten themselves out of supplies before winter was half over. None of them were in any shape to plunder the other homes in the community and Gordon wasn’t going to haul it for them through the snow. He wasn’t some commoner. There was plenty of food in the house, if it was managed, but they never thought ahead of the moment they were in. He’d saved them from themselves and they should be grateful.

Gordon didn’t care about their complaints. He was in charge. He didn’t want them in his house and he didn’t want them destroying the empty homes in the subdivision. They had nearly destroyed Richards home and no matter how clean they kept it now, it still looked like it belonged in the ghetto, not in the most prestigious gated community for hundreds of miles. They had spray painted graffiti, knocked holes in the plaster, destroyed the hardwood floors and carpets with cigarettes and whiskey spills and broken the finely crafted stair railings with their skateboards. He wasn’t going to let them tear up the rest of the houses, he had plans. His plans had backup plans. If one didn’t work out, he’d move onto the next. He was smart and calculating. He prided himself on his preparedness.

One of his many contingency plans involved recruiting an army of survivors to follow his every command. He’d house them in the lavish homes in exchange for their loyalty if his plans to join the Anubis Society didn’t pan out.

The few girls remaining were required to move into his house and most of the winter he’d had them all to himself. His power, and the only gun, allowed him to do anything he wanted. Everyone complied after he’d grabbed his own stepmother by the throat and backed her to the edge of the pool. He held her at the edge with one hand and threatened to drop her in with the zombies. Misty knew from the look in his eyes, he’d do it. After that, all of them were eager to do what he said.

Gordon ran things tight and precise. No more partying, unless he wanted to party. The girls kept his house spotless and the liquor and pills were kept under lock and key. All the guns but his were locked in a safe, away from temptation in case anyone wanted to contest his leadership. He carried a .44 Magnum Smith & Wesson at all times. He liked the feel of the heavy revolver and how it solidified his reign over the others. If he’d had it during the battle, Kodiak would have been dead. The stupid bear would be dead. He’d have scattered them all like leaves in the wind and taken Harper. If only. He touched the butt lovingly. He could hear it whispering to him. Pull me out, let me roar. Let me show them fear and power. Our power! Oddly, the voice sounded like his father and it never shut up. It was always there. Always goading him to do whatever he wanted or berating him for nothing. There was no law, no consequence. Police cars weren’t going to show up with flashing lights to take him away. No one was going to hold him accountable for his actions. He was the law and the only law was whatever he said.

Gordon would never take any crap from anyone again. He was in charge. King of an empire of the dead. Women to do his bidding and young men to fight his fights. No one would dare cross him if they knew what was good for them. No one, except those snotty brats at the zoo.

During the long, cold winter days while the others convalesced and healed from their wounds, he pumped iron in his basement. It had taken a while for the injury to his wrist to heal but he worked around it. He was sure it had been broken, but it turned out to just be a bad sprain. He worked through the pain with heavy wraps of sports tape and lighter weights until the day it didn’t hurt. Then he got serious with the weights. He supplemented his workouts with the steroids and muscle building proteins Richard had stashed in his room. The others grew soft from inactivity as their bones mended and gashes scarred over. He grew harder. Hours and hours in his basement gym worked his muscles into shape. He would remedy the other boys’ softness in time too. They would get back in shape. They wouldn’t stay blitzed out of their minds on drugs and alcohol. They would get in fighting form, or they would die trying because he wanted an army of warriors, not a bunch of frat boys thinking up new ways to get stoned.

He’d been having trouble getting a decent night of sleep. If it wasn’t the scratching sound tormenting him, it was the voice. Sometimes he’d hear both at the same time and he wanted to claw his ears off. Every time he closed his eyes and more frequently when he was awake, he could hear them. The condescending voice of his father or the scratching sounds.

The scratch, scratch, scratching of the store owner. Gordon had been trapped when the outbreak happened, confined to a tiny room with no escape and something dead wanted in. Jagged fingernails clawed at the office door for days. Then came the pulpy sound of fingers being worn away, blood and meat streaking and drying on the door. Then the scratching again. Bone on wood.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Endless. Hour after hour. Day after day. Week after week, the sound was always there. For months he listened and tried to keep quiet, hoped it would give up and go away. It never stopped. How long until the jagged bones clawed their way through the door one sliver at a time?

He’d spent months listening, cowering and crying as it tried to get in day after day. Night after night. Never ending. Never resting. Never giving him a moments peace. He crapped in a box and pissed in a bottle like a homeless vagrant while the thing scratched and clawed, slowly whittling away at the wood. He’d been too traumatized to realize he was surrounded by food and the means to fight back. He was nearly comatose with fear and spent his days wondering how much longer it would take. He was slowly dying, half-starved and helpless until Kodiak saved him. Saved him, he thought with disgust. Deep inside, he knew it was true. He would have gone crazy or died if they hadn’t come along. He didn’t know how many more months he could have held on. They claimed he’d only been in there for a few weeks but what did they know. It felt like months. He hadn’t opened the boxes of surplus MRE’s or tried to make a weapon from the hockey sticks and baseball bats on the shelves. Didn’t even know what MRE’s were until he saw the kids open a carton that had been in the store. He’d survived off junk food, sardines and a case of Vienna sausages sitting beside the desk.

He was weak then, but not now. Not anymore. His body was strong. The doughy baby fat was gone and replaced by hard, steroid enhanced muscles. He felt no shame or remorse for anything he’d done, only hatred and anger for the boy who’d cast him out and made him look pathetic in front of the tribe.

When he was awake, he was strong and fearless. His only time of weakness and vulnerability was when he tried to sleep. The scratching sounds plagued his nightmares. There was a recurring dream where he opened the door of the storeroom and a zombified Kodiak lurched in and attacked. He stood there helpless as his enemy tore chunks of flesh from his arms and face and the other kids laughed and clapped. He watched himself die and reanimate, then lurch upright and follow Kodiak as they searched for more victims to infect. He hated the dream. He’d wet the bed on more than one occasion when the nightmare woke him screaming.

Some of the boys healed faster than the others and he adopted the carrot and stick approach with them. Do as I say, get some time with the girls, a glass of liquor or a few pills to take off the edge. Failure to comply, spend all day at the gates stabbing the ever-present undead.

Bong, the worst addict of all had served as a lesson to the rest when Gordon caught him lighting up with some weed from a private stash when he was supposed to be patrolling the fences. Gordon had berated him, handed him a machete and kicked him out of the gates.

“You can return when you get me the head from one of the undead. A blonde this time. Good looking, not some kid or crippled old man.” He’d told him.

A half an hour later, Bong was screaming to be let in. He clutched a severed head in one hand while a lurching horde keened and shuffled after him. Their rotted fingers reached for the terrified teen. He’d lost the machete and fear filled his eyes as he waited for Gordon to sort through the ring of keys to find the right one. He let him in with seconds to spare, hungry, gnashing teeth only a few feet behind. You could never tell what Gordon would do, he could have just as easily deemed the head not good enough and watched as they tore the boy apart. After that, Bong was no longer a problem. He followed orders and if he had a stash hidden somewhere else, he kept it hidden and didn’t smoke when he had work to do.

Gordon had carefully lashed the head to one of the spikes at the top of the fence, heavy leather gloves on his hands to prevent even the tiniest risk of a bite. The blonde took her place right next to the brunette and the redhead he’d collected. He was amassing quite the collection of zombie heads. Half a dozen that were wearing ball caps. A few more that wore eyeglasses and ties around the stumps of their necks. They were segregated in his own demented system. The ones wearing ball caps represented the commoner. Their heads adorned both sides of the fence nearest the gates. They were the blue-collar hick type people like Kodiak that he hated.

Those in designer eye glasses and ties represented the upper crust of society. His kind of people. They were situated closer to the center of the long fence. If they could look behind them, he felt they’d have enjoyed the views of the garden and swimming pool with its tiki bar and overpriced patio furniture. Not even in death would he subject the upper class to the humiliation of being forced to spend eternity next to a truck driver or some brewery mechanic, so he tried to position them closer to their appropriate stations. He’d had to use a staple gun to keep the glasses and ties in place since the noses were rotting off and the silk ties wanted to slough off with the rotted flesh, but he didn’t mind. From the beginning he’d had a weird fetish for the dead. He could do whatever he wanted to them. They couldn’t tell his secrets or reveal his nature. Even the smell didn’t seem to bother him, although whoever was tasked with helping him usually ended up puking their guts out after the grisly job was complete. The voice in his head laughed at the weak stomached boys, while the rational portion of his mind wondered why he was the only one seemingly immune to the smell of decay.

Lately, he’d started collecting heads from zombie women. It unsettled his crew and he preferred them that way. He was careful when he attached them to the fences, he didn’t want to damage the brain. He wanted them animated and hungry. They gnashed their teeth at anyone who came near.

Sometimes, when the scratching noises kept him up and the voice nagged at him for not expanding his territory or destroying the feral kids, he’d come out and visit the glasses wearing heads, they were his executive committee. The lawyers and powerful players that got things done. He didn’t always agree with their advice, but he appreciated their input. They gave him their full attention as he told them his thoughts and plans. He shared his ideas for bringing in more survivors to do the work. His stay at the zoo was the last time he would ever touch a shovel or pitchfork again. He told them what he knew about the Anubis people and asked their advice on how to negotiate the best deal. He’d gone through the paperwork in his dad’s old office and had discovered he owned a few food distribution warehouses. They advised him to keep that knowledge to himself to use it as a trump card, maybe in a deal with the Society. He laughed at their highbrow jokes and enjoyed the company of other elites like himself. They were the movers and shakers of the old world and he welcomed their wisdom. They snarled and gnashed the stumps of their broken teeth at him. He listened intently and nodded along as they told their secrets of success. The strong walked on the weak and they always had, the end of the world was no reason to change things.

4

Donny

Donny stretched and yawned a silent yawn. He smiled at the memory of the hunt the night before. He and Yewan, his black panther, had brought down a whitetail deer just before sunrise.

The meat would feed the members of his tribe, the bones and organs would go to the bears and wolves. The hide would be tanned and made into something useful. Nothing from the deer would be wasted. He and Yewan had shared the still hot heart minutes after the kill. It no longer made him nauseous to eat it raw. He felt by consuming the organ, some of the creature’s speed, its greatest attribute flowed into him.

He rose and threw open the upper doors of the barn to let in the afternoon sunshine. He closed his eyes and soaked it up. He didn’t miss the winter at all. It had been severe and seemed like it would never let go of its grip on Iowa. He could handle the cold when he had to. He’d survived a Minnesota winter before he wound up here. Sleeping in utility tunnels near the underground steam pipes helped, but the warmth of the pipes also drew the rats and roaches. Nothing was worse than waking up after a rat ran across your face. One of his foster parents had kept white rats as pets. They told him rats had tongues like a cats, it was rough and covered with little barbs. They said that when a rat got thirsty at night it would lick sleeping children’s eyes for the moisture, it liked the taste of tears. They were so soft and gentle when they drank the child wouldn’t wake up. Their tongues would lick a hole, they would suck out the insides and the eyes would collapse.

“Now you be a good boy and do what we say or we’ll let them loose in your room tonight.” They’d said. “You don’t want to wake up blind, do you?”

He’d hated and feared rats ever since.

This life was so much better. He was at peace. He was happy for the first time in his life. The others used to sit around the fire talking about the things they missed and he’d listened as they talked about ice cream and Netflix. PlayStations and movie theatres. Fresh pizza and cotton candy. He’d never had any of that unless it came from a dumpster or he snuck in when the ushers weren’t paying attention.

Donny felt a deep sympathy for the rest of his tribe. They’d lost everything. Their families, friends and possessions. For him every day felt like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. He’d never had any of the nice things they missed so he wasn’t bothered by their absence. He’d never had much of anything, just the worn-out hand me down clothes on his back and a Hello Kitty backpack with a busted strap to hold his few possessions. Anything he wanted; he could have now. He just had to go get it. The thing was though, he didn’t want much. He felt like he was the richest kid in the apocalypse. He finally had a family, friends and the most loyal four-legged companion that ever lived. He had armor and weapons. Warm clothes that fit. Shoes without holes. No pervert was trying to take advantage of his silence and his body. No one ridiculed his mixed ethnicity or his muteness. His social status didn’t matter. The tribe accepted him for who he was, loved him and depended on him. He couldn’t ask for more than that. He smiled to himself at the thought of his brothers and sisters and felt truly blessed to be part of the tribe.

He watched the big cat stir to life. They’d had to hunt hard for the deer. Even though they were plentiful, the animals had become wary of the Savage Ones that tended to stay close to the zoo for the easy meals that came shuffling down the road. They’d covered a lot of miles before Yewan picked up a scent.

Murray had given him an iPad with hunting information on it as a Christmas present. He opened the device and picked up reading the article where he had left off. It was about the moon phases and how it affected the animals feeding patterns. The solunar table showed that their prime feeding times would be midday for the next few days. He’d never considered that before, they just always took to the woods when it got dark and hoped for the best. Sometimes, they were lucky, other times they weren’t. He needed to hunt smarter, not harder because Murray said they needed another year before the penned herds would be big enough to start culling for meat. According to the data on the iPad, smarter would have them going out late morning to get into position. He wondered where Swan was. She and her wolves hunted differently than him and usually wandered farther. Sometimes she would be gone for days and when she came in, she rushed to get her share of the chores finished so she could head back out. She’d become more sullen and brooding and he knew she was hunting Gordon. He hoped she didn’t find him, things had settled down and they hadn’t had any trouble for months. He doubted if they’d ever hear from him again but if she found out where they were, she’d start a war. She still mourned over Lucy and placed the blame squarely on him.

He finished the advanced hunting strategies book and gauged the time by the sun. They still had a couple of hours to burn before they should head out and he needed to take his turn swinging the ax. They cut wood every day, they weren’t going to be caught short again. Winters were long and cold in Iowa.

His mind was made up. He’d start hunting the moon phases after they were done with the majority of the garden harvest. Attune himself with Mother Earth as Swan would say. The idea of hunting in the middle of the day based on the wax and wane of the moon seemed odd, but what did he know? He was a homeless street kid who got lucky. He was adaptable and would do what it took to feed his tribe.

5

Harvest

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. The garden produced food faster than they could collect it. The cellar was nearly full and every meal had an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables that covered the table.

Before the outbreak, most of them would have moaned and groaned if their parents had told them to eat their veggies. Now, they scarfed them down and wanted more. The long winter of eating canned food, crackers and venison jerky had given them a desire for anything fresh.

Tobias and Analise canned nonstop and were always reminding the hunters to look for propane bottles and Mason jars while they were out. They had nearly exhausted their supply of jars and lids. Their blackberry jelly was now perfect and the smell of the baking bread filled the house every Sunday morning. Kodiak had built a cooling box in the cellar that kept the yeasted dough, milk and butter fresh.

Tobias was a tyrant in the kitchen and was proud of his growing culinary skills. Everything had to be just perfect. The triplets were fed up with him and his bossiness and mutiny was being discussed among the three. They conspired and debated tying him to a chair and rubbing the sweet cooked down juice from the berries in his hair and letting the bears take turns licking him until his face was raw. Analise was about tired of him too. He was like that angry chef from the TV their mom used to watch.

Haul firewood. Pump the water. Get out of my way. Get over here. Get over there. It was nonstop. The three were tired and wanted to play, but every time they thought they’d done everything the older boy asked, he piled on more work.

Landon ran around the kitchen with a section of panty hose stretched over his head. They were supposed to be cutting off the legs and filling them with potatoes and onions to hang in the cellar. Clara and Caleb laughed as he barked orders with his impersonation of Tobias. Analise shushed them when Tobias came back inside with a bucket of blackberries.

Tobias glared at them. Landon pulled the panty hose off his head and glared back at Tobias. Analise put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh but the triplets couldn’t hold it and fell to the floor in convulsions of uncontrolled giggling. Tobias grew red in the face. He wanted to know what was so funny. No one could answer, they just pointed behind him.

Popsicle had nosed his way through the door and had his big face buried in the bucket of blackberries. His long tongue scooped them into his mouth and fished them from the corners. The fur of his face was blue from the juices. Tobias shrieked and Popsicle ran. He chased the polar bear across the yard until they were both out of sight.

He returned a few minutes later. Muttered under his breath and dared any of them to say anything.

“I guess he didn’t want the cheese.” Landon said. Tobias’ latest effort at cheese sat next to the now empty bucket. His cheese was getting better but even Otis still wouldn’t eat it.

Tobias growled at them and grabbed up his wooden spoon. He waved it menacingly and ordered them to go get more wood for the stove. He snatched up his apron from the back of a chair and slipped it over his head.

He swore when he saw the modifications.

Someone had taken a marker and changed Kiss The Cook to Kill The Cook. He glared at his sister and the small kids as they tried to look surprised and maintain innocent faces.

He and Analise had gone through a phase where they wanted to be celebrity chefs and had spent a few months watching cooking shows and trying all kinds of recipes. They never really got very good but they knew much more about cooking than the others whose culinary skills extended only as far as the microwave. He enjoyed working in the kitchen before the outbreak but now he took great pride in preparing the meals. He took the responsibility seriously. It was his job to make sure they all ate properly, they couldn’t live on mac and cheese. To get them all together so he wouldn’t have to keep meals warm for a dawdler, he made it a rule; no one eats until everyone is seated at the table.

Tobias gave up on making jelly for the time being. It would take another trip to the blackberry patch since Popsicle had eaten or ruined all of the berries. He turned his attention to dinner and ran the triplets out of the kitchen.

When he and Analise set out his creations, he poised over the table. He watched his tribe, rolling pin in hand, ready to swat anyone who couldn’t wait to dig in. He waited for the praise. They wouldn’t give it. It’s okay and meh’s were his reward. Getting under his skin was a constant source of entertainment for the tribe and they dogged him whenever they got the chance. He let them have their fun. He could tell by how the plates were cleaned that they enjoyed it.

They had become lean and muscular. None of them carried extra body fat. The softness of hours sitting in a classroom or in front of the TV were gone. They stayed busy from sunup to sundown, sometimes longer. Surviving was hard work and they didn’t want to feel the hunger in their bellies next winter. They didn’t want to stay cold for months because they had to use the wood sparingly. They wanted full stomachs and roaring fires and they worked to make it happen. They had to venture further and further to find wood. Everything close to the house was long gone. Even the little kids took their turn at the wood pile. They weren’t strong enough to swing the axe yet but they could haul the chopped wood and split kindling with the hatchet and add it to the stack at the back of the house. It ran the whole length and wrapped around one corner. It was already head high in some places and Murray said it would act as insulation against the winter winds. And it was close. They wouldn’t have to trudge back and forth through the snow to get it. It was right outside the door. An hour of chopping, dragging or stacking was on the chore chart for everyone and the pile of wood was already nearly as much as they’d had when the temperatures dropped below freezing last winter. They would be ready this year. They would spend the snow bound months lounging and relaxing, not fighting the elements and freezing in the cold.

Darkness had fallen, work was finished for the day and Kodiak was content as he added a spoon of mashed potatoes to his dinner plate. He felt good about everything they were accomplishing but he’d been brooding about their perfect little corner of the world. Nothing good ever lasted. Life always seemed to have a sucker punch waiting. Two steps forward and one step back. How long could their run of perfect luck continue? How long until someone got zombie bit or broke an arm or had an accident with the ax? What if one of them got really sick? He tried to push the dark thoughts away, he just wanted to eat his meal and enjoy the banter of the tribe. Inside the house was the only time they ever got loud and silly. They didn’t yell or make unnecessary noises outside but in the stately old home, they let their guard down. While Caleb told another dumb knock knock joke he let his thoughts drift from one of the tribe getting hurt to Gordon to the undead at the gates to the Savage Ones and back to Gordon.

It was quiet and peaceful. Too quiet and too peaceful to be the end of the world. It can’t last. It won’t last. Something would come along to ruin the moments like these. His mood darkened. He mumbled his thanks to Tobias and left the table without trying the fruit salad the twins had whipped up.

Harper started to protest but saw his furrowed brow and let it go. He’d been quieter than usual, something was bothering him. He couldn’t shake the worries off so he did what he usually did, he double checked things to make sure nothing had been overlooked. Some minor little thing that wouldn’t have mattered before the outbreak but could spell death and destruction now. Almost anything could bring them misery. A fallen tree across the fence. A gate that hadn’t been latched. An empty water barrel for fire emergencies. He grabbed up his Warhammer and headed for the door. Otis chuffed softly and lumbered after him, acting more like a faithful dog than a giant bear.

He’d check the fence lines even though they had already been checked. At a slow jog he could make the round and be back by the time everyone was bedding down. He’d count the dead clawing at the gates even though he knew how many were there. He’d check the petting zoo and the barn. He’d look for tracks and listen for the sounds of the Savage Ones. Listen for the sounds of engines or anything that sounded out of place. In the morning he’d climb on top of the barn, it offered the best vantage point to look around, to see if anything had changed overnight. He’d visit the burned-out church and the scattered and stripped bones of the riders. There weren’t many left. He couldn’t bring himself to bury them, even though the old part of him felt it was the right thing to do. This open graveyard was a reminder of what happened. He needed to remember. It was the night they became killers.

The festive dinners and laughter were great. It was deserved. Making time to play and have fun was important. Listening to the quiet cries of joy from the children on Donny’s tire swing was music for the soul. But they couldn’t forget. He couldn’t let them. Peace was just a lull between battles.

Something was always waiting.

Lurking.

Looking for an opportunity to take what they’d built. The local zombies were in rough shape, but Swan reported seeing scores of fresh ones wandering down the county road. Many that had been trapped inside all winter had found their way out, found each other and wandered together in hordes. The barricade of abandoned cars at the turnoff kept them shuffling along for the most apart although some straggled in. The blocked road kept the zombies moving but if there were any groups of bandits or raiders they would see the roadblock for what it was and would know there were survivors nearby.

Whenever he found burrowing around the chain link fences where animals tried to dig under, a healthy dose of urine from one of the carnivores poured around the area usually did the trick. But for how much longer? How much longer until Gordon led in ten thousand dead and the fences fell? What would happen when Swan or Donny came back with a bite mark from a moment of carelessness? What would happen if one of the companion animals got sick? What if one of them needed a dentist? They were all getting older. Otis was showing gray in his muzzle already and preferred to lounge away most of the day.

The food sat heavy on his stomach. He felt sick thinking about all of these things he couldn’t control. He had to though. He was their leader. It was his responsibility.

He checked everything. It was all just as reported. He took solace in the fact that no one was shirking in their responsibilities, but then again, no one ever did. They all knew the dangers outside of the fences.

The next day, it was late afternoon when he finished his chores and made his way down to the river. Down to the spot where Mom had given Derek her version of burial at sea. Where he’d first kissed Harper and where he’d been baptized into the leader he was now. He thought of his Mom and the promises he’d made when he read her goodbye note. It really didn’t matter where her reanimated corpse was wandering. For him, she was here. Always would be and he came to talk with her often when he was scared or confused. When he needed to let it all out and shed the tears that he wouldn’t in front of the tribe.

Harper was already there. He smiled. He had hoped she’d take the clumsy hint when he said he was going to the river when his checks were finished. She lay on a blanket, twirling her hair, a basket of fresh strawberries at her side.

She tilted her head at his approach.

“Oh my. I wasn’t expecting company.” She said in mock surprise. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

He leaned his war hammer against the trunk of an old elm and plopped down beside her. The muddy lazy river, the eastern boundary of the park rolled by slow and steady. Otis waddled down to the shore and lapped greedily at the water.

Nothing was said nor needed to be as they ate the strawberries and he ran his fingers through her hair. She had the braids tied back in a ponytail and he pulled the band free, let the blonde mane fall to her shoulders. Her face had a smudge of dirt from some chore and he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Now you’re perfect again.” He said softly.

She leaned in and their lips met. He was the only boy she’d ever kissed and if she had her way, he’d be the only one she ever did. She gazed in his eyes. Traced the scar that ran down his face. She leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. They didn’t need to speak, the silence was comfortable and they both smiled as Otis stood on the bank waiting for a fish to get too close to shore. It didn’t take long before one did, was slapped on the bank and then carried over to a shade tree to be eaten as a pre-dinner snack.

“I can barely remember the old world.” She said after a time. “And all the things that used to be important. I remember I was consumed with who liked my posts on Instagram and who was going to be picked for the junior varsity cheerleader squad. My mom was worried about getting her degree and Dad worked all the time. They always talked about what they were going to do when they had the time and the money. Sometimes I can’t remember what they looked like or the sound of their voices. It all seems like a dream and that this is the only life I’ve ever known.”

Kodiak nodded. He understood. Late night X-Box tournaments with his friends and trying to get out of chores had been the norm for him. It had always been tough for him and mom after his Dad died, but they’d been happy. His wildest fantasy never saw him battling zombies beside a grizzly bear and living like a pioneer. Sometimes, he wished he was in a vivid dream and he’d wake up with his mom yelling at him to hurry up before he was late for school.

“Do you think things will ever get back to the way they were?” Harper asked. “Is there any place left to go?”

Kodiak shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. We can’t be the only people left.”

They both looked at the sky, the vivid blues and puffy whites of slow moving clouds. They hadn’t seen or heard an airplane since the outbreak.

6

Donny

Donny watched from his perch on a tree limb near the site of the old burnt out church. It was early afternoon and hot. Sweat coated his lithe body underneath the black armor, but he’d rather sweat with it on than risk getting bitten without it. Yewan lounged on a wide branch next to him. They were as still as gargoyles perched on the ramparts of a cathedral. The gentle swish of her tail was the only indicator the pair weren’t carved from obsidian. It was a good spot to watch for signs of the Savage Ones and overlooked a spot where deer liked to cross the road. The Savage Ones hungered and returned here when they couldn’t find prey. They would sniff for a scrap of bone or leathered flesh leftover from the battle.

It had been a dull and uneventful hunt and they were ready to pack it in and call it a day. Nothing but squirrels and rabbits. Apparently, the deer hadn’t read the same book he had.

Donny and Yewan both tensed at the sound of limbs breaking in the woods across the road. Something heavy was falling through the trees. He heard the grunts and stifled curses, caught a flash of something as it crashed through the branches and plunged towards the ground. There was a thud of a body hitting the forest floor and he winced despite himself. Whatever it was had hit hard. He gripped his spear tighter and laid a reassuring hand on the panther’s thick neck and watched. He wanted to run but held his position, his curiosity strong. They were safe here high above the ground and invisible in the shadows of the mighty oak’s limbs.

A boy older than him staggered out of the wood line, stumbled through the ditch and on to the road. He held one arm close to his body like it was injured. He wore a heavy leather coat, even though the weather was too warm for it. He watched the boy stumble down the road, weaving and swaying, barely able to stay on his feet. He wondered where he came from. He had to have been in the tree for a long time, they would have heard him if he’d climbed up after they had taken their position. He must have been hiding up there for hours, maybe spying on them and had somehow slipped. Probably fell asleep.

Curious, he slid down the limbs, landed silently at the base of the tree and followed. The road was empty and silent except for the rustle of the breeze through the tree limbs and the shuffling footsteps of the mysterious stranger. They watched as he fell, pushed himself back to his feet and staggered on. Donny held back, kept out of sight and watched. The stranger was unsteady, seemed more dead than alive and was moving toward the zoo. Maybe he was infected, maybe he’d been bit and had climbed a tree to get away from a horde. If so, why hadn’t Yewan sensed him? He had only been a hundred yards away.

They could probably take him even though he wore guns. They could sneak up within spear distance. He seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings. They moved slowly through the trees, followed the zig zagging boy and watched for others. Gordon’s gang didn’t travel alone. If other people appeared, if they had guns, it was safer to run away and warn the tribe, they were stronger together. The stranger pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, checked his weapons with his uninjured hand and took a few more steps. Donny and Yewan followed cautiously, kept to the shadows and watched. The stranger could be overplaying his injuries, hoping to lure them out.

They followed him for nearly half a mile. He stumbled over the debris that littered the road. He fell, forced himself back to his feet and left bloody handprints on the road. Donny heard him whispering to himself, but he couldn’t make out the words. He snuck closer and strained his ears. He kept repeating a name, Scarlet, almost like it was a prayer, like it gave him strength to keep moving. Donny didn’t sense hostility from the boy even though he was wearing armor and was armed to the teeth. He looked dangerous but there was something about him that didn’t feel like a threat, more like he was desperate for something. Still, he waited and watched. The strange behavior might be the virus, he could be infected and was in the last stages before he turned. If so, he’d run his sharp spear through the stranger’s skull and that would be the end of it. He stroked the panther’s fur, felt the bunched muscles, ready to spring at his command. His ring finger was ready to tap out the command for attack but not yet. He had to be sure it wasn’t just a hard knock to the head or maybe a fever. He’d killed before but he wouldn’t strike someone down for no reason.

He watched as the boy collapsed heavily, saw his head bounce off the asphalt. He didn’t get back up this time but crawled towards the thickets overgrowing the ditch. He was trying to hide. No one else was sneaking up behind them and he knew the boy wasn’t pretending weakness to lure him out. If he was one of Gordon’s crew, he was alone. The way of the tribe was stealth and caution and he waited a little longer after the boy finally stopped moving and lay still.

The older boy stayed down. Donny looked skyward and saw the buzzards circling over the body. He wouldn’t last long if the Savage Ones got scent of him. With the carrion birds overhead, the rest would soon follow.

Donny watched for another minute, and then made his decision. He turned and raced for his tribe, Yewan by his side.

7

Tribe

The tribe stood around the stranger lying on the side of the road. They watched his chest as it rose and fell, his breathing ragged and uneven. His face was smashed and bloody and old scarring was visible through the puffy blue and black bruising. He wore leather pants, heavy boots and a battered leather jacket stained with old blood. Low riding holsters with deadly looking pistols were slung around his hips. His hair was long, his face ragged. He looked like a warrior, but there was no fight in the stranger. The only fight left in him was the fight to stay alive.

“We should just put him out of his misery.” Tobias said. “He looks like Popsicle chewed him up and spit him out.”

Analise punched him in the arm. “He needs help, dummy. We can’t just leave him here.”

Harper and Vanessa agreed with her. Swan paced back and forth, her eyes studying every inch of the stranger.

“He could be a spy.” She said. “Look what happened when we rescued Gordon. We can’t trust anyone outside of the tribe. He looks dangerous. Look at all that armor and those guns and knives. If he’s not one of Gordon’s he’s probably something worse. I say we take him back with us. I’ll get him to talk if he ever wakes up.”

Kodiak crouched over him and started pulling the guns and knives out of their sheaths and holsters. The boy didn’t move, didn’t wake up. Otis stepped in close and sniffed. He chuffed and pawed him gently, checking to see if he still lived.

“Otis doesn’t know him.” Kodiak said. “Neither do I. I saw all of Gordon’s gang up close when they beat the crap out of me. Unless he stayed behind in their hideout, he’s not one of them. Otis would have his scent and I would recognize him.”

“Then where did he come from?” Harper asked but nobody had an answer.

Zero and Yewan approached the boy. They each sniffed him and gave no indication they had ever smelled his particular scent. No growls or snarls, just indifference to a creature that posed no threat to their children. Like Otis, there was no aggression from the ebony cat. No raised hackles or bared fangs. Each of the animals sniffed him, prodded him with wet noses or paws. Satisfied, they returned to their companions.

“I guess that settles it, then.” Kodiak said and stepped towards the older boy. “Gimme a hand guys. We’ll take him with us. If nothing else, maybe he’ll have some news about other places.”

Harper gathered his weapons and placed them in her satchel as Donny and Swan quickly put together a travois. They both carried the ropes needed to build one, it’s how they carried the deer back from their hunts. Kodiak eyed the odd-looking belt around his waist, but it wasn’t a weapon. It seemed out of place considering the rest of his garb but it looked harmless, so he left it where it was.

They took turns pulling him back, he weighed a lot more than a fully dressed whitetail. It was a long and bumpy ride but the stranger never woke up.

8

Diablo

Diablo caught a new scent on the wind. It smelled human, but it was an unknown scent. His sensitive nose took it all in and processed it against the smells he was familiar with. He never forgot a scent once it entered his nose and this one was new. He smelled the sweat and the stink of illness. He set out in a cautious lope to investigate. The pack of Savage Ones trailed him at a safe distance. He was a brutal leader, often snatching the weaker ones to sate his ravenous appetite. The brutal memories of the long hard winter lingered in his brain. The hyena had never felt such cold and hated it. His kind were used to dry, arid environments. He had spent all winter shivering in a den formerly occupied by a mountain lion. The lion had fought viciously, and then tried to flee, but the sheer numbers of his pack had cornered and overwhelmed the big cat. After he’d feasted on the hot organs and bitter meat, the rest of them had reduced the animal to a pile of scattered fur and shattered bones. The kittens in the den soon followed their mother as they filled the bellies of the half mad pack.

Diablo tolerated some of the other animals to share the den for the benefit of the body heat, the rest were left to fend for themselves. They never wandered far though; the draw of the Alpha was too strong. When his stomach growled, he feasted on his den mates rather than face the cold to seek out a meal. There were plenty more of them, eager to take the place of the devoured.

The hyena missed the kinship of his brother, Demonio. He would have preferred to be alone, but millions of years of survival instinct made him tolerate the rest of the pack. He needed them to live and that dominated any other desires he had to travel alone.

He hungered. The stinking humans were in short supply. The winter had frozen them, slowed them down to where they were even easier to catch and devour, but their numbers had dwindled and they ranged far and wide to find prey. The young humans inside the fences were frequently in his thoughts, but the thoughts were tainted with misery. He remembered the loss of Demonio, the fangs of the wolf and the metal claws of his human girl. It kept him cautious, but he always circled back to the zoo. He would stay for a time, eat his fill and watch. There were always stinking humans at the gate but he was wary. The lesser animals could eat their fill but if he was seen, the humans inside the fences would try to hurt him. He kept his distance or only snuck in late at night. He watched the humans inside the fence for a time and when he left again seeking easier prey, only the fastest ran with him: The wild dogs and coyotes. The opossums and rats, the raccoons and cats remained at the zoo. They had grown too fat and lazy to run with the pack, they stayed and gorged themselves, tried to satisfy a hunger that couldn’t be sated.

The humans were weak and slow when they were separated from their group. They were no match for him and his powerful jaws. He would hunt them as his ancestors did. Stalk them and pick off the stragglers. Crack their bones for the sweet marrow. Not yet though. For now, he would content himself with rotted flesh and the weaker animals until the opportunity presented itself. The rancid meat filled his belly, but never sated his appetite. The flesh from the stinking humans stoked the fires of his rage, caused him to devour long after his belly was distended, yet he hungered still. It was maddening. He stifled the urge to let loose a laughing bark and increased his loping gait. He wanted a closer inspection of the new scent.

As he neared the fences, the smaller members of his pack joined the group and followed on silent padded feet. The coyotes, wild dogs, feral cats, raccoons, opossums and the once domesticated pigs fell in place. He always found the food. They understood his cruel reign. He was the strongest of them all and the Alpha.

The scent of the new human grew stronger and he slowed, careful to keep the wind in his nose so he could remain undetected by his prey. He growled a warning to the others to stay back and dropped to his belly and crawled forward to investigate. He detected a multitude of intermingled scents from the young ones and their beasts as he watched from the safety of the thick brush. They rested just inside the fence as they gathered around the source of the unknown smell that lured him there, the blood covered human. He inhaled all the aromas. Cross checked and cataloged them against his olfactory memory. He drooled at the thought of fresh meat. Hot and rich with warm blood. His muscles bunched, his rage and hunger threatened to overwhelm his protective senses when he smelled the scent of Demonio. The wolf girl wore his pelt across her back.

Diablo was a scavenger by design. His DNA was programmed to take the least amount of risk and steal the prey from stronger animals by stealth or overwhelming numbers of his kind. He tamped down his blood lust and watched as the small ones lifted and carried the new one across the field to their den. The big bear sniffed the wind and looked in his direction. He forced his body lower and lidded his eyes. He knew he couldn’t win this fight and remained motionless. His mottled, tawny hide blended seamlessly with the foliage. Hunger gnawed at his belly as he scooted away from the sure death that awaited him. He growled a low growl to his pack and loped into the forest in search of an easier meal. He would watch, he would wait and when the time came, he would close his strong jaws on their frail bodies and feast.

His limping gait carried them swiftly towards the outskirts of Putnam, only a few miles away. He and his pack had found one of the lairs of the stinking humans yet were unable to get at them. They’d circled and scratched, pawed and growled at the shapes moving in the window, only to wind up frustrated and hungry. His growl increased to match the rumble of his belly. He didn’t like being thwarted from a meal, drool ran from his massive jaws and he increased his speed towards the lair of the stinking ones. He vaulted the steps and crashed into the door. Pain coursed through the old wound in his shoulder. The wound inflicted by the wolf so many months ago. He crashed into the wooden door again. He would not be denied this meal. A coyote yipped and crashed into the door beside him. The Savage Ones hungered as much as their alpha and his fury inflamed their own. Diablo eyed the stinking ones through the window as more of the hungry animals flung themselves against the door. Opossums and raccoons scaled the rain gutters and chimney. Strong teeth and nimble paws tore at the mesh chimney cap, eager to work their way inside to be the first to feed. A mixed breed dog flung himself at the pane glass window. It shattered and he yelped as the glass shards dug into his flesh. He fell and flopped on the porch, licking at his wounds until the others sensed his vulnerability, fell on him and devoured him in seconds. The cats ran under the porch, chunks of meat in their jaws. Wild pigs and coyotes snapped tusks and fangs at each other as they fought over the bones. The ravens, crows and vultures descended in flocks that blotted out the sun in their own quest for a tasty morsel. The undead family spilled through the shattered window. A mother, father, teenage girl and a toddler. Trapped inside since the outbreak, the virus inside them screamed for a chance to feed, to spread and replicate. The chimney cap fell free and the raccoons and opossums scurried down. They spread through the house, seeking anything to fill their bellies. The pantry doors were torn from their hinges from the weight of the animals, food boxes were shredded and the contents gobbled up.

Diablo watched as the stinking ones fell through the shattered window. They made their awful noise, staggered to their feet and set off at a run in search of prey of their own. Many of the Savage Ones poured through the new opening in search of food, while others focused their attacks on the stinking ones. A large boar crashed into the man bearing him to the ground. His tusks ripped and shredded flesh. The creature ignored it and tried to crawl away. It wanted to seek prey of its own. More of them fell on the keening creature and tore away mouthfuls of flesh.

Diablo leapt and grabbed the smallest of the stinking ones. He crunched the skull in his jaws, felt it go limp and drug it to the shade to feast in peace. None would dare defy him and try to feed on it until he was finished. The carrion birds swooped down on the teenaged zombie. The sheer weight of them forced it to the ground where talons and beaks tore off shreds of flesh. Wild cats darted in among the birds to grab their shares. The woman was dragged down under the jaws of the coyotes and mongrel dogs. Smaller animals darted in to take what they could. Some escaped with a mouthful of flesh while others became part of the buffet. The frenzy was over in minutes. Only the sound of bones cracking, and the calls of the carrion birds disturbed the silence. Temporarily sated, the larger savages collapsed to rest and digest their grisly meal, while the smaller ones flitted about scooping up the bits of flesh and shattered bones that littered the yard.

Birds flew into the open house and lit on the furniture. Their wings knocked pictures from the walls as they sought out leftover morsels.

Diablo cracked a femur in his strong jaws and devoured the marrow. His stomach was full to the point of bursting, yet he continued to feed. The tainted meat only increased his hunger. He regurgitated a chunk and then swallowed it back down again. When he could force no more into his gullet, he rested his paws over the remains to protect his meal, lowered his bloodied muzzle and closed his eyes.

9

Swan

Swan watched the stranger as he tossed and turned in the bed. He kicked off the covers every time she tried to cover him up. Sweat covered his lean, hard body. She tried not to admire his muscled physique but found it hard not to. Old, puckered wounds from bullets dotted his body. Other scars, long and white, like those from an edged weapon, crisscrossed his skin like a roadmap of pain and suffering. Whoever he was, he’d seen action and was tough enough to have survived. She grudgingly admired that and wanted to know the story behind each one.

She thought he would be attractive in a roguish sort of way if it wasn’t for the mottled bruising and swelling that covered his body. He had a prominent scar on one side of his face but he was so swollen and piebald she had to use her imagination to figure out what he really looked like underneath. She scolded herself as the urge to trace her finger along the scar struck her from out of nowhere. He might be the enemy, he might be there to kill them all, but he looked helpless in his fitful sleep. She couldn’t help it, her heart ached as she sat and watched, wondered over the damage done to him. He could have been dead from any of his wounds and there were a lot of them. His face wasn’t quite symmetrical, almost like a cheap puzzle where the pieces didn’t fit just right and he frequently clenched his teeth as if he was in a lot of pain.

He’d been out for three days and at first, they weren’t sure he’d make it. They stripped him, washed the blood from his body but were mystified when there were no cuts, no bleeding gashes. He seemed to be sweating it out of his pores. Murray wrapped his arm to help the collarbone heal and had to convince Tobias and Kodiak he wasn’t suffering from Ebola. They’d given him water and broth. She and Harper had held up his head and poured it into his mouth. Much of it dribbled down his chest, but they’d gotten enough in him. He wasn’t dead yet and they’d done what they could. The rest was up to him.

She stopped hunting, hurried through her chores and kept her vigil. She wanted to be there when he woke up. She had questions for the stranger and she would get answers, one way or another. She had to know if he was one of Gordon’s gang or if they had done this to him. She had to know if he held the answers she was seeking, if he had encountered them and did he know where they were. She wore her armor and kept her weapons with her, she was guarding a prisoner. A dangerous one from the looks of him. Her anger had faded as she listened to him, to his dreams, to his occasional moans and the words he sometimes spoke. He sounded desperate and lost most of the time.

It irked her at first that Zero had accepted him so easily while she kept both tomahawks handy if he woke and tried something. It irked her that the wolf was laying on the rug beside the bed, keeping vigil of his own. It wasn’t like him to be so trusting. She trusted Zero, trusted him with her life, and his acceptance of the stranger eased some of her suspicions. If the wolf had picked up any sense of danger from him, surely, he would show it.

His sleep was deep, almost like he was in a coma at first but it became lighter. By the third day they expected him to wake up at any time. His dreams became more vivid and the words he uttered started to make sense. He seemed to be reliving the same nightmare, one where he was trying to help someone called Scarlet but he never succeeded. The dream would end, his fists would unclench and he’d sleep peacefully for a time before the cycle started again. Swan sharpened her blades or groomed her wolves as she kept watch, listened and wondered who he’d been.

Swan startled awake; she’d been dozing in the rocking chair. The stranger was upright on the bed, his eyes wide and darting. They found her in the moonlight and the first thing that popped in her mind was God, what beautiful eyes you have. He stared at her intently for a second then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed back onto the twisted sheets. Zero lowered his head and went back to sleep.

Her heart pounded, she gripped her weapons tighter and watched to see if he would regain consciousness. When he didn’t stir, she relaxed and told herself she needed to stay awake but soon drifted off. Zero was there, he would keep her safe.

“He woke up for a few seconds then passed out again.” She told the tribe in the morning.

“Let’s put him on the couch.” Kodiak said “I think he’s over whatever was wrong with him. If he’s dangerous, I’d rather more of us be ready. Besides, I’m sure you could use a break.”

Donny and Tobias moved towards the bedroom and returned a few seconds later with the unconscious boy draped in a sheet. Vanessa shooed the wolf cubs off the couch and Harper covered it with a clean blanket as Analise brought in a damp washcloth to lay over his forehead.

Swan didn’t care for how the other girls were staring at him. Didn’t care for the extra attention they lavished on him. She forced them aside as she tucked the sheet in around his body.

“What?” she said defensively. “He still has a fever. I don’t want him dying before I find out what he knows. Besides, Clara doesn’t need to see him naked.”

She met their eyes one at a time, dared them to challenge her.

Tobias snorted and burst out laughing. “Swan’s hot for the stranger!”

The taunt caught like wildfire and soon the whole tribe was giggling and making kissy faces. Swan blushed, told them they were idiots and stormed outside. She slammed the door behind her and looked for something, anything to throw her tomahawks at, and anything to distract her thoughts from the stranger. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe she was a little jealous of the way they were fawning over him.

Maybe.

Just a little.

10

Call Me Bob

Kodiak watched from his perch in the windowsill as the stranger opened his eyes to find the muzzle of a bear breathing heavily in his face. He watched as the older boy eased his hand down under the blankets for the pair of guns that were now safely hidden away. The scarred stranger looked a little surprised when he found nothing but skin beneath the covers and he slowly bunched himself up to spring off the couch. Kodiak reflexively gripped the haft of his Warhammer as he watched.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He said. “Relax, he won’t hurt you.”

“Unless I tell him to.” He added after a pause, a little menace in his voice.

The boys studied each other from across the room. Both were lean and hard; both bore scars from their deadly encounters. Kodiak didn’t blink. The stranger didn’t blink either. He saw no hostility in the stranger’s eyes. Sadness and determination, but no malice or ill intent. Kodiak broke the gaze and looked to Otis.

“Otis, back off.” The boy commanded.

The big bear chuffed once more in the strangers face then ambled off to flop down in front of the fireplace. The triplets and their foxes immediately hid behind him and peered over the top of his shaggy brown pelt, safe from whatever was going to happen next. This was the first time they’d had a guest in the old house.

The stranger sat up slowly. No sudden moves that could be misconstrued as aggression. Still, he gave the impression of a coiled spring, ready to burst loose at any second. He probed his shoulder tenderly.

“Good work, whoever did this.” He said. “Thanks.”

Murray gave a slight bow from his wheelchair. “At your service, stranger. Got a name?”

The stranger ignored the question as they stared at his mottled body and watched him run fingers over the broken bone. He was one massive bruise from head to toe.

“What happened to my pants?” he asked and snatched the blanket back in place before it fell to the floor.

Swan blushed and the others started snickering.

Clara piped in. “Swan took them off!”

Clara ducked down behind Mr. Ringtail so they couldn’t see her but she couldn’t hide her giggles.

“They were filthy and you were stinking up the place,” Swan said in her defense. “Somebody had to do it, they were all bloody and you were drawing flies.”

Murray rolled up to face the stranger. “Yeah, that’s weird. You were soaked in blood, but you didn’t have any cuts. How did you get so bruised up, anyway? You get into a fight with a weed whacker?”

Harper handed him his pants and kept her eyes averted, she was nearly as red as Swan.

The stranger tried to smile, “Got beat with the ugly stick.” He said as he struggled into his leathers and tried to keep himself covered as all the girls raptly watched his muscles flexing.

The stranger kept glancing at Analise and Tobias out of the corner of his eyes. Kodiak thought he saw a twinge of sadness.

Caleb snickered. “Need help? Swan got them off you real quick, maybe she can help you put them back on.”

“SHUT UP CALEB!” Swan growled and flung a pillow at him. Caleb ducked behind Otis, who acknowledged it bouncing off of him with a half open eye before getting back to his nap.

Kodiak hopped down from his place in the windowsill. He held his hammer loosely and stopped in front of the stranger.

“It’s time you answered some questions.” Kodiak said.

The stranger, still struggling with his pants acted as if he didn’t hear him. The chatter from the others fell silent as they all waited to hear what he had to say.

The stranger looked up at Kodiak. “Sorry. What?” He tossed the sheet aside and began looking for his boots.

“I said it’s your turn to answer questions.” Kodiak tried to hide his annoyance.

The stranger met his gaze. “Okay. No problem. But I really gotta pee. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Donny stepped from the shadows and gestured for the stranger to follow him. They returned from the outhouse a few minutes later to find the tribe bustling around and laying out breakfast.

The large oak table was loaded down with food. Fresh vegetables, roasted ears of corn, fried game and fish, scrambled eggs and Tobias’s slowly evolving efforts at homemade cheese. The stranger stared at the spread and the growling of his stomach elicited giggles from the triplets.

“I had a locket.” He said. “Did I still have it when you found me?”

Harper spoke. “Oh, I have it.” She stepped over to a rocking chair and picked it up, along with the stranger’s shirt. “I stitched up some of the tears.” She blushed again as he met her eyes.

“Thanks.” he said and started unwrapping the bandages that held his arm tight to his chest.

Murray watched him. “You should leave that. You’re not supposed to move it for a few weeks.”

The stranger pulled the last of the bandages away. “I heal fast.” He said as he probed his collarbone.

“Let me see. Bend down here.” Murray said.

The older boy obliged and Murray gently felt the damaged shoulder. This is odd, he thought. I know it was broken, I set the bones back in place. He probed some more. It was still bruised around the break, but it was definitely not broken. Not anymore. There were a lot of things about this stranger that had Murray’s Spidey senses tingling.

“I could have sworn it was broken. It felt broken, but bones don’t grow back together in three days.” Murray said.

The stranger stopped struggling with his shirt. “Three days? I’ve been out for three days?”

“Three days and three nights, sleepyhead!” Landon said.

“Three days and nights.” Echoed Clara. She wanted to add something to that, but Swan shot her a dirty look and the little wild girl held her tongue.

Swan watched as he resumed the struggle with his shirt, wincing as he tried to put his arm through the sleeve.

“Oh, give me that.” She said and watched the muscles ripple as she eased his damaged arm through the shirt, her fingers brushing over his skin. It suddenly felt a lot warmer in the house.

“It’s just a sprain.” She chastised. “You’re worse than Kodiak. Big baby.”

Clara pointed at the empty seat next to her. “You can sit by me,” and stuck her tongue out at Caleb and Landon.

“Unless you want to sit by Swan.” Caleb snorted. Swan kicked him under the table and stared at him until he looked down at his empty plate. Swan was scary.

Kodiak gestured to an empty seat between him and Donny. All the girls were acting stupid over his presence, even Swan. Especially Swan. If this guy tried anything, he wanted to be closest to react. Donny would have his back and Tobias would cut the stranger off if he tried something and bolted for the door. So far, he’d been nothing but polite, but so had Gordon when he was trying to get them to lower their guard. Kodiak would never make the mistake of underestimating an outsider again.

“Join us. You can sit here.” Kodiak said.

The stranger took his place between Kodiak and Donny. He picked at his plate, although it was obvious from the growls of his stomach he was starving.

Tobias looked on in annoyance. He and Analise worked hard on their meals and he was sensitive to any criticisms. This was the first outsider they’d invited to eat and he was eager to see how his food went over with someone who didn’t know that any smart comments would get them a bloodied nose.

“You don’t like it?” Tobias asked. He teetered between embarrassment and anger for a few seconds.

“No, it’s, good.” The stranger said. “But I don’t want to eat someone else’s share.”

Kodiak waved his fork. “Food we have plenty of. Don’t be shy. Those two will get insulted if you don’t eat enough, they might just stab you.”

From the other end of the table Vanessa said. “Or make you eat Tobias’ cheese.”

The table erupted in snickers and giggles.

“I heard that.” Tobias said. He stared everyone into silence. “And that was only one time.”

Breakfast was a loud and raucous affair. They dug in hungrily and their table manners weren’t what they were before the outbreak. The wolf cubs and foxes milled around under the table, greedily accepting morsels snuck to them by the triplets.

When Kodiak was done, he pushed his plate back and patted his full belly. When the stranger pushed his back as well, the table grew silent and all eyes went to him.

“We have questions and we need answers,” Kodiak said, his voice held an edge. “Because so far, you haven’t answered a single one that’s been asked. You haven’t told us your name, where you’re from, who you’re with, how you got so beat up and why you’re here.”

The stranger looked at the hard stares of the tribe. They were all waiting. The shadow of Gordon always lingered in each of their minds. They liked this stranger and the animals showed no animosity towards him like they had Gordon. Still, outsiders couldn’t be trusted. He was the first seemingly friendly face they’d met since the world ended. Each of them wanted him to be ok, to be a friend. Someone who could tell them what it was like in other places. Someone to offer reassurance that there were still other people out there and they weren’t all evil.

“My name is Bob, I’m from Canada, I’m by myself and I’m on a scouting mission to find a warmer place for our village. I’m on my way to Mississippi or maybe Louisiana. My car broke down and I got lost in the woods. I climbed a tree to see how to get out and fell. I must have hit every branch on the way down. Next thing I remember, I woke up here.”

Murray pondered the story. It pretty much matched Donny’s version, but Murray didn’t completely buy it. No way this guy snuck by Yewan’s nose and Donny’s keen eyes. The Asian boy was too savvy to be surprised the way he was.

“How many people are in your town?” Murray asked.

“Um, about thirty.” Bob answered. “But we don’t want any trouble from anyone. I’m just scouting a route. It’s mostly old people.”

Kodiak was suspicious. He was thinking the same thing Murray was thinking. “Did Gordon send you? Are you a spy?”

“No.” Bob answered. “I don’t know any Gordon and I’m not a spy. A spy for what?”

“A spy for Gordon.” Murray said.

Bob shook his head. “Never heard of her.”

Laughter erupted around the table and the tribe relaxed. Kodiak still had questions. Bob answered them, even when they weren’t what the kids wanted to hear. He told them about his fortified town way up in Canada and how he hoped to lead the village to a safe place in a warm environment. He warned them about the big cities and the millions of undead that wandered through them.

They fell silent after hearing about the devastation that had wrecked the country but their minds swam with the knowledge that there were other survivors.

“I need to leave.” Bob finally said. “I have a long way to go.”

Since eating, his color was better, and he wasn’t moving so sluggishly now. He still gave off a vibe of danger. Kodiak noticed it. Swan liked it. She mentally chastised herself. He was just a boy. A distraction she didn’t need.

Everyone stared at him silently. They were enjoying his stories and the news from outside. It was horrifying, but deep down they’d all suspected as much.

“You should wait until you’re healed.” Murray said. “Your people would understand.”

“Yeah, you have to wait.” Landon butted in. “You haven’t seen Sage ride Mr. Ringtail. You have to see that, its soooooo funny.”

“Bob doesn’t want to see a monkey ride your fox.” Swan said and caught those cobalt blue eyes staring at her. She bit the inside of her lip and narrowed her eyes. She channeled some of her anger to get the image of her fingers softly tracing his scars out of her mind. “But he owes the tribe a debt.”

“We saved your life.” She told him. “We nursed you back to health. We’ve sewn your clothes. You’ve eaten our food. You owe a debt.”

“He doesn’t owe us anything…” Harper started, but Swan cut her off.

“He does!” she demanded, her voice rising. “You have to pay for what you take.”

“I don’t have much.” Bob said. “I’ll give you my shirt. Or my jacket but I don’t have much else.”

“Swan wants his pants again.” Landon whispered. Swan kicked out at the small boy but Landon wasn’t about to let her nail him again and snatched his leg out of the way. She missed and muttered a curse as her toes found the bottom of the table.

Before Kodiak could cut her off, she said. “You have knowledge. You’ve traveled far from the looks of you. Are you any good with those guns? You can teach us.”

Kodiak paused, mouth open, whatever he was about to say forgotten.

“Can you?” he finally asked. “We’ve had trouble in the past and we expect more in the future.”

Kodiak knew guns were a bad idea around the animals. He knew the sound of gunfire was a beacon for any wandering horde or people who would harm them. Still, it seemed foolish to pass up a chance for the tribe to at least learn how to handle them and use them. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to one of his people because they couldn’t defend themselves.

The stranger hesitated, glanced out the window towards the road. It looked like he was going to refuse.

“I know where there is a good truck you can drive.” Vanessa said. “It’s already been zombie proofed with bars on the windows and things like that.”

“Yeah, the one at the grocery store.” Analise said. “We can help you get it if you teach us guns.”

The stranger considered then smiled.

“Sure.” Bob said. “I can do that.”

11

Chores

“Look, we’ve got work we need to do today, it can’t be put off.” Kodiak told Bob. He watched the others disperse and head off to take care of their various chores. The zoo ran on hard work and some things had to be done whether they felt like doing them or not.

Kodiak continued. “Just chill out and rest for now, we can go into town tomorrow for the truck, we’re due for a supply run anyway.

Kodiak gave a nod to Donny. He’d been lingering in case the stranger made a wrong move. He was still unsure about the whole situation and didn’t buy the strangers story. He’d seen him fall but didn’t believe for a moment he’d just lost his grip on a tree limb. He’d have to be a ghost to move through the forest without Yewan or him detecting him. Kodiak flashed sign language to the mute boy. They would trust the stranger. Donny nodded as he and Yewan slipped from the porch and headed towards the woods to check traps and fences.

“Take it easy today buddy; you really do look like hell.” Kodiak continued. “Murray can show you around the shops and garages so you’ll know what we have to get the truck started if it won’t crank in town. We can tow it back with Millie.”

Bob nodded his approval. “Sounds good. Appreciate it.”

Kodiak left him on the porch and set off for the barn. He had a full day ahead of him, although he’d like to have spent more time with the stranger. He had a lot more questions about the outside world. He was happy here, but he questioned whether or not they would be better off with a bigger group. He’d give the tribe some time to stew it over and bring it up around the dinner table one night for a vote.

Murray wheeled himself out onto the porch. He had the weird looking belt that Bob had worn sitting in his lap. He’d played with it for days trying to figure out what it did but he’d been unsuccessful in his tinkering. It seemed like it didn’t do anything, but it was obviously some kind of high-tech gadget. It was a strange item to be carrying around, it didn’t seem to belong in the apocalyptic world. It wasn’t anything that could protect you or kill your enemies. Everything else about the stranger was all armor and weapons, nothing flashy or fancy. It seemed to Murray like a waste of time to carry some gaudy belt around, unless it had some significance to Bob. Something he was missing. Murray resolved himself to find out its mysteries.

“So, it’s just you and me today.” he said and stroked Sage as she sat in his lap.

He looked at the older boy. Watched for signs of deception or dishonesty.

“You wanna tell me what this is?” He held up the belt and watched the sunlight dance off its dull surfaces.

“Movie prop.” Bob said. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Murray knew bullshit when he heard it. He wanted to trust this guy, but trust was a two-way street.

Murray stared at Bob for a long moment before asking “Do I look dumb to you?”

Bob stared right back and remained silent. Murray could see he was contemplating an answer but was it a truth or another sidestep? Another lie? Murray pretended to scratch at an itch, but his nimble fingers caressed the throwing knife, ready to whip it out if needed. He liked Bob so far, but he’d take no chances when it came to protecting the tribe.

“No, you don’t,” Bob sighed “but some things are secret and are best kept that way.”

“You’re not from Canada.” Murray said. ‘From the accent, I’d say somewhere down south. You’re not scouting for a new home, either are you?”

Bob shook his head. Murray wondered what else he was withholding. Was he a runaway from Gordon’s gang? Advance scout for those raiders and cannibals he’d told them about at the breakfast table? Some kind of military guy on a mission?

“And you didn’t get so beat up by falling out of a tree.” It was a statement, not a question.

Bob didn’t answer. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Okay, I get it. You’re not going to tell us who you are.” Murray said. “Was anything you said true?”

Bob came back from wherever his mind had roamed off to. “Most of it. I mean you no harm, I got a little lost, but I need to be on my way. I could use the truck they were talking about; it would save me a lot of time but I’ll leave right now if you think its best.”

Murray pondered and scratched the little capuchin’s neck. The guy had a way about him. He gave off a steady vibe of danger, but he wasn’t dangerous, at least not towards them. The animals paid him no more mind than any other member of the tribe. They had accepted him in a way they never had with Gordon. He’d been nothing but humble, despite the fact he was hiding something. He was covered with scars and muscles and moved in a fluid way; much like Donny and Swan did after spending so much time with their animals. Murray trusted his gut and held the belt out.

“No, stay. I don’t think you’re a threat. Your guns and jacket are hanging on the coat rack, just inside the door.” Murray said. He wasn’t done with his interrogation though. Not by a long shot. He was too curious and too clever and the best way to get information was to keep him talking, to get him to let his guard down. To become friends.

“Your sleep is fitful.” Murray said. “You have nightmares and your tears were blood.”

Bob looked away without responding. He was granted a reprieve from Murray’s questions when Sage came screeching out of the house and scampered onto Murray’s shoulder. Elmo and Ernie clambered up the chair and across Murray’s body in a desperate attempt to get the cookies the clever capuchin had stolen.

“Oh, crap.” Murray said. “They got into the cookie jar. Tobias is gonna be pissed.”

He shooed and swatted at the monkeys until they dispersed. Sage, unwilling to share her loot, raced up one of the poles on the porch. Her brood mates took off in hot pursuit.

Murray showed Bob around the zoo. He introduced him to the animals that roamed about freely and took him through the shops and garage. There was a lot of stuff crammed in them over the years. The children had no use for most of it and no idea how to use the rest of it. It just gathered dust and rust, but maybe there was something Bob could use from the old tractors covered in weeds and spider webs or the empty cages with their thick steel bars. They would make good reinforcement for the armoring of a vehicle.

Bob asked a few questions about their security. Murray explained how they monitored the fences daily and controlled the horde at the gates. They were cautious and quiet outside the house, chose stealth to avoid confrontations and would run if the situation allowed it. They were aware of their physical limitations and only chose to fight when there was no choice. Bob nodded his approval.

Murray showed him a few projects he was working on and needed help with. Bob eagerly pitched in and Murray noticed he was good with his hands and his strength was out of proportion to his size. He wasn’t much bigger than Donny or Kodiak but he easily moved items that the other boys struggled to move together.

Murray and Bob spent the early afternoon painting the porch. Everyone else hated painting and always had an excuse why they couldn’t help. The traps need checking, I saw some berries down by the shore, there’s a dead limb getting ready to fall on the fence or a hundred other reasons.

Murray had heard them all. He spent more time in and around the house than any of them. Was it too much to want a freshly painted porch to sit on while he was reading or just enjoying the breeze?

Bob didn’t seem to mind a bit and he painted all of the high places Murray couldn’t reach. Thrilled at having a captive audience, Murray told him stories of their ordeals. He told him all about Gordon and how they kicked him out after he poisoned their buffalo. He shared some of the details of Gordon’s raids, Lucy’s death and the big battle at the church. There was no pride in telling it. People had died, even though they were bad, it was nothing to be proud of. Bob took it all in. He seemed content in the soothing monotony of moving the brush back and forth against the old cracked boards.

They fell into an easy, comfortable silence as the porch slowly transformed under the new coat of paint. Murray turned and looked towards the river when he heard the grunts of approaching bears.

Tobias and Analise had brought back baskets of fish and quail and the pride was obvious on their faces.

“The nets worked.” Tobias bragged. He was proud of the traps him and his sister had woven during the long cold winter. He held it up and displayed the covey of quail inside of it.

Tobias cut his eyes at Bob. For someone who ate as much as he did and was a guest in their home, he felt like the older boy had gotten off pretty light on helping out. Prettying up the porch wasn’t work. Wounded or not, Tobias thought he didn’t look nearly tired or sweaty enough.

“Could use some help cleaning them, though. There’s a bunch of them.”

“Be glad to.” Bob said and wiped his hands on his pants. “But, you’ll have to show me how.”

Tobias snorted. City boy, he thought He’d starve to death if someone hid the can opener. He totally disregarded the fact that until the outbreak, he’d never fixed anything that didn’t come from the store and the idea of his hands in fish guts would have sent him screaming from the room. Tobias wasn’t impressed by this guy. He didn’t care for the way the girls all mooned over him. He didn’t like the funny feeling he got in his belly when Swan was tripping all over herself in front of him. What was that about anyway? She was like another sister to him. Sure she was pretty and fierce and would make a good Viking but he didn’t like like her. Not like a girlfriend or anything. He shrugged and eyed Bob one more time. Just let him get out of line with Analise and he’d freshen up those black eyes for him.

Tobias stopped laying out the days catch on the table and muttered when he saw the nearly empty cookie jar. He glared at the stranger.

“Just had to help yourself didn’t you?”

Bob looked back at him with a goofy grin and chittered like a monkey.

“Sage.” Tobias growled. “I swear, I’m going to catch her in the act one of these days and we’re going to have monkey stew.”

He turned back to the pile of fish and expertly filleted them out in just a few minutes as he muttered about the best way to cook a monkey. When he finished, he turned to watch Bob struggling to clean the quail.

“Here. Look.” He said.

Tobias took one of the game hens from the basket and in a few short seconds had it cleaned and laid aside, ready to be washed and fried. Bob caught on quickly and they worked their way through the pile of birds.

Swan watched from the stairs while the mottled boy focused on prepping their dinner with Tobias. He was even more alluring now that he was awake and alert. His movements were graceful, and efficient, almost animalistic. It reminded her of the way the wolves moved. She could smell the danger on him across the room, he gave off a vibe that was deadly and calm all at the same time. It reminded her of a rattlesnake. He’d be just fine if you left him alone, but anger him and he’d strike. It made her tingly all over. She watched the furrow of his brow, he seemed to be trying to remember something that eluded him.

She wondered what it would be like to press her lips to his forehead.

To his lips.

She blushed. What is wrong with me?

She’d seen the grins on Tobias and Murray’s faces when she’d been a little too eager to help him get dressed. Felt her cheeks turn red with embarrassment, again. She couldn’t believe she was mooning over this stranger. He could be a skilled liar and turn out to be one of Gordon’s guys and she’d end up burying her tomahawk in the same forehead she’d just been daydreaming about kissing. She bit her lower lip, got angry at herself. Angry at Bob for distracting her. She’d spent the last three days watching him sleep and creating a story of who he really was in her mind. He wasn’t a lost soldier, the last of his company. He wasn’t a swashbuckling freebooter searching for survivors. He wasn’t a mighty warrior chief of a noble tribe, he was just some guy from Canada.

She shook her head, started brushing River again. She should be out hunting Gordon and she finally knew where to start.

It came to her last night as she lay with her wolves curled up around her, thinking about everything and thinking about nothing. In the old days, if you found somebody laying in the road and wanted to know who that somebody was, oh, say Bob for instance, you looked at their papers. Their high school ID, their library card or driver’s license. Bob didn’t have any, they weren’t important anymore. But Gordon would have left a paper trail. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why Gordon was in the store when they found him. He wasn’t shopping; he was there on business with his father, she remembered him mentioning it. His pompous ass would never be caught dead buying second hand military surplus in a place like that. Her heart pounded at the idea that was under her nose the whole time. They’d been back a few times for supplies but never bothered with the office. Nothing much of use in there, just a dusty desk and filing cabinets and out of date MRE’s that would be okay for an emergency. If they ever needed them, they knew where they were. If Gordon and his dad were doing business, probably raising the rent or something, she was certain what she was looking for would be in the paperwork. There would be an address. Gordon’s fathers’ address which meant Gordons address. She would check it out for herself, but first, she was gonna take Bob up on his offer to show them his guns and then she was gonna prod him into sparring with her. She had to know if he was as good as he looked.

The rest of the tribe filtered into the old house as the sun drifted below the trees and sister moon made her appearance. They plopped down in their favorite spots and swapped stories while they waited on dinner. Tobias the Tyrant abhorred anyone other than Analise in the kitchen while they were cooking and even Kodiak had learned to stay out and not question when dinner would be ready. Vanessa cracked open the book she’d been reading and reclined in a window sill. Harper put the little kids to studying, while the boys worked on the edges of their blades with their whet stones.

Analise asked Bob to go get some carrots from the greenhouse. She was waiting on him to ask where that was so she could show him. She’d been stuck with Tobias all day as usual and he was working her last nerve. She was disappointed when Swan popped up from where she’s been eavesdropping and said she’d show him.

Snickers and raised eyebrows followed the pair as they exited the house. Analise swore under her breath. Tobias smirked at her and she punched him in the shoulder. Her brother shrugged it off and dropped a piece of fish into the hot grease.

“You guys don’t have flashlights?” Bob asked her.

“Yeah, but Murray said these are less likely to draw unwanted attention. A flashlight beam can be seen for a long way at night.”

Bob nodded. Swan led him into the greenhouse and they began pulling carrots. She brushed up against him accidentally on purpose. She felt him tense but he didn’t take the bait.

He didn’t grab her up and kiss her passionately like in the books she’d read or the Hallmark movies she’d seen.

Her hand accidentally slid across his again.

When he couldn’t control his passion any longer and took her roughly in his arms, when their lips met in an urgent heat, she would resist of course. She would try to push him away, maybe even slap him. But not very hard.

He ignored her. She felt a flare of anger. Was she not pretty enough? She’d washed away the war paint and had put on one of Vanessa’s shirts. It was at least a size or two too small. She thought it showed off her budding attributes. She still wore the rest of her armor though and her tomahawks hung at her belt. She would only take those off for one thing. That was still a few years in the future, though.

Bob broke the awkward silence and asked her about the wolves. She mumbled, still embarrassed at his obliviousness to her flirting. She’d never paid boys too much attention, but this one was different. Maybe she was doing it wrong. She told him about her wolves and how she’d lost Lucy, how she rode a hyena and fought it with her steel. She grew animated at the memories, showed him battle scars. She told him of a glorious hunt in the dead of winter, the tribe on the edge of starvation and considering butchering one of the herd animals. She and her wolves ran for miles and miles, wearing down their prey and coming home with a prime buck in her travois. She showed him the tiny piece of polished antler she wore in one of her braids, a trophy from a momentous hunt. What made it even better was that Donny had come back empty handed that day. She forgot about her silly girl fantasy of kissing in the moonlight and lost herself in the tales. He was easy to talk to and he didn’t just listen to her, he heard her words and understood.

They gathered the rest of the carrots and made their way back to the house. She did her best to glare at each of the tribe before they even started. It worked. No one made any kissy faces or smart comments.

Harper ensured everyone washed up properly and they took their places around the table when Tobias started bring out the platters. Plates were piled high and stomachs were stuffed. The animals prowled around the edges looking for handouts. Conversation was easy and sprinkled with laughter. Bob asked them about their time in the zoo and the floodgates opened.

The tales were somber at first but grew more fanciful as each tried to outdo the others with their stories. The truth stretching went on long after the food was devoured and Swan translated a tale from Donny that included him swinging through the trees like Tarzan. They were silly and fun stories, much better than the truth. The number of zombies slain and the odds against them increased with each telling. Gordon had descended on them with an army of thousands of undead trying to steal Harper and they’d flicked them away like flies. The rescue of the little children took place in the middle of the night with lightening crashing around them and hordes of the undead stretching for miles. They boasted of how Bert could burn down a city if someone was brave enough to light off one his farts and that Ziggy could outrun the fastest cars. The stories got sillier and the children got louder but they never shouted. Never yelled. Even when giggling so hard tears were streaming down their faces, they never lost track of where they were and the danger that was all around them.

Bob leaned back from a slice of blackberry cobbler and laughed along with the rest of them. At first it was a creaky sound, like he’d forgotten how. He laughed the hardest of all when Sage darted across the table and grabbed a handful of cobbler for herself and Tobias promised they were having monkey stew for breakfast. When the tattooed boy finally settled down, the others grew silent and looked at the stranger expectantly. He had made promises of his own and now would be a fine time as any to make good on them.

While they cleared the table, Bob retrieved his guns. They gathered around him and watched the easy way he handled the weapons. There was no doubt he was intimately familiar with them.

He dropped the mags from the Glocks then popped the rounds out of the chambers. Wide eyed and fascinated they watched and listened as he walked them through the basic operations and the rules of the gun.

It’s always loaded.

Never point it at anything you don’t want to destroy.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to kill.

Know your target and what’s behind it.

They were eager students. None of them except Kodiak had ever handled a real gun before. Bob taught them how to load and insert the magazines. He showed them how to make sure the markings on the bullets matched the markings on the barrel and that there were hundreds of different calibers. Every gun wouldn’t shoot every bullet. He worked with them on their stances. Taught them how to hold it properly and to align the sights. He broke them down and showed them the cleaning sequence, then quickly reassembled them. When each was familiar with the basics, he asked if there were any questions. Every hand went up.

Swan caught on to the whole process quickly and challenged Donny to a contest to see who could disassemble and reassemble the guns the fastest. Bets were placed and the tribe cheered on their champions. It ended in a draw when neither could beat the other consistently.

Bob liked the kids and was enjoying himself. He buckled on his holsters and began showing them some of his advanced moves. He called it gun kata, explained that even though it was a little showy, each move had real world applications. Black Lotus rising was his foot snapping up and kicking the gun from its holster to be caught in a hand above his head. Dancing swans was a liquid move where one gun was replaced with the other as it was reloaded one handed.

“It’s practice and repetition.” He said. “It becomes muscle memory and instantaneous reaction. In a fight, you don’t have time to think about your next move, you barely have time to react. If you have to think, you’re probably going to be dead.”

They nodded. Serious, scarred faces with eyes too old to be children’s knew and understood.

“You can do the same thing with your own weapons.” He said as he flowed gracefully from one position to the next, his arms rippling. “Warhammers, tomahawks, throwing spears and knives all have their own unique uses and strengths. Doing this slowly trains you to be perfect then you pick up the pace, staying perfect until you can do it at top speed without even thinking.”

He holstered the guns, gave a slight bow and quietly said “I have trained my hands to know the ways of war. I have taught my fingers to fight.”

He exploded into motion, doing everything he’d just done that had taken long minutes to execute in a matter of seconds. His hands were a blur as he raced through the kata and he was finished almost before he started. They stared at him. Donny signed something and Swan translated.

“He said you messed up on two cats kissing.”

Bob smiled. “Good eye.” He said, and Donny looked like he was almost ready to blush at the praise.

After working with each of them individually, he suggested they set up a target and send a few rounds downrange, even though he didn’t really have the ammo to spare. The tribe unanimously declined. Gunfire upset their companions and they wouldn’t risk any of the animals hurting themselves on the fences if they got spooked. Bob nodded in understanding. The tribe had long ago decided against trying to get any guns and using them, even though Gordon and his gang were armed. They’d done just fine during the battle at the church with their weapons and animals, but hard mistakes had taught them to never pass up an opportunity to learn a new skill that could mean the difference between life and death.

They were enjoying the company of the stranger and stayed up much later than they normally did. Harper started a campfire and they moved outside into the night, each with their weapons and playing around with some katas of their own. Swan taught him how to throw tomahawks and Donny beamed when Bob couldn’t match his bull’s-eyes throwing the metal spears. The fireflies danced and it was cool enough that the fire felt good. They sat on logs spread out around the fire and Bob tilted his head back and looked at the Milky Way spread across the sky. It was immense and bright with stars, tens of thousands of them. Swan pushed him over backwards.

“Let’s see what you’ve got without your guns.” Swan teased.

She drew her tomahawks.

“Think you can take me without your boomsticks?”

“Definitely not.” he said, and lay on the grass, still staring at the stars, “you’d kick my ass two ways to Sunday.”

“What?” she said, disappointed. “Come on. We spar all the time. You scared?”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Those were the wrong words to say. Her dancing smile disappeared and so did the others. He had just insulted them. They were warriors and he’d just insinuated they were nothing more than children playing dress up.

“You’re wrong about that, mister.” She growled. “You’re the one who needs to worry about getting hurt.”

Bob dusted himself off and stood, realized his mistake and tried to backtrack.

Kodiak stood, his Warhammer held loosely and formally asked in a cold tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Will you spar with us, Stranger?”

They all looked affronted, a little annoyed and eager. Even Murray watched and wanted to see how the tribe would fare in hand to hand with someone who was older and a little bigger.

“Okay.” Bob said. “Um, do you have blunted weapons? And can you lock the animals up, I don’t know if they would like it, me beating up on you all.”

Swan stepped in front of him while the other challengers hurled promises of a fast coming beat down.

“Oh, you’re in for it now, buddy. I’m first.” She said “You guys can have the leftovers.”

12

Bob VS Tribe

Bob followed Swan to the open area they used for sparing as the rest of the tribe grabbed their training weapons, buckled on armor and ushered animals into the house. He rolled his shoulders and stretched to limber up his body.

“You want some pads or a hockey mask or something?” Murray asked. “They train pretty hard, I mean, they don’t pull punches or soften blows. They usually don’t aim for the head but they might make an exception for you.”

“Good.” Bob said, the scar on his face twisting his smile. “Might pretty me up, some.”

Swan slid the leather tomahawk sheaths from her belt, covered the blades with them and twirled the weapons, making them dance through her fingers.

“I’ll try not to hurt you too bad.” She said “But don’t worry, Murray is standing by with the first aid kit.”

The rest of the tribe gathered around to watch, each paying close attention to spot his weaknesses in case he did happen to beat Swan and they got a chance to try him.

“Say what?” Swan asked as she looked at something over his shoulder and wrinkled her brow. Bob turned his head to see what the problem was and she leapt at him, a tomahawk in each hand and a war cry on her lips.

He kept his head turned, waited till the last possible second then side stepped her attack. She was still airborne when he gave her a shove, throwing her balance off. Swan hit the ground hard. She rolled, sprang to her feet then charged him again, attempted to do the ankle sweep with the hook in the tomahawk blade. He shifted away from it and she missed by a hair. She followed through, pivoted and brought the other sheathed tomahawk up to slam into his chest. Again, Bob twitched and she barely missed, her leather clad blade only cutting the air. Swan overbalanced and he tripped her then deftly plucked a tomahawk from her hand. She stumble stepped a few feet then turned, angry at herself and angry at his speed. She shifted the tomahawk back and forth from left to right and he watched, waiting to see which she would use to attack. She approached in a crouch, didn’t rush in. Bob feigned boredom, yawned loudly, casually flipped the tomahawk in one hand while he pretended to check his watch on the other. She flung her tomahawk at his head and darted in to grab the other in the middle of a flip. She’d double tap him and she wasn’t going to do it gentle either.

Bob snatched the flying tomahawk, sidestepped her rush and grabbed the other halfway through its flip. He tripped her again as she went by and slapped her hard on the butt with the flats of both blades. She went down in a cloud of dust but rolled away and bounced back to her feet. Her chest was heaving, her lip bloodied and she had murder in her eyes. He held them loosely in one hand and beckoned her with the other.

“If you want them back, come and get them.” He said.

Swan sized him up. Her bottom was stinging from the smacks and he was so quick. She’d never seen anything move as fast as he did. Not even Yewan was that fast. There was no wasted effort, his every move was perfectly choreographed. She was tempted to call her wolves to catch and hold him, but that wouldn’t improve her own skills. Besides, she’d picked this fight, she’d finish it.

She wiped her brow with the back of her arm. She was worked up and sweaty. She circled him slowly, eyed her tomahawks in his outstretched hand. He moved as she moved, kept his distance from her, watched for her to spring or dart in for the weapons.

“I thought you guys were a tribe.” Bob taunted. “You don’t fight like a tribe. I’m kicking her ass and you guys are just standing there watching.”

Tobias needed no further incentive. He didn’t particularly care for this guy and he noticed how the girls couldn’t take their eyes off him when he was laid up in his underwear. He ran at him with a fearsome battle cry and leapt high in the air. His sheathed battle axe was cocked back behind him as he sailed towards Bob, a snarl on his tattooed face. He wasn’t holding back. He wouldn’t bust the strangers head wide open but by the Gods of Asgard he’d put a hurting on him.

Bob pivoted and caught Tobias by the front of his shirt in midair. He used the feral boy’s momentum against him and flipped him. Tobias hit the ground with a thud, a cloud of dust pluming around him. All of the air rushed out of his lungs and he groaned as his axe flew out of his hands.

He stepped quickly towards the boy and smacked him across the chest with the flat side of a tomahawk. “You’re dead.”

Analise let out a shrill cry and rushed in, swinging her battle axe at his midsection. He evaded it, moved only enough to let the blade skim past him. She spun and swung a back handed blow towards his head that would knock the stuffing out of him. He stopped it a millimeter from his skin with one of Swan’s tomahawks.

Swan used Analise’s distraction and leapt onto Bob’s back. She curled one arm around his throat and reached for her tomahawk with the other. He reached over his shoulder, grabbed the back of her shirt and flipped her. She hit the ground next to Tobias. She growled and locked her arms around Bob’s leg and tried to bite him through his pants.

Analise tired quickly and her blows slowed without much strength behind them. She couldn’t even get close to him. It was like he knew what she was going to do before she did. Bob caught the battle axe by the handle, threw her off balance and dumped her onto Swan. Swan let go of his leg as Analise crashed into her. He tapped each of them with the flat of the tomahawk blades.

“You’re both dead.” Bob skipped away to meet the next attack.

Vanessa and Donny leapt into the fray using the blunted end of their long spears They poked and slashed at him, the long hafts kept them away from the dual tomahawks and Bob’s size advantage. Vanessa lunged in with hers, a hard blow aimed at his belly to knock the air out of him. He batted it aside an inch from his stomach, grabbed it behind the shaft and jerked her forward. She stumbled and lost her grip. Bob wrapped an arm around her and touched her temple with the tomahawk in his other hand.

“You’re dead.” He released Vanessa and she stormed off in a huff to join Swan, Tobias and Analise on the sidelines.

Donny twirled his spear like a bo staff, reminiscent of the old martial arts movies. He knew a few kung fu kata’s too. It was a blur of motion as he advanced towards Bob. Bob took a step backwards. Feeling confident Donny surged towards his retreating opponent. Bob leapt forward and caught the spinning staff with the beard of the tomahawk. Donny recovered quickly though and managed to keep his grip on the shaft, turn it out straight and swung it towards the stranger, a blow that would send him reeling. Bob quickly ducked under the whistling steel. A tuft of hair drifted towards the ground. It was the first time any of them had managed to touch him with a weapon. He barked out a laugh. Donny grinned and thrust the blunt end at the older boy, aiming right at his bread basket. Bob turned his body slightly, caught the shaft between his arms and ribs. He swept Donny’s feet and the boy hit the ground with a thud. Bob reversed his grip, spun the spear and touched the end to Donny’s throat.

“Nice try, kid. But you’re dead.” Bob grunted.

Kodiak watched his tribe getting trounced from his seat at the fire. Bob was the superior fighter no doubt. He nodded at Harper and they homed in on him at a run. The stranger watched them come. He tossed the tomahawks towards Swan who snatched them out of the air then stood there unarmed once more.

Kodiak let out a yell and swung his wooden training hammer in a crushing blow from Bob’s right. Harper attacked from the left with her monkey’s fist, the heavy ball a good substitute for her wicked spiked Morningstar. Bob stepped into Kodiak’s swing, grabbed the boy above his wrists and spun him towards Harper. She already had the heavy ball at the end of the chain flying towards his legs and it was too late to pull it back. Bob swung Kodiak and the Warhammer in an arc that intercepted the ball. The chain wrapped around the shaft of the Warhammer and Bob snatched both weapons from their grasp then let them fall. He grabbed each of the teens by the back of their armored outfits and brought their heads together at high speed. Just before their skulls smacked into each other, he brought them up short, so they were lip to lip. Harper smiled at the closeness. Kodiak snarled at being bested so easily.

“What about you guys?” Bob asked as he released the two. He looked at Murray and the triplets who sat wide eyed watching the whole thing. They adamantly shook their heads side to side.

“Yeah, I want another go.” Kodiak said. Bob nodded and the two circled each other warily.

The boys all looked disgruntled and pissed. The girls had a different look in their eyes. They were riveted by the stranger. It didn’t go unnoticed by the boys and their moods soured further.

Kodiak dropped the Warhammer and moved towards the older boy. He’d done a little wrestling in school, he knew how to take him down. He tackled him around the waist. Bob slipped out easily and danced away. Kodiak feinted to the left and when Bob shifted to counter, Kodiak hit him from the right. They fell into a tangle on the ground and Bob let out a pained yell.

Kodiak jumped to his feet. He looked at the older boy clutching his collar bone. He felt bad. He knew Bob was still healing. He should have taken it easier on him.

They helped him to a seat on a log. Murray poked and prodded at the injury and then sent Caleb after some bandages so he could rewrap it. Swan appeared with a glass of lemonade and shot Kodiak a dirty look. He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. How was I supposed to know he didn’t know how to fight without a weapon?”

“Yeah he wasn’t any good without something in his hands.” Tobias quickly agreed.

Bob kept quiet, sipped the lemonade and let Murray fuss over the injured shoulder.

“We usually fight with our animals.” Kodiak said. “Together, we’re unbeatable.”

Bob nodded. “Agreed. Nobody can stand against them, but what happens if you are separated from them or the quarters are too close, maybe you’re fighting indoors. You guys need to work together. Play to each other’s strengths and supplement each other’s weaknesses. Almost every one of you let out a battle cry when you attacked. I knew you were coming before I ever saw you. That split second gave me time to prepare and counterattack. That may be fine for fighting the undead, but it’s gonna cost you against everyone else. They have guns and lots of them. I’ll give you this though, there’s no shortage of guts in any of you.”

The boys perked up at the praise, the girl’s eyes got wider and they wore silly grins.

“Now, if you guys are through beating up on me I could use some rest. Tomorrow I could really use some help finding that truck you were telling me about.”

Kodiak studied him warily as he limped through the door, collapsed on the couch. Soon the living room was filled with soft snores and he watched the stranger sleep. He knew the older boy let him win. He felt the strength of him when they grappled. It was like trying to move Otis. It said a lot about his character. He was a good man and his presence brought new hope to the tribe. Kodiak felt pride swell in his heart. The decision to bring Bob to the zoo had been the right one and not another mistake. He vowed to do whatever it took to help him get what he needed to continue his journey.

13

The Truck

The sun was just peeking through the windows, but the tribe was up and bustling. Clara and Landon came in with fresh eggs and milk while Caleb finished up the morning feeding of the barnyard animals.

Bob tried to stay out of the way of the comings and goings of the kids and finally wandered into the kitchen where Tobias and Analise were getting ready to start breakfast.

Tobias acknowledged him with a grunt and told him to get on the butter churn. It was a tedious job and if the albino boy was going to slave over the stove to feed the stranger, then he was going to get some work out of him in the process.

The delicious smells from the kitchen greeted the tribe as they came in from their chores. Harper and Bert had done a hurried perimeter check while Kodiak fussed with Millie. He finally got the harness on the old rhinoceros and filled her hay bin. She snorted and bumped him out of the way with her massive shoulder. He gave her a rub between the ears. She hated the harness and always made it as difficult as possible to get it on. She knew it meant they wanted her to pull something for them.

Donny, Swan and Vanessa cleared the front gate of undead. Vanessa, astride Ziggy, lured them down the road and deep into the woods where Donny, Swan and their companions put them down. Killing and leaving them at the front gate wasn’t an option. No one wanted piles of rotting, stinking bodies so close to the house.

Murray rolled around looking for a pen to finish up his supply list. Elmo had snatched one from his hand and ran up the stairs with it chittering loudly. The other three chased him, eager to fight over the bauble. In minutes, it would be reduced to a disassembled piece of chewed up plastic and they would all have blue teeth. He’d need the tribe to grab him some more. I’d put pens on the list if I had a pen to write with he ironically thought to himself,

Even though there was still a lot of merchandise sitting on the shelves in Putnam, they weren’t things they could use. The small town was drying up as a resource and before long they would have to start venturing further for the things they needed. The garden was producing better than expected and with the foaling of the herd animals, their need to venture outside of the gate was greatly diminished. All of the stores that didn’t have undead stumbling around inside had been raided for toilet paper and Swan had started gathering it from the houses she explored. Tobias had told them they could use corn shucks when the supply was finally exhausted, but the girls had some very strong opinions on that. He’d just shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t understand girls, not even his sister.

A big bowl of scrambled eggs was set on the table alongside the thin strips of fried venison back strap. Freshly churned butter, courtesy of Bob, was smeared on chunk of thick flatbread. Tomatoes and cantaloupe were sliced and glasses of fresh milk were poured. The raw milk had taken some getting used to, but now every drop was drained by the hungry children. Breakfast was devoured and the dishes piled high in the sink for later. Excitement was high about a trip to town as weapons were gathered and Murray went over the list with Harper and Kodiak one more time.

They passed through the gates to the chorus of Landon, Clara and Caleb telling them to be safe and how much they would miss them and to bring back candy. Lots of candy. And toys.

Kodiak spoke to Bob in a low voice. “No guns. I don’t care if you carry them, you know, just in case there is some kind of extreme emergency, but if you shoot them, you’ll spook the animals. They’ll run off. We’ll lose them. You understand?”

“Understood.” Bob said. Kodiak watched as he pulled the pistols and cleared the chambers. He dropped the rounds in his pocket and slid the guns back into their holsters.

Kodiak heard Otis moaning from the fence. He was leaving him behind this time. Millie was difficult and would require most of his attention to keep her plodding along. They’d be lucky if she didn’t stop and refuse to move or decide to turn around and drag him back to the zoo at least once. He had a pouch full of her favorite treats slung over his shoulder though so he wasn’t too concerned about keeping her motivated.

The trip to town passed without incident. No undead stumbling out of the woods or signs of the Savage Ones. Swan kept an eye on the sky. The carrion birds usually gave away the location of the strange band.

Vanessa scouted ahead and came back with news that the truck was still there and the area was clear. The fleet footed ostrich couldn’t be caught once she started running and Vanessa loved the thrill of tucking down low, giving her free reign and urging her to go faster. Ziggy could easily hit forty miles an hour, faster than most horses and way faster than any zombie could run.

They hid in a copse of trees and waited for Vanessa to make one more pass through the area around the grocery store. If there were any undead hanging around, she’d draw them out as she and Ziggy raced between the derelict cars and abandoned shopping carts. Satisfied that they were as safe as they could be, Bob and the tribe made their way over to the truck. Vanessa sat on the hood, beaming a radiant smile. Bob smiled a crooked smile back at her then motioned her to scoot off so he could raise it.

The tribe conversed in whispers or sign language even though there didn’t seem to be an immediate threat. They were careful not to do anything to draw the attention of any undead that might hear them from blocks away.

Donny, Swan and Vanessa scattered with their animals to keep watch at the cross streets. Harper tied her giraffe’s reins to the shopping cart corral and joined the twins to raid the store one last time. Tobias kept a sharp eye out, battle axe ready, while the girls checked the small piece of clear tape near the top of the sliding glass doors. It was intact, no one had been in or out since the last time they’d been here. They pried the doors apart and slipped inside. A quick walk thru confirmed nothing had been disturbed, the back door was still locked. They relaxed, grabbed carts and started loading up. Tobias wanted to try experimenting with different seasonings. The spice shelves had been cleared of salt and pepper, chili powder and paprika but the less common ones, the marjoram, the dill weed and rosemary were still there. He’d come across some recipes that called for them. The air inside had a stale, musty scent with just a hint of decay from the meats and dairy that had spoiled long ago and rotted away. Analise filled the cart with different spices while Tobias loaded powdered marinades. Satisfied with their selection, they walked the aisles one last time, taking everything that was still good. Most of the shelves were empty. It was the only grocery store in town, the only one they’d been shopping at for the past nine months. Rodents had gotten to a lot of the boxed and bagged foods before they had a chance to take them. When they met at the front of the store, instead of the half dozen overflowing carts they normally took back, the three they had were barely full. Harper tossed in a handful of magazines and a few cat toys for the monkeys. There was plenty of room for extras this trip.

Kodiak kept watch as Bob examined the truck. He muttered under his breath, shook his head at some of the things, nodded in approval at others. He crawled underneath and Kodiak figured he was looking for damage or oil leaks. He didn’t know much about cars, but he remembered there was always an oil stain in their driveway and his mom had shown him how to check and add oil to the old Subaru she drove.

Bob finished his inspection and slid into the cab. The key was in the ignition but nothing happened when he turned it. He shrugged, they hadn’t really expected it to fire up, it had been sitting for nearly a year. Kodiak led Millie over to the truck and together they started rigging up the ropes to the bumper. She snorted at him, tried to pull away but a carrot from his satchel settled her down.

Tobias and Analise slid the grocery store doors closed, reapplied the tape then helped Harper finish loading the supplies into the bed of the truck. It was the smallest haul they’d made. Analise signed to Kodiak they were ready. He signed back and the crew spread out to take their places for the trip back.

“Plenty of room for more.” Bob whispered.

“That’s the last of it.” Kodiak whispered back. “We’re going to have to go farther next time, to the next town. Donny is going to scout it soon, we just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“There’s food warehoused down by the river.” Bob whispered.

“How do you know?” Kodiak asked.

Bob shook his head. “I don’t. Some places used to, back when there was river traffic. I guess they’re long gone now. Do you want to try to get some guns so you guys can practice?’

Kodiak shook his head and got another nagging feeling that the stranger knew more than he was letting on and his attempts to change the conversation didn’t go unnoticed. The older boy was hiding something.

“Not this time,” he whispered. “Not with Millie dragging the truck. We’ll have to break in and if the noise draws any of them, we’ll have to leave her, she’s too slow.”

At the strangers raised eyebrows, Kodiak added

“They don’t bother her, we’ll come back and get her but it might take a day or two before it’s safe if they get riled up and start wandering around.”

Bob nodded and made himself comfortable behind the steering wheel. He eased the door closed and dropped the truck into neutral as Kodiak gave a gentle tug on the reins to get the old rhino plodding back toward home.

The clop of Bert and Millie’s hooves and the truck tires crunching the sticks and leaves littering the road were the only sounds to be heard on the slow walk back towards the zoo. Donny and Yewan were a half a mile ahead scouting the way and Swan moved silently through the woods with her pack. Harper walked alongside Kodiak and Millie. Vanessa let Ziggy nibble at the wild berries on the side of the road while Tobias and Analise brought up the rear of the strange procession.

Kodiak brought Millie to a halt when he saw Donny and Yewan racing back and signing the word for zombie at them. This was bad. It took a lot to spook the boy and his shadowy companion. Bob braked the truck, slipped it into park and moved beside Kodiak. He watched as they flashed signs back and forth in in their silent language.

“Big horde moving down the road.” Kodiak translated for him. “Massive. We’ve got to hide, circle around them. I’ll tie Millie up, they won’t bother her. She’ll be okay for a while. The walkers will be gone in a few hours, the crawlers by tomorrow at the latest. We can’t let them get wind of us, we’re too close to the park and they might follow us in.”

“How many?” Bob asked.

Kodiak had already started unhooking Millie from the truck. “Too many to fight.”

“Yeah, but how many?” Bob asked him again.

Kodiak was annoyed at Bob’s persistence. They needed to be moving, getting to safety, not arguing about whether it was one or a thousand. It didn’t matter. The odds weren’t in their favor. He cursed himself for leaving Otis behind. He’d have to double up with Analise and Bob would have to ride with Tobias if the bear would allow it. If Donny’s estimate was right, it might already be too late. The undead could be spread out wide in the woods. It only took one to scent them and he’d alert the rest. His mind raced, considered the options. If they got spotted, they couldn’t run back to the sanctuary, they’d have to lead them away. They might be stuck out in the wild for days trying to lose them.

“More than you got bullets for.” Kodiak almost snarled. “They’re not a bunch of kids with blunted weapons, you can’t take all of them on. Stop wasting time and help me get her untied.”

Kodiak turned his back on Bob, and went to work on the ropes holding Millie to the bumper.

Bob grabbed Donny by the arm. “How many?” he asked.

Donny went to jerk it loose, but Bob had an iron grip. He signed to him. Bob didn’t understand.

“Twenty? Thirty?” Bob asked.

Kodiak was getting pissed. The older boy was being reckless now and endangering the tribe. Maybe helping him had been a mistake. He was going to get them all killed.

“He said there’s over a hundred. Too many to fight. We don’t have machine guns and rocket launchers.” Kodiak said angrily.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Bob said then took off at a run.

“He’s crazy.” Harper said, fighting the reins to get her giraffe under control. Bert was skittish. He could smell the undead on the breeze.

“Should we help?’ Swan asked as she jogged up and whistled her pack in close. She’d love for her and the wolves to do battle by Bob’s side, even against overwhelming odds.

“And get torn apart? No, he’s an idiot. He’s on his own. Help me get Millie staked out so she doesn’t wander off.”

Popsicle and Daisy both reared up to scent the air as the twins cursed in Norse and held on. Daisy dropped and started bouncing up and down, eager to fight. Eager to destroy the unnatural things. The ostrich was side stepping, flapping her short wings and clucking as Vanessa readied her spear. They could all smell the horde even though it was still out of sight around a bend.

The wailing and moaning of the undead started up as soon as the stranger rounded the curve in the road. Their keening dinner cry. They’d seen Bob.

“He’s dead.” Kodiak said. “But he bought us some time. Hurry!”

They dragged Millie to an old oak and lashed the ropes to its trunk so she didn’t wander off and they lost her forever. She’d be ok. The zombies would storm right past her. She had plenty of room to wander around and forage. She’ll be ok, Kodiak reassured himself. He’d come back for her as soon as he could. They should mount up, they should run, but his feet didn’t move. Donny and Swan should have already been gone but they waited and watched, weapons in hand.

He was torn. He liked the stranger, he seemed like a really decent guy but his duty was to the tribe, not an outsider. He scanned his people as they waited for him to tell them what to do. They were ready and willing to fight if he ordered it and that weight was heavy on his shoulders. Would he risk any of them for a guy they barely knew? For a guy who didn’t do what he was told, who brought his death down on himself? No. Absolutely not.

“We need to go.” He said, but didn’t move from his spot on the road. Didn’t sling the Warhammer across his back so he could ride.

Harper struggled with Bert. Vanessa was mounted on Ziggy but the big bird was dancing around and flapping her wings frantically. She sang softly to calm her and listened to the screeching zombies as they attacked the boy. She grasped her spear tighter. She’d fight for Bob if Kodiak gave the signal.

Kodiak stood rooted to the asphalt. The twins had their battleaxes at their sides, ready to charge. Donny watched him with hooded eyes, a calming hand on Yewan.

They should run.

They should run.

They should run!

It was the way of the tribe, it was how they survived. Stealth and cunning, not brute force and bayonet charges. They didn’t go into unwinnable battles, they couldn’t afford any casualties, not one.

They should get to safety while the undead were busy reducing the stranger to scraps.

They stood, weapons at the ready, waited for his command. The battle raged just out of sight, just past the curve in the road, barely glimpsed through the trees. The undead screamed and roared and the sounds of breaking bones and splintering skulls carried to them. The splat and splatter of soft tissue, the hungry keens cut off in mid screech.

They waited, sick with fear and sick with worry.

The screams became fewer and fewer. Had they taken him down? Had they turned the only decent person they’d met since the outbreak into one of them? Run! he thought. Run! Tell them to run!

But he didn’t and neither did they. He stood in the middle of the road, white knuckling his war hammer and his tribe stood with him. The fight raged on, they caught flashes of it through the underbrush. Graying corpses, flashing steel, sprays of black blood, a leather clad wraith slicing through the wall of flesh, bodies dropping and moving no more.

The wall of noise faded, the hungry cries of a frenzied horde, the cacophony of a hundred starving monsters lessened and lessened until they could hear them as individuals. Each screech distinctive as it abruptly ended.

There was one last scream, a crunch of bone, then silence. They looked at each other. They strained their ears to hear the sound of flesh being stripped from bone. Of hungry teeth feasting on fresh meat. Nothing. There was utter silence. No birds chirped. No insects hummed. No squirrels chattered warnings.

A lone figure came around the bend. Tobias and Analise fought the urge to race ahead and engage. There could be more following. Many more.

The figure drew closer and Donny recognized the gore-soaked stranger first and threw a sign. They didn’t believe it. It was impossible, but they were seeing it. Swan wiped the unwanted tears from her cheeks. She was torn between racing to hug the blood-stained boy and bashing his skull with her tomahawks.

“All clear.” Bob said. “There weren’t that many of them.”

They all looked at Donny, who signed furiously. He knew what he’d seen. There had been a lot of them. There had been a hundred if there had been one.

Bob untied Millie and brought her back to the truck as they watched. He hooked her up quickly, ignored the stares and open mouths of the tribe.

“Did you get bit?” Kodiak asked, his Warhammer still at the ready.

“No, they were pretty slow.” Bob answered and tossed his dripping jacket in the bed of the truck. He showed them his arms and they could see no rotter’s teeth had torn through his leather pants.

“Break time’s over, old girl.” He said as he climbed back into the cab.

“How many were there?” Swan asked Donny and he signed again. He was getting frustrated that they doubted him.

“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Maybe you should sit in when Harper is teaching the little ones about math.”

He signed at her again and slammed his spear in frustration.

“No way. One guy can’t kill a hundred zombies. Maybe you need glasses.” Swan said.

She lost count at seventy as the slow parade passed through the carnage. No one could take on that many zombies with just their fists and knives. They were piled haphazardly atop one another and there were more in the bushes alongside the road. She stuck out her tongue when Donny flashed an I told you so sign at her. Swan looked at the slaughter then at the boy with one hand slung over the steering wheel, the other hanging out of the window. She was certain that Bob’s story about being from a sleepy little village in Canada was a Millie sized pile of crap.

The old rhino picked up speed when she smelled the familiar scents of home. Vanessa and Donny had the gate open and she trotted through the opening without slowing. Bob was standing on the brakes to slow her down as she headed straight for her enclosure dragging the truck like it wasn’t even there. Kodiak finally got her reined to a stop so he could set her free.

She snorted, gave him the stink eye and then headed for her pen as the boys helped push the truck towards the maintenance garage.

Caleb, Landon and Clara stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the armored pickup and tears welled in their eyes as they recognized it. Clara buried her face in her hands and let out a heart wrenching whine. Caleb stepped forward as the truck rolled by and dragged his fingers lightly through the dust that coated it.

“This is my Daddy’s truck.” He said and blinked the tears away. He wouldn’t cry. Only babies cried.

Harper and Vanessa moved to comfort the small children.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Harper said. “I’m sure your daddy wouldn’t mind if Bob borrowed it.”

“Daddy always said we should help people when we had the chance.” Caleb said.

“I hope he uses it to kill all of the monsters.” Clara said as she forced her tears to stop. “I hate them. I hate, hate, hate them.”

14

Truth and Secrets

By the time Murray rolled into the maintenance shed, Bob had the truck’s battery out. He’d shown him their jury-rigged charging system. It was an old ten-speed bike on a stand with a lawnmower belt attached to the rear wheel. The belt drove an alternator pulled from one of the abandoned cars in the parking lot which in turn charged the battery.

“It takes a long time.” Murray told him. “You’re going to be on it for hours. That’s why nobody bothers with it anymore, it’s not worth it just to play a game.”

Bob sighed and turned back to the truck to see what else needed to be done. He and Murray were the only ones left in the shop. Everyone else had drifted off to put away the supplies, tend to their animals or swim in the pool with the polar bears.

“No generator?” Bob asked as he lay on the concrete, slid under the truck and loosened the drain plug on the oil pan.

“Yeah, but no fuel.” Murray answered in a harsh tone, “and we haven’t bothered to get more. If you haven’t noticed, we’ve survived by keeping quiet and avoiding fights. We don’t do anything to attract them to us and when we see them outside the gates, we run away. It’s kept us alive so far.”

Bob looked up at Murray and wondered if he’d offended him somehow.

“Swan said you took out a whole horde by yourself.” Murray said while he stroked China’s back. The little monkey chittered in pleasure. “That was reckless.”

“You look like a super villain.” Bob laughed, but Murray didn’t change his expression. He was a little miffed at Bob’s lack of gratitude for all they’d done for him.

“Who are you?” He asked. He didn’t buy Bob’s bullshit story. “This is my family. My tribe. Are you a danger to them? Who are you running from? Are you going to bring a whole army of people down on us?”

Bob stared at the oil running into the catch pan. He had a faraway look on his face.

“Answer me.” Murray demanded.

The older boy sighed, slid out from under the truck and leaned against the front bumper. He locked eyes with Murray like he was unsure what to say. Murray didn’t blink or look away. He wanted answers. He had a right to know Bob’s intentions. The tribe had a right to know. He’d seen the stranger fight, but he wasn’t afraid. There was no room for fear if there was a threat to the tribe.

After a long pause Bob wiped his hands on a rag and looked away.

“Murray, I can’t say much but I need your word you’ll keep it to yourself. You can use what I’m telling you to influence the others but you can’t tell them, okay? Swear.”

Murray leaned forward, suspiciously. “Why the secrecy?”

“I can’t tell you until I have your word.” Bob said. “And after I tell you, you’ll understand. It’s important. Just telling you, one person in the middle of nowhere can alter history. Do you understand?”

Murray started to scoff, the tell him to cut the crap and start talking straight but saw earnestness in his eyes. Whatever it was, the boy was convinced it was important. Murray’s gut told him to trust the stranger.

“Okay.” Murray said. “You have my word. I swear.”

“It’s a heavy burden.” Bob said. “And I’m deadly serious. You can’t tell anyone. People will die.”

Murray nodded and the stranger looked away, gathered his thoughts and tried to find a beginning point to the story. They could hear the splashing from the pool and the quiet laughter of the tribe. Tobias was threatening one of the monkeys but his voice had an edge of amusement, not one of malice. He spoke harshly but it was all bluster.

“A month.” Bob said. “You have to keep this to yourself for a month. After that, it won’t matter. Everything will be fine or it won’t, and anything I tell you now won’t make a difference. Agreed?”

Murray didn’t fully understand the cryptic statement, but his curiosity was killing him so he nodded.

“Okay.” He said.

Bob rolled an old dusty stool over and sat in front of the wheelchair bound boy and told an unbelievable tale. Murray listened and didn’t interrupt as Bob spun a fantastic story of time travel, lost love, a chance to stop the outbreak before it began and revenge.

“I’m not supposed to be here.” He said. “Something happened when they sent me back, something got messed up.”

He started at the beginning, just a teenaged slacker trapped in detention and how he’d managed to survive, but most of his friends didn’t. He told him about the lonely miles as he fought and bled across the country to make it to Lakota, the great walled city trying to rebuild the country. He told him about the horrors he’d seen and the losses he’d endured. He smiled as he talked about the real Bob, his dog. How they’d saved each other’s lives over and over. He talked with unashamed tears spilling from his eyes about Scarlet, the love of his life and how they’d met. They’d been enemies, then friends, then lovers before she was killed by evil people manipulating him into doing their dirty work. He told him about the Anubis Cult and the man that ran the Tower, about Casey and his raiders, how they were killing, raping and pillaging and eating the flesh of other survivors. He spoke of underground facilities in secret military installations and his plans to save Scarlet and the world.

Murray was entranced by the story but nearly fell out of his chair when Bob told him about meeting the tribe, how he and Scarlet found the bullet riddled bodies of Tobias, Analise and the polar bears. Murray was on the verge of crying himself when Bob told how they’d buried their bodies in Putnam after defeating the war party of Anubis soldiers in the grocery warehouse. Bob told him he didn’t know if the tribe needed to meet the other Jessie and Scarlet. He didn’t know if it was important in the timeline but if they did, Murray had to make sure it happened after the battle with the Anubis Cult. If the gun fight wasn’t over, the twins would die.

“You have to keep the tribe away from the warehouse until after the soldiers are dead.” Jessie said. “You can’t let them go there, the soldiers will see if anything has been disturbed. They might be on guard and we might not win. Hell, they might ambush us. They might kill us. They might send a party out to follow your trail and kill all of you. Do you understand, Murray? You can’t interfere with what has to happen. Keeping the twins alive should be fine, I don’t think it will change the future. If it does, I’ll figure it out.”

The stranger was intense, near manic in his urgency for Murray to understand the consequences if they altered anything. It could change everything and not for the better.

“I’ll keep them away.” He said “But wouldn’t it be easier to tell them?”

“Three can keep a secret if two are dead.” Bob said. “You barely believe me, don’t you? Do you think the twins will take the word of an outsider without any proof? Don’t you think Donny or Swan will sneak into town to check it out? The cult may have sent a scouting party, or will send one. It gets confusing, but you have to keep them away, they might be the ones killed if you don’t.”

Murray slowly nodded his head as he thought about it. They would want to go, their curiosity would get the better of them. Time travel seemed too farfetched, too impossible. He reminded himself that a year ago zombies weren’t real either. Could it all be true? Was a small insignificant group of orphans going to be responsible for saving the world because they’d saved Bob? It was almost too fantastic to believe, but he did.

“That’s what the belt is, your way to get back?” Murray asked wide eyed.

“Yeah.” Bob said. Darkness had fallen and it was hard for Murray to see the strangers’ face in the flickering candlelight, but he looked lighter, like sharing the burden he carried eased his own suffering.

“And if it works, we’ll just wake up in our beds one morning, none of this ever happened?” Murray asked. He had so many questions he wanted to ask and didn’t even know where to start.

“Something like that.” Bob said. “When I jumped into this timeline, did you notice? Was there a disturbance in the force or anything?”

“No.” Murray said as he contemplated the situation. “But you didn’t change anything. You just arrived.”

Vanessa poked her head in the door.

“Hey you two, food’s ready! Hurry up before it gets cold. You know Tobias won’t let anyone eat until everyone is there!”

They made their way to the house in silence. Murray thought about all that Bob had said. He wished he could have a chance at time travel. He’d stop himself from getting run over and confined to a wheelchair.

15

Murray and Bob

“You little turds stay out of my blueberries and get out of my kitchen. Go get Bob and tell him it’s time for breakfast and not to drag his feet this time.” Tobias yelled at the triplets.

Landon, Caleb, Clara and their ever-present foxes skipped out to the garage to fetch Bob. They stood in the doorway silently as they watched him doing something under the hood. They remembered the day Caleb’s dad, their uncle Chris, left to go for supplies and never came back. They’d been on the point of starvation. So hungry that they weren’t anymore. They’d been eating dry dog food soaked in rain water. Chris had died trying to get them something to eat. In a roundabout way it was the reason they were here. It was the reason Caleb’s mom had loaded them all up in the minivan and set off to find him. There had been an accident and she’d gotten bit by one of the monsters. She turned into one herself but she’d managed to get them to the zoo. To Kodiak and Swan and the rest of their tribe. They’d whispered about it under the covers last night and they were glad Bob was taking the truck. He was a good fighter and it was better than having it rust away. They stood and watched until their growling stomachs reminded them of why they were there.

“I’ll grab something later,” Bob said and waved a greasy hand at them. “I’m not hungry.”

“But Baaoooobbb,” Clara sang out, “Tobias won’t let us eat without you. It’s his rule.”

“Yeah,” Landon said in agreement. “Nobody eats if everybody isn’t counted for.”

“We’re hungry and I smelled pancakes.” Caleb rubbed his belly at the thought of a thick stack.

“Blueberry pancakes,” Clara encouraged. “With syrup.”

Bob put down whatever the thing was he was working on and picked up a mostly clean rag to wipe his hands. “Okay. Hurry along, I’ll be there in a minute.”

They were all pounding their fists on the table when he finally made it. Tobias snorted and slid a plate loaded down with pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of him.

“Glad you decided to grace us with your presence.” He said and began devouring his own plate.

After attending to his daily admin duties Murray rolled out to see what Bob was up to. They were in pretty good shape as far as fresh food went and the canned goods in the cellar would see them through the winter months as long as the hunts were good. They still needed stuff that couldn’t be grown and he wondered if the warehouse had pallets of toilet paper. He worried about Swan risking her life raiding houses for a roll of butt wipe. He had thought long and hard about everything Bob had told him. He’d read a lot of science fiction, had seen loads of time travel movies and understood how changing anything could affect everything.

He pushed it to the back of his mind to let his subconscious mull it over and asked Bob if he needed help with anything. Murray loved to work with his hands and had been the driving force behind most of the tribe’s projects. The smoke house and green house, the irrigation trench and the garden layout. He didn’t know how to use the cutting torch or weld and Bob said he’d show him how.

Murray watched him fire up the torch, drop the goggles over his eyes and sparks flew from the metal bars. Bob heated sections until they glowed cherry red, then used the vise on the work bench to bend them to the shape he wanted. Murray caught on quick and soon they were working together, him wielding the torch and Bob marking the cuts and bends he needed. They cut into the existing guard on the front of the truck and welded in the newly fabricated pieces. They repeated the process with some of the smaller diameter steel and made a guard over the windshield and side windows. Murray had been good at soldering and welding was the same thing only different.

“Not as good as an arc welder.” Bob said. “But it’ll do.”

It didn’t take long before his welds were smoother and better than Bob’s and he took over the torches to weld the pieces in place.

They reinforced the frame of the truck with angle iron and Bob pedaled furiously on the bicycle powered battery charger while Murray drilled the bolt holes. The day passed pleasantly with easy talk, stories and dreams of the future.

Murray was good with electronics and Bob asked him to disconnect all the chimes and buzzers and interior lights. Those things will get you killed, he’d said. He replaced all the fuses with higher rated ones. By the time the sun started dipping over the trees, Bob declared it was good enough. Murray rolled back from the truck and admired their work. It looked mean and dangerous just sitting there. The passenger compartment and windshield where safely ensconced in horizontal bars. The front bumper resembled a cowcatcher from an old train. It was perfect for shoving the undead out of its path and protecting the vulnerable undercarriage of the truck. Part of him wished he could throw his gear in the back and go along for the ride.

Murray rolled over to where Bob stood. He had a crooked smile and was staring off into space.

“What are you grinning about?” He asked the older boy.

“The future, my man. It’s looking pretty good.” Bob smiled.

“What about us?” He asked, his face serious. “I’ve been going over everything you told me. I’ve read a lot of books, seen a lot of movies. I think it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

Bob waved his hand dismissively, “That’s Hollywood. There has to be a big conflict and the hero has to save the day just in the nick of time. This is real life. It’s pretty straightforward and simple. Seriously, I get Scarlet, we go down to the time machine, reset the parameters and you’ll never know any of this happened. This past year will just be gone. It never existed and never will.”

“That just seems so impossible.” Murray said. “What happens to all these memories? What happens to us? We’re gone? We’re dead?”

“No, you just come back younger. You’re the same you, just from a few years ago.”

“I hated myself a few years ago.” Murray told him. “I wanted to die a few years ago.”

Bob closed the hood and looked at the wheelchair bound boy.

“Cody was picked on in school. His dad was dead and him mom struggled to put clothes on his back. Harper was a ditzy cheerleader; Vanessa was a mouse who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Analise and Tobias were outcasts, Swan was a hippy vegan weirdo, Donny was a homeless runaway, and I was a useless cripple. All I’m saying is for some of us, a reset isn’t such a happy plan.” Murray said sadly.

“Even if it means getting your parents back?” Bob asked after a long pause. “Is it worth it then?”

Murray looked down at his useless legs. “Yeah. It’s worth it. Of course, it is. That’s not what I mean. I just wish I would be able to remember who I am now. Who we all are now. A bunch of losers with no future have done something pretty special. We’ve accomplished something pretty spectacular and I wish I would be able to remember it.”

Bob squatted so they were to eye. “I’ll make you a deal. You’re the keeper of my secrets and you saved my life. By doing so, you probably saved eight billion people. When we fix things, we’ll come visit you and Kodiak and the rest of your crew. We’ll tell you a tale none of you will believe, we’ll tell you how you saved the world. We’ll make you believe it, though and we’ll help you become the people you are now. You have my word on that.”

Murray wanted to believe it. If everything was reset, modern medicine gave him a chance at walking again. In this world it was impossible. He was proud of who he was now and didn’t want to lose that, but with eight billion lives at stake there wasn’t even a choice. He looked Bob in the eyes and held out his hand. They shook on it.

Swan wiped the sweat from her forehead and dropped the axe. She’d been chopping for the last half hour as she rushed through her chores, hurrying to finish everything on the work schedule. She’d jogged the entire perimeter with her wolves and found a few aggressive raccoons hissing at her inside the fences. At her command, her pack made short work of them. She didn’t even break stride. They were eaters of the undead and had actually charged the wolves instead of retreating. She used her tomahawks to take out several rabbits that were munching on the lettuce they’d planted near the back to lure them in. They were cleaned and hanging in the smokehouse. She was dying to spend some time with the stranger. Her and everyone else had tried to get him to stay, to wait until he was fully healed. Even grumpy Tobias had said he was helpful in the kitchen.

A little.

He was still a mottled hue of fading yellows and purples from all the bruising. She was worried that if she ever met him again, she wouldn’t be able to recognize him. His face was still puffy and she wanted to see his real face, not the swollen one. She made her way over to the shop and whistled at the truck. Murray was beaming and Bob was rolling up the torch hoses. It looked positively wicked, like it could take on a thousand undead without slowing down. Murray bragged about the improvements they’d made and she made idle chitchat with the two until Donny and Yewan came by.

“Where you been all day?” She asked Donny.

He signed his answer.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not apologizing.”

Murrays gaze was still riveted on the truck. “Apologize for what?”

“Mr. Brainiac went to count the dead. One hundred and seven, or so he claims.” She twirled her finger by her temple. Donny was crazy, she’d only counted about seventy. There couldn’t have been forty more stacked up or tossed in the weeds.

Probably.

The three approached the back of the truck where Bob was sorting supplies.

“You can’t count that high, you don’t have enough fingers and toes.” She said. “I still don’t believe it. Why were you counting them anyway, just to prove me wrong?”

Donny scowled and signed again.

“Really? How much?” Murray asked.

“Impressive.” Swan said as she stared at Bob. “Not only is he a mystery man who falls out of trees and a badass zombie slayer, he also has magical all-knowing powers. Turns out you were right, Canadian Bob. The warehouse down at the river is a grocery supply place. How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.” Bob muttered and looked at Murray.

Murray tried to bail him out. “If I would have seen it, I could have told you the same thing. But since I hardly ever get to go to town, I didn’t see it, now did I? Everybody knows the barges bring in the food.”

“I didn’t know that.” She said with a snort.

Donny grinned and flashed at her, “That’s because you’re a nobody.”

Swan opened her mouth in retort but Harper stuck her head through the door.

“Everyone is back so dinner is early. Come on, I didn’t have any lunch. I’m starving.”

Bob and Murray exchanged a look and the boy whispered he’d take care of it, he’d keep them away.

They held a celebration dinner for Bob’s last night. Even though Tobias pretended that he didn’t like the stranger, he and Analise went all out in the food preparation and unveiled their first rhubarb pie for dessert. The tribe devoured it to the last crumb. Tobias glared at Landon when the small boy picked up the empty bowl and began to lick the sticky sweet residue still inside. He was secretly pleased, though. The bowls usually got set down for one of the animals to lick clean.

They tried to get Bob to stay a little longer again. He told them he couldn’t, he had to finish his scouting trip and return home so that his village wouldn’t have to make the move to their new location in the winter. Most of them didn’t believe the story anymore but they let it slide. The older boy had his reasons. They played board games and charades by candle light for a time and Swan always found an excuse to stay close to the stranger. They argued and laughed long past their normal bed times and when they finally curled up to sleep, they went down quickly.

Bob tiptoed over the sleeping bodies and only the wolves raised their heads to watch his progress, their eyes glittering in the darkness. The sun was just graying the horizon, it would be another half hour before its fiery brilliance crested. He eased the door closed and looked up to see Donny and Yewan approaching from the front gate. The silent boy was used to being up most of the night and had already cleared the entrance of the undead. He stepped from the shadows and signed to Bob. Are you leaving? Bob didn’t understand so he pointed at the gate and held his hands out in a questioning gesture.

“Yeah.” Bob kept his voice low. “I need to get on the road. Goodbyes take too long.”

Donny nodded and the pair followed him to the garage to help push the truck. If he wanted to leave without waking the tribe, Donny was cool with it. Everyone had their reasons for doing the things they did. As they pushed the truck past the house, the tribe slipped out of the darkness to help. They were wide awake, armed and armored and moved without words.

“Not much gets by you guys does it?” Bob asked them.

They hugged him or shook his hand and said their goodbyes. Swan was sullen and disappointed. She’d thought about hiding in the back of the truck and not revealing herself until they were too far away to turn back. It was just a fantasy though. This was her home and her family, and as long as Diablo and Gordon walked the earth, she had a mission of her own.

Tobias was the last to step forward and placed a bag of food in his hands. Bob had earned his respect and he figured the older boy would be eating MRE’s and canned food for the foreseeable future. He locked eyes with him and nodded, then walked away. He had work to do, breakfast for the tribe wasn’t going to cook itself.

They watched as the stranger fired up the truck, pulled out of the lot and disappeared in the mist coming off the river.

“Think we’ll ever see him again?” Swan asked.

Murray smiled. He hoped so. He hoped it would be in a world that wasn’t overrun by the undead and he hoped it would be soon.

16

Murray

Murray couldn’t keep his mind off everything Bob had shared with him. The tribe was eager to hit the warehouse but he did whatever he could to keep them away from town. Kodiak was their chief but he took council from the wheelchair bound boy because Murray thought things through, planned for the long term and knew what they needed to get through the winter. He convinced them there was no use going until they could make a big haul and if they helped him get the tractor running again, they wouldn’t have to use wheel barrows or mess with Millie to get her to pull a wagon.

“Bob showed me how to fix it,” he insisted, “and it’s as easy to drive as a golf cart.”

Donny and Swan were the only two he was worried about, they went outside the fences every week to hunt. The others rarely left the zoo unless they were going on a raid. When they went on a hunt, he gave them a list of things he needed, most of them should be readily available from any of the abandoned farms they’d mapped out. All of them were north, away from the town. It was easy for the first few weeks, they had just returned from a supply run, there was plenty of work to do with the early harvest and they’d had a scare from the horde Bob had killed. If he hadn’t been there it might have gone bad. Their worries faded and it didn’t take long before they were getting antsy, they really wanted to see what was available and how much there was. Kodiak was getting tired of the excuses and the waiting, too. He pulled Murray aside one afternoon and wanted to know what was going on.

“We need to find out what’s there.” He said. “We need to know if it will be enough for winter or if we need to go to the next town.

“Do you trust me?” Murray asked.

“Of course I do, Mur. But I don’t understand what all the resistance is about. Why are you so dead set against us even checking it out? Donny only looked through the windows, it could be nothing, maybe just pallets of office supplies or something.”

“Do you trust me?” the boy asked again.

Kodiak opened his mouth then closed it, thought about what was being asked and considered why Murray would even ask such a question.

“Did the stranger tell you something?” he asked. “Is that why?”

“It’s life and death.” Murray said. “I’ll tell you everything in another week or so but for now, do you trust me?”

Kodiak had nodded then asked no more. He did what Murray asked, either kept everyone inside the gates or sent them north to the empty farms and the rural houses that Swan had already cleared. Murray tinkered with the tractor in the shop and always had a list of a few little parts he needed for them to try to find.

“No rush.” He’d said. “Don’t make a special trip out but when you go on a hunt, find me these and as soon as we get the tractor running, we’ll go into town. We can make one big haul instead of a bunch of little ones.”

They always went north, always away from the machine guns he knew were coming. There was nothing wrong with the old Kubota except a dead battery but he let the air out of one of the tires, disconnected a few wires and made “progress” on getting it running when they brought him something from the list. They were safe in the hunting grounds, the only danger was the undead and they didn’t like the woods. They stayed on the roads where walking was easy. While he was supposed to be fixing the tractor, he’d hook up the golf cart and spend hours hand pedaling the charger. Using the torches like Bob had shown him, he added a few bars across the windshield and doors as zombie protection. He only had to stall for another week, he couldn’t let Tobias and Analise die. He wouldn’t get a do over if he failed. Every time they started complaining and he was tempted to tell them the secret, he remembered what Bob said. Just knowing a thing could change the future. He kept quiet, ignored their complaints and kept assuring them it would be worth the wait. They would only have to risk going to town once if they had the tractor.

He knew time was close to when the warehouse battle was supposed to happen. When Jessie and Scarlet would form the bonds that might save the world. Bob hadn’t been exactly sure of the date but he knew it happened in the early afternoon and he’d narrowed it down to within a day or two. When everyone was busy with their duties, he slipped out of the maintenance gate near the river. The electric cart scraped both sides as it forced its way through and bounced across the tall grass towards the river. Putnam was only a few miles to the south and the rutted, overgrown path had been used by off roaders and fishermen. He got within a half mile of the riverfront district before the wooded trail ended on a frontage road. It was close enough, though. He could remain hidden and was sure he’d be able to hear any gunshots.

He sat, waited and listened for the guttural sound of an old car and the boom of gunfire. Once he heard the first shots he’d know everything was going to be fine. He’d head back to the house and share the news with the tribe.

The first day of his watch passed with just the sounds of birds and crickets to keep him company. The capuchins played in the trees but didn’t stray far from their boy. He was disappointed but by late afternoon he knew it wasn’t going to happen. He’d try again tomorrow.

The second day waiting for the gunfire passed the same as the first. Nothing happened and Murray felt that first niggle of doubt in the back of his mind. What if it wasn’t true? They didn’t really know Bob. He could have been an escapee from the loony bin for all they knew. He forced the doubt away and strained to hear anything that would validate the stranger’s story. Nothing. He went over the times Bob had mentioned again. Tobias and Analise were gunned down, there would be a lull and then a gun fight. Him and his girlfriend had buried the twins in the afternoon and met the tribe after dark. It was hard to think of Jessie and Bob as the same person. The carefree boy riding around the country with his gal and the jaded, scarred up warrior hell-bent on changing the world didn’t seem like they could be the same person.

He thought of a dozen ways that might make the future better. What if he warned them, told them what Bob had told him? Wouldn’t that save the girl? But if he did, then they never would have met Bob because he would have no reason to travel back to save her. It made his head hurt just thinking about all the possibilities and in the end he had to trust the stranger. He must know what he was doing.

Murray waited until the sun was low in the sky before he headed back to the shop.

On the third day he sat in the shade and tried to read a book as the monkeys played in the trees. They never went far, always kept him in sight and would scramble quickly aboard as soon as the cart started moving. He was half dozing in the lazy afternoon and the beeping noise caught him by surprise. He tossed the paperback aside and gripped the steering wheel. It was faint, a long way off, but the sound carried. It was the trucks Bob had told him about. They were backing up to the warehouse doors. The tribe wasn’t there, they hadn’t fled in panic and the gunfire that killed Tobias and Analise didn’t happen. Everyone was safe back at the sanctuary. He had just changed the future.

Everything was different now.

From this moment forward, nothing was the same as it had been in the world Bob described. A thrill ran through him. His heart thudded in his chest and he strained his ears. His capuchins heard it too and scrambled back into the cart to be near him. He waited for a long time, heard more beeping sounds of fork trucks and an occasional voice barking commands then sighed in relief when he heard it. The throaty grumble of a hot rod was unmistakable as it passed. It was true, everything Bob had said was true.

Murray listened to the gunfight a short time later and finally relaxed. He’d been tense for weeks, snapping at everyone, arguing against a warehouse raid and generally making the rest of the tribe think he was going crazy.

Analise was safe.

Tobias was safe.

They hadn’t triggered the cult to come looking for them. He let out a long shuddering breath and almost shed tears of relief. The burden of knowing his actions could wind up killing them all had almost been too much. From this moment forward, the future was unknown. He’d spent a lot of hours considering what to do next and hoped he was making the right choice. Bob said he’d met the tribe after the twins had been buried but Murray wasn’t sure if they should meet now. Things were already different, how much more different would they be if it slipped out that Bob, or Jessie, had visited them. How much of the future would it change? Bob said just knowing a thing was dangerous. Murray was still mulling it over when he heard the old muscle car fire up a short while later. The sound of its engine faded away as it drove out of town and that made the decision for him. They were gone. It didn’t matter if he told the tribe now, they were isolated and couldn’t affect anything. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. Nobody in their right mind would. It was probably best to keep those secrets but he’d let them know about everything else. He’d tell them all about Lakota and the rebuilding that was happening. They weren’t alone, there were thousands of others.

17

Diablo

Darkness fell and he was hungry again. He was always hungry, nothing satisfied the craving. The pack had already cleaned out the undead wandering around town and they learned how to get to those inside the houses. Windows broke if they slammed into them hard enough. Diablo led them to a place of slaughter just outside of town and they had fed heavily on the dead lying in the road. They ate and slept then ate some more, the food supply seemed endless for a time. The ingestion of so much nanobot infested meat overloaded their senses. It wasn’t enough to feed and rest anymore, they wanted to feast until they burst. Already they were picking off their own members and ripping savagely into them. Blood splattered and fur flew as those too slow to avoid the larger animals became meals for their own pack. The raccoons and opossums scampered to the trees, out of reach of the snapping jaws of the coyotes and wild dogs. The boars and sows ripped their razor-sharp tusks into anything that got too close, including each other. The feral cats scattered into culverts or abandoned cars, away from the savagery of the pack. Yet, none went far. None would break away from the pack. The horde mentality, the need to bunch together in massive numbers, overrode their sense of self preservation. The raccoons and opossums leapt from limb to limb as they followed the odd procession. The buzzards, ravens and crows observed it all from the safety of the treetops, darting in to grab the scraps that weren’t devoured. A bit of flesh, a shard of bone. A piece of fur with a little bloody skin attached. It was all precious and worth fighting to the death over.

The moon was high as Diablo followed the old familiar route. They had fled at the sound of the machine guns, out of town and back into the woods. They hid for hours, waited until darkness fell before they came back out. Now he padded along the fences of the zoo, the same as he had many times before. Only his survival instincts had kept him from pushing under the gates and feeding during his many trips to this same spot. He feared the claws of the little ones and the roar of the mighty beasts that guarded them. His kind were cowardly. Scavengers. They were the garbage disposals of the world. They took the weak or stole their kills from stronger animals by sheer numbers and deceit. But he hungered and nothing he ate satisfied him. He craved the hot blood of the living and the madness worming its way through his mind grew stronger with each mouthful of undead flesh he ate.

He had watched the wolf girl raiding the dens of the humans. Diablo had refrained from taking her several times because of the presence of her pack. They had sensed him but the human smells were strong in the dens and they masked his own. He yearned for the taste of her flesh in his jaws. Reveled in the thought of thrusting his muzzle into her body and eating the protein rich organs while they still pulsed with hot blood. Cracking open her bones with his powerful jaws and devouring the sweet marrow inside. Yet, he’d refrained. The wolf girl killed the stinking ones and left them where they lay. Diablo was confused by the act, she didn’t eat the stinking prey. So, he watched and when she left the bodies he and his pack gobbled down the kills that had her smell on them. It was the hyena way.

His own insatiable need overwhelmed his caution and pushed him forward along the fences. He hungered for the warm blood, could smell it from miles away. Humans had scarred him. Kept him caged, half-starved and beaten. Forced him to fight for his life for their entertainment. The wolf and the girl had killed his brother, his litter mate. He hated and feared them but the cowardice grew less every day as the yearning for their flesh grew stronger.

His nose sorted out the scents, told him they were all there. He’d tracked their smells for months. Had them ingrained in his memory. Their sweat, their urine left on trees or in the bushes. He knew them all intimately. He was ready to take her, he would wait no longer but the wolf girl hadn’t made her solitary hunts outside the fences for days. There had been no dead stinking ones covered with her scent. No deer entrails for his motley pack to fight over. A new human had come, bloodied and weak, and they took him inside. He carried a strange scent that had disrupted their cycle. There was something maddening about his smell that drove the hyena crazy. Diablo lifted his nose but he couldn’t detect that one anymore. His scent had been all over the stinking ones that littered the roadway outside of town. There was enough there for them all to feed without fighting. The pack had gorged themselves for days. Even the smallest had known the comfort of a full belly. But that was many days ago. Food was in short supply now with the disappearance of the horde and the few stragglers they stalked left many of them without an opportunity to feed. Yesterday’s feast was tomorrow’s famine. The more they ate, the more they wanted.

Diablo craved their warm flesh and would be denied no longer. He whined at the thought of the hot blood that would cascade over his mottled coat. He found the weak spot in the fence he’d marked. He pushed his scarred muzzle against it and wormed his way under the gap. The pack followed. The nimbler ones scampered over the eight-foot chain link while others pawed at the ground, each eager to be among the first to feed. The moon shone full overhead and the birds darted across it, casting fleeting shadows on the ground. Thousands of beating wings stirred the leaves in the trees as they settled and watched or circled and cawed, watching for an opportunity to dive in and steal bits of flesh.

They approached downwind of the house and followed the smells of the chickens and goats. They approached the petting zoo on silent feet, soft whines and growls came from their throats at the anticipation of feeding. The cow sleeping in her stall didn’t smell them, didn’t sense the danger as she chewed her cud. The roosting chickens never heard them. The goats were oblivious to the threat until it was too late.

Diablo leapt into the stall with the milk cow and snapped her neck before the first startled bawl escaped her lips. Her eyes were wide with fear when another set of jaws tore at her throat and pulled her down. Hungry maws were filled with warm delicious blood as the animals leapt over the short wall and ripped mouthfuls free. The hyena ignored the cats and raccoons that swarmed over the thrashing body as he ripped at her soft belly. Ropes of intestines spilled out in coils and he probed deeper for the choicest bites. The heart, liver and kidneys. He growled at the others that got too close. They ignored him. They were biting and ripping anywhere they could, a madness overcoming them.

A raccoon washed his hands in blood, snapped off chunks of flesh and snarled at the other creatures. Opossums slashed at her soft nose as ravens cawed and pecked away at her eyes. It was a like watching a shark frenzy or a school of piranhas strip an animal to the bone in a matter of moments.

Coyotes and wild dogs attacked the chicken wire of the coop, snapping mindlessly at the metal, forcing snouts then heads through the openings. They ignored the tearing of skin, the broken teeth and the bleeding jaws. The pack was feverish with the insatiable lust for blood. The hens squawked and flapped their wings, each trying to find a spot on the highest roosting poles. The eaters of the dead pushed through the newly chewed holes and fell on them as feathers flew and terrified cries split the night. The rooster flapped and spurred at the beasts, slapped them with his wings and fought to protect his brood. They tore him to shreds. Wild dogs darted in, gulped down the eggs and within seconds, the only sounds coming from the coop was the snapping of bones and warning growls from the pack.

The two hundred fifty-pound boar tore through the flimsy gate of the goat pen and others rushed in behind him. The herd bleated and ran, tried to leap over the walls but there was nowhere to go. Tusks ripped and shredded flesh.

The barnyard animals were all dead and eaten within minutes, the attack so swift and brutal that their cries were cut short. The Savage Ones devoured them all, bathed in the blood, but were unsatisfied. They still hungered.

Bert, Ziggy and Millie heard from their enclosures and snorted warnings. The gates were left open for them to wander in and out as they pleased and when the hungering beasts came for them, they ran. Bert stomped them under foot, Millie bowled them over and Ziggy easily outdistanced all of them. The Savage Ones didn’t chase far, there was easier meat to bring down.

Diablo, gore stained and insane emerged from the stall and raised his snout to smell the air. He didn’t sniff for danger, he was beyond fear. He wanted more blood. The cow wasn’t enough. She filled his belly but didn’t fill the gnawing ache, the need for more. He smelled panic and terror and followed it on the breeze.

His nose led him to the enclosure where the foaling antelopes and gazelles were penned. The mixed herd bunched in the far corner and darted back and forth along the fence line, desperate to escape from the smell of death coming from a band of savage killers. He ran at the fence and tried to scale it but fell hard to the ground. It was too tall but he wouldn’t be denied. He started digging at the base, and watched his next kills scatter and regroup. Run then stand still in fear. His yellow eyes glowed in the moonlight and a quiet, laughing panting sound mixed with his snarls. Others saw and mimicked his movements. They dug. Dirt flew and soon animals were clawing their way under the fence in a tidal wave of filthy fur and snapping teeth.

Diablo laughed his barking laugh as the others tore into the herd, savaged them and pulled them down. He was far larger than any of them and hadn’t made it under before the bloodletting was finished. He snarled his frustration but he knew it wasn’t the blood he wanted. It wasn’t the blood he craved. Only the wolf girl would sate his appetite. Her or one of the others.

He watched as his pack ferociously tore into them. The antelopes and gazelle flailed their hooves in desperate attempts to protect themselves and their young but it was no use. The Savage Ones swept over them like a flood. They feasted. Their bellies distended from the huge chunks of meat that were forced into them. The blood lust was up and they reveled in killing for the sake of killing. The power of the pack surged through them. The thrill of the hunt flowed in their veins.

Diablo lifted his bloodied nose to the sky. He caught the children’s scents from the big den. He moved in that direction. He still ached from the hunger that hadn’t been satisfied but tonight he would feast on those he feared. Theirs was the blood he needed, fresh and hot and most important, human. His pack followed toward the house as the carrion birds descended from the sky to pick through the remains of the fallen herd.

18

Tribe

“Hush, Zero.” Swan said sleepily and swatted at the wolf who was growling low in his throat.

Zero didn’t hush and the pups joined him. They stood, formed a protective circle around her and growled their warnings, hackles raised and fangs bared. Otis chuffed loudly and raised his head, sniffing the air. He didn’t like what he smelled and rose to his feet. Sage chittered and scrambled with the rest of the monkeys to hide under Murray’s blanket. Kodiak sat up and threw his covers off. Everyone was awake and scrambling for weapons.

“Gordon’s back.” Swan said as Popsicle roared a challenge from the front porch.

Dust shook down from the rafters as Daisy joined in, the polar bears bellowing their defiance.

“Get them inside!” Kodiak yelled “They’ll shoot them!”

“Where’s Donny?” Harper yelled. “He was on guard!”

Tobias and Analise both sprang for the doors, fear for their companions and friend overriding any fear for themselves. Popsicle stood on his hind legs, his head brushing the rafters of the covered porch. The twins were half as tall and only weighed a fraction of the roaring bears and were ignored. Intruders were coming for them and they wouldn’t run from a fight.

They heard the barking laugh of a hyena coming from the blackness and then the snarling, yipping and grunting of a hundred dogs, coyotes and wild hogs as they tore through the carefully planted garden. The stalks danced and fell, the crops trampled underfoot. Swan swore and darted out to the porch, an arrow already nocked in the compound bow.

Donny and Yewan came sprinting out of the darkness, they had been walking the perimeter near the river when the heard the frightened bleats of the goats.

“Hurry!” Vanessa urged but he was already running as fast as he could, his panther pacing him, never leaving his side. A boar turned and charged him, it’s tusks glistening with fresh blood. Swan loosed her arrow as Donny flung his spear. Both buried deep in the ridge back, the hog squealed and stumbled but got back to his feet. Donny darted around as Yewan leapt over him and they bounded onto the porch.

A pack of hundreds had stopped their charge for the house at the challenge from the mighty bears. Beady eyes glowed in the moonlight as the birds circled and cawed overhead. They formed a half circle around the house, all manner of wild carrion animals that had no business running together. It was as unnatural as their hunger and it urged them forward. They could smell the blood and sweat of the children and the longing to fill their bellies was stronger than their fear.

“Get back in the house.” Kodiak said quietly as the line of animals hunkered low and crept closer, their eyes on the humans. They were bloodied and gore coated from fresh kills and their fangs glistened red.

“Bert.” Harper whispered but there was nothing they could do for the animals in the barn.

“Get them in the house.” Kodiak repeated. “They’ll be torn apart out here.”

His eyes were wide and fear hammered his heart. He’d never seen anything like it. He’d rather face down a horde of zombies. He’d rather see Gordon and his goons, he knew how to fight something like that. The low snarls and growls of the savage ones were all around them. Teeth were bared. Muzzles dripped with fresh blood.

“SHOO!” he bellowed at them, stomped his boot on the porch and flapped his arms. They kept coming, slinking closer and their hungry eyes never left him.

“Everybody inside.” He said and started backing for the doors. “They’ve gone mad.”

The twins pushed at their polars and they allowed themselves to be led inside at the urging of their humans, Swan called her wolves and they barred the doors.

“You okay?” Kodiak asked a panting Donny

He nodded and grabbed the rest of his spears from the oversized planter that held them.

“I’m going upstairs.” Swan said. “I can get a clear shot at Diablo from the roof.”

“We should be safe in here.” Tobias said, stroking his big friend to calm him. “They’ll go away once the sun comes up won’t they?”

19

The Battle for Piedmont House

They swept through the garden in a wave. Months of back breaking labor was churned underfoot by a thousand paws as the crazed animals attacked. The corn was knocked down and trampled by their sheer numbers. Beans and tomatoes were ground into the earth. Melons and cantaloupes burst under the weight of the endless wave of bodies that descended on the House. The feral hogs shredded the plastic sheeting of the green house and knocked over the buckets and planters. The flimsy structure listed sideways as the wall supports bowed under the press of animal flesh. The hogs devoured everything in their paths. Carrots, onions and potatoes were shoveled in their maws or ground underfoot. Nothing in the small building was spared as they pushed their way through the outer wall to join the others as they descended on the house.

The smaller animals, the raccoons and opossums, ignored the challenge of the bears and scurried up the gutter pipes to get to the eaves and access to the attic. They gnawed at the wires of the chimney cap, forced themselves through the wire mesh and shimmied down. They found weak spots in the louvered vents and squeezed inside.

Diablos headlong charge for the house stopped when he saw the massive bears blocking the doors and his pack stopped with him. They were crazy, insane with blood frenzy, but the thousand-pound polar bears dwarfed them and they crouched low, out of his reach. They yipped, barked and snarled their defiance but none rushed forward to meet the challenge. These weren’t helpless prey, they were the predators and they had the claws and teeth to kill anything that charged them. The standoff ended when the bears disappeared inside and the house stood like so many others they had breached. The windows were the weak point, food was inside and they followed the laughing bark of their alpha as he leaped up the steps. The hogs battered at the doors. Coyotes charged at the windows and threw themselves through the glass in a bid to be the first to feast on the children they could see scurrying about inside. The shouts and cries of the humans was a beacon, it drew them forward and they knew their meat is what they craved. Their flesh would finally satisfy the craving.

The noise was unbearable, a thousand snarling, barking, howls of hunger was answered with vicious challenges from bears and wolves and the scream of a panther promising violence and death.

The cats forced themselves through the gap in the storm cellar, larger animals widened the opening and they raced for the stairs. Jars of canned vegetables exploded as they were swept from the shelves to shatter on the floor. They bound through the broken glass, ignored the cuts to their paws and legs. Desperate to feed they charged up the stairway and plowed through the door into the kitchen.

The windows imploded as furry bodies slammed through them. Vanessa’s spear arced through the air and killed the first coyote that charged through the shattered opening. She prayed they hadn’t attacked Ziggy or Bert, and that they had enough time run away. She wanted to go to her companion, to make sure she was safe, to hop on her back and flee far away but the battle was here. Within seconds she was fighting for her life and nothing else mattered.

The front doors splintered and bounced open and three hundred pounds of wild hog barely slowed as the sow barreled inside. More behind her squealed and grunted as they all tried to fit through the opening at once. Kodiak flung himself into the fray, swung his hammer at the nearest one. It connected with a sickening crunch of bone and spray of blood and the beast fell, then the rest were charging him. There was no time to think of strategy, no orderly plans of attack, no organized resistance. It was curses and screams and violence and blood. It was trying to stay away from the snapping, biting teeth of a hundred animals. It was try to kill the biggest that could do the most damage and try to ignore the little bites and scratches of the cats and raccoons.

The wild hogs came for him and another met the business end of his Warhammer as tusks slashed at his plastic armor. Otis moved as fast as he’d ever seen him move, lightning quick like he was when he was slapping fish out of the water. Long claws ripped through a squealing hog and sent it flying across the room, a streamer of intestines following.

Daisy and Popsicle roared into the fight, scattering the feral dogs like bowling pins. Mighty paws crushed and killed with every swipe, massive jaws snapped backs and ripped the animals away as they latched on and bit down. Harper and Vanessa fought back to back, morning star and spear whirling, slamming, stabbing and killing with every thrust and blow. The three littlest children were in the pantry with Murray, crowded against the back wall with his wheelchair between them and the door. He had steel in each hand and anything that came at them would have to go through him before it got to the triplets.

Swan made kill after kill with her arrows after she ducked out of the window and stood on the flat roof of the porch. The hyena was lost in the dark, she couldn’t find him. She picked off the bigger animals as her wolves fought in the hallway, savaging the opossums and wild cats, protecting her back.

Donny and Yewan tag teamed the boars and coyotes, much like they hunted deer. They hit them hard and fast, dealt killing blows and moved to the next. Claws raked open soft underbellies, spears plunged through hearts and lungs, jaws shredded jugular veins. Sharp, yellowed coyote teeth sunk into Kodiaks thigh and pulled him down. Otis bellowed and pawed away the animal, sent it smashing bone broke and lifeless into the brick of the fireplace. He stood over him to protect his boy, snapped and bit at the little creatures coming down the flue and pouring into the room. His huge claws decimated the attacking animals and his powerful jaws crushed bones. Kodiak rolled from underneath Otis and pushed himself to his feet. Blood streamed from dozens of slashes from the sharp tusks of the hogs, the bites of the dogs and the scratches of the cats. Kodiak dropped the hammer, pulled his blades and swung in fury and fear. He stabbed the dogs ripping at Otis’s flanks, he kicked at cats leaping for him and screamed his rage. The snarls, roars, yips and screeches of the birds all but drowned out the battle cries of the tribe.

Carcasses were splayed out all over the room and everywhere they stepped was slippery with blood and gore. Analise and Tobias had mounted their bears and smashed through the house swinging their battle axes and screaming Nordic curses at the unending tide of animals pouring through the shattered doors. The moon poured in and the pair seemed to glow, the rune tattoos displayed sharp against pale white skin. Tobias steered his bear out the door and led half a hundred maddened animals with him as they left a trail of dead or dying behind them. The laughing bark of the hyena could be heard above the thunderous cacophony of children and beasts fighting for their lives. Louder than the wet sound of intestines being torn from eviscerated animals, the howls of pain, and the guttural snarls of the wolves as they savaged anything that came near. It drove his pack onward as he skirted the edges of the room, away from the metal claws of the children and the rage of their beasts. He’d let the others fight then take their kills.

Harper batted away raccoons that leapt towards her face, reached over her shoulder to grab an opossum that was scurrying up her back looking for flesh to sink its fangs. She flung the creature into the wall and heard bones snap. She swung her morning star, shattered skulls and crushed ribcages.

They kept coming.

Swan was out of arrows and dove back into the hallway to fight with her pack. She was a blur of steel, a killing machine, as she hacked and spun through the crazed animals. Bloodied limbs flew through the air and heads were separated from necks as she fought with a tomahawk in each hand. The wolves surrounded her. A protective shield of razor-sharp incisors and fury. They ripped and shredded everything that threatened her like a river of sharp teethed fur. As many that died made it past her guardians, her bitten and scratched arms bled freely on her armor and it drove them insane. They had to have the hot, fresh blood. It would stop the cravings, finally satisfy their need.

Analise and Daisy went down under a swarm of mixed animals. Wild hogs, dogs, raccoons and feral cats clung to her legs and loose folds of fur, swarmed onto her back and shoulders. The wild child swung her saw bladed ax and ripped apart body after body but there were too many, every creature still in the yard turned to attack her. They overwhelmed the polar bear and she let out a huge roar as her glistening white fur turned red from the bites and scratches. Analise crouched low and held on, tried to protect her face and urged her bear to run. They couldn’t fight an attack that came from all sides. The bear roared once again and leaped into the pool, taking a hundred clinging animals with her.

Tobias heard the splash over the snarls and screams and urged his mount in that direction. The water would be safer than the land, they would have an advantage. The bear fought the whole way across the courtyard, savage fast and twice as deadly. He reared, grabbed a boar that slashed at his leg and ripped it to ribbons with his claws. Tobias tumbled off and disappeared in a swarm of fur and snapping jaws. He fought with his weapons, his fists and feet to get away, to jump in the pool, while teeth tore into him or broke on his armor. They both stumbled into the water, swam for the bottom and the animals let go, released their grip to rise for air. He hacked and slashed, bit and gouged, every bit as ferocious as any of them. The Viking children stood waist deep and tore through the Savage Ones with a berserker’s rage while their bears crushed and smashed the swimming animals. Pale skinned bodies fought side by side, white hair flew and guttural black-cursed screams of ancient fury cut down their enemies. They bled from half a hundred bites and scratches, the moon shone down, the water turned red and the animals began to flee.

The battle in the house thundered on and the noise was deafening. Vicious snarls, pitiful moans, howls of pain, Otis’s roars, smashing walls, splintering furniture and the war cries of the feral children mixed with the laughing hyena. The children fought to survive, the savage ones fought to kill and it was a free for all. No battle plans, no lines of skirmish. Kill or be killed. Fight them off and stay on your feet, if you fell, you’d die. Desperate, flailing fighting where they kept moving and jumping, helped each other if they could but mostly tried to keep the animals from ripping them apart. There was no time to think of anything other than living through the next few seconds.

Vanessa got her back against a wall, speared a snarling raccoon off the overturned couch. It was coiled, ready to leap and go after the soft flesh of her throat or her eyes. The beast let out a shrill cry as it hit the floor and was trampled underfoot. A dozen bloodied opossums, cats and raccoons crashed into her, scrambled up her armored legs and snapped at her face. She dropped the spear, pulled her machetes and slashed at them. She screamed as one of them sunk its pointed teeth into the side of her hand. She ripped it free and it took a mouthful of flesh, sent a spray of blood, but she barely felt it.

Caleb, Landon and Clara remained in the pantry. They each held their sharpened screwdrivers in white knuckled grips and stabbed at any paws that reached for them under the door. Murray had helped them make the deadly icepicks, they were perfect for their size. Their foxes were crammed in behind them and barked their stuttering barks of warning. The capuchins had climbed to the top shelves and were running around chittering, shrieking their danger sounds and sending a rain of boxes and cans down on them. Murray had his own hands filled with steel, ready to kill anything that broke through. The door shuddered and splintered as a wild boar’s tusk smashed through the solid wood. It squealed in pain as the shivs sank deep in its snout. The long tusk hooked, got jammed for a second before the wiry haired beast tore free and took one of the panels with him. Clara shrieked as a cat bounded through the opening and clawed its way up Murrays legs. More animals came through and their foxes started snapping at them, their gekkering barks lost in the crash of cans and bottles as everyone fought the flood coming in.

The violent attack happened quickly, only a few moments had passed since they smashed their way into the house and already half his pack was dead or dying. Diablo heard the rage of the wolf girl from above and saw the stairs leading up. She would be alone, isolated from the rest of her tribe, the rest of the screaming, battling, killing children were all downstairs. He sprang for the steps, bowled a pair of coyotes aside and ran for her. Her back was to him as she swung her steel claws at one of his pack. He ran for her, his jaws wide, strings of drool trailing from his hungry maw. He passed an open door where wolves snarled and growled and butchered a band of coyotes. Furniture crashed, glass broke, blood soaked into the hardwood floors. Plaster fell away from the walls as flailing, snarling bodies crashed into them, fur and feathers flew and windows were broken. Diablo ignored it all, he only had eyes for the wolf girl. He leapt, mouth wide to crush her head and was surprised when he was slammed aside by a half-grown pup. River sank teeth into his shoulder and ragged viciously, ripping away muscle and mottled hide. They smashed to the floor in a tumble, knocked Swan off her feet and the three struggled to find footing in the blood slick hallway. River spat out the hunk of hyena meat, crouched low and sprang again. He was a third the size of the hunchbacked beast and Diablo met his charge head on. Muzzles crashed the hyenas jaws snapped and flung him aside. River’s snarl of death and defiance became a howl of pain and blood flew from shredded fur. Swan was in a frenzy, her armor torn, some missing. Her arms and face were soaked in blood from a dozen deaths she’d dealt. Her eyes were wild and she was in a battle rage. Like men charging from the muddy trenches to face machine guns or storming a beach being pounded with artillery, she was beyond fear. Beyond rational thought. Kill was all she knew and she screamed as she dove for the monster snapping at her pack. She was choked up on the tomahawks and used them as extensions of her hands, steel fingers finding soft flesh. Diablo bit down on metal as he tried to snap her bones and rip her limbs free from her body. The spike punctured the roof of his mouth and the razor edge sliced through his tongue. He’d never felt such pain in his life. Zero skidded out of the blood-soaked room and the wolf pounced, dragging claws across his hindquarters and snapping canines into his haunch. Diablo yipped, ran for the shattered window at the end of the hall and tried to shake loose the pain in his maw. Swans arm was caught in his mouth, a tooth through her armor and hooked in her flesh. She swung her other tomahawk into his shoulder, tried to throw a leg over his back and held on as he leaped through the opening, landed on the porch roof. He bucked and turned, opened his fang filled mouth wide to free himself of the metal cutting into him. Swan lost her grip, barely felt the ripping of meat as her arm tore free and found her feet. Her hair was wild, blood poured from her arm and her eyes glowed mad in the moonlight. She growled, bared her teeth and crouched to attack. The hyena shook his head, sent long strings of bloody drool flying as the cubs jumped through the opening to join the fight. Diablo turned and leaped down to the roof of the golf cart then to the ground. He barked his laughing bark but it was filled with yips of pain as he ran back toward the hole under the fence.

20

Aftermath

Swan stood in indecision for a moment and watched as animals started streaming out of the house to follow their wounded alpha. They’d be in the woods and gone in seconds if she couldn’t stop him. She looked at the drop, was afraid her pack would try to jump and hurt themselves then raced back down the stairs. Tears streaked her face. She snarled and growled as she leapt over the carcasses that covered nearly every square inch of the floor. She’d almost had him! She was insane with rage and bloodlust; she couldn’t let him get away again. Not again. Not when she was so close to ending him once and for all.

Donny grabbed her as she ran for the broken doors, following the last of the fleeing animals out into the night. He wrapped her up in a bear hug before she could get out the doorway.

“Let me go!” She snarled.

Donny shook his head. No way. He knew what she was trying to do. The animals would tear her to bits of they caught her out in the open.

She struggled against him but his arms were like bands of steel. She twisted and tried to put her knee in his groin. Nothing was going stop her from settling her score with the hyena. She had to get on the monster’s trail before he was gone for good.

“Swan. Swan. SWAN!” Harper said.

Swan snapped her head around to her sister. Her eyes were wet and wild. The gentle Swan from before the outbreak was replaced by a rabid caged animal desperate to break free. A blood painted devil seeking to kill and destroy.

“You can’t do this. There are still too many of them. It’s dark. Let him go. I promise you we will hunt the rest of them down. I promise. We need you here, with us. Look, everyone is hurt. If you go out there you will die.” Harper pleaded softly.

“I don’t care!” Swan yelled and redoubled her efforts to get free.

“But I do.” Tobias said as he limped up the porch steps, Analise beside him. They were soaking wet, dripping with water and blood, their dark tribal tattoos stark against their pale skin in the moonlight.

“Somebody help!” Landon yelled from the kitchen and the fire in her eyes receded as some of the madness faded away. She quit struggling and Donny let her go as everyone rushed toward the pantry.

The little triplets were trying to get Murray’s chair out of the closet but it was overturned and tangled in a jumble of broken jars, boxes of spilled noodles, dead animals and hundreds of cans from the smashed shelves. The boy was half buried from the avalanche and the monkeys weren’t helping as they chittered and tried to tunnel into the pile to get close to him.

It only took a moment to fire up the lanterns, get him upright and back in his chair as the adrenaline faded. The battle craze of only seeing what was trying to hurt you, of kill or die, was replaced with pain as they looked around at the extent of the damage.

Landon, Caleb and Clara’s faces and arms were cut and scratched. The triplets had fought a desperate battle; it was the first time they’d used their homemade icepicks in a real fight. Landon had lost his and had bashed at the furious creatures with a can of beans. They fought with hands. With teeth. With anything they had. Blood crusted Vanessa’s face and leaked from the corner of her mouth. Tobias had an eye almost swelled shut from the gouges above and below it. Murray’s leg was laid open from a boar, the one buried in the jumble of cans with a dagger sticking hilt deep in one of its eyes. Their clothing and armor was tattered and torn. Bite marks and claw slashes covered their arms and faces. Their animals weren’t in any better shape. All were cut, bitten, bloodied and licked at wounds.

Kodiak looked like he’d been through a meat grinder. The hogs had worked him over. If he hadn’t been wearing his armor, they’d have ripped him to shreds. Otis was almost as bad. They both bled from dozens of bite and claw marks.

Harper’s ear was torn where hungry teeth had ripped the earring from it. Her pants were shredded and barely hanging on. Blood dripped from a nasty bite wound on her hand to puddle on the floor.

Swan felt the pain of the bites and scratches she’d suffered as the adrenaline in her system wore off. She was just as bruised and battered as the rest of the tribe but everyone was still alive. They hadn’t lost anyone. Her shoulders slumped. A wave of exhaustion swept over her. The whole fight had only lasted a few minutes but she felt like she’d been fighting for hours.

She felt empty and hollow as her rage ebbed. She was a vicious fighter and she had lost herself in the battle, she hadn’t been ready for it to be over. She wanted to keep killing. It nagged at the edges of her conscience. She was so far removed from the carefree girl from before the outbreak that it didn’t seem real anymore. A wisp of memory of a girl in a tie-dyed t-shirt waving a protest sign was all that remained. It scared her when she thought about it too much, so she tried not to. Push it down, lock it away. The old world was gone and wasn’t coming back. Sometimes she missed her former self, but she had to maintain her edge. It kept her and her tribe alive and that was all that mattered.

Swan looked one more time out of the broken doorway into the blackness. She would chase Diablo to the ends of the Earth if that’s what it took, but the tribe came first. That was the only thing that allowed them to stay strong and survive.

Vanessa would have a set of claw mark scars to go along with her self-inflicted ones. She probed gently at the vertical slashes and winced when her fingers touched the raw flesh. She couldn’t even remember what animal had inflicted it. The battle was a blur of savagery and carnage. Her throat was raw from the screams as she thrust and hacked her way through the invaders. Her arms were so heavy with fatigue she could barely hold them up. She took inventory of herself. Not one square inch of her exposed legs and arms wasn’t crisscrossed with scratches or bites.

Donny finished off the few animals that survived then rubbed a bloody hand through Yewan’s equally bloody fur. Most of his armor was torn off, they’d have to replace the elastic traps with leather bands and buckles. He held his hand over the gash in his stomach that oozed a steady stream of blood. One of Yewan’s ears was in tatters and her sleek fur was torn in places.

Murray cradled the arm that something had bitten. He thought it was a raccoon that took a piece of his flesh but the closet had only been lit with a glowstick, it was hard to tell. The deep puncture wounds throbbed. His leg was ripped open from the jaws of the boar. He’d gladly endure the pain if he could feel it. Even for just a minute. The capuchins fussed over him as they poked and prodded, combed his hair with worried fingers. He swatted at them halfheartedly. He knew they only wanted to help.

“Everybody to the vet’s office.” Kodiak said. “Bring the companions, too. We need to patch everyone up and clean out the wounds, those animals eat the dead.”

They’d be lucky if they weren’t all sick from infection by morning. The Savage Ones feasted on unclean meat. He whispered a silent prayer that their bites and scratches didn’t carry the virus. Murray was certain it wouldn’t jump across species, but who really knew? It was all a guess. He shuddered at the thought of one of them turning. He loved the tribe with all of his heart, but he wouldn’t hesitate to do what had to be done if any of them became one of the mindless undead.

“We’ve got to check the barn! Ziggy and Bert are in there!” Vanessa exclaimed.

She and Harper raced through the door, their hurts forgotten as the others started gathering their own companions and limping to the station.

They rejoined the group with both happy and sad news. The petting zoo had been completely wiped out but their companions were fine. The savage ones attacked the weak and helpless and Bert and Ziggy were neither. They had left smashed and tattered bodies in their wake as they fought their way out of the pens and into the open range. By lantern light they washed away the blood, cleaned out the cuts and scratches, sewed up flayed open wounds and swallowed aspirin to dull the pain. The fight had been brutal but brief and the tribe had only lived it because they kept their weapons and armor so close at hand. They wouldn’t have survived the thousands of scratches and bites the plastic and metal had absorbed and deflected. They would have bled out from a hundred cuts.

“Think they’ll try again?” Harper asked as the eastern sky shifted from black to grey in anticipation of the sun rising over the horizon.

The two of them sat on the bench in front of the clinic, the tribe and their animals patched and sleeping inside.

“Don’t know for sure but I doubt it.” Kodiak said, exhaustion urging him to turn in with the rest on one of the makeshift beds in the office. “We killed hundreds of them. They found out we aren’t an easy meal like the undead.”

“The hyena is leading them.” Harper said and rested her head on his shoulder. “I think he hates us.”

“Animals can’t hate.” Kodiak said. “At least I don’t think they can.”

“That one can.” She said.

21

Cleanup

Kodiak and Tobias struggled to drag the carcass of a large boar through the shattered doorway. Their muscles ached and their wounds trickled fresh blood. Their efforts caused the skin around their crude stitches to pull. They ignored the itching and the burn and pushed through the protest of strained and bruised muscles.

The tribe went about their gruesome task in silence as they tossed them on the open sided wagon used for hayrides. At least they had the tractor to haul them off and it could be done in a single trip, not dozens it would take using the lawn cart. Grunts and the occasional dry heave from the awful smell or the shovel of guts were the only sounds. The triplets had returned from the petting zoo with tear filled eyes and a single, half-filled bag of dead chicken and goat parts. All of their livestock was gone. The only thing left of their cow was bones picked nearly clean by the birds.

Kodiak told them there were more chickens and cows out there they could bring back to the zoo, but they would be without eggs or milk until they found them. The antelope and gazelle were all dead. Slaughtered in the pen that was supposed to keep them safe. It had been a mistake to cage them. His mistake. He muttered a curse under his breath. Why was nothing ever easy?

The garden was trampled flat and the destroyed crops were already turning brown. There might be a few ears of corn that could be salvaged. Maybe a few beans. The greenhouse was in tatters, the plastic torn, the poles knocked over, the raised beds spilled out. Most of the early beans, jellies and fruits they spent weeks canning had been knocked off the shelves in the basement and lay broken in a sticky mess. They still had the canned goods from the pantry and the meat in the smoke house but it wouldn’t be enough to last a winter. Hunting had been slim and dangerous through the winter months last year. Most times Donny and Swan came back with nothing. They had rationed, they had been okay and there was always the livestock to butcher if they absolutely had to. That option was gone now. The new herds, the foals and calves and babies all gone along with their mothers. It was too late to plant another garden, the first frost could hit as early as September and it would take them weeks to get everything prepared for planting again. Kodiak wished he could be as optimistic as Murray about the warehouse. For all he knew it was full of car parts or something.

The house was in shambles, too. Broken windows, broken doors, broken walls. They threw away their gore drenched blankets and scrubbed at the floors to lift the stains. He would have to figure out how to put new windows in it but he was sure Murray had a book that would tell them how. Plastic nailed over the openings would be okay for now but not when it was ten below. The house had the only fireplace, they didn’t have an option to move into any of the other buildings.

There were too many bodies to burn or bury, they didn’t want a pile of rotting meat anywhere near the zoo and they didn’t really trust the tractor to go very far. At least not until they had a chance to test it out. The fish and turtles in the Mississippi would have to dispose of them.

They worked hard but took breaks to care for their companions. The bears shook it off, their thick hides had protected them from the worst of the teeth and claws. River had been hurt the worst, deep puncture wounds from Diablo had torn one of his shoulders to shreds. They still weren’t sure the wolf cub would live if infection set in, the gashes were deep.

With the help of the triplets, Murray took inventory as the rest did what they could do to seal up the house again. The grocery store in Putnam was empty of edibles. It was small to begin with and it had been their main supplier for months now. The kitchens of the few restaurants in town had long ago been raided. He made more notes as they called up from the basement and gave him a count of the unbroken jars. Swan could recheck some of the abandoned places she’d already cleared. Donny and Yewan could look for livestock to replace their slaughtered herd. It was June and they were basically starting all over again. He wasn’t worried about the coming winter like the rest of them, Bob had assured him the warehouse was full of food, enough for years. He’d wanted to get on the road to self-sufficiency, though. He didn’t want to depend on anything outside the fences. He wanted them to be able to live without raiding because they would have to go farther and farther and eventually all the goods would run out. It would be like so many of the movies he’d seen or video games he played. People would kill each other over a can of beans. They needed to be able to make more food. They’d be okay, he wasn’t worried about starving, but he didn’t like having all of their eggs in one basket. That was asking for trouble. He had to look no further than the pen full of dead antelope and their trampled garden to see that.

22

Kodiak

Kodiak leaned against the door of the cleaned-out barn. He was ready to flop down in the fresh hay and take a much-needed nap.

It had taken most of the day to clean the house and board up the windows. His stomach grumbled with hunger but they hadn’t eaten, just snacks. The gruesome task had driven their appetites away and exhausted most of their cleaning supplies. They’d have to get more when they went on a food run. The stink of death still hung over the house, even stronger than the Pine-sol and bleach. No amount of scented candles was gonna clear out that smell anytime soon. His hands ached from carrying hundreds of buckets of bloody mop water from the house.

He was tired and sore. His wounds hurt and his mind was heavy with worry. Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d survived so far. He couldn’t see all of the things he’d done right, just those things he’d done wrong. He’d been the last one at the hyena cage. He should have checked the gate latch. He knew how dangerous they were. Derek’s death was on him. Lucy’s death was on him. He tried to find a way to blame himself for his mom’s death too.

He’d been the one to find Gordon. He’d been the one who’d extended mercy when Gordon continually screwed up. The boy that Bert killed was on him too.

He could have just as easily been home in bed on the day of the outbreak. He could have faked an upset stomach and his mom would have believed him. There was plenty of sickness going around those days leading up to the outbreak. He could have had the whole day to himself, just him and his Xbox and raw chocolate chip cookie dough. She would have been none the wiser. He had thought about, had almost tried it, but he knew they needed him. He’d already heard her on the phone with Derek, had overheard them talking about the others who’d already called off. He’d gone in because it was what he was supposed to do and because his mom was counting on him. She was still counting on him. He’d sworn he’d do what her goodbye letter had asked. He would keep that promise as long as he drew breath.

It wasn’t all his fault, but he tried hard to make it be. He constantly questioned if he was doing the right thing. Harper insisted that his constant self-assessment was what made him a good leader. He’d grunted. Sometimes it was too much to process. He had to decide what was best for the tribe.

He thought about the triplets. They’d never been to a school dance. There’d never be a homecoming football game in their future. They’d never get the chance to make googly eyes at another boy or girl over banana splits at the Dairy Queen. All the rites of passage of growing up were stripped from them. Vanessa, Murray and Harper tried their best to teach them a basic curriculum but so much of it didn’t matter now. Who cared if you knew algebra? It was much more important to know how to build a fish trap. They’d regress further and further without the influence of society. Out here, there were no rules. No structure. Sure, survival was an education in itself but all it took was one mistake and you were dead or one of the undead.

He pondered over something Murray had told them as they had looked at the ruined house, the dead bodies and the work that was ahead of them.

Bob said we could go to Lakota. He’d then went on to describe a walled city with hundreds of acres of open land and clean water and schools and a Chucky Cheese and a whole town of good people.

“I knew he was lying about coming from Canada.” Swan said. “It just didn’t make sense.”

Murray talked about the place as they worked and it sounded too good to be true. Maybe it was. Maybe the stranger had told a lie but what if he hadn’t? Could Lakota be the answer? Murray made it sound like the old world was alive and well within its walls. Bob had assured him there would be a place for the animals, but would there really? Would civilized people be comfortable with a 1200-pound grizzly bear walking down the sidewalk?

If they stayed, he knew someday, someone would leave the tribe. Wanderlust would set in or some dispute that couldn’t be settled. Food was still abundant, but it wouldn’t always be. They thought they’d had it made with the garden and the Savage Ones destroyed it in minutes. He dreaded the day he woke up to find a note from Swan, maybe Donny. They would want to see what was out there beyond the fences and the rivers. Zombies wouldn’t always be the biggest threat. A few more winters and it would be pretty safe to go out in the world as long as you were careful.

Curiosity might be the biggest threat to the tribe. What was there to discover in the burnt-out cities and abandoned towns? The factories and laboratories. The top-secret places on military bases. So many possibilities. Did they really want to stay and be dirt farmers forever? He felt the pull but he felt the duty to the tribe more. The promise to mom. Someday he wouldn’t be needed. Murray thought that in five years most of the zombies would be so ate up they wouldn’t be dangerous anymore. What then? Ride off into the sunset with Harper? Find one of those fortified towns and settle down to raise fat babies and try to forget the past?

He pushed the thoughts away. There was too much to focus on in the here and now. Murray was pretty confident the warehouse held food. If he was right, they’d be okay. If he was wrong, they’d still be okay. It would just be a lot harder.

He rubbed a hand over Otis’s fur as the big bear lumbered into the barn, looking for a spot to sleep.

“We’ll figure something out, buddy.” He said. “We have to.”

23

Gordon

Gordon fiddled with the knob on the Ham radio in the basement of the deserted house. None of the others knew about it and he wasn’t sharing. He knew his way of running things was the best way, but he caught the glares from the corners of his eyes when they thought he wasn’t looking. He was in control, for now. That could change. He knew he was heavy handed and most of their compliance was based in fear. A few of them were onboard of their own choosing, but the others he’d have to watch. It was best to have a backup plan. And a plan after that.

He rubbed his ears, tried to block out the sound. The scratch, scratch, scratching was loud today. He looked around, hoped to see a mouse clawing on something, anything that would explain that dreaded noise. Nothing. He knew it was in his head, just like the voice of his father but he didn’t feel crazy, he felt powerful.

He pushed the transmit button on the mike.

“Rogue to Anubis Society, do you copy?”

The people he’d been talking to said they would give him further instructions when the information about the warehouses panned out. It could be a fresh start for him. He was getting tired of babysitting his crew, tired of their glares, tired of their laziness. He knew they talked about him behind his back. Sometimes it was more trouble than it was worth, especially if the Society could deliver what they promised. He was considering trading the whole sorry lot of them and one of the food warehouses for a ticket to join. He’d leave this place and be with people of his own kind if it was anywhere near as opulent as they described. It would be a lot easier than dealing with the losers he was stuck with. They were very interested when he told them he knew where a whole tribe of kids were. They asked about them every time they spoke. They really liked children for some reason.

A static filled voice came across the radio.

“We copy you Rogue. How’s the weather?” The voice asked.

Gordon grinned. This was a game they’d played every time they’d talked. They were always trying to get little hints of where he might be. He wasn’t giving up his location that easily. He planned on setting up a rendezvous and observing these people for a while before he walked into their midst. Make sure they were on the up and up and it wasn’t a trap by a bunch of slavers or cannibals.

“Still holding my current location.” He answered. “Just checking to see if you guys verified the grocery warehouse I told you about so we can move forward with the negotiations.”

There was silence on the other end. Shortly, another voice came across the radio. An angry one.

“Negative Rogue.” The voice was a snarl. “Do you think this is a joke? Do you think we forgive treachery? We’ve lost all contact with the team. They have missed their last three check ins. If this was some kind of trick, be advised that the might of Anubis will scour you from the face of the earth. There is nowhere you can hide. Our armies are sweeping this country and we will hunt you down if you have double crossed us. Do you understand?”

Gordon’s brain went blank with fear and felt the beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

“My, my info was good, Anubis.” He stuttered. “Maybe your team was delayed?”

What could have gone wrong? Putnam was a ghost town. Most of the undead were trapped indoors. A horde maybe? No way those zoo brats could have stopped them. A bunch of ragged kids and their mangy animals couldn’t have derailed his plans. They couldn’t have defeated a well-armed group of soldiers. He felt a cold knot of uncertainty curling in his belly, making him nauseous. He heard the booming laugh of his father in his head.

“Perhaps they’re having radio difficulties.” The original, soothing voice said “Give us your location. We will meet and you can help us sort this out. You can show us the warehouse. There is forgiveness at the feet of our Lord if you are worthy.”

Something in the tone of the speaker set off the alarm bells in Gordon’s head. They blamed him, thought he set up an ambush. Why did they keep asking for his location?

They’re coming for you Gordon. His fathers’ voice said in his head.

Something was scratching at the door and he whirled in the chair, looked for scabby fingers to worm their way under it. The sound moved, now it was coming from inside the walls. He closed his eyes and repeated it’s not real over and over until the scratching faded. He stared at the microphone and his mind raced. They were tracking him right now. The calm voice was telling him about the luxuriant rooms, the finest foods and the compliant women that would be his once he joined them. They were trying to get him to transmit, to keep talking to them. They were triangulating his position just like they did in the movies. Somehow those brats had done something to the soldiers and before he could push the thought away, tell himself they were just a bunch of stupid kids, he remembered last winter. Them and their animals had wiped out most of his crew and destroyed nearly all of their snowmobiles. They were the real killers and the Society was blaming him. They thought he did it!

“Rogue, are you still there?” the soothing voice asked.

He snatched the microphone and flung it against the wall. It still hissed with static and he felt the panic well up inside of him. What would they do if they found him? He should unplug it, maybe they were still tracking him. He snatched the radio off the table and flung it against the wall. The plug jerked out of the socket, the lights faded out but was that enough? Was the scratching coming from inside of it? He grabbed a chair and started smashing it, over and over until the wooden legs splintered, the metal case was crushed and the fragile components littered the floor. He pushed the sweat drenched hair out of his eyes and stood panting, looking at the broken radio. The busted chairs and table. The shattered furniture and the holes punched in the drywall. The room was a shambles, a hurricane had gone through it and he didn’t remember how it happened. He’d just wanted to unplug the radio. The scratching had finally stopped and his dad’s condescending voice was quiet for once.

His fear turned to anger as he leaned against the wall and got his breathing under control. Those kids had interfered again. Somehow they had stopped him from joining the Society, from living in an opulent palace with undreamed of riches. The radio had said he could join the inner circle if he supplied them with dozens of workers and whole warehouses of food. Now they thought he’d tricked them, had ambushed them. He was innocent, he hadn’t done anything, and now they might come looking for him. Maybe he hadn’t unplugged the radio fast enough. Maybe they knew where he was. He had to find out what happened.

His hands curled into fists. It was time. Time to teach those snotty brats a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. He stared at the shattered remains of the radio one last time then marched up the stairs.

24

Tribe

The tribe was anxious to get going. They had cleaned up the best they could, healed up as much as they were going to. The tractor sat idling and could barely be heard from a few yards away. With the extra muffler welded in place and fiberglass batting wrapped around the engine compartment, it was as quiet as a car. The blood in the trailer had been scrubbed clean and the sides were reattached. If the warehouse held food, they’d be able to haul enough in one load to last them for a long time.

Weapons were checked. Blades were sharpened. Repaired armor was adjusted. They all needed new gear and the wagon would let them haul as much as they wanted. For the first time, Landon, Caleb and Clara didn’t complain when they were told they couldn’t go. The tribe had heaped praise on them for saving Murray, for stopping the Savage ones from eating him. They took their duty of protecting him seriously and had helped Donny grind down more screwdrivers. If they lost one in a fight, they didn’t want to have to use a can of beans again. They wanted backup weapons like the rest of the tribe.

“We’ll be back. Anything else you need?” Kodiak asked the four on the porch.

Murray sat with his capuchins, the triplets at his side. “Some peanut butter cups would be nice. Oh, and some Dr. Pepper, and some gummy bears. Some nuts for the capuchins would be great too. Don’t forget sunflower seeds, beef jerky and some hot Doritos. Remember to get AA batteries and any propane cylinders you can find. Also mac and cheese, a couple of axes, animal feed, some Fruit Roll-Ups and some new solar panels.”

“Ok, ok, we get it.” Kodiak laughed. “It’s all on the list. We’ll see what we can do.”

Clara spoke up. “And a new baby doll. Mine got destroyed.”

The tribe headed out the gate with Kodiak behind the wheel. Murray was right, the tractor was easy to drive, no worse than a golf cart. Bob had shown them a lot more than a few gun tricks. Working with him those few days Murray had learned enough about cars that he was confident he could get one running if they towed one home. They could learn how to drive and that would change everything.

The triplets waved until they were out of sight then dispersed to do their chores. The barn needed shoveling out. The manure had to be moved to the compost pile and fresh straw put in the stalls.

Murray watched for a long time after they disappeared. He hadn’t told them about the dead soldiers they would find, he couldn’t think of a way to warn them without having a million questions thrown at him. If he told a little, he’d have to tell a lot. He’d written it all down in a diary, though. As much as he could remember. Bob had talked for hours and told him many things.

As he rolled himself back inside, his stomach grumbled at the thought of all the sugary snacks he was craving. He didn’t notice the light glinting from a pair of binoculars.

Vanessa and Harper ranged ahead of rest, Ziggy and Bert easily outdistancing the slow-moving tractor. They passed the stripped corpses of the undead that Bob had fought. A few tatters of cloth and stains on the road were all that remained. They stopped short of town, picketed their animals and approached on foot to recon the area while they waited for the others to catch up.

A mile before the warehouse district, Swan signaled to Donny then separated from the group. She and the wolves took a shortcut through the woods and headed away from the riverfront. She’d volunteered to go after the supplies to repair their damaged armor. They needed leather straps and buckles to replace the stretchy elastic and the military surplus store was the best place to get everything they needed. Kodiak had started to protest about her going off on her own in town, but it was useless. She was stubborn and independent and would do what she wanted. She had the four wolves with her at any rate so he didn’t waste his breath.

The twins loped along on the polar bears, easily keeping pace with the tractor and trailer as Donny and his panther brought up the rear. The little industrial part of town was quiet and empty. There were a few blocks of warehouses near the docks that held a refueling station for river traffic and not much else. In a few more years, if the town had kept gentrifying, this whole area would have been bulldozed and expensive riverfront condominiums would have been built. Now, Lowery’s Landing was only a few architectural drawing tucked in with the deeds of the warehouses Gordon’s father owned.

While Kodiak and the girls maneuvered the trailer to the docks of the Independent Grocers distribution warehouse, Donny and Tobias went around to the front entrance. They thought they’d have to break open a door but somebody had already kicked it in.

“Wasn’t like this before.” Donny signed.

They listened for any movement, shared a look then slipped inside. Zombies didn’t kick in doors, somebody else had been here. Maybe it had been Bob, loading up before he left town. They breathed deeply, tried to smell the rotting smell of the undead but the air was clean. Using their flashlights, they found the personnel door to warehouse area. Tobias banged his axe against the metal door. They were met with silence. They waited for the keening of the undead. They waited for the rattle of items displaced by the shuffling corpses. Nothing happened. It was deserted.

They slipped inside, made their way past row after row of industrial shelves full of plastic wrapped pallets that went all the way to the ceiling. They rolled up a loading dock door and sunlight poured, illuminating the labels. Rice. Soup. Shampoo. Vegetables. Paper towels. Cups. Books. Anything and everything that would be found in grocery stores.

Donny tapped the concrete with his spear, drew Tobias’ attention away from the gold mine of supplies. Away from pallet after pallet of food, enough for years. He was pointing at a huge puddle of blood near a fork truck that had mostly dried but was still barely tacky. It wasn’t very old, no more than a few weeks. Stacked neatly next to it was a bunch of military guns. M-4’s if he remembered right. They looked just like the ones in Call of Duty.

“I think Bob was here.” Tobias said when he walked out on the dock. “We found blood.”

“We found the bodies.” Analise said and indicated a jumble of ragged black clothes and a scattering of bones. “Whoever killed them drug them outside, left them for the savage ones.”

They double checked the building but whoever had been here was long gone and they relaxed.

“Whatever you do, don’t open those doors.” Kodiak said and pointed to a silver metal wall on the far end. “That’s the refrigerator, it’s gotta be maggot central with all that spoiled meat.”

They ignored the stacks of useless TV’s and other electronics and tore into a pallet of candy bars. Ants and other insects had already been in some of the boxes, but there were thousands still left to choose from. They tossed aside the ones the bugs had gotten into and tore into the chocolate goodness of the undamaged ones. Sugar buzzed, they laughed and stuffed their pockets with all they would hold.

Tobias and Analise wandered deeper into the warehouse. Popsicle and Daisy ambled behind them, sniffing at the different pallets. His sharp claws made short work of the plastic shrink wrapped around a pallet of marshmallows and they tore into the cardboard shipping boxes. He gulped down the sugary sweets, plastic bag and all. Daisy joined him and they devoured twenty pounds of marshmallows in just a couple of minutes.

“We should save some of those before that pig you call a bear eats them all. Grab some more chocolate bars and graham crackers and make S’mores with the little kids. We could use a little celebration after what we went through.” Analise suggested.

Tobias ignored her. He was rummaging through a box of cheap Chinese made toys and turned to her with a grin. He held his hand behind his back and faced his twin with a devilish smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He teased.

“What is it?” She eyed her brother warily. She knew better than to trust him when he had that look on his face.

“This!” Tobias swung his hand around quickly and squeezed the trigger. The Nerf dart popped her right between the eyes. He burst out in laughter when she glared at him.

“Give me one of those.” She said.

He handed her another one of the guns and a pack of darts and she snuck off in search of Donny. She hadn’t said anything to anyone but she was drawn to the silent boy. She’d caught him staring at her a few times then quickly pretended like he wasn’t. She knew what that meant. He liked her. It made her feel good inside because she might like him too. He was always kind and thoughtful, but vicious in a fight. A lover and a fighter, she mused. She wasn’t sure what those feelings were, but she figured a little harmless play couldn’t hurt anything. She’d shoot him, he’d chase her and if he caught her? She blushed at the thought.

Kodiak looked at the thousands of square feet of supplies and wondered about the dead men. Somebody knew this was here, had done their killing and made sure the bodies didn’t stay inside to rot. Bob, most likely. Murray wanted a complete listing of everything in the warehouse but that wasn’t going to happen. It would take hours. He’d jot some stuff down so he’d have something to show. He looked at the shipping label on a pallet of green beans to see if it had a count of how many were in it. That would give them an idea of how long a pallet would last. He did a double take when he saw Lowery Shipping and Distribution. He frowned. Had Gordon known about this place? Why hadn’t he told them when they were still trying to get along? Had his gang done the killing or were they the scattered bones? There wasn’t enough left of any of the bodies to tell anything about them.

He heard the sound of running feet, dropped the clipboard and gripped his Warhammer tightly. Zombies? Analise darted past giggling madly, shot him with a Nerf gun and disappeared down a shadowy aisle. Donny was in hot pursuit with a gun in each hand and ran to the next aisle to cut her off. He relaxed his grip and smiled. Leave it to the twins to find some mischief to get into.

Tobias came skidding around the corner and fired a dart at Kodiak. He dodged it easily. Tobias tossed him a packaged shooter and a few more at the girls.

“Every man for himself.” He said and fired a dart point blank into Vanessa’s chest.

“Oh, you’re dead now!” Harper yelled as she ripped the cardboard off her gun and started loading the darts.

Kodiak frowned at all the noise they were making. There wasn’t time for this. There was too much work to be done and they were too exposed in town. He started to yell at Tobias and tell him to quit being such a child but then it hit him. Tobias was a child and so was he. He was so worried about tomorrow, he wasn’t living for today and it was exhausting. What could it hurt to unwind for a little while with his friends? They’d seen no zombies on the trip to town. There were multiple escape routes, plenty of places to hide and they could always swim if they had to, they were right on the river. The huge warehouse would absorb the noise they made and what the heck, it was good training. The zoo would still be there. The piles of dung and the destroyed fields. The undead at the gate. None of it was going anywhere and Gordon was probably sitting on a couch eating Cheetos far away. He let the tension slide away from him. Just for a few minutes, he promised himself.

“You’re on!” Kodiak said and closed the overhead door, shutting out the sun and shutting in the noise. The little bit of light coming through the tiny windows left the place shadowy and gloomy, the back corners pitched in utter darkness. He smiled, leaned his hammer against a pallet and stuffed his pockets with extra ammo.

They spent the next hour forgetting what was outside the walls of the warehouse. The fears and worries slipped to the back of their minds. A few breathless kisses were exchanged in the deep shadows, fumbling hands accidentally brushed second base and laughter echoed through the building. The rows of pallets made great ambush points. Several hundred foam darts littered the floors in testimony to the fierce battle that was waged. The pain from the wounds inflicted in the battle with the Savage Ones were dulled by the joy of kids being kids. The worries of surviving tomorrow were pushed aside and the thrill of living for the moment took their place. Donny was kicking all their asses, he kept jumping from rack to rack and attacking them from above. Their return fire hit nothing until they coordinated an attack, led him out in the open and hammered him with dozens of foam darts.

Kodiak finally called a cease fire and opened a case of juice boxes. There was still work to do but he had a pretty good idea of the warehouse layout. They’d be able to get everything on Murray’s list quickly and fill the rest of the wagon with whatever they wanted. Old Mur was probably sitting on the porch watching for them, salivating at the thought of a big bag of chocolate and a warm Dr. Pepper.

It was a good day, a good haul, and the guns from the dead guys were a good find. Murray would have a book with instructions on how to maintain them. With the tractor, they could carry more in one load than they could in ten using the lawn cart and wheelbarrows. One more trip before winter and they’d be set, living like kings. Now that he knew there was plenty of food, the next trip they’d get building supplies. Next week they’d have new doors and windows and freshly fixed walls. He’d never been to the building supply store but they’d probably have all the tools and everything else they needed to fix up the old house before it got cold again.

“Lead the way,” he told Donny as he fired up the tractor.

Everything was loaded and strapped, the warehouse was closed up tight and he was a little surprised Swan hadn’t shown up yet.

25

Swan

Swan slipped into the adventure store and held the door for her wolves. She’d told the tribe she would get what they needed to repair and improve their armor but there was also something else she had to do. She was following a hunch about Gordon. She’d snorted when they warned her about the undead and ignored their concerns about the savage ones. She was out in the wild every week, sometimes for days. She could take care of the zombies and she hoped and prayed the wounded hyena would show its face. She hoped his mouth got so infected and swollen he couldn’t eat. She hoped he starved to death.

They’d followed the bloody path of the savage ones to find out how they got in and found a few of them too injured to go on and put them down. They filled the burrowed holes with rocks and dirt then staked the bottom of the fence tightly to the ground for yards in both directions. Her tomahawk had worked its way loose from the hyena’s mouth and was laying in the weeds halfway across the field. It was gross, slimy with the hunchback’s bloody slobber, but she was glad to get it back.

She tore open a few MRE’s to feed her pack and gnawed on a peanut butter bar as they ate cold chili mac. She laid the compound bow on top of a pile of mismatched military camos in the archery section and refilled her quiver with arrows. She tried to find every one she shot, there wasn’t an endless supply of them, but wasn’t always successful. The aluminum shafts were tough, but a strike off of bone or an errant shot that hit a tree would bend the shafts and render them useless. She thought about Gordon while she threaded broad heads into each of the arrows. Why had he been here that day the virus consumed the town? Why not the bank, or the town hall, or one of the trendy restaurants around the square? He always bragged about being from a gated town up north, so why was Mr. Snootypants slumming in an army navy store?

She slid the last arrow into her quiver then grabbed a backpack. She stuffed it with every leather belt and most of the hard plastic armor they had. Hockey and soccer pads. Wrist braces from roller bladers and knee pads from soldiers. Satisfied her duty to the tribe was finished, she walked towards the rear of the store. She’d never ventured to the back section, there had been no need to; clothes her size and the archery section were near the front. The display cabinet with the knives that she’d taken her tomahawks from was right by the cash register at the front door.

Mice skittered away as the beam of her flashlight fell over their tiny forms. Zero’s ears perked up at the little intruders, but a warning growl from Swan refocused his attention. She loved the playful side of the big wolf, but this was a hunt and there was no time for playing when the stakes were so high.

She passed mannequins wearing surplus gas masks and World War II uniforms as she approached the door that led into the rear section of the store and the manager’s office. The flashlight picked up the claw marks in the wood and there was a musty, foul odor that permeated the place. Zero startled her when he sneezed and shook his big head, tried to clear his nose of the disturbing smell. She stroked his ears, more to calm her own nerves than for his benefit and panned the light around the large room.

Curious as to the source of the lingering odor she followed her nose to a wooden box. An old, brown-stained ammo crate with dried flakes of waste still clinging to it sat in a corner. Zero growled, detected the scent of Gordon and his hackles raised.

“It’s alright, boy.” She said and panned the light around.

It was a cluttered office with boxes of goods stacked nearly to the ceiling in places. The flashlight danced over the pictures, plaques and posters that adorned the walls. There were a lot of awards from the Putnam Recreation League for sponsorship of different sports teams dating back for decades.

The pictures were interspersed among the awards and told the life story of a robust young soldier proudly wearing his uniform as he aged into a kind looking potbellied old man who probably dressed up as Santa every year. Most of them were pictures of the owner with different people. Men in suits, men in sports jerseys, an Olympic girls’ volleyball team. Happy memories of a world that didn’t exist anymore.

She studied one photo of the smiling man and a pleasant looking older lady standing in front of a cruise ship. They looked happy and she wondered for a second what it would feel like to be loved that way. To be with someone your whole life. To have adventures and grow old together. It made her sad, it reminded her a lot of her grandfather and his messy workshop. The office had been cluttered but organized before, now it looked like a giant rats nest. A rat named Gordon, she thought. Clothes, old food wrappers and drink bottles filled with a sickly-looking yellow fluid littered the floor. She realized the wooden crate was Gordon’s toilet and the bottles were filled with urine. She grimaced. This was where Kodiak had found him. Cowering in his own filth. Only the lowest of the animal species defecated where they slept and ate, and in her opinion, there was no lower form of life than Gordon Lowery. She used an arrow to stir around through the mess looking for clues. Zero padded out and waited for her in the store. She didn’t blame him. He maintained a low steady rumbling growl from his chest and bared his fangs. He loathed Gordon almost as much as she did, she thought with a wry smile. She rooted around looking for a discarded wallet or piece of paper, anything he might have dropped that would give her an idea where to find his sorry ass. There was nothing in the pile of dirty clothes that he’d used for a bed. Disgusted, she turned her attention to the desk shoved up against the wall.

Kodiak had hidden Gordon’s shame from the tribe. He’d done everything he could to give him an equal standing and become one of them, but this filthy lair revealed the true nature he hid behind his designer clothes and fast talk.

She plopped down in the worn leather chair and rocked it slowly back and forth, letting her light play over the mountain of clutter that covered the desk. Why were you and daddy Snootypants here, Gordy? What would bring two rich jerks into a business like this? She rifled through the pile.

Papers, bills and flyers.

Invoices.

Purchase orders.

Closeout sale advertisements.

Final Notice.

She took a closer look at that one. She scanned over the text until she reached the bottom of the page. It looked like the store owner was about to lose his lease. Her heart thudded in her chest when she saw what she was looking for. There in scrawling ink across the bottom, the signature of Gordon Lowery Senior. She looked around for the envelope that it was mailed in and found it in the waste bin beside the desk. Some business address in Minnesota. Not his home but probably pretty close to it. She’d never traveled that far north in her search for Gordon, but it made sense. With their ATV’s and a couple of spare gas cans, they could easily roam a hundred miles in any direction they chose. For the first time in a long time, she missed her cell phone. She couldn’t google him up and dig through his life. How did people do it in the old days when all you could do with a telephone was talk?

She opened a drawer and dug through the desk. She found a rubber band bound stack of business cards and flipped through them, tossed each on the floor as she read it.

Near the back of the stack, she found the one she was looking for. Gordon Lowery Senior. CEO. Lowery Investments and Realty. Smith Falls, MN. Her cold smile was downright icy. Now she had a town. Now he was within reach. She pulled out the drawer, dumped the contents on the desk and threw it aside. She was so close; this was the first evidence she’d found of Gordon’s life before the apocalypse. She tossed sales flyers, pocket change, books of stamps and more business cards aside as she rooted around. Nothing else with a Lowery name on it. She swept the desk clean with her arm and opened the next drawer. Inside there was a thick yellow book. She’d never even seen a phone book, if you needed to call somebody, you just googled their number, got it off the internet. She dropped it aside but the search revealed nothing else of any use. Frustrated, she sat back in the chair and sighed. She was so close she could taste it. If he was in Smith Falls, it would be easy to find him. How many gated communities were there in a small town? Her eyes fell on the phone book again. Her grandparents had books like this in the junk drawer of their kitchen. She picked it up and flipped it open. Rows and rows of tiny print. Last name first, address, phone number. She flipped excitedly to the L’s. She almost yelled when she found it. Lowery, Gordon Sr., underneath it Lowery, Richard Sr. They were neighbors. Bingo. It showed his street and house number. She finally had that rat bastard. She committed it to memory then tore the page from the book and folded it into her pocket.

She grabbed her bow, the overstuffed backpack and checked through the windows for any undead. Satisfied, she opened the door for Zero and the cubs and slipped out behind him. A large black cloud of smoke was curling up in the far distance and her hand fell away from the door. It was miles away and coming from the exact direction of home. From the sanctuary.

26

Gordon

Gordon and his gang had crept into Putnam under the cover of darkness and found the remnants of the Anubis cult at his father’s warehouse. There were only scattered bones and shreds of cloth, they’d been eaten by something, but the empty shell casings told how they died. A battle had been fought there and the Anubis people had gotten the worst of it. Gordon kicked a busted and gnawed skull as he cursed silently. He didn’t see any big animal bones or small skulls, anything that looked like it might belong to the brats and their beasts. He heard his father whispering in his brain. Those kids did this. They ruin everything you work for, yet you continue to hide from them. You aren’t worthy of the Lowery name.

“Shut up!” Gordon said. “Just shut up! I’m trying to think.”

His crew looked at him and each other. None of them had said a word. He glared at them, dared, even wanted one of them to say anything. He lightly touched the butt of the Smith & Wesson. They wouldn’t meet his eyes and looked away. The brats had guns and knew how to use them. This changed things. This made them even more dangerous. They might even come looking for him now. He chewed his lower lip and ignored the rantings of his old man. What did he know?

“Follow me.” He grunted. “And keep it quiet.”

They climbed on their ATV’s, kept the lights off and circled miles out of the way to come in a back road to the rear of the zoo. He was being careful, he didn’t want any of the animals to hear the engines and let them know company was coming. They had ruined his plans and probably got him put on a hit list with the Anubis Society. He wasn’t playing nice this time. He’d show them and his old man a thing or two. He’d show them what happened if they messed with a Lowery.

They snipped the chain link fence and stayed to the deepest shadows as they made their way towards the house. They were dressed in their riding pads with camo clothing over the armor and their faces were streaked in hunters paint. Gordon kept expecting to spook the herds of gazelles but the overgrown fields were empty, nothing moved in them. The only sound was the breeze rustling though the trees and as much as he hated the animals it was strange not seeing any of them. Maybe they’d escaped or the brats ate them last winter. Either way, it was good for him, no dumb animals to send bounding away, maybe alerting them.

They took cover on the back side of a slight rise. Far enough away they wouldn’t be scented but close enough to spy on the house. Gordon peered through the riflescope while his men settled in and tried to get comfortable. They had barely gotten situated before dawn and some of them had already nodded off to sleep. He didn’t really have a plan, everything had changed when he saw the dead soldiers and all the spent brass. He couldn’t get close if the kids had machine guns. Maybe he’d wait until they went out to feed the animals, then he’d snipe a few of them. He wasn’t sure how well the hunting rifles would take out the bears but everyone had one and if you shot it enough times you could kill anything. He was in a good position for some long distance shooting. He could pick them off one by one. He could see if they left the house to flank them and they had the cover of the hill to get away whenever they wanted.

As the sun came up, he saw the damage to the house and the garden. Some kind of battle had happened here, too. He couldn’t imagine what had destroyed the place, broken all the windows and tore down the greenhouse. He was eager to count heads when they woke up, maybe most of them were already dead. Maybe the Society had already taken care of them. He waited and was surprised when nobody came out to feed the stinking barn animals and when he didn’t hear the stupid rooster start crowing he swung the scope over to the barn. The gate was wide open. All of the animals were gone. All of their food. Harper and Vanessa came out of the house a few minutes later and he tracked them as they went to their pens and saddled their companions. Harper was still alive, that was good. He had plans for her. He had a cold smile on his face as he stroked the trigger, the cross hairs on the big, stupid giraffes head.

An engine fired up and he moved the scope over to the sound. He was surprised again when the whole tribe and all of the hated animals followed a tractor out of the front gate. None of them had guns, either. They still carried their spears and axes. He frowned and moved his sights over to Murray. Of course, the cripple didn’t go, he was on the porch with the three little ones, whatever their names were. Everyone else was gone and he’d bet money they were going to his warehouse to steal his food. That was okay. That gave him plenty of time to take care of things here. Those brats had suffered some losses, that was obvious, but they were about to suffer some more. He rolled ideas around in his head as he watched. They never should have messed with a Lowery. They never should have killed his people. He hadn’t liked any of them and couldn’t remember their names but that wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the thing. He was going to hurt them and disappear. In a few months after they started rebuilding, he’d come back and do it again. Break their spirits and demoralize them. Death by a thousand cuts. It was much better to see your enemy suffer than kill him instantly.

That was a lesson he’d learned when he was eight or ten. It was so much more satisfying to keep the neighbor’s dogs and cats alive for days than it was to simply smash their heads with rock or poison them. He took immense pleasure helping distraught owners search for the missing pet when he knew the truth. He knew exactly where Fluffy or Fido were caged, hungry and afraid. He would have to control himself, pretend concern and help them hang up flyers for the poor lost thing. He’d look in their worried faces and control the hysterical giggles that wanted to bubble up. It was so, so satisfying. It felt so much better to keep the stupid animals alive for days. To experiment with various ways to cause pain. To burn it or dump battery acid on its face or break a few more bones with the hammer.

He was breathing hard just thinking about it and snapped his mind back to the present. To know-it-all Murray who had let them kick him out. He could have died out in the wild and they didn’t care. He’d never had a chance to experiment on a human. Murray would have the honor of being the first.

He’d been angry when he’d ordered the boys to join him for a visit to the warehouse to find out what happened.

He’d been afraid when he saw the remains of the soldiers and all the empty bullet casings.

He’d been worried when they snuck into the zoo to try to figure out what had happened.

Now he was happy. He would get a little payback and all their guns. The idiots had left them behind. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their stupid faces when they came back with a wagon load of his food and faced down his men with their very own guns. The irony was delicious.

The cripple was alone in the house and they had the place to themselves all day. He hoped the guns were hidden away and weren’t out in the open. He hoped it would take a long time for Murray to tell him where they were. This was going to be a lot of fun. He sent two of his men to watch the gate and sound the alarm if the tribe came back unexpectedly. He sent Cowboy to the garage to get some paint thinner and warned him to keep out of sight until they had disarmed the cripple if he didn’t want to get shot. The rest of his gang followed him to the house. He didn’t know where the three little kids had gotten off to and didn’t really care. They were too young to be of any use to him and too small to be a threat.

Gordon stood with Bong and Jester at the edge of the porch and looked at all damage. The rest of the gang crouched low and stared in every direction, wary of danger. Now that they were closer, they could hear the little kids cleaning manure out of the barn and singing some silly song. Bong and Jester glanced around nervously at all the destruction. Something had really done a number on the place. The door had been repaired but somebody or something had smashed through it. Maybe the rhino had gone wild. The windows had plastic and scrap lumber over them, the porch railing was broken and there were stains everywhere. They’d been scrubbed but it was obvious it had been blood. Lots of it. They hadn’t forgotten the fight last winter either and they didn’t really want to be there. This was a bad idea, they should just leave the kids alone. The old house looked way scary, like it was a real haunted house. Halloween decorations from the year before still hung in some places and the boarded-up windows added to the creep factor.

Gordon saw a flash of motion in one of the windows. He looked up to see a tiny brown and white face staring at him. That stupid monkey, he thought. The capuchin disappeared and he heard the chittering as it sounded the alarm.

“Get in there!” He roared at Bong and Jester and the three bounded up the steps.

He held the big pistol in his hands, ready to blow the boy away if he opened fire.

Jester was the first through the door and stumbled over his own feet. His body hit the floor with a thud, hands grasping at his throat. He gurgled around a knife buried to the hilt. He pawed at it uselessly, tried to draw air and died drowning in his own blood.

Gordon leapt over Jester’s flailing body and shoved Bong ahead of him, used him as a shield. The monkeys were screaming and leaping around the room and one of them hurled something at him. He dodged it and shoved Bong into Murray who was trying to back away and throw another knife at the same time. The two collided in a tangle of limbs as the wheelchair tipped over and something hit him in the back. He spun and fired round after round at the fleeing monkeys, the booming of the gun loud inside the house.

27

Gordon and Murray

“You guys really let this place go downhill after I left.” Gordon looked around at the damage to the old house.

He casually thumbed more rounds into the revolver. He’s shot all six and had only hit one of the screeching little monkeys, they moved too fast.

“What happened here, anyway?” He asked. “And where are the guns?”

Murray said nothing and quietly twisted his wrists, tried to loosen the knots holding them to the arms of the wheelchair.

“Looks like something tried to make a snack out of you but spit you out.” Gordon said and clicked the cylinder closed with a flick of his wrist. Cool and casual like he’d seen in the movies. Like he’d practiced a thousand times.

Murray didn’t respond.

Gordon shot him.

The bullet went into his leg above the knee, ripped a furrow through meat and muscle then punched through the floor. Murray didn’t even flinch, his blood pooled in the seat then dripped out of the hole.

“Tough guy, huh?” Gordon said “Couldn’t feel that could you? How about this?”

He whipped the pistol across the boy’s face and more blood flew from a broken nose.

Murray let out a grunt of pain but refused to give Gordon the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

“Where’s the guns?” Gordon asked again and stared in fascination at the crimson pouring down Murray’s chin. It was so bright.

“I don’t like this, man. What if they come back? I thought this was gonna be a hit and git,” Bong said as he looked out a broken window for any sign of the wild kids or their vicious animals. “Maybe we should just go.”

He glanced down at Jester, he’d finally stopped thrashing around. He had no desire to tangle with them again, especially when he was in their house. Even the cripple kid was deadly.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear the shots from this far away.” Gordon answered. “Besides, they don’t have the guns with them. If you see them, start shooting. Don’t give them a chance, just waste ‘em.”

“And for the record, I’m in charge here.” He added. “You’d do well to remember that so shut your face and start looking for the guns. Bullets, too.”

“What are we gonna do with Jester?” he asked.

“Leave him.” Gordon screamed. “Now go do what I told you.”

They hurried out and the sounds of smashing dishes and overturning cabinets could be heard a few seconds later.

Gordon pulled out his monogramed handkerchief, dabbed at a speck of blood that had splashed on his face and kicked the lifeless body of one of the monkeys out of the way.

Seeing it hurt Murray more than the broken nose but at least the other three were safe. They fled when Gordon started shooting his hand cannon. The noise terrified the small simians and they had all ran upstairs. They were probably already outside and running for the barn. He hoped the triplets had hidden, too. There was nothing they could do, not against a dozen teenagers with guns.

He ignored the blood streaming from his nose. It hurt, but he wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of showing it. Nothing he could do about it anyway with his hands tied to the arms of his wheelchair. He sought comfort in Bob’s promise. If he was successful, this would never happen. He’d promised to fix it all.

Gordon roughed him up some more while his goons smashed anything that wasn’t already broken in the rest of the house. He slapped him and called him names. He could handle the beating and insults, he would heal. He’d let the coward have his fun, let him bust all their stuff. He could take it. The tribe would be hella pissed but there wasn’t much they could do except prepare better if it happened again. He tried to tamp down the rage he felt when Gordon murdered Sage. It ignited a fire inside of him like he’d never felt before. He shifted his gaze to his tormentor. Hatred flared in his eyes.

“She was innocent, Gordon. She was just scared, you had no reason to kill her.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, you killed Jester. He was a person, that’s just a dumb animal. You had your chance, but I was better. Maybe, I’ll hang her carcass from one of the palm trees by my pool.” Gordon laughed as he nudged Sage’s corpse with his foot. He stepped on her leg and applied pressure until he was rewarded with the popping sound of a breaking bone

Murray raged harder against the ropes. If he could just get to one of the hidden knives strapped under his chair, he’d lunge and bury it in Gordon’s eye. The rest of the gang would run if their leader was dead.

“You remember when you exposed me with the poison leaves and then voted to banish me? That was the worst day of my life. I thought for sure you and your friends would kill me, but none of you had the guts. Didn’t want my death on your conscience. You wanted the zombies to do your dirty work for you. Bunch of savages, all of you. Living like animals. Just look at this mess.” Gordon shook his head in disgust.

“You know, that day also turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me. Look at me now.” He flexed his muscular arms.

Gordon paused and his eyes darted around the room looking for the source of the scratching sound. It seemed to be louder than normal in the old house. Maybe this was where it had started and he could purge it from his head by exacting a little revenge. He was hearing it all the time lately. The slow clawing of fingers on wood. Maybe it needed a blood offering.

Murray watched Gordy as his eyes darted around the room and continued to work at his bonds. He had the first niggling doubts about his chances of survival. He was starting to get light headed. The hole in his leg was still bleeding. Not bad, not like an artery had been cut, but it was steady and Gordon wasn’t going to stop it. He hadn’t really meant to kill the other boy but what was he supposed to do when people came barging into his house. It was a snap reaction and he didn’t regret it. At least he took one of them out. He was pretty sure Gordon was going to kill him no matter what. He was crazy, he could see it in his eyes as they jumped around, looking for something that wasn’t there. Gordon snapped back from wherever he’d been and focused on the bloody ropes cutting into Murray’s wrists.

“You aren’t going anywhere. Give it up. Tell me where the guns are hidden, beg me for your miserable life and maybe I’ll let you and one of your little flea bags live.” Gordon pressed the barrel of the gun to his forehead.

Murray spat on one of the expensive hiking boots Gordon wore. Gordon backhanded him across the face with the pistol. Murray instantly felt his eye swelling shut and the shards of broken teeth grating against his cheeks. A wave of nausea swept through him, but he fought down the urge to vomit. He suppressed a moan. He wouldn’t give Gordon the satisfaction. He spat blood and a broken tooth onto Gordon’s other boot. Gordon hit him again and nearly knocked Murray unconscious.

“Now, where was I?” Gordon continued. “Oh, yeah. I was doing my bad guy monologue. You little bastards have ruined my plans for the last time. You messed up a deal I had to get out this wasteland. Tell me, how did a bunch of orphans and animal rejects beat that team of trained soldiers? Is there someone else out there I need to know about?”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You are the only other people we’ve seen since the outbreak.” Murray mumbled through his ruined mouth.

It clicked then. The cult hadn’t found the warehouse by accident, someone had told them where to look. Gordon had told them and thought the tribe had killed them. That’s why he was here, that’s why his goons were destroying the house looking for machine guns.

“Doesn’t matter now, I guess. Deals change all the time. Flexibility is the key.” Gordon said, channeling something his dad would have said.

“I wish I’d brought my cigar cutter. We’d have some fun with your fingers, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting this place to be deserted. I guess I’ll just have to make do with what I have.”

“We’ve looked everywhere, Boss.” Bong said as the rest of the gang trailed back into the living room. “They don’t have any guns.”

“Then go check the outbuildings.” Gordon snarled. “They have to be here somewhere!”

The men hurried out, they didn’t like the way their leader was waving around his pistol.

“Where’s the guns?” Gordon asked the wheelchair bound boy.

“I’ve told you, we don’t have any.”

Gordon shot him again, this time right through the bone of his left leg. Murray didn’t feel it but knew he was dead. Blood spurted out and if he didn’t get a tourniquet on it immediately, he’d bleed out in minutes.

“Oops.” Gordon said and grabbed the can of paint thinner. He poured some in the bullet hole and lit a match.

“This works in the movies.” He said then wrinkled his nose and stepped away.

“That stinks.” He complained and waved away the smell of burning flesh.

Murray struggled to get free, jerked at the ropes and nearly toppled the chair as his leg charred and burned.

“Hey, anybody want some barbeque?” Gordon laughed as Bong and Maggot hurried back through the door to see what happened.

They turned their heads in disgust. Gordon had told them they were getting their revenge, but burning a crippled boy was too much, even for them. The smell of burnt flesh nearly overwhelmed them; the stench was so raw. They backed out into the fresh air.

Murray cursed him, screamed his rage then bent low and started blowing on his burning legs, trying to put out the fire. The paint thinner burned itself out quickly but it had done its job, the blood was no longer spurting out, it was barely a trickle. He stared at the damage and knew his life was over. His leg had a gaping hole, the meat was burnt and blackened and he knew enough about burns to know they’d never stop the infection. It would be gangrenous within days. He wished he could feel it, use the pain to channel his rage and burst free from his bindings, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel anything below the waist and that made it worse. He wasn’t afraid of dying. He’d been at death’s door since the van put him in this chair. He was afraid of leaving his tribe. They were his purpose and reason for living.

Gordon clapped softly when Murray sat back, winded and pale. He felt a perverse pleasure in what he was doing. He even felt aroused by it.

“Your friends are next.” Gordon said then poured paint thinner over Murrays head. “And each one’s agony will be worse than the last.”

“You’ll never win, Gordon.” Murray croaked.

“I’ve already won. They just don’t know it yet.” Gordon chuckled. “Unfortunately, you won’t be around to see it.”

He splashed the rest of the flammable liquid onto the furniture and drapes and made a trail out to the porch. Gordon had a wide grin on his face as he breathed in the fresh air and looked at the shocked faces of his gang. They couldn’t believe he was really going to burn the crippled boy alive. Gordon was half crazy but this was taking it a step too far. There was going to be hell to pay when Kodiak found out what they’d done.

“Um, hey.” Bong said hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

In answer, Gordon tossed the lighter into the puddle of paint thinner leading out the door.

It ignited with a whoosh and Gordon fled the flames that rolled out of the house. It was an old, dry structure and made for a massive blaze. He watched eagerly as smoke rolled from the building and the flames grew higher.

“Wait,” he said sharply. “I want to hear him scream one last time.”

The others were already running for the back fence and their four wheelers. They wanted to be long gone before the kids came back. They hadn’t found any guns, they were hidden somewhere and they knew the kids were good. They had wiped out a whole bunch of soldiers.

He listened for Murray’s screams of agony, but they were drowned out by the sounds of the roaring fire. The smoke would be seen for miles and the others were right. It would be best to get gone and get hidden back up north.

28

The Triplets

Landon, Caleb and Clara scampered down the ladder from the hay loft. They’d hidden when the boys ransacked the barn, held tightly to their foxes away and buried themselves in the hayloft. They didn’t know what else to do.

We run. The tribe had told them a million times. We always run from danger.

They’d held their breath and not moved a muscle when the gunshots erupted from the house. They were afraid. They’d seen what Gordon would do if he caught them. They’d seen him beat up Kodiak. He was a real life boogeyman.

Ashamed at hiding, Landon and Caleb wanted to rush the house when they heard the gunshots, but they were petrified in their hiding place. They wanted to get to their weapons and try to stop whatever was happening, but they couldn’t. Clara begged them not to. She held their hands tightly in hers. They all cringed when they heard Murray scream. Anger rose in their little hearts, but fear rooted their feet.

Minutes passed without any sound. They crept from their hiding places to the window and looked at the house. They saw the smoke pouring from the windows then watched Gordon and the mean boys run for the safety of the woods.

“Murray!” Clara squeaked. The three flew down the ladder and raced towards the blazing house.

Without a second thought, Landon raced up the back steps that were already beginning to smoke and grabbed the brass doorknob. His flesh hissed as the hot metal burned into him. He let go with a howl of agony. Tears streaming down his face, he ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around the knob and tried again. Caleb joined him and they pushed the door open. A wall of heat and pressure washed over them. The fire sucked hungrily at the fresh air and roared towards them. The heat singed their hair and eyebrows and they saw nothing but an orange and red wall of flames racing at them. It pulled the air out of their lungs. Coughing and heaving for breath they ran away from the doorway. Clara batted at the flames struggling to catch hold of their clothes. She pushed them down to the ground, yelled for them to roll like they taught them when the firemen came to their school.

The three children watched in terror as their home burned and blazed. They didn’t try to get buckets of water; it would have been useless. They yelled for Murray, yelled until they were hoarse and the intense heat forced them backward. The fire was so strong it was making its own wind and the house sounded it like it was roaring its pain to the sky. Flames flickered from every window as the heat and pressure blew out the glass upstairs. The wood siding caught fire, its paint curling in wisps that turned to embers and ash. They stood, held hands and watched. Tears streaked down their soot covered faces and when their foxes returned they held them close and cried. The roof groaned, sagged in the middle and collapsed in on itself. Within minutes the walls fell too. The fireplace and the stove were the only things recognizable after a time and when the chimney crumbled, the floor caved in and the stove disappeared into the basement. The fire had burned hot and fast. Without mercy, it destroyed everything they had.

Through it all they watched. Landon held his burnt hand to his chest. He’d never felt so much pain in his young life. He gritted his teeth. It was nothing like Murray must have endured and he hoped in his little heart that Murray was already dead before the fire started.

They heard chittering as the roar of the fire died away. Elmo, Ernie and China raced down from the tree they’d sheltered in and scampered towards them seeking the comfort of the children. Sage was nowhere to be seen. The capuchins were unusually still as each perched on the shoulders of one of them. They seemed sullen, withdrawn. Their spirits were broken. They knew things were different. The boy they loved so much and their litter mate were gone. Their brown eyes reflected the light of the dying fire as the strange grouping of creatures watched everything they’d known curl up in ashes.

29

Ruins

Donny looked around for Yewan but she was already at the head of the alley, staring northward with her tail twitching. He jogged out of the parking lot, his mind still jumbled with happy thoughts of the long afternoon. It had been fun playing tag with the others among the towering stacks of pallets. He wasn’t sure what Analise’s deal was though. She’d shot him at every opportunity, even when the others were easier prey. He shook his head. Had he done something to make her angry? Was she paying him back for some wrong he’d done? He shook off the thought. He would ask Murray later. Murray knew practically everything.

He was pleased and stuffed with candy. He’d never seen so much food at one time. Didn’t even know that one place could hold so much. The tribe would easily survive the next winter and if they could get a second crop in, it would be even better. He missed that roasted corn.

It was later than he thought as he glanced at the position of the sun when he reached the end of the alley. Their nerf war had eaten up a lot of time. He placed a hand on his panther and felt her tense muscles. She was on high alert. He scanned the streets slowly, looked for any signs of the undead or packs of animals then turned his gaze homeward. He saw the smoke in the distance, rising over the treetops. A lot of it. Dread washed over him. He raced back to the parking lot, slammed his spear then signed furiously at the tribe who were still goofing around.

Smoke.

Fire.

Home.

The fun from earlier was instantly forgotten. Their deepest fears bubbled to the surface as they watched the black smoke rolling skyward. They were almost four miles away, but the column of smoke looked as wide as a football field.

“Go, don’t wait on us!” Kodiak told the girls riding the fastest animals. “It will attract any zombies in the area, too, so be careful!”

Harper pulled Bert over to an abandoned car so she could swing into the saddle and wheeled the tall animal around to chase after Ziggy and Vanessa. They were already out of sight, the slim dark girl crouched low on her ostrich who was running thirty miles an hour.

Donny and Yewan sped off in a dead run for the zoo as Kodiak shut off the tractor and swung aboard Otis. The bears weren’t as fast as the others but they would run tirelessly mile after mile after mile.

The short trip back to Piedmont seemed to take forever. Vanessa and Ziggy were the first there and had to clear the gate of the undead that were already stumbling towards the smoke. It could be seen for miles in all directions.

“Go!” Vanessa said “I’ll take care of this.”

She drove Ziggy into the midst of them, shouting Zulu curses and slashing at heads. Her machetes drank the blood of the undead and she led them away so Harper could get inside.

She slid off Bert, hit the ground running and screamed for Murray and the children as she neared the remains of the burning house.

She heard a cry and spun towards the barn. Caleb, Landon and Clara ran across the yard straight to her. Landon was hurt and they were all crying.

“Thank God.” Harper said as she moved towards them and wrapped the three children in a hug.

Vanessa finished her grisly work and joined her a few minutes later.

Swan was the next in the gate, sweat poured from her and she breathed in great, gasping lungful’s of air. She had sprinted the whole four miles and her pack panted heavily with her. Donny joined her a few minutes later, sucking in air just as hard.

“What happened? Where’s Murray?” Swan asked when she could speak.

Harper gave her head a curt shake and went back to soothing the children and dressing Landon’s hand. The story had only taken a few seconds to spill out and they didn’t need to tell it again. Gordon’s gang had come, they had hid, they heard gunshots and Murray screaming then the house was on fire.

Donny refused to believe it and ran to check the back yard and the outbuildings. Maybe Murray had managed to get out, to crawl away in the confusion. Swan and Vanessa joined the search but it was fruitless. Nothing could have survived the blaze.

They watched as the last wall tumbled over and fell in the dying flames. They burned brighter with the fresh fuel but by the time the rest of the tribe arrived, there was only glowing embers and the occasional dancing flame.

“We tried to get him out. We tried so hard.” Landon held up his burnt hand. “It was too hot. We couldn’t get in.”

“You did good.” Harper told them. “You did the right thing. Those bad boys would have hurt you too if they found you.”

All three of them had their eyebrows burnt off, their hair singed and their faces were red. The tribe was lucky they hadn’t lost four of their members.

Kodiak watched the glowing remains of their home and felt despair wash over him. Murray was dead, burned alive by that monster Gordon. The same Gordon he’d tried to help all those times before. The air rushed out of his body and he thought he was going to fall. Gordon hated them, he knew this, but to burn Murray alive? What kind of sick person did that? It was one thing to stand face to face and battle your enemy, it was another to torture and burn a helpless boy. Why did he keep coming after them? Why couldn’t he leave them alone? A wave of guilt hit him hard. He hadn’t been here to protect him, he’d been playing with a Nerf gun stealing kisses from Harper.

He knew he should say something but he couldn’t think of anything, he couldn’t put a sentence together and he wasn’t sure he’d ever know what to say.

They stared into the glowing embers as darkness fell, each lost in their own thoughts, their only comfort was each other. Sometime much later Harper urged them away from the ruins of their home and into the barn. They curled up in the hay and slept fitful sleep with dark dreams and silent tears.

Swan paced back and forth in front of the still smoking remains. Her sadness had been replaced with simmering rage. Gordon had come once again into their home to kill and destroy. Every time he was near, someone or something died. She’d known he was evil the first time she’d stared into his beady little eyes. She should have killed him when he was on his knees in his piss-soaked pants after the battle at the church. He was heartless and cruel and the world would be better off without him in it. She would make sure of that but first things first. Murray deserved a better resting place.

One by one the rest of the tribe joined her as they moved aside burnt boards, melted shingles and chunks of plaster. Most of the floor had caved in and filled the basement with rubble. The part that remained was dangerously weak, nails and broken bricks snagged their clothes and ashes swirled around them as they picked their way through the rubble.

Hour after hour they worked their way downward, cooling the ruins with buckets of water as they advanced. Barely a word was spoken and they were covered in wet ash and soot. Harper found the charred husk of Gordons’ man, the blade still lodged in the bone of his neck. They wrapped the remains in a blanket and unceremoniously dumped the body into the river. No one mourned or had fond memories to share. They didn’t know or care what his name had been.

“Rot in hell.” Swan said “I hope you died slow.”

It was the only words spoken at his funeral.

It was hard, dirty, dangerous work sorting through the rubble and the remains of the chimney were tilted at a precarious angle. A strong breeze might topple it. Tobias and Analise rooted through the ruins of the garden and found enough potatoes and carrots to make a stew. They had the meat in the smokehouse but nothing to season it with. Lunch was bland but everyone ate even though they didn’t have an appetite.

“Here.” Kodiak said a little while later and the crews working in different parts of the wreckage made their way over.

The bent wheel of Murray’s chair was exposed when he moved a chunk of plaster out of the way. The rubber tires and vinyl seat had melted away but the metal frame had shielded the boy from most of the debris. It had kept him from being crushed beyond recognition.

Murray lay curled in a fetal position, half buried in a pile of ash on the basement floor. Smoke and steam still rose from the embers around him. His skin was charred and blackened, brittle to the touch and he looked like a thousand-year-old mummy that had been unwrapped. He was so small laying there they could almost pretend that it wasn’t him. He held another tiny burned body in his arms. Sage. She was cradled tight to his chest.

The tribe stood silent. There were no words for this. No way to express the horror at what was left of their brother. They wrapped Murray’s remains in another gift shop blanket, taking care not to damage the fragile shell. They laid his curled body on a workbench but were afraid to try to straighten him. Afraid he might break in half. They gathered around and held hands but no one knew what to say. They’d thought they were safe behind their iron gates and tall fences. They’d learned how to deal with the undead, they had survived the attack of the savage ones and they had found a warehouse full of food. Murray said there were walled cities and the country was rebuilding. It had been so long since Gordon had bothered them that they thought he was gone for good. That he’d never be back. The future had looked so bright just a day ago. Life was as good as they could hope for. They realized just how wrong they had been.

Tobias wiped the tears from his face and grabbed a shovel hanging on the wall. Without a word he left the barn.

“Go help him.” Vanessa said softly “We’ll prepare him for his journey.”

Donny and Kodiak fell out of the circle, grabbed shovels and left with their heads down.

30

Farewell Old Friend

As they dug by the riverbank, Landon and Caleb hauled river stones to the site to cover the grave. Clara searched for flowers and filled a basket with them.

The girls had done all they could for Murray. They carefully cleaned the debris from his blackened body and wrapped him in an animal print blanket. They’d tied it with cord and wove fresh flowers into the knots. Sage still lay in his arms. They would be together forever.

Each of the tribe cleaned themselves up as best they could, but they were soot stained and smelled like smoke. They had nothing else to wear. It had all burned up with the house. It had been a long, depressing day and the sun was starting to drop over the horizon when the procession made its way to the gravesite. They carried his body on a plank and it weighed almost nothing. The three remaining capuchins were uncommonly still and quiet. They had lost Sage and their boy companion and clung to the triplets for comfort.

The ceremony was simple. They wore their armor, had their weapons and gave him a warriors’ funeral. They lowered him in the ground and said their goodbyes. Some with tears, some dry-eyed with anger bubbling just below the surface. They stacked a cairn of stones and lingered by the river, the mood somber, and their voices low.

“I know where he lives.” Swan said as she tossed pebbles into the water. “I found his address yesterday. A place called Smith’s Landing up in Minnesota.”

“Let’s get him.” Tobias said, fire in his voice. “Let’s end the bastard.”

“Hold on.” Kodiak said “We can’t go off halfcocked. We need to make a plan. We need to be careful.”

“We need to go kill him.” Swan said coldly. “It’s the only way.”

“Can we just go to the place Murray told us about?” Clara asked. “To the city where no one will try to hurt us anymore?”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that.” Kodiak said. “There’s nothing left for us here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until justice is served.” Swan said and stalked off.

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t pay him back!” Kodiak yelled at her retreating back. “But we need a plan or more of us will get hurt or killed.”

“Your plans always seem to include letting him go.” Swan shot back then she was gone.

Kodiak whirled to go after her, hurt and angry at her jibe.

“Let her go.” Harper said and grabbed his arm. “She just needs to cool off.”

The tribe scuffed the ground with their shoes or looked at anything but him. It wasn’t right to be fighting in a graveyard. Kodiak sighed and hung his own head. She was right. He’d been the one to let Gordon live, not once but twice. It was his fault Murray was dead and their house was gone.

Swan was incensed, raging with anger as she stormed back to the barn, her wolves padding along beside her. Halfway back she realized there was nothing there for her. She was carrying everything she owned. Her bow, her tomahawks, her armor and her dirty clothes. She turned towards the back gate and was running with her pack through the forest outside the fences before anyone realized she was gone.

She didn’t need a plan, didn’t need weeks of preparation. All she had to do was figure out which house was his and wait for him to step outside. An arrow would find its way into his face and bye bye Gordy. No more waiting. She’d end this herself then she’d go after the hyena. The laughing hunchback had a little payback coming too. After that, she might take her pack and leave for good, the others could go to Lakota. She couldn’t stand the idea of burying another one of them and if they stayed together it was inevitable. If you didn’t want to worry about someone, you left them behind. She was better on her own.

31

Tribe

The twins made one last breakfast over an open fire as the tribe double-checked their gear. They’d dug up more carrots and found a few ears of corn. The rabbit stew was still bland but it was filling. Once they were on the road, it might be a long time before their next hot meal.

Swan was gone. They had waited for her to cool down, blow off some steam and rejoin them but she hadn’t come back last night. When she didn’t show up for breakfast, they knew where she was headed. A map from the gift shop showed the little hamlet of Smiths Landing some thirty miles to the north. They could make it in a few days if they were careful and didn’t meet any huge hordes. They could make in a day if they ran.

Plans were discussed, ideas floated and rejected. Murray had always been the one to stay behind with the triplets. Kodiak wouldn’t leave them by themselves, they could be gone for weeks. The world outside the fences was dangerous, what if something happened and none of them made it back? It was possible. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind to care for them and in the end it was decided to take everyone.

“Where we go one, we go all.” Tobias said and Donny thumped his spear in agreement.

Kodiak didn’t like the idea of rushing into the unknown without a plan but he liked the idea of losing Swan even less. If he knew her, she’d figure out a weakness then attack the whole gated community single handedly. She had a twelve-hour head start on them, they had to hurry, try to catch her while she was still scouting.

The animals were saddled up and loaded with smoked meat and weapons, they knew what was ahead of them and everyone had painted their faces for battle. There was nothing to delay them and every minute counted. The county road meandered along the river, it twisted and turned for miles. Swan wouldn’t have followed it and neither would they, the most direct path cut through forests and fields. Kodiak gave Donny a nod and he set off at a jog, Yewan loping beside him. He would be able to move much faster through the woods without the tribe slowing him down. Swan was unpredictable and knew trails and shortcuts that no one else did. She might know of swampy areas to bypass or a pasture filled with the undead to avoid. The north was her hunting grounds but Yewan would be able to track her, follow the right trail. Donny would leave obvious markers for them to follow. A machete slash on a tree or trimmed branches pointing the way onward. Maybe he could catch her and slow her down until the rest of the tribe could catch up. If she was thinking clearly, she would realize they needed to scope out Gordon’s defenses, find the weak point then attack with their full strength.

They mounted their animals and Kodiak led them out of the back gate. They were going to end this once and for all. One way or another, in a few days, a week at the most, one band would be dead and the other celebrating the victory. What Gordon and his gang had done was unforgivable and he couldn’t be allowed to do it again. Madmen like him didn’t stop, they only got worse. There would be no mercy this time. They die or the tribe dies, but it ends either way.

32

Captured

Swan kept a steady pace as she ran down an old forestry service access road. It was a little out of the way but it bypassed the sprawling briar patch that stretched for acres. There was enough moonlight filtering through the trees so she could maintain her speed without fear of twisting an ankle. She’d wandered this road many times in her explorations, it narrowed and became a rutted four-wheeler trail once it crossed the Minnesota border. Rage and sadness vied to be the dominant emotion in her heart as she jogged. She pushed on, one foot in front of the other, and ate up the miles. The air was fresh and cool, she was in the best physical condition she’d ever been in and she could run for hours without tiring. There was a clean pond up ahead, she needed to refill her water bladder and let her pack drink.

She traveled light, just weapons and water. Food could be found, she knew which plants were good to eat. Meat was easy to get if she had time to cook it. Any abandoned house would have something inside, even if it was something she didn’t like. She wasn’t worried about going hungry but sometimes clean water was hard to find. The rivers and streams would make you sick, there were too many dead and undead in them.

They drank their fill and rested for a time. She snapped off a few cattail shoots and ate the hearts. It was a lot like asparagus, not her favorite food but it didn’t matter. It was nutrition. She prowled around the shoreline until she found a nest. She tested one of the eggs, made sure there wasn’t a baby duck inside then sucked down the yolks when there wasn’t. Her wolves would be fine, they could go weeks without eating.

Rested and refreshed, they raced silently onward, the miles falling away and the moon casting long shadows in the dirt. When the trail veered off to the west, they went over a fence and kept running north through overgrown cornfields. They came to a farmhouse facing a narrow one lane road. She’d been here many times, there was an upright piano in the family room and she practiced on it sometimes. She gave the wolves a minute to lap water from a cow trough and strained her ears to listen. Sound carried a long way without the noise pollution of the old world. She didn’t hear anything except the frogs croaking and the crickets chirping. She sat on a stump to rest her legs, checked the map by the moonlight to get her bearings and found the county road she wanted. She’d never been any farther North, didn’t know the lay of the land. She could follow the road for a few miles before it crossed a bigger road, one that lead on a pretty straight path up to Smiths Landing. Dawn was lightening the horizon but she was getting close, they had run about fifteen miles through the night. Not bad, she told herself. Not bad. That was more than a half marathon and she’d been fully armored, carrying weapons and wearing boots. She took a drink of water and calculated the time if she could keep up the pace. She should have that dirtbag in her crosshairs by early afternoon.

Skull peeked nervously around the curtains again and his eyes darted up and down the road, looking for their ride home or worse, another horde of the undead. They’d stayed hidden and still the first night when one came stumbling by an hour after the four wheelers had left them. He was in the living room of a single wide trailer where they’d spent the last day and a half. Those jerks should have been back by now, he’d bet money that Gordon was the reason for the delay. He was pissed off at him for crashing the Polaris. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t seen the pot hole. It jerked the steering wheel out of his hands and they wound up in the ditch. That wasn’t so bad. Ripping the tire off when he hit the driveway culvert was, though. He was the chauffer of the four seater model but how was he supposed to see it? They were running without lights. Gordon had flipped out and told Skull he could wait there until he could send someone back to get him.

“You, too,” he yelled at Blind Mike who had been in the back seat, “You should have been watching better!”

They could have doubled up with the others but nobody wanted to share. It was too far of a drive to be cramped up. Gordon took over one of the other quads and left them behind.

Somebody will come back to get you. He’d said. That had been yesterday. Maybe he wasn’t going to send anyone, maybe this was one of those cruel lessons and they would have to walk back. It was daylight again, the second long night was over. Mike and Skull were hungry and hungover from bottles of Old Crow they’d found in the cupboard. Whoever had lived here bought his rotgut by the case. The grill on the deck still had propane in the tank so they dumped cans of soup and a box of macaroni and cheese in a sauce pan then set it over the flames. Something in their bellies might make the pounding headache go away. Or it might make them throw up. That would probably be for the best.

Neither saw the shadow that flickered through the trees or heard the soft footfalls of padded feet. Blind Mike had broken his glasses months ago and squinted at everything and Skull’s headache was worse than ever.

“Somebody should have been back by now.” Mike said for the hundredth time. “I think we’re gonna have to walk.”

“It’s too far.” Skull complained, “It’s at least five miles, nobody can walk that far.”

Swan and the wolves held their position in the trees. She watched and listened. There were only two of them visible, but more could be inside. She’d found the broken Polaris abandoned on the highway and had barely avoided being spotted by the boys in the trailer. She was disappointed Gordon wasn’t one of them, but not surprised.

She watched for another ten minutes but when they split the soup between them, it was obvious they were the only two. They both had rifles leaning against the tin of the trailer so she would have to be patient. Maybe follow until they were tired and sink arrows into their backs when they weren’t paying attention.

“I’m gonna be sick,” she heard one of them say as he rushed into the house.

“Gross, man,” the other one yelled, “Now the place is gonna stink like barf! Why didn’t you puke outside?”

He cursed and stepped off the deck, flapping his hand in front of his face to wave away the smell. Swan kept a calming hand on her wolves and shushed the quiet growls in their throats. She doubted the boys could hear them; they were making all kinds of noise. They were acting as if they’d never been out in the wild before. They didn’t know the rules of survival. Mike slung his rifle and walked to the wooden shed at the end of the driveway. Maybe he’d get lucky and find an old pair of glasses in it. She knocked an arrow and tracked him. When he kicked the door open and started rummaging around inside, she slipped from the trees and moved swiftly through the overgrown field. When he stepped back into the sunlight his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. The wolf girl was grinning at him through a soot blackened face. She had a tomahawk in each hand and her pack was crouched, ready to spring. He was too shocked to move.

“Capture.” She whispered.

The wolves sprang on the boy so quickly, he didn’t have time to scream before he was driven to the ground and had his throat in the vise like jaws of Zero. River and Meadow each had an arm and Valley had one of his legs in their jaws.

“Don’t fight them.” The wolf girl said, close to his ear. “They won’t kill you unless I tell them to.”

Mike felt the sharp teeth punch through his skin but they stopped, they didn’t rip and tear and shred him to bits. Blood trickled down his neck and the breath he was going to use to scream came out in a whimper. He could feel his whole body vibrating, coming from the deep rumble of their low growls. He felt the hot breath of the wolf on his face, felt the teeth sink in a little deeper when he tried to move.

“Shhhh.” Swan said. “Be still. You’re making them nervous.”

Mike squeaked and tried to be very, very still.

“I have questions for you.” She said. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

“Hold.” She told her pack and repositioned the grip on her tomahawks.

She eased over to the corner of the trailer, looked back at her pack and issued the command again.

“Hold.” She told Zero, sternly this time.

She didn’t want him getting excited and killing the guy because she wanted a few words with him first. She only needed to talk to one, her steel would talk to the other guy.

Swan sprinted around to the front door, shouldered it open and ran for the bathroom where she could hear the other boy retching. She kicked it open and nearly gagged. He was sitting on the toilet and throwing up into the bathtub. Last night’s whiskey and the macaroni soup breakfast was coming out of both ends. She nearly threw up herself and at the very last possible second, just as she was swinging the spikes to bury them in the back of his head, she turned the hilt and slammed him with the flat sides. He collapsed in a boneless heap and fell off the toilet, still spewing foul smelling liquids. Swan gagged and backed out of the room, her stomach heaved and she covered her mouth. Something creaked behind her and she spun just in time to see the stock of a rifle smash into her face.

Shaggy stood shakily over her, his whole world reeling. He’d been laying on the couch with a blinding hangover, too sick to join the other two on the deck. When she smashed through the door he wanted to yell at her to stop making so much noise but realized who she was before he opened his mouth. He stood over her and tried to get the hallway to stop tilting when he heard a four-wheeler pull up in the drive.

“I got one of them!” He said in a yell that hurt. “I got one of the brats! Help me with her. The others must be close!”

Cowboy hopped out of the side by side, hurried inside and they drug her out, looking over their shoulders the whole time. They’d been at the massacre last winter, they knew the kids could be hiding in the woods. The psycho kids riding the polar bears could be anywhere.

“Where’s the others?” He asked as they tossed her in the back of the four-seater.

“She killed Skull.” Shaggy yelled as he climbed in. “I don’t know where Mike is. Probably killed him, too. Let’s go, man. We’ve gotta go!”

Zero had been waiting for a command. He heard the machine pull up, he heard voices of the enemy but he didn’t hear his wolf mother. He growled and listened and waited. Drool ran over his lips and dripped on to the boy clamped in his jaws. She’d never made them hold this long before and he quivered in anticipation.

“Mike!” Cowboy shouted, half in the quad, hesitant to leave anyone behind. “Come on man, the kids are here!”

Mike shook in terror and said nothing. Maybe the wolves would let him go, maybe they would go see what happened to the savage girl.

Swan moaned from the backseat and tried to sit up.

“Zero?” she called, her voice thick and uncertain.

The wolf ripped the boys’ throat out and spun away as he gurgled and gasped for air. The cubs released and joined him as he ran towards their mistress.

Cowboy yelped when he saw them come around the end of the trailer, blood on their muzzles and snarls in their throats. He dove in and floored the buggy. Swan was thrown to the floor as the boy bounced through the ditch and hit the road in a squall of tires. Four growling wolves were right on their tail.

Swan pulled herself up and tried to roll out but Shaggy hit her over and over, cursing and screaming with every punch. She tried to fend him off but she could barely see, both eyes were swelling shut and her nose was smashed flat. He grabbed a handful of her hair and slammed her head against the roll bar until she stopped moving then he heaved his guts out over the half door. Whiskey and fear poured out of him, splashed down the side of the rig and left a trail on the road. Cowboy kept the gas pedal buried all the way back to Smiths Landing.

Zero whined in confusion. Her scent was gone. She’d been carried away by a loud animal with the dirty smoke smell. It was too fast for him to catch and its spore disappeared on the breeze. He couldn’t follow it. The cubs sniffed at the foul smell in the road left by one of the men but that was all there was. Her smell simply stopped.

33

Gordon

Gordon felt a thrill unlike any other he’d ever felt. Swan lay on the floor in front of him, trussed up and unconscious. Matted blood caked her hair and streaked her face. They had done a number on her, both eyes were purple and swollen and her nose had a definite lean to it. He propped his feet on her still form and leaned back in his chair. The voice that sounded like his father congratulated him, then berated him for only taking two from the tribe.

“Shut up, old man,” he muttered under his breath. He sipped from a crystal highball glass filled with two fingers of seventeen-year-old Scotch while he smoked a cigar. The Scotch didn’t do anything to silence the old man but at least the alcohol numbed the scratching sounds that plagued him. He nudged the immobilized girl with his foot. She didn’t move. This was where she truly belonged, at his feet. He vowed to break her mentally and physically before he put her out of his misery. She was too dangerous to leave alive. He smiled at the thought of her head mounted beside his other pretties on the fence or maybe wandering around in the pool.

It was a little early in the day to start boozing it up but the capture of Swan called for a celebration.

“Gentlemen, the bar is open, and the ladies are hot and ready for you. Good work, boys. We struck a lethal blow against our enemies and now, we’ll pick them off at our leisure. Two down, nine to go. Trish, get over here and top this off.” He held up his glass. “Misty, you and Sasha get this trash off of my rug and clean her up. She smells like a wet dog. Nobody touches her until I say so. She’s our guest of honor and I want her wide awake for what she’s got coming.”

Cheers went up from the boys as they made their way to the bar and the three women moved quickly to carry out Gordon’s orders. They kept their heads lowered, their eyes averted and hoped the gang would pass out before they got drunk and mean. The boys were downing shots as fast as they could, Gordon didn’t let them drink very often.

Misty and Sasha struggled with Swan’s limp form and tried not to hurt her any more than she already was. The poor girl had just entered the bowels of hell.

34

Pursuit

The endless miles were wearing on Donny, but he kept his pace, he didn’t stop and he didn’t slow. He’d been running for hours without rest. He had to catch her, not to stop her but slow her down so they could finish this the way they started. Together. The tribe against the world. He could feel the blisters starting to form on his heels and took a moment to tighten his boots and share a piece of smoked meat with his panther. She knew they were hunting Swan, she sensed the sadness and urgency. When Donny couldn’t track her on the roads, Yewan could. He’d never been this deep into her hunting grounds, they respected each other’s boundaries. He dragged his spear in the dirt, left a distinct marker and pushed onward. When they came to asphalt, he’d slash the trunks of trees or make arrows from fallen branches to signal which way he went. His heart ached for Murray and Swan. He’d never had friends before the outbreak and Murray was gone forever. Swan too, if he faltered. She was outnumbered and outgunned and she thought she was invincible. She took too many chances. He was angry at her for running off, but he understood. He felt the same way but he had learned from a lifetime of hard knocks that rash decisions had harsh consequences.

He found the pond where she had refilled her bottle, rested and eaten the cattails. He let Yewan drink her fill then they pushed on. His legs ached and the blisters were getting worse. He was gaining on her though. This was the third spot he found where she’d taken a break, had sat and ate berries or mushrooms. He didn’t have the luxury of rest, he had to catch up. It was late afternoon, he’d been running all day and he knew he was closing in on her. He hoped more than anything he’d find her sleeping in a barn or something. He picked up the pace when they hit asphalt again and ignored the wetness in his socks as they filled with blood from the busted blisters. He was close, he could feel it.

He ate up the miles, ignored the fatigue in his limbs and the pain in his feet. He slowed as he neared a wrecked Polaris, wary and watching. The other cars or trucks he’d passed had the long-abandoned look of heavy dust, flat tires and piles of leaves mounded against them. This one was fresh, it hadn’t been there for long. It was in the ditch where it had hit the culvert and broke the front wheel. It was bent at an odd angle and the tire was shredded. His worry ratcheted up a notch. Had she caught up to them, caused one of them to crash? He didn’t see any of her arrows or blood trails but Yewan led him off the road, into the woods. Hatred and anger filled his heart as he imagined all of the hell he would bring down on anyone who’d harmed her. He found her path and saw where she’d stood for a while, apparently watching a mobile home that had been decrepit years before the fall. Yewan flicked her tail back and forth and he knew she sensed something was wrong. Maybe Swan was inside. More likely some of Gordons gang waiting for someone to come get them. He stoked the midnight fur of his companion, readied his spear and crouched low to hide in the waist high grass. Her and the wolves trail was easy to follow and he smelled death before he saw it. The pack had savaged one of Gordons men, the body was splayed out in the dirt next to a garden shed, its throat ripped open. Somebody had thrown a tarp over the dead boy but it had blown off. Ants and other insects covered his skin, each taking tiny little bites and carrying it back to their nest. They would feast for months.

Swan wouldn’t bother covering a body of her enemy and Donny’s stomach dropped. Either she hadn’t been the winner in this fight or she was gone when they came back for their stranded buddy.

Something clattered in the trailer and he froze, still hidden in the weeds. He heard mumbled curses and glass breaking. More indistinct muttering and then something that sounded like sobs. He eased up the weather-beaten steps to the back door, wincing every time one creaked, and peeked through the louvered glass on the door. He saw a young man sitting at a table, a bowl of cold soup broken on the floor. He had his head in his hands and his shoulders shook with each sob. His long, greasy hair was crusty with blood. Donny tapped his ring on the spear, come, and kicked open the door.

The boy screamed then grabbed his head in pain. He toppled over backward and started mewling when the panther landed on his chest, bared her long fangs and snarled in his face.

“Go ahead.” He blubbered. “I deserve it. I know I do. Go ahead.”

Donny dashed through the trailer, made sure there was no one else and came back to the crying boy with the panther still crouched on his chest, claws dug in and hot breath snarling in his face.

Donny clicked his ring and the panther gave one last menacing growl and reluctantly hopped off. His head was bleeding again where he’d been hit. He didn’t know what happened, he’d woke up on the bathroom floor in his own filth and vomit with his head busted open. Shaggy was gone and he found Blind Mike with his head half torn off. The zoo kids must have found them. He didn’t know why they hadn’t killed him, maybe they thought they had. His head was throbbing white pain. He was still having headaches from the battle last winter when the boy with the Warhammer had nearly caved it in. He pushed himself up against the refrigerator and answered any questions the silent boy wrote out. He had a hard time reading them, everything was still blurry. He knew he must have a concussion again. Why did those kids like bashing people’s heads?

Skull told him everything about Smiths Landing. How to get in, where Gordon was headquartered and the best way to get at him.

“We used to just have fun before he came along.” He said. “We didn’t really hurt nobody, we just stayed bombed out of our minds most of the time. He changed everything. We thought he’d learned his lesson last winter, we sure did. Nobody wanted to mess with you kids again but something set him off a few days ago and he’d shoot anybody that didn’t do what he said.”

Donny heard the tale and listened for lies. He was pretty good at spotting them but the boy only seemed sad, resigned to his fate.

“Burning that crippled kid was too much.” Skull said and wrung his hands. “That was too much. He never shoulda done that.”

When Donny was finished with his questions he stood over the boy gripping his spear, the inky black panther at his side.

“I’m real sorry about what happened.” Skull said and met Donny’s eyes. “And I don’t blame you one bit. Go ahead. I know I got it coming.”

He lowered his head, started sobbing again and waited for the death blow.

Donny struck quickly.

He went back through the filthy trailer, slower this time and found Swan’s tomahawks in the hallway. He found a few of her arrows laying in the driveway and the tracks of another four-wheeler tearing through the yard and out onto the road. In the distance he saw her pack trotting towards him and he sighed. They had lost the scent if they were coming back. He glanced at the sun and wondered how far behind Kodiak and the rest of the tribe were. The bears wouldn’t get tired, they could run all day. They were fast for short bursts of speed but if they paced themselves, if they didn’t stop and refuse to go any more, they shouldn’t be too far behind. Maybe only an hour or so.

Thanks to the boy lying in a puddle of blood on the kitchen floor, he knew where Smiths Landing was and an easy way to get in around back. Part of him wanted to continue, keep charging after her, but he knew if he waited for the tribe, they’d have a better chance. They were close, only about five miles away, they could be there in an hour. It was late afternoon. Skull seemed to think Gordon would want to parade her around for a while before they did anything. He’d want to break her and that would take a while. He bent and consoled the wolves, they whined and seemed to urge him to find their mistress.

Donny sat on the front deck with his boots off. He’d tended to his feet as best he could, found clean socks and some Band-Aids. A small horde had come down the road, no more than ten or twelve and they had killed them quickly. He had all the food that was left in the cupboards set out on the deck, the pans were clean and the grill was ready to start. By the time he finished what he needed to do, he didn’t have to wait long until he saw Bert’s tall neck coming down the road. He slipped his boots on, laced them up and fired up the grill.

A weary Kodiak jogged in, swung Caleb from Otis’ back and started asking what was going on. Why were the wolves here? Where was Swan? Otis lumbered over to the plastic wading pool Donny had found two trailers down and filled with fresh pond water. The other animals joined him, lapping it up then flopping down. They’d rode hard all day following Donny’s trail and they were exhausted.

They gathered around as he flashed out what he’d found and why he believed Swan was alive. He showed them the boy he’d tied up and Swan’s weapons. He hadn’t been able to kill him but he’d had no qualms adding another lump on his head. He’d gone down like a sack of potatoes.

Analise rummaged around through the cabinets, found the salt and pepper and went back outside to tend the pot luck simmering on the grill. Vanessa found cans of paint in the shed and started decorating her ostrich with Zulu war sigils and everyone else joined with their own animals. Red or blue hand prints on flanks, Viking runes and lightning bolts across massive bear chests, circles and arrows in bright colors on the foxes, wolves and panther. They were preparing for war, one where there was going to be no retreat and no surrender.

They ate a light meal then saddled up the animals. They needed to push on. It was only five more miles, they could be there shortly after dark.

“What about him?” Tobias asked.

“I don’t know.” Kodiak said

“He doesn’t deserve to live.” Tobias answered his own question. “We should kill him.”

“Probably should.” Kodiak agreed.

The older boy sat tied in the chair in the living room and looked miserable. He didn’t try to talk them out of it, he was tired. He’d done some bad things; he didn’t know how it got so out of hand. He hadn’t meant to; he just went along to get along. He did whatever Richard or Gordon told him. He couldn’t go back to the Landing; he couldn’t live in the wild on his own and there was no place else to go. Maybe a spear through the heart would be quick and wouldn’t hurt too much. It was better than getting eaten alive and turning into one of the undead.

“Can you take the kids out before you do?” he asked. “I had a little sister once.”

Kodiak looked behind him, Landon and Clara were staring wide-eyed through the doorway.

“Mount up,” he told them, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They were waiting on him, silently watching, when he came out down the steps and slipped his knife back in its sheath.

35

The Prisoner

Swan opened her eyes and winced at the brightness from the bare overhead bulb. It had been so long since she’d seen electric light, it fascinated her for a moment. Her eyes felt puffy, her nose hurt and the pain in her head reminded her how it got bashed against something hard over and over until she blacked out. She groaned, reached up to touch it gingerly and pushed herself up onto a sitting position. She was on a plastic covered bed in a concrete room. A basement from the looks and smell of it.

Gordon.

She seethed and took it all in. She panned slowly around and her eyes fell on a young woman sitting in the corner of the room where the light barely reached. She had a white knuckled grip on the pillow in her lap.

The woman stood and approached her, still clutching the pillow. Swan noticed the yellowish tint of old bruises and the scars on her arms from cigarette burns.

“I hoped you wouldn’t wake up,” she said softly. “They hit you pretty hard. You’ve been out for hours.”

Swan glared at her but remained silent.

“They’ll be coming for you soon. I can’t stop them, no one can stop them.” Tears fell from her eyes and carved tracks through the makeup on her pretty face revealing the bruises she tried to cover.

She looked at the pillow, “I thought I’d spare you the pain. Smother you and let them think they killed you with that blow to the head. I’m not that brave though, you’re just a kid. They’re upstairs now talking big talk, thinking up ways to make you pay. Most of its crazy talk, they’ve been drinking nonstop since they brought you in, but you killed Skull and Blind Mike. They’re pretty mad and Gordon is urging them on, offering prizes for best torture.”

“Send him first,” Swan snarled. “He’ll never leave this room alive.”

Misty wiped at the tears on her cheek. “I think he’s afraid of you. I think they all are. They talk about what you did last winter. How you and your wolves killed so many of their friends.”

Swan stared at the pillow. “Are you gonna do it?”

The woman shook her head in shame. “I can’t, even though it would be a mercy, I can’t. I’m too afraid.”

Swan softened her look. She peered deep into the woman’s eyes. “Set me free, I can end this. You won’t have to fear him anymore.”

“You’re just a girl.” She shook her head and turned to leave. “I won’t tell them you’re awake. I can buy you a little more time, but sooner or later they’ll get tired of waiting.”

“Wait!” Swan said. “What’s your name?”

“Misty,” she said, exited the room and closed the door softly.

Swan heard the lock click into place and stood shakily and stretched. Nothing was broken. Her head hurt and her face was sore but she felt okay. She was clean, dressed in a flannel night shirt and someone had filed down her nails. They weren’t dirty and ragged like they usually were. Her hair smelled nice, too. Strawberry shampoo. She hated it. It was useless for hunting, every animal for miles would know she was in the woods. They had rubbed some kind of coconut scented lotion on her skin and she wondered who had bathed her. If it was one of the boys, she’d gouge their eyes out.

She tried the door but it was solid wood, well built and she wouldn’t be able to get through it, not without some kind of battering ram. The room was bare except for some strange looking exercise equipment and it was all bolted down. Some of it looked like stuff from a medieval torture chamber except it was covered in leather. She ignored the big pieces that looked like stocks and concentrated on the hanging swing. It was suspended by chains from the ceiling beams, if she could get one of them loose, she’d have a weapon.

36

Smith’s Landing

Kodiak jogged beside Otis, easily keeping pace since the big bear carried his gear. Caleb rode in the saddle on his back. He saw a horde shuffling along ahead of them in the twilight and yelled back over his shoulder.

“Twenty or thirty coming up, get ready!”

At one time the tribe would have hidden, quietly slunk into the woods or turned around and ran the other way but they were different now. Bob had shown them they didn’t have to be so afraid of the undead. Sure, they were dangerous but so was mowing the yard or driving a car. If you knew what you were doing, if you had safety equipment, it was just a job you had to do. Only the zombies trapped inside buildings were any real danger, they were still fast and vicious. The old broken down deaders wandering the roads were slow and jerky. They only posed a threat if their numbers were so great they couldn’t be killed. The tribe had never seen anything like that in rural Iowa, there weren’t that many people.

The horde heard him yell and turned towards the thundering tribe bearing down on them. Caleb handed down his Warhammer and together he and Otis plowed right through them. They barely broke stride, the weakened husks were bowled aside and tumbled over. The rest of the tribe cut them down as they rode through the hissing monsters. They crushed them under foot or slashed at their heads. Donny brought up the rear and when he jogged through, there was only one still crawling. A spear thrust later and it wasn’t.

They topped a slight rise and a faded sign welcomed them to Smith’s Landing. The river valley was filled with trendy shopping stores, luxury car dealerships and an eclectic mix of ethnic restaurants. It also had an exclusive gated community with tennis courts, an eighteen-hole golf course and tall iron fences to keep the deplorables out.

Even from this distance they could hear strains of music blasting and see the lights. They stood, breathing hard and couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“These people are stupid.” Vanessa said.

“Good.” Kodiak answered. “Better for us.”

Donny pointed to the back side of the dark golf course illuminated by the rising moon.

There is a gate in the back, he signed. The boy said it’s not guarded anymore.

They cut through the side streets to avoid the massive horde of zombies that pressed against the tall iron fence. They keened and moaned and tried to push their way in. Kodiak couldn’t believe how relaxed they were about their security. It didn’t matter how strong the gates were, that many undead pressing against them would eventually break them down. At least they didn’t run into any wandering zom’s, the music and lights pulled them to the front gates of the community.

The strange procession darted down the outlying roads through the outskirts of town. Vanessa and Ziggy trotted ahead of the tribe while the three bears ran in a triangle formation with Kodiak at the tip. Caleb rode tall in the saddle, his body in sync with the bears loping gait. Like the other little ones, he carried a dozen sharpened screwdrivers in bandoliers crisscrossing his chest. Clara rode in front of Analise on Daisy’s broad back, her baby doll clutched tightly in one hand and an icepick in the other. Landon was on Popsicle, doubled up with Tobias. Both boys wore blue lines painted on their grim faces and it made them look fierce. Harper was astride Bert and the three capuchins poked their heads out of the backpack she wore. Feathers, beads of acorns and strips of leather decorated the harness and bold symbols were painted on the giraffes spotted hide. The wolves raced silently along with the foxes right behind them.

The moon illuminated the deserted streets and the tribe of children and beasts painted for battle, prepared for war. Birds watched the procession from the safety of their nests. Small rodent eyes glittered and hid in the shadows as the clicking of nails on asphalt and the quiet thunder of thousand-pound bears rumbled by. All the hours they had spent with their companions, the endless and sometimes frustrating training, the days and nights working together, sleeping together and playing together had formed a bond that was almost supernatural. The children had learned to think like animals. The animals had learned to sense and feel and know what their humans wanted them to do. The connections ran deep. The animals would kill or die for their children the same as they would one of their own cubs and the children would do the same for them.

Kodiak breathed deep and steady as he jogged and prepared himself for what was to come. It was almost time. Time to put a stop to this madness once and for all. This was where it ended for either him or his enemy. He prayed that Swan was still alive and unharmed. He prayed that they all came through the other side of the upcoming battle, but if someone had to fall, he prayed it was him.

The rear entrance was a decorative iron gate which was set in the stone wall. It was locked but Otis did what Kodiak showed him, he reared up and bounced his weight on it a few times until the deadbolt snapped and the gate swung open. They rested for a few minutes as they made last minute preparations. Armor was adjusted and buckles loosened from the run were cinched tight. Weapons were unsheathed and Kodiak asked one last time if anyone wanted to change the plan, maybe come up with a better one.

“The best plan is no plan,” Tobias said. “We rush in, we kill everyone, we free Swan.”

Every head nodded. They had discussed sneaking around, looking for weak points, watching from afar to see if there were roving guards but every minute they waited was a minute Gordon could be hurting her. They remembered the beating he’d given Kodiak, it was harsh and cruel and would have killed him if the tribe hadn’t stopped it. It would be worse for Swan. She was a girl and Gordon hated her even more, if that were possible. Who knew what kind of humiliation and pain he would inflict on her.

They hurried through the overgrown golf course, followed the lights and the sound of music towards the house. They passed by Gordons’ grisly collection strapped to the fence by the clubhouse. The disembodied heads gnashed their teeth as they ran by. The tribe ignored them. The real threat was hidden inside the million-dollar mansion that was lit up bright. They were having a party and Swan was the guest of honor.

They didn’t pass any sentries as they came up the dark streets and as they neared the house Zero howled and charged past them all. He had picked up her scent.

37

Swan

Swan was crouched in the darkness with a chain wrapped around each arm and enough hanging free to lash out and break heads. She was waiting to ambush the first person that walked into the cell.

Misty stopped in the doorway and was silhouetted by the light coming in from outside.

“Swan?” she asked and juggled the box in her hand to flip on the switch.

Swan gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to bash the girls’ brains out, she wanted one of the boys. She wanted Gordon.

She gasped when she saw the girl crouched and ready to spring, her teeth bared in an animal snarl.

“What’s wrong? Move!” A man’s voice growled behind her.

“Nothing.” Misty said. “Stay back. You heard Gordon, nobody touches her. He doesn’t want her damaged anymore.”

She shoved the door closed with her foot before the half-drunk boys could see the feral girl.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Misty broke the silence.

“Can you really put an end to this?” She whispered.

Swan stood and should have looked comical in the flannel night shirt and dangling chains. She should have looked like a thirteen-year-old girl playing dress up in a bad Halloween costume but she didn’t. She looked vicious. She looked scary as hell the way her pitiless eyes glittered and she moved with animal grace.

“How many are there?” Swan growled “and what kind of weapons do they have?”

Misty stuttered her answer, the little girl scared her.

“Probably not, then.” Swan answered. “But I can guarandamntee if you get me close to Gordon, I can kill him. That’s all that matters, right? He’s the one calling the shots?”

Misty nodded.

“They’ve been talking all afternoon,” she said, still standing in the middle of the room with the box clutched in her hands. “They have a hundred different things they’re going to do and each one sounds more awful than the other. They’re going to teach you a lesson. They’re going to make sure you can never hurt any of them ever again.”

A tear tracked down Misty’s face as she continued.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if Gordon didn’t hate you so much. You get used to the sex stuff they make us do but the ideas they have…”

She broke off and hung her head.

“They’re all drunk and afraid of Gordon and I heard what he did to your friend, the crippled boy. They have worse planned for you.”

Swan nodded, fear and reality set into her young mind. This was her last chance. She’d fight them the best she could, but she knew in the end it wouldn’t matter. There were too many. She’d let them know they’d been in a fight, though.

“I’m not telling you this to scare you.” Misty continued. “I’m telling you so you know what’s coming. I’m telling you so you don’t surrender. You have to make them kill you, Swan. If you don’t, you’ll wish you had.”

She opened the box and pulled out the wedding dress, complete with veil and long train.

“This was mine. He wants you to wear it because he said tonight is your wedding night. Tonight he’s going to have his way with you and so will the rest of them.”

“Over my dead body.” Swan snarled, repulsed at the thought.

“Exactly.” Misty said and emptied the rest of the box. “It’s the only way. Gordon has the only gun, you have to make him shoot you.”

Swans’ leather pants, her armor, some makeup and lipstick and a pair of short knives tumbled out on the bed.

“I was supposed to burn your clothes,” she said, “but I thought you might want to wear them one last time.”

Swan looked at the wedding dress in disgust as she pulled on her pants but paused and fingered the soft silky gown.

“I have a plan,” she said. “Help me get into this thing.”

38

Fight

Swan looked at her reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that covered one wall. The dress was too big but with her armor and leathers on she filled it out. She cut off the train and slit the sides from floor to armpits, leaving only a few thin strands to hold it together. She smeared mascara on her fingers and wiped it across her nose, eyes and cheeks. Her smile was savage.

“They’ll know you helped me.” Swan said. “They’ll come for you.”

“I know.” Misty said then showed her the knife in her hand and the scars on her wrists. “I won’t fail this time.”

“You could fight.” Swan said. “You could help.”

Misty shook her head. Up until the world fell her whole life had been about hair styles, beauty magazines and nail salons. She’d never been athletic, had never played sports and had never struck anyone in anger. She didn’t know how to fight back.

“No, I can’t. I tried once. They laughed, plucked the knife out of my hand and slapped me for being silly. I just can’t. This is my way of escape, it’s what I want.”

Swan wanted to argue but the boys outside banged on the door.

“Let’s go!” one of them yelled. “Enough stalling, the Boss wants to see his bride.”

Misty pulled the veil over Swan’s painted face and smiled sadly before she opened the door. They grabbed Swan roughly and pulled her out of the bondage dungeon, past row after row of wine racks and finally into the little elevator. Bong snickered drunkenly when the doors closed and reached over to grab her breast.

“Your boss won’t like that.” She told him as she let the paring knives drop into her hands.

“What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” The other boy said and reached cruelly between her legs. “But it will hurt you.”

Their laughter turned to gargled splutters as the blades flashed across their throats. A crimson shower spurted out in arcs, covered her in hot blood and both boys grabbed their flayed open necks. Their eyes widened as she threw back the veil, revealed her blackened face and wide smile. The elevator came to a stop on the second floor, the doors slid open and the wedding march started playing over the speakers. Drunken cheers and lewd shouts came up from below, promises of pain and what they were going to do to her. Swan thought about running. She could rip off the dress and flee, find a window to climb out. She could escape but there were a half dozen boys dressed in ill-fitting suits waiting at the head of the stairs. Her bridal party. They would catch her. Gordon wanted maximum humiliation and maximum degradation for her. He knew it was supposed to be a special day, the happiest day of a young girls’ life and he was going to make it the worst.

They’re going to know they’ve been in a fight. She told herself. Get a few more before they get you.

She braced herself, stepped onto the landing and smiled at the silence and shocked faces when they saw her blood covered dress, her painted face and the knives in her hands. The balcony doors were open to let in the summer breezes and the sound of a howling wolf could be heard over the strands of the bridal song. Other wolves joined and they were close.

She tilted her head back, let out a howl and heard the answering howls of her pack. She smiled a wicked smile and ran for the stunned boys on the landing. She might walk away from this fight after all.

Swan charged into the older, bigger boys who threw up their hands in surprise and confusion. None of them had weapons, none of them wore armor. There was no need, she was supposed to be a scared, little girl. She sprang, landed and aimed for eyes. One boy went over the banister as they tried to scramble out of her way. She growled and snarled and her steel flashed and found skin with every thrust. She was a hell beast, moving fast, slashing faster then jumping to the next boy. A bleeding arm or slashed leg would stop them, make them tend to their wounds. She didn’t have time to kill them all, she could come back and do that in a minute. They tried to defend themselves, tried to attack but the blades spoke the language of pain, found soft flesh and laid it open. One of them tried to grab her, slam her to the floor but she jabbed the short, blade into his belly and pulled upward. He screamed as it split open his stomach and acid diluted whiskey poured out.

As the last boy turned to run, she jumped on his back, wrapped her legs around his waist and started machine-gunning the blades in and out as fast and as many times as she could. She opened wound after wound until her hands were slick with blood. He struggled to get away from the savage girl, flailed his arms and screeched in pain and fear. Halfway down the stairs he fell just as Gordon’s hand cannon started blowing away chunks of drywall and splintering the railing.

39

Party Crashers

Gordon emptied the gun but wasn’t sure if he hit her or not. He fumbled the cylinder open and tried to remember where he put the extra bullets.

“Don’t just stand there, get that bitch!” he screamed at the transfixed boys. The gang tore their eyes from the bloody body tumbling down the stairs and snatched up the weapons that were laying around. A few baseball bats, some knives and clubs. Gordon had the only gun; the rest were locked away.

The glass in the French doors exploded as Zero crashed through with the cubs right behind him. Their noses sought the familiar scent of the girl. Swan smiled when she saw them.

“Kill!” she screamed. “Kill them all.”

The wolves obeyed.

The double front doors exploded inward as Otis burst through, a wild, painted bear and a demon with a Warhammer on his back. He roared and it felt like the whole house shook to its foundation as he bellowed in rage. He tossed a couch aside, sent it flying across the room and stuffing filling the air.

Gordon’s gang broke and ran. They ignored his screams to attack and scattered as more animals poured into the living room. The wolves slid on the slick tile floors of the kitchen, their claws fighting for traction as their teeth found meat and bone.

The back door exploded off of its hinges and the mob of boys running for it tried to backpedal and find another escape. Two massive polar bears added their roars and challenges to the cacophony of chaos and the tattooed twins swung saw bladed axes at wild eyed drunks trying to slash at them with butcher knives. One of them slammed Analise off the polar bears back with a hockey stick, another threw a microwave at Tobias. The kitchen island splintered when Daisy crashed through it, the hanging rack of pots and pans went flying and added to the deafening noise. The microwave caught Tobias across the chest, knocked him out of the saddle but he landed on his feet. He let loose a primal scream and extended the axe to its full reach as he swung. It slashed across the boy’s midsection, the ragged saw blade’s teeth sliced deep through his chest, breaking ribs, cutting lungs and tearing loose long strands of flesh. He dropped the toaster he’d been ready to crush Analise’s head with and fell gasping for breath. The twins leaped over him and ran into the melee in the living room. Daisy and Popsicle snapped the baseball bat and ignored the desperate slashes of a hunting knife as their long claws and sharp teeth broke bones and ripped limbs from screaming bodies.

Vanessa flung her spear and it pinned a boy to the wall who was swinging a barbed wire bat at Donny’s back. She grabbed a chair as she ran through the splintered door, slammed it into the chest of a boy with a hockey stick and drove him backwards over a coffee table. Yewan pounced with claws and fangs and his shrieks of terror turned to gurgling, blood filled sobs. Harper’s morning star whistled as it whirled above her head and found target after target with its spiked ball. The triplets held back at the entrance like they were told, icepicks in hands and their foxes at their feet snarling warnings to anyone that came near.

The house was absolute chaos. The attack hit the gang so hard and so fast it broke their will in the first few seconds. How did they fight wild screaming children with painted faces and bears and wolves to battle with them? Roars and snarls and screeches of pain filled the air. Breaking dishes, breaking furniture and breaking bones. It was the sound of war. Gordon fumbled the bullets, managed to get some in the chambers but his trembling fingers dropped them as all around his army was slaughtered. He wanted to scream and run but there was nowhere to go. Kodiak battered Spike out of the way with his hammer, snapping an arm and pulverizing ribs. The boy was jerked off his feet by a half-grown wolf as he bounced off the wall. He fell and the others tore into him, savaged him like a rag doll.

Kodiak roared a battle cry and cocked the hammer back to end Gordon once and for all. He wanted his face to be the last thing the despicable scumbag ever saw. He swung but Gordon flipped the cylinder closed on the Smith & Wesson and squeezed the trigger. Jamie fell into him, the panther was slashing at his face and knocked Gordon’s aim off. The gun boomed and plaster exploded from the ceiling. He ignored the howling pair, aimed again and pulled the trigger. Harper sprang over an easy chair and swung her morning star at the boy with the gun. The spikes slammed into his shoulder dug deep into the bone and she jerked him off his feet. Kodiaks hammer whizzed past his face, narrowly missed splashing his brains all over the wall as he was pulled off balance. Gordon screamed, squeezed the trigger as he fell and a bullet tore through Kodiaks armor, skimmed a rib and buried itself in an upstairs hot water heater. Kodiak sucked in breath, hit the floor and rolled behind a broken couch. He kept moving forward. Attack, attack, attack was the only thing going through his mind. He ignored the burning in his side and pushed himself to his feet. They had the momentum, they were winning, they couldn’t let Gordon’s gang have a second to regroup and bring out more guns.

Harper had the morning stars chain wrapped around her arm and when Gordon fell, she stumbled over a body and was jerked off her feet. He rolled into her and before she could shove away, the hot barrel of the gun pressed against her cheek. He pulled her on top of him and held the hand cannon firm. She stopped fighting, afraid he’d pull the trigger, and held still. All around them the battle was dying down. Mostly because all his men were dying or dead.

You might live through this yet. His father told him. Stop struggling. Be calm, you have the upper hand now.

The roars of the bears became heavy snorts when they stopped ripping people apart. The snarls of the wolves become low growls when they had nothing left to kill. The panther stopped screaming when there was no more blood to spill. Kodiak held his hammer, watched Gordon’s beady eyes as they darted around the room and waited. Vanessa joined him, the spear in her fists still dripping blood. Gordon tried to make himself small under Harper, tried to shrink so they couldn’t see him but the gun buried in her face didn’t waver. His finger never left the trigger. He didn’t have to shout a threat, he didn’t have to yell I’ll blow her head off. They knew he would. One by one the animals quieted and sniffed or pawed at the dead as the children joined the circle around Gordon and Harper.

“Don’t hurt her, Gordon.” Kodiak said when the injured boys’ eyes finally rested on him. “We’ll let you go. We’ll trade your life for hers.”

“Damn right you will,” he said. “Drop your weapons. All of them.”

Gordon’s eyes danced madly. He loved the carnage. He reveled at the sight of the priceless paintings that were splashed with arterial spray and the shards of pottery from antique vases that littered the floor. He raged and rejoiced at the sight of his gang, dead and dying. So much blood, so much destruction! It was all because of him. He had caused it all. This was power! A voice in his head was screaming at him to pull the trigger. It urged him to paint the walls with Harper’s brains. To aim the gun at Swan and Kodiak. To blow their faces out of the backs of their heads. He had the power. He had the gun. It competed with the scratch, scratch, scratching sound that tried to drown out the new voice. It screamed in glee, it screamed in terror, it screamed from insanity. The voice that sounded like his old man harrumphed and silenced the others. Don’t be a fool. It said. You don’t have enough bullets to kill them all.

His eyes darted from kid to kid. They were fanned out around him, flanked by their stinking animals but one by one they laid down their arms. Spears, hammers, axes and knives. Even the little kid slid their bandoleers of icepicks over their heads and dropped them to the floor. God, he hated them. His old man’s voice told him he didn’t have any options. He couldn’t win this one. He needed to step away from the table, walk away from the opposition with his life and destroy them later.

“Pull your spike out of my shoulder,” he told Harper, and didn’t move the gun from her cheek as she worked it loose.

He sucked air between his teeth and scrunched his eyes tight at the pain.

“Now get up, slow and easy.” He growled.

“Don’t you brats get any smart ideas,” he said as they stood. “I’m only half a sneeze from blowing her away.”

He backed slowly away from the kids and the carnage, out the broken back doors and onto the patio. He had to think, had to get away from the smell of death and spilled guts. He needed fresh air. The children stepped over bodies and pieces of bodies. They tracked through the blood and even weaponless they frightened him. Painted faces and gore-soaked bodies advanced, even the smallest of them was splashed in blood and it dripped from her hands.

“Let her go and you can leave. We won’t stop you.” Kodiak said. “You have my word.”

“This is my house.” Gordon nearly screamed. “I’m not going anywhere. Your word is garbage, as soon as I turn my back, you’d sic your animals on me.”

He calmed himself and jerked Harper closer. “No. I’m staying right here. You’re leaving.”

They were unarmed and ten feet away, he was getting some of his confidence back. They couldn’t do anything; he had the power. He gave the orders.

“Fine.” Kodiak said “Give us Harper and we’ll leave.”

Gordon swung the gun towards the boy he hated so much. He could shoot him, he really could and then get the gun back on her before they charged him. They’d stop. They could talk some more and he’d do it again, this time Swan. He smiled at them.

“I make the rules here Mr. High and Mighty. Not you. Now get on your knees. Beg for her life if you want it so bad.”

When Kodiak hesitated, he whipped the gun around, slammed it viciously against her head and she cried out. A snort shattered the silence above them and Gordon looked up. Bert had been reaching his long neck over the fence to pull the tender leaves from one of the potted trees when he heard his mistress. He remembered the boy who tormented him and swung his head at him. He was hurting his human.

Gordon shrieked and threw up his hands to protect his face. Bert smashed into him, sent him flying and they all heard the crunch of bones. The gun flew out of his hand and he crashed into the patio table, tumbling it over. He moaned in agony, tried to get to his feet but fell over the umbrella. When he looked up again, spears were inches from his face and he froze, eyes wild and searching for his gun. Harper stroked Bert’s long jaw as he sniffed her, ran a sticky, wet tongue through her hair then went back to his leaves.

“What do we do with him?” Vanessa asked, her spear ready to thrust, her hands willing but her heart was hesitant. The enemy was beaten, broken and unarmed. It wasn’t an honorable kill.

Swan crouched to his level, stared into his frightened eyes.

“Let the wolves have him,” she whispered. “He was going to turn his dogs loose on me.”

Gordon cradled his broken arms and pushed backwards to get away from the bloody black faced girl.

“Make him walk the plank.” A voice came from behind them.

They whirled on the women picking their way through the destroyed house and cooling corpses. They all looked like they might throw up and worked hard not to look down and not to trip.

Zero growled, the cubs joined in and Yewan crouched to pounce.

“It’s okay.” Swan said as Misty and the other two joined them on the patio. “She helped me.”

Calming hands quieted the animals as they stared down at the boy who had caused them so much pain and heartache.

“What’s walking the plank mean?” Landon asked.

Misty pointed at the diving board and the pool half full of milling undead.

“No, you can’t.” Gordon said and tried to get to his feet. “You can’t, it’s not fair.”

Swan laughed and pulled the knives from her behind her back.

“I think it’s very fair,” she said, her voice bitter with hate. “I’ll gut you like a fish then toss you in, it doesn’t matter to me Gordy. Either way you take the walk.”

“Noooo,” he said, and tried to back away, but more sharp blades poked at him, Donny’s spear joined Vanessa’s and urged him to the edge.

The hungry voices from the pool started keening and reaching their arms skyward.

“You can’t do this,” he cried as he struggled up the steps and onto the bouncy board. “You can’t. It’s not right!”

“Tell that to Murray.” Kodiak said and two spears flew straight and true, both found their marks, punched through his chest and stuck a solid foot out of his back. Gordon coughed and toppled over.

Richard and his uncle were the first to reach him and tore into his flesh. The others joined in, pushing and jostling for position as Gordon tried to scream in horror. Harper pulled the triplets away, they had already seen too much. The rest of the tribe turned their backs, they didn’t need to see any more death either. Maybe this would be the last one.

Misty, Sasha and Trish watched until the end. Until he reanimated, staggered to his feet and turned a single hungry eye upwards. The children examined their animals for cuts and scrapes and hugged them tight, praised them for being so good. Misty hit the button and the cover closed slowly over the keening faces, locking them in darkness forever. Tobias leaned against Popsicle and idly stroked the big bear behind the ears where he liked it but his eyes were on the heavily tattooed and pierced Sasha. He thought he might be in love. Analise elbowed him in the ribs but he ignored her. He couldn’t look away from the beautifully inked woman.

40

Kodiak and Misty

Kodiak, Donny and Tobias went through the house as the girls talked to the older women and introduced them to the companions. The found blood trails and footprints leading away from the killing ground. Some went upstairs, some went out of the front. Some of the gang had survived.

“Should we go after them?” Tobias asked but there wasn’t any eagerness in the question. Now that the battle rage was over, he was sick of the bloodshed.

“No.” Kodiak said. “I’m done with them; they won’t come after us again.”

They joined the others on the patio and tried to imagine the horror the poor girls had been through. The scars from cuts, cigarette burns and the lost looks in their eyes told him all he needed to know about their ordeal. Each of them bore fresh bruises, many of them over old bruises that were yellowed.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

Tasha shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been made clear we can’t come with you.”

She cut her eyes to Swan who had an unforgiving look on her face. She didn’t have a whole lot of sympathy for the women. They hadn’t been chained up. They hadn’t been in a cage. They could have escaped at any time. “This place has fences, it keeps the zombies out.” Misty said “There’s nowhere else for us to go, I guess we’ll stay here.”

Harper stepped up beside Kodiak. “That’s not true. We’ve learned of a place. A safe place down south, a town, fortified and filled with good people. They have electricity and food and room for all of you. There are empty homes and jobs. It’s a fresh start and everyone is welcome.”

Trish and Sasha came in closer. “Really? There is really a place like that? Where? How far is it?”

“Not here.” Misty interrupted and gestured at the pool and the house full of bodies. “Let’s go someplace else.”

She headed for a house at the end of the block and the strange entourage followed her. She fished a key from underneath the doormat, unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. The children and most of the animals followed the older girls inside. Bert busied himself grazing the ornamental trees in the yard as Ziggy started snatching bugs out of the air that were attracted to the light coming from the house. It wasn’t lost on Kodiak that they hadn’t wanted to check on the dead or the injured. They hadn’t wanted to help any of the wounded in Gordon’s gang.

“Gordon kept this house a secret from the others. It’s fully stocked with food and supplies. He brought me here to…” she paused and didn’t finish the sentence.

“Anyway, this was part of his escape plan if things went bad. He was paranoid the others would turn on him, that’s why he didn’t let them carry guns. There’s a Hummer in the garage, loaded down with food and weapons and about a dozen gas cans on the roof rack. He’s been here a lot lately and he made me come most of the time. I had to cook and clean and… things. There’s one of those old timey radios in the basement, I think he called it a Ham, and I overheard him talking to some people on it a couple of times. They were from up north somewhere. He was trying to join up with them but he had to give them something first. They wanted supplies and people to work for them. I think he was going to give them you and probably us, too.”

“Is there a first aid kit here? Sasha interrupted.

“In the Hummer. I’ll get it.” Misty said and hurried off.

“Let me see to your wounds.” Sasha said. “I’ve learned a lot about nursing, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“So have we.” Swan said coldly and took the kit from Misty. “Mostly because of your gang.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“We weren’t part of them.” Trish said. “Maybe at first, in the beginning, but not since Gordon’s been in charge. It’s been hell.”

“Then why didn’t you leave?” Swan asked dismissively. “Why stay?”

“We couldn’t.” Misty said quietly. “We’re not like you. We’re not warriors.”

“Some tried.” Sasha said. “We don’t know if they made it or not. It’s dangerous beyond the gates.”

“Look, would you guys like something to eat?” Trish asked, changing the uncomfortable subject. “There’s some frozen beef in the freezer. I could make spaghetti.”

The cloud of mistrust lifted for most of them and they answered with a chorus of enthusiastic yeses.

Misty looked at the children and the animals spread around the large room. They were covered in blood and gore and stunk.

“There’s a pool out back if you want to clean your friends up a little. Maybe let them take a swim? Get some of the gunk out of their fur?” she asked hopefully.

“Also, there’s water if any of you would like a shower,” she said. “There’s four bathrooms in this house with body wash, shampoo and conditioner in all of them. The big garden tub in the master bath has a Jacuzzi. How long has it been since you’ve had a hot bath? You need to get cleaned up before you get patched up.”

Vanessa, Analise and Harper looked like they could kiss her and ran for the stairs.

“She’s right.” Harper yelled over her shoulder at the boys. “After you get your animals cleaned up, get all that dirt off of you before you get infected!”

“Dibs on the Jacuzzi,” she hollered up the stairs and she was gone.

“I need to get this smelly strawberry crap out of my hair,” Swan said, acting like she wasn’t all that excited about a hot shower, but she hurried up the stairs, too. She was sticky with blood.

Landon, Clara and Caleb had found some coloring books and crayons as they ran from room to room and were trying to color while the capuchins chattered, fought over the crayons and tried to eat them. Their foxes were still exploring, poking their sensitive nose into corners and hunting the mouse that had left his scent behind.

Tobias sniffed his arm pit, shrugged and relaxed into the deep comfort of the plush sofa. He wasn’t that dirty, he’d clean up in the pool with Popsicle.

Sasha sat at the other end of the sofa and looked over at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Tobias was tongue tied and couldn’t respond. She was actually talking to him! He tried to be cool and casual, but his pale skin burned red with embarrassment. He nodded, like vanquishing his enemies and freeing their slaves was no big deal. Just another day at the office, then turned to study the artwork over the fireplace as though a painting of flowers in a vase was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Who did your tattoos?” she asked, as she took in the ink on the wild boy.

“We did them ourselves.” Tobias said proudly. He flexed his skinny arm to make the Nordic runes stand out.

They were crude, some of them were a little crooked, but Sasha complimented them anyway. She was free for the first time since the end of the world and this savage kid was part of the reason why.

“They aren’t bad. I could get my kit and clean them up some for you if you like.” she offered with a smile.

Tobias studied the ink that covered nearly every inch of her exposed skin. It was flawless. The lines clean and sharp. The colors vibrant and alive. The serpent on her forearm looked as it could strike at any time. Nothing like the crude ink he and his sister had done.

“Did you do those?” he asked.

She nodded. “Some of them, yes.” She pointed to the ones she had inked on herself with pride.

“Ok, but you’ll have to do my sister too,” he said.

“I’d be happy to. I’ll just head over to the old place and get my stuff,” she answered.

“I’ll go with you!” He jumped to his feet. “Just for security and all, since you aren’t armed.”

The older girl smiled at him and led him from the house. Tobias followed her. Admired the sway of her hips and felt mighty satisfied with his life at that moment.

She turned to catch him staring at her backside and winked. “You’re gonna need a bath first, hero. You smell like a wet bear that’s been rolling around in road kill.”

Misty tried to clean Kodiaks and Donny’s cuts and scrapes with peroxide as they waited for the girls to finish their baths and showers. They were taking forever. They sat at the dining room table and stomachs rumbled at the smells coming from the kitchen. The women needed to get to a safe place because they wouldn’t last much longer in Smiths Landing. If the undead kept coming they’d overwhelm the fences and there were already too many to kill.

“Gordon burned down our home.” Kodiak said. “He killed Murray. Our crops and livestock are all gone. We worked all year chopping wood and it burnt up with the house. There’s nothing here for us now and we don’t want to spend another winter up north. We’re going to Lakota, the walled city in Oklahoma. It’s a long way but we can make it.”

Donny nodded in agreement.

“Do you think it’s real?” Misty asked wistfully. “It sounds too good to be true.”

“It’s real.” Kodiak said. “I trust the man who told us about it.”

“I’m in.” Trish said from the kitchen. “I don’t want to stay here. We can all go together.”

Kodiak shook his head. “You have a heavy vehicle and plenty of fuel. We’ll be traveling by foot with the animals. Even if you could drive a semi-truck, I don’t know how we’d move Bert, he’s too tall.”

“But you can’t walk that far!” Misty exclaimed, slapped her hands on the table and leaned forward in her chair. “That’s halfway across the country! What would you eat? What about the zombies? It’s too dangerous! You’re just kids! My God, how old are you, fifteen? Who would take care of you?”

Kodiak stared at her. Grownups never thought kids could do anything but he kept his silence, he’d learned a thing or two from Donny. He let her think about her reaction. It would have been right a year ago. It would have been unthinkable. This wasn’t a year ago, though. She looked back and forth between the two children. Their faces were still painted and drying blood was splashed on their battered armor. They were scarred and both had fresh wounds they ignored. Her eyes filled and threatened to spill over as she really saw who they were for the first time.

Child warriors.

Savage, feral children who had just ran nonstop for thirty miles, had killed a dozen men and injured dozens more to help their friend. They commanded thousand-pound beasts and rode them into battle. Wolves and panthers obeyed them and protected them. They weren’t little kids. They might look like it but they weren’t. They were more grownup than most grownups. Her shoulders slumped and she sat back. The boy was right. They could take care of themselves.

“We can teach you a few things about avoiding the undead,” he continued “but if you stay to the backroads and take turns driving, you won’t have to stop except to refuel.”

“What about the little ones?” Misty asked. “We can take them. You have to agree, they’re too young.”

“She’s right.” Trish said from the kitchen when Kodiak hesitated. “You know she is. We’ll take care of them.”

Landon and Caleb were giggling and chasing after Mr. Ringtail. Elmo clung to his back and chittered happily until the fox ran under the coffee table and knocked him off.

They watched them play and wished they could put the whole episode behind them as easily.

“Maybe.” Kodiak said. “We’ll have to talk about it.”

The girls started trickling back down stairs. Harper was the first, her skin glistened and her hair shone after the first real bath any of them had since the world ended. She had on boys’ pajamas a size too big, but he’d never seen her more radiant. She came over and sat by Kodiak. He was suddenly self-conscious about the blood and dirt that covered his own body in front of the freshly scrubbed beauty beside him. Her hair was down and hung limply, water still dripping from the ends and she smelled like cucumbers and strawberries. She took his hand under the table and held it in her own.

Swan bounced down the stairs three at a time and she was almost unrecognizable. She immediately went to her wolves and dropped to her knees, ruffling their fur. It was comical to watch them tilt their heads from side to side as they sniffed her hair, almost as if they didn’t recognize her without a layer of dirt, grime and war paint covering her.

The rest of the girls returned from their baths and started ragging the boys on being so smelly. Analise pushed Tobias out of the way and sat down in front of Sasha when she saw her holding the tattoo gun. “Go bathe and use soap. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“I already told him that, but you know how boys are,” Sasha said with a laugh, and began the process of sharpening the lines and edges of the crude ink that covered the girl’s body. Analise didn’t flinch as the needles pierced her skin. She stuck her tongue at her brother. “Go!”

“You three with me!” Vanessa shouted at the triplets. “Bubble bath in the jacuzzi. Chop chop, right now.”

The food was ready by the time they were all cleaned up. The three women seated the children around the big table and huge bowls of spaghetti were brought out. They were grateful for what the kids had done. Each of them knew they would have died or eventually ended up in the pool if Gordon had won.

The tribe gorged themselves on the meal. Trish kept cooking until they were stuffed and made sure their companions each had a bowlful. She asked about Ziggy and Bert, she had no idea what to prepare for them. Harper and Vanessa assured her the two were just fine as long as the bug and leaf supply held out.

Eyes grew heavy and bellies were full. The adrenaline had worn off and fatigued muscles ached for rest. For the three women, it was the first night of hope they’d known in almost a year. Things were good and they were going to get better.

For the wild children, it was the first night they didn’t have to worry about Gordon anymore. In their fashion, the children drug mattresses and cushions from the bedrooms to the living room and nestled up with their animals. They weren’t too concerned about Gordon’s goons trying anything. Many of them had probably died from their wounds. The tribe hoped so, anyway. Donny and Yewan took the first watch and kept an eye on the fences. Even though this place felt safe, one of them would stand guard while the others slept. It was their way and it had kept them alive all this time.

41

Goodbye

They awakened the next morning to the smell of reconstituted powdered eggs, pancakes and warm maple syrup. Swan was the first to the table. She had last watch and was back in her armor and war paint. She felt naked without it and wanted to make sure any of Gordon’s gang hiding in the shadows knew who she was.

The others drifted in, wiped the sleep from their eyes and feasted on the breakfast Trish had prepared. Their clothes were clean, actually washed in a machine and dried with softening sheets. Otis sniffed at the twins and sneezed.

“Sorry, there wasn’t any bacon or sausage in the freezer to go with it,” she said. “There hasn’t been any since the outbreak.”

They didn’t know how lucky they were that it had all been eaten. The infected breakfast meats were why every time the residents of Smith’s Landing thought they had the virus eradicated inside the walls, another family would turn.

The day was spent showing the women defensive moves with weapons scrounged from the slaughterhouse. They couldn’t get in the gun safe, the secret combination died with Gordon. When Kodiak and Donny entered the big house, they surprised some of the older boys scavenging through the kitchen. They were ragged and unarmed, badly bandaged wounds seeped blood and their eyes grew wide when they saw the children. They backed slowly for the door and ran as soon as they cleared it.

Storage sheds, basements and closets were ransacked and a collection of shin guards and pads became improvised armor for the women. They should be able to drive straight through, only stopping to top off the fuel, but Kodiak wanted them prepared for anything that might happen on the road.

The day went by too fast and after another meal of steak and lobster from Gordy’s private stores, the group sat scattered around the living room and shared hopes of what Lakota would be like. They’d put the battle behind them, it was the past and they were focused on the future. No one would shed a tear over Gordon or his gang.

Swan volunteered for first guard watch and Kodiak was annoyed when he woke sometime in the middle of the night. She hadn’t got him up for his shift. He threw his clothes and armor on then stormed out, he was going to give her a reaming if she fell asleep. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was? There were zombies at the gate and Gordon’s men were still out there. They were beaten but they could still be dangerous. He stomped out to the end of the driveway when he didn’t spot her snoring away on the porch and glared in both directions. The clouds were heavy as they moved across the night sky, the moon was hidden and the stars were spotty.

“Looking for me?” Swan asked and a black figure stepped out of even blacker shadows, her wolves silent beside her.

“You didn’t wake me up,” he said.

“Wasn’t sleepy.” She answered curtly. “Go on back inside. I’ll let you know when I am.”

“Okay,” he said. He knew not to argue when she was in one of her moods. “But wake me up as soon as you get tired. There’s still a few of Gordon’s men hiding out.”

“Not as many as before,” she said under her breath when he was out of earshot.

She wiped the gore from her tomahawks and reached down to scratch Zero behind the ears. His muzzle was also wet with blood.

The next morning there were arguments, tears and tantrums. The triplets didn’t want to go with the women, they wanted to stay with the tribe. They finally agreed when Kodiak told them he really didn’t want them to go, the tribe could really, really use their help but what about Mr. Ringtail and the rest of the foxes? They couldn’t keep up. Their poor little paws couldn’t take it. They had to ride in the car and he needed the triplets to keep them safe.

Harper hunkered down to their level.

“The ladies are nice, but can they be trusted to take care of your foxes or Murray’s monkeys?” she asked. “They don’t even know what to feed them. What if Mr. Ringtail or Kuma Lisa run off and get lost? You have to take care of them, they need you.”

The triplets reluctantly agreed and started gathering fox food to add to the already loaded Hummer.

“I’m gonna miss those little boogers.” Tobias said. “It’ll be months before we see them again.”

“They deserve a chance at a normal life.” Kodiak replied. “They need to be with other kids.”

He didn’t need to add that their journey would be a lot more dangerous than the car ride.

The Hummer was pretty full with three women, three children, three foxes and three monkeys but they would be okay. They could be there in a few days. They went out of the back gate and left it standing wide open. The little kids waved until they were out of sight, then the tribe turned south, back towards the zoo.

42

Lakota Bound

They stood in the shade of the tree where Murray rested. It was a peaceful spot that overlooked the river and fresh flowers were laid on the cairn. They had spent the morning at the grave, reminiscing and telling stories while Donny worked with the chisels to carve a headstone. It was simple but it said a lot.

Murray Sanders

Brother

Friend

Hero

“We just wanted you to know that Gordon has been dealt with and he’ll never hurt anyone again.” Harper said. “You’d be proud of us, we saved some girls and they’re on their way to Lakota with the triplets. Elmo, China and Ernie, too. We’re going, so this is the last time we’ll be stopping by. We miss you every minute of every day and we’ll never forget you.”

Swan and her wolves were the last ones to leave the grave as the procession started the long walk to Lakota. When they faded out of sight, she pulled Gordon’s bloody scalp from the inside of her hyena cloak and dropped it next to the flowers.

“Proof,” she said. “That bastard died hard. Broken, bleeding and crying.”

She didn’t have to hurry to catch up, the bears were slow. They left the gate open for Millie, she could follow if she wanted. If not, the old rhino would be fine. Like the children, she could take care of herself.

Epilogue

Diablo sniffed at the bloody piece of hair on the stones by the river. It had his brothers’ smell on it. It also had hers, the human child with the steel claws who had taken Demonio from him. The wolf girl who had slashed his shoulder, torn his mouth and split his tongue. Pus oozed from the infection in the roof of his mouth where her tomahawk had cut him. He raised his fanged maw and cried out his barking hyena laugh. The pack of followers answered with chitters, grunts, howls and hisses.

The child would be easy to follow, her scent was strong.

Author’s Note

The Feral Children will return in The Feral Children 3: Nomads

Author’s Note from Wesley:

If you are still reading, then you’re probably mad about Murray and Sage and glad that Bert and Gordon finally resolved their differences. I hope you are as excited as I am about what comes next for our heroes. Don’t worry, we’ll be working hard on the next story very soon!

There’s a lot of miles left to travel on the Zombie Road and I’m thrilled to be here. From a last minute submission in the Long Haul Anthology, to having my characters from that story incorporated into the main storyline, writing the fan club Christmas story, having a shady Colonel named after me and finally, being asked to co-author the Feral Children, it’s been one wild ride. That brings me to the people who made it happen.

A huge heartfelt thank you to David. He’s really one of the best people on this planet and I’m better for knowing him. He truly deserves all the success he has achieved, and I wish him a whole lot more of it. I’ll never forget sitting on my back porch with him and telling him that this kid had an ostrich and this one had a giraffe. He looked at me said, “An ostrich and a giraffe? Why not, let’s go with it and see what happens.” Thank you, buddy, you’re the best.

I’d like to give a shout out to my own band of Feral Children. Wynema, Ryan, Garrett, DJ, Landon and my granddaughter, Harper. The personalities of the Feral Children come straight from them and all of the friends they’ve dragged in and out of our home over the years. I love you all!

Thank you Dennis and Tina German for showing me that family is so much more than blood. I love you guys!

Thank you to all the people behind the scenes that make these stories better. The beta readers who help smooth out the rough edges. Thank you to our very own Elvira, Alina Giuchici. She’s a tireless promoter and supporter and a talented fashion designer in her own right. Thanks to the incomparable Eric A. Shelman, seriously this guy could read the multiplication tables and keep you listening until way past bedtime.

Lastly, but most importantly, my beautiful wife, Shannon. I wouldn’t be doing this without the love and unwavering support of this real-life Wonder Woman. She wrangles a huge family of teens to toddlers, aging parents and me. Thanks baby for all you do and I’m sorry for all those nights you tried to sleep with the glare of a laptop screen in your eyes. I love you, Sunshine.

To all of you younger readers out there, pay attention to this next part. Parts of this book are violent and some of them are uncomfortable to read, much less write, but it’s make believe. No kids or animals were harmed in the writing of this book. Unfortunately, the issues the characters face are real. Mental, physical and sexual abuse are real. As long as there’s one person out there living one or all of these nightmares, that’s one too many. Please, if you are in one of these situations or know someone who is, reach out for help. Go to a teacher, coach, pastor or someone you trust. Being a victim isn’t a crime, you’ve done nothing wrong. No one should have to live this way and it saddens to me see so many young people taking their own lives because they were bullied or abused and saw no other way out. You’ll probably never get to ride on the back of a 1200-pound bear and slay zombies, but you can take inspiration from Kodiak and the tribe and take a stand.

November 21, 2019

Wesley R. Norris

Author’s Note

Authors note from Simpson:

What a ride and let’s hope the worst is over. The tribe have a long journey ahead of them but hey, after all they’ve been through, it should be a pretty easy jaunt across the country.

A leisurely stroll in the park.

That nasty old hyena will probably give up and crawl off to die somewhere. Swan and Donny are pretty handy at hunting so they shouldn’t go hungry. Besides, there are plenty of empty houses with food. They can go into them, fix a nice meal, have a good nights sleep. They might even pass a shopping mall and decide to explore. What could possibly go wrong?

We hope you enjoyed the story and will join us in the next book for the last part of the tale as they make their way to Lakota.

If you liked it, please be so kind as to leave a review. We greatly appreciate it and it helps others find the books so they can enjoy them too.

There is a David Simpson Fan Club on Facebook if you’d like to join us for all the latest information on releases and other things. If you have any questions or comments, that’s the best place for them and I’m on there everyday.

There’s also the obligatory website where everything I’ve ever published is listed, most of it still available. Davidasimpson.com

Have fun, live life and don’t get hit by a bus.

David A. Simpson

7 December, 2019

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Also by David A. Simpson

Zombie Road: Convoy of Carnage

Zombie Road II: Bloodbath on the Blacktop

Zombie Road III: Rage on the Rails

Zombie Road IV: Road to Redemption

Zombie Road V: Terror on the Two-Lane

Zombie Road VI: Highway to Heartache

Zombie Road VII: Tragedies in Time

Zombie Road VIII: Crossroads of Chaos

Anthologies

Tales from the Zombie Road: The Long Haul Anthology

The Zombie Road Fan Fiction Collection: Tales from the Zombie Road World

Undead Worlds: A Reanimated Writers Anthology

Undead Worlds 3: A Reanimated Writers Anthology

Treasured Chests: A Zombie Anthology

Trick or Treat Thrillers: Best Paranormal 2018

Trick or Treat Thrillers: Best Horror 2018

By David A. Simpson and Wesley R. Norris

The Feral Children: Animals

The Feral Children 2: Savages

The Feral Children 3: Nomads

Coloring Book

Zombie Road: The Road Kill Coloring Book

Zombie Road and Feral Children T-shirts

Available on Amazon

Also by Wesley R. Norris

Road to Riches: A Zombie Road Tale

Book 1: Deadline

Children Book

Elf Without A Shelf

Anthologies

Tales from the Zombie Road: The Long Haul Anthology

The Zombie Road Fan Fiction Collection: Tales from the Zombie Road World

Splintered Dreams: A Guide to the Apocalypse Vol 2

The Feral Children 3

Savages

Book three in the Feral Children series

This is a work of fiction by

David A. Simpson

And

Wesley R. Norris

ISBN: 9798688026283

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No portion of this text may be copied or duplicated without author or publisher written permission, with the exception of use in reviews

Copyright 2020 David A. Simpson

All rights reserved

Prologue

September

12 Months After the Outbreak

The rickety livestock building stank of manure and hay. It could be described as sickly sweet and disgusting all at the same time. Flies buzzed in and out of the holes that were rusted through the metal siding. Hay rotted in the empty stalls that ran along one of the walls. Most of the bulbs in the high overhead lights had burned out and either no one cared enough to change them or didn’t think the effort was worth it. It was a place for cattle to huddle out of the weather before they were slaughtered to feed the town. The mournful lowing of cows expressing their displeasure at not being fed yet interrupted the stillness and silence.

Kodiak needed a moment to think. Time to get his mind off his own worries and deal with the imminent threat facing the tribe. Staring at Otis wasn’t helping him or Otis. There was nothing more he could do for his friend. Everything that could be done had already been tried. Dwelling on their situation just made him angrier. He tried to calm himself. It wasn’t working. This was supposed to be a haven. It was supposed to be a place far removed from the struggles of being on the road. It was supposed to be safe and secure from the undead, the Savage Ones and the malicious people that roamed the desolate countryside. Not all of the people here could be evil, but the few they met had been.

The other members of his tribe looked at him expectantly. He’d led them here; they were counting on him to lead them out. All but Swan. She didn’t like being held against her will and yearned for a fight. The events at Smith’s Landing were too fresh, too raw for her. She’d been restrained, confined, beaten and almost forced into a mockery of the marriage ceremony. Gordon had promised to shame her, break her spirit and then toss her to his gang to do with as they pleased. She’d gone feral on them, though. The tribe had helped her, had come through at the last moment but they had shown mercy to those that fled the battle. She hadn’t though, and her blades had ensured they would never hurt anyone again. She wasn’t opposed to the idea of letting them speak their whispered language of pain again. She paced restlessly along the walls, her pack of wolves tight on her heels, ready to spring into action at her command. She held a tomahawk in each hand as she looked for weakness in the metal siding, anything that would give them a way out. A spot she could lever or pry open far enough to squeeze through before unleashing steel and fury on the man who guarded them. The building was old but it had been built to hold in thousand-pound cows. It was solid and it would take a lot of noise and effort to break out. It would take time. Hack and slash without regard for the consequences was her way. The way of the wolf. Fight without fear, without remorse and without a conscience. A wolf didn’t concern itself with the opinions or lives of sheep. She was terrible and savage when she went over the edge and she was almost at that point. Getting out of the building was the least of her worries, though. She knew they could but the men with the guns and the high walls were the real danger. They couldn’t cover the ground and get past them without being cut down. She didn’t fear for herself, she feared for her tribe.

Kodiak walked away from the others. He avoided their eyes. They trusted him and he trusted them as well. They had survived from day one with only each other to rely on. They would survive this too, he resolved. He didn’t have a solution. Not yet. He mentally kicked himself for being so desperate, but there had been no other choice at the time but to come here.

He lowered himself, back to the wall, mindful of the cow manure that dotted the floor of the stock barn. The few overhead lights that still worked didn’t penetrate the darkness that shrouded him. It called to him. The corner was dark and lonely except for a few spiders waiting patiently in their webs for an unsuspecting fly. He sympathized with the fly. Snared in a web and trapped because of a bad choice. Like him and the tribe.

He dug the old, tarnished Coast Guard Zippo out of his pocket. It had been Derek’s lighter, now it was all that was left of him. The easy-going zookeeper had been the closest thing to a dad he’d had for years and he missed him. He missed the talks and life lessons shared on the banks of the Mississippi River. He missed the easy way Derek had with the animals and the way he’d always treated his mother with kindness and respect. He rubbed his fingers over the raised emblem as memories of all the tribe had endured flashed through his mind.

Flick. He watched the flame dance from the Zippo.

Snap. He closed the lid and extinguished the yellow blue fire.

Flick. He watched the shadows dance on the barn wall. Like ghosts they came and went with the flicker of the flame.

Snap.

Flick. He watched as Derek went down under the jaws of the hyenas the day the world went to hell.

Snap.

Flick. He thought about his mom using her last breath to give them a chance to survive.

Snap.

Flick. He remembered the pain of Gordon pounding his fists into his ribs and stomach while he was helpless at the mercy of the psychotic boy and the thugs that followed him.

Snap.

Flick. Bodies were shredded by the fury of the tribe. Blood stained the snow crimson as they fought Gordon’s gang at the church while the winter wind howled its fury. They would have killed them all but the screams of a burning girl drowned out the sounds of battle and snarls of animals as her flesh melted away.

Snap.

Flick. Murray waved goodbye from the porch for the last time.

Snap.

Flick. The awful sound of dirt striking the charred corpse and the nauseating stench of burnt flesh that no number of fresh flowers could hide as they laid Murray to rest on the banks of the Mississippi.

Snap.

Flick. Gordon begging and pleading like the coward he was before he fell into the pool of undead as justice was finally served.

Snap.

Flick. Otis roaring as the bullet ripped into his flesh.

Snap.

Flick. His tribe herded and caged like animals.

Snap.

He’d made a mistake coming here. He’d made a mistake listening to the smooth talk of the man who said he only wanted to help. Lies and more lies. His faith in the human species was fading. Maybe the world would be a better place when mankind was gone. Maybe whatever species came after wouldn’t be hell-bent on destroying what others built.

He heard voices outside the walls. It was the men who’d caged them. He couldn’t make out the words, just the sound of laughter. It made him angrier. He slid the old Zippo into his pocket and grasped his war hammer. He listened to the clank of the chain being removed from the door. He looked at Otis, motionless on the ground, and then tore his gaze away from his companion. The time for regret had passed. Now was a time for action.

He locked eyes with his brothers and sisters as weapons were readied. He hefted his war hammer high above his head; they nodded in agreement and raised their own weapons. He loosened his knife in its sheath so it would come out faster. When the blood spilling started, he wanted to be sure that he drew every drop that was due him.

When the townspeople lured them in with their empty promises, they hadn’t even tried to take his weapons from him or the others. They thought because the tribe was made up of kids that they were weak. They thought their guns made them superior. They thought because they were bigger, older and there were more of them they had the advantage. Others had thought that too. Others had been wrong. Others were dead.

He didn’t want to spill any more blood, but he would. He didn’t want any more ghosts following him around, but he would welcome their company if that’s what it took to protect his tribe.

The tribe spread out as sunlight started streaming in through the opening and silhouetted the two figures standing in the doorway. Animals and children melted into the shadows, ready to hack, slash and tear anyone who would do them harm. Except Otis. Otis lay where he’d fallen. His heart broke as he watched him from the corner of his eyes. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the haft of the hammer and readied himself. Rage coursed through him as he prepared himself for battle.

He tore his gaze from the fallen bear and brushed the long hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He growled low and deep as the two figures entered the barn.

1

The Road to Lakota

11 Months After the Outbreak

The plod of hooves and the tinkle of a cowbell were the only sounds on the deserted stretch of two-lane blacktop that ran through the lonely southeastern corner of Iowa. A few dried and weathered cornstalks still held out against the ravages of time. They stood crooked and bowed from the winds in the seemingly never-ending fields on both sides of the road where corn was once king. Miles and miles of the same view were behind them. Empty, desolate, and forgotten. Weeks gone from the home they had made. Weeks gone since they laid Murray in a hole on the banks of the river. Weeks gone from the wrath they had rained down on Gordon and his gang of thugs.

Power lines sagged to the ground where one storm or another had snapped off the poles. They lay across the road in places, but were more a nuisance than anything. Electricity had stopped moving through them more than a year ago and probably never would again. The dead didn’t need power. There was nothing to see except more of the same. It was miles and miles of nothing occasionally broken by an empty house and barns with flapping roofs. Things were falling apart fast with no one to make the small repairs. A corner of a roof sprung loose from a summer storm went unchecked and the wind worried at it relentlessly. Nails worked loose, tin blew free, rains poured in.

The road was desolate. The interstates were packed with cars in many places, but the back roads the tribe traveled had been ignored by the people fleeing the waves of undead. Mother Nature was slowly eroding all signs that man had once tilled the fertile soil. Prairie grass swayed in the breeze as far as the eye could see. Day by day it encroached on the roadway. Sprigs of grass clawed their way up through the cracks in the asphalt, driving them further apart. Rain washed down through the cracks and eroded the soil underneath the road bed. The painted lines down the center were so faded they could barely be seen. In a few more years the road would be lost, covered in grasses.

Farm equipment sat rusting in the fields or in barn yards. The most excitement they’d had was the zombie farmer trapped in the cab of a tractor just off the road. It had banged and keened against the glass when they passed. They stopped and watched out of curiosity. A summer spent in the oven like atmosphere of the tractor cab hadn’t been kind to the zombie. Its flesh fell off in chunks as it railed against the glass that kept it in. They’d made morbid jokes about how it must smell in there and Tobias said it was the equivalent of Crockpot Zombie. They left him in his prison and the sounds of mushy hands slapping on glass faded behind them.

Endless miles of barbed wire rusted and fence posts rotted. Tractors and combines sat in fields wasting away with harrows and plows hooked behind them that rested on flat tires and provided sanctuary for rabbits and field mice. Without man and his machines to beat it back the grass dominated the landscape like it once did when the Native Americans called this place home. Kodiak liked to imagine that someday maybe buffalo would once more roam these grasslands and tribes of nomads would follow them like they did before the land was settled, taking only what they needed to survive. That was the way it should be, order out of chaos.

Fresh meat had been scarce. They saw plenty of animals, but they were always far away, just specks on the horizon. The terrain was too open and neither Donny nor Swan knew how to hunt it. They’d honed their deadly skills in the forests surrounding Piedmont, not on the open plains. They watched hungrily as pheasant and quail flushed from the tall grass. Many times they’d seen deer or antelope dart from the grassy plains to disappear out of sight. Too far away for the deadly accuracy of Donny’s spear or an arrow from Swan’s bow. Too far away for even the wolves or panther to have a chance of catching them. It was hard to sneak up on prey that could smell and hear you coming for miles. It was impossible to spot an animal that was perfectly camouflaged in the tall grass. They did find a snake now and then but for the most part it was tough and tasteless. Still, it was meat, so they ate it when there was nothing else. Stomachs growled and children grumbled about the meager rations they had left. Backpacks and saddlebags hung flat and almost empty.

Hopes had been high when they spotted the hundreds of rail cars sitting idle on their tracks. Disappointment took its place when they discovered the cars were full of coal once destined for power plants and bug riddled grain that was fermented and rotten. Dreams of cases of canned goods and clothing that wasn’t worn and tattered from the miles and elements faded. The tribe pressed on. There was nothing behind them so they didn’t waste time worrying about what they didn’t find and refocused their efforts on what might be ahead.

They’d lived fairly good in the security of Piedmont Animal Sanctuary but those days were gone. Being burned out of their home and the murder of Murray erased any desire to try and rebuild. The ruins of the house would always be a painful reminder for all of them. The stories of Lakota drew them like a moth to the flame. The promise of hope and a chance to grow up without looking over their shoulders drew them like a magnet. Landon, Clara, and Caleb were already there thanks to the girls they had rescued from Gordon.

The tribe had loaded up with supplies from the food warehouse in Putnam but most of it was long gone. The bears, the wolves and the panther ate a lot and even with careful rationing, there wasn’t enough. They thought it would be easy to scavenge supplies on the road but it hadn’t been. Most of the farmhouses didn’t have cellars full of home canned goods. They had cupboards with a few weeks’ worth of groceries. One of the bears could eat everything in the house and still be hungry. They thought they could hunt for game but once the woodlands turned to prairie, the biggest thing they’d caught was a rabbit. Now it was a day to day struggle to keep food in their bellies.

Harpers giraffe grazed the grass on the shoulders of the road and Vanessa’s ostrich sought out seeds or insects to fill her belly. The carnivores that traveled with the tribe weren’t as lucky. There had been no fresh meat for them to feast on. They could go for days or even weeks without eating, relying on their fat stores to carry them through to the next meal, but even the mightiest of beasts had their limits and everyone was almost at theirs. The few rabbits and mice they managed to catch were just enough to leave them wanting more.

Kodiak swayed in his saddle atop Otis, the twelve-hundred-pound Grizzly bear that was his companion and most loyal friend. He was nearly asleep. He tried to shake off the tiredness, the fatigue of endless hours of travel through a deserted country where everything looked the same. He needed to be alert for signs of danger, but it was all he could do just to sit in the saddle. The tall grass that surrounded them could hold thousands of the undead or allow the Savage Ones perfect cover to attack them from downwind.

Fitful snatches of nightmares woke him sometimes in a cold sweat. More than once, images of Gordon’s zombified face pulled him from sleep as its jagged teeth lunged for him. Scenes of broken bones, shattered skulls, splayed open bellies and blood running like a river haunted him. There was always so much blood.

The weapons the tribe used were for killing up close. Sharp and pointy or blunt and heavy. They were silent and deadly. Unlike a bullet fired from a distance, you got to see the look of shock in your enemy’s eyes as you thrust your weapon into their bodies. You felt the suction of the wound on the blade when you ripped it free and smelled the coppery tang of blood in the air or tasted the spray of arterial blood on your tongue. You felt the bones collapse under the force of a war hammer or Morningstar and if you stopped to watch you saw the light fade from their eyes. It was harsh and brutal, but it was the only way to stay alive. Fight for what you have and what you love or watch it be destroyed. What their animals did was worse. Arms or legs were torn free, stomachs were ripped open and long coils of gray poured out. It was nothing like the carnage he’d seen on TV or video games. Not at all.

There was much death in their wake and it troubled him. The eternal question of why plagued him. Humans were an endangered species. Why were the last of them hell bent on destroying each other? He’d heard the stories from the traveler Bob about the towns and rebuilding. Places where there was plenty of food and security. Places of unity and cooperation. They sounded like fairy tales but was their own story any less fantastic? The stories filled him with hope and trepidation at the same time. He hadn’t seen these places with his own eyes. He hadn’t walked their streets, hadn’t seen a normal society with stores and schools and cars. All he’d seen in this new world was death and destruction. He wouldn’t believe one of those places existed until he saw it.

His conscience didn’t bother him, he’d been forced into a corner. He’d even considered giving up everything they’d built and moving away but they’d forced them into a fight. They had wanted it because they thought they couldn’t lose. He never wanted any of it to happen but there’d been no choice. They tried to live in isolation. Tried to carve something out of nothing with their meager supplies and hard work. Sweat and blisters, bug bites and sunburns, they’d pushed through it all to make their own little corner of the world. They were succeeding, doing fine and getting better until everything came to an end. It only took days to destroy what had taken a year to build.

Attacked by the Savage Ones, animals crazed from feeding on the undead and even more crazed humans it had all been trampled and burned to ash. Gordon’s final assault on their sanctuary had been the last straw. He and his gang had killed one of the tribe and torched their home. Without mercy, Gordon tortured and burned the purest soul Kodiak had ever known.

The death of Murray still weighed heavy on his heart. He’d been off gathering supplies at the warehouse with the rest of the tribe while Murray was at the mercy of that monster.

They kept to the back roads. One lane blacktop and gravel. It wasn’t the straightest line from one point to another but they wanted to avoid wandering hordes of the undead or gangs of men scavenging for supplies. They didn’t like their chances against heavily armed bands of men in their trucks and off road cars. They might shoot first and ask questions later.

The undead would follow where the scent of man was strongest. Mindless and merciless, they only existed to spread the zombie virus from infected to the uninfected. Scavenging opportunities on these forgotten roads were few and far between. This was once farmland. Before the outbreak, corn and grains covered tens of thousands of acres to feed a hungry nation. Houses on the long stretches of road were scattered and far apart. They’d attempted to get food from a few silos, but the corns and grains stored inside were rat and insect infested or rotted and fermented.

Kodiak still felt the decision to stay to all back roads was the right one, even though his growling stomach disagreed. He knew the interstates increased their chances of finding easy supplies, but also held the danger of encountering huge hordes of the undead. The tribe was in agreement, even though it added hundreds of miles to their trip. They would get to Lakota when they got there, they’d decided. Even with the longer route, they would make it before the winter snows started falling. None of them could forget the tales the mysterious stranger had told them about raiders and cannibals prowling the road.

Still, none of them had anticipated how hard the trip was going to be. They were going almost a thousand miles on foot based on the stories of an outsider they barely knew to a place that seemed too good to be true.

The state of Iowa was in a drought. Creeks that should have been filled with fish were dry rock beds and apple trees that should have been loaded down with juicy apples only held small, bitter worm-infested fruits that weren’t even suitable for the animals to eat. Tobias had tried cooking them down to make tarts. The boy had used up the last of their sugar and flour stocks to try and salvage something from nothing. Even Otis wouldn’t eat them, so they had to be terrible.

Kodiak looked over his shoulder at the cow that plodded along on a rope tied to Harper’s saddle. He contemplated butchering her for the hundredth time. She was skinny and malnourished, more bone and gristle than beef. The bones of her ribs and hips protruded sharply from her brown hide and her eyes sat sunken deep in her skull.

They’d found her wandering in a pasture that was nothing but bare dirt with a few sprigs of dead dry grass. Scattered bones littered the ground where a large herd had once grazed, back when the world was still alive. The trapped herd had overgrazed it, and then succumbed to starvation. Somehow, she’d survived when the others hadn’t and it just didn’t sit right with him to save her from certain death, only to slaughter her for the little bit of food she’d provide. Maybe they could put some weight on her, and she’d produce some milk or trade her for supplies to replenish their depleted stock. The idea of fresh milk caused his stomach to rumble in protest. It had been too long since they’d had any and he knew the rest of the tribe missed it as much as he did. I’d give anything for a big bowl of Captain Crunch and milk, he thought.

Boredom and monotony had set in on the long southwestern trek down the endless miles of blacktop. They were tired of playing I Spy and sharing their thoughts about what they were going to do first when they reached Lakota. Almost a month of travel and they still weren’t out of Iowa. It had been days since they’d passed through a town. The Welcome to Pineville, Iowa sign read population 217. It had been nothing more than a crossroads with a solitary caution light swaying in the breeze and there wasn’t a single pine tree in sight. The lone grocery store and gas station had been long looted and houses still filled with the undead curbed their desire to risks their necks for a can of chicken noodle soup, though with the way their supplies were dwindling it wouldn’t be long before they had to do something drastic.

The tink of a rock striking metal snapped Kodiak out of his lull. Tobias and Donny had been plucking rocks from the roadbed and throwing them at the road signs. He watched as the two boys raced through the tall grass into the ditch and he heard Tobias yell in excitement. He slid from the saddle strapped to Otis’ broad back and went to see what the fuss was.

Kodiak pushed his way through the gathered tribe and wiped the dust from the window of the tan Buick that sat forlornly in the ditch, its owner long since gone or turned into one of the mindless undead. The fading paint matched the grass that surrounded it perfectly. The windows were covered in a thick layer of dust. Weeds had grown up tall around it and they’d not even seen it, only the errant aim of a rock had alerted them to its presence.

The back seat was full of plastic bags. Someone had been shopping the morning of the outbreak. Their misfortune could mean a much-needed meal for the tribe. Without hesitation, Kodiak smashed the window out of the car with his war hammer. Harper stepped beside him and pulled up on the door handle. It wasn’t locked.

“Oh,” he said sheepishly.

He stepped aside to let Harper see if there was anything they could salvage from the bags. Donny wasted no time getting into the driver’s compartment to search for loot.

The smell of decay wafted out of the car from the meats, milk and vegetables which had long ago rotted. It wasn’t bad enough to keep them out though. They’d smelled worse. They’d endured the stench of corpses bloated from the sun and heat. Smelled the sickly-sweet smell of animals ripped open in battle. This was nothing compared to one of Bert’s farts.

Rummaging through the bags she found several cans of soup along with some Ramen noodles, potted meat and Vienna sausages. Canned peaches and pineapple slices. Stale crackers and boxes of macaroni way past their expiration date were handled with reverence. This was food, much needed food, and they would make do. There wouldn’t be any complaining when it was parceled out. Maybe some jokes about how awful it tasted as they devoured the stale crackers, but they wouldn’t waste any of it. Other bags yielded some toilet paper, body wash and moisturizer, which earned a fist pump from Vanessa. Toilet paper was a precious commodity and the ebony skinned girl never missed an opportunity to add to her stash.

They rooted through every inch of the car. They checked the glove box, center console and under the seats. Ignored the change in the cup holders and the cellphone still plugged into its charger. The wallet full of cash and credit cards that lay open in the passenger seat was tossed aside. Worthless stuff. Anybody willing to risk it could wear all the gold necklaces and diamond rings they wanted. You couldn’t eat them though. Anybody could have a million dollars if they wanted to now. It wasn’t good for anything anymore but maybe wiping your butt or starting a fire.

A half full disposable lighter and a cheap pocketknife were all they found that was worth keeping. Donny pocketed both items. He’d clean up the knife and put an edge on it. They’d made it a point to gather any items that might be worth trading whenever they finally encountered other people.

Nervous and excited, they chattered among themselves about what it would be like to finally meet some other survivors and trade with them. They couldn’t wait to tell an enraptured crowd their stories as they gathered around to inspect the wares they’d pilfered along the way.

Donny exited the car and popped the trunk. He smiled then bolted away in terror when he stuck his head inside. Nestled inside was a case of bottled water and four cans of Coca-Cola along with a nest full of wasps, angered at the disturbance which sent children and animal alike scattering from their fury.

Tobias swatted at the wasps with the flat of his axe and stomped them as he knocked them from the air. He was stung twice but ignored it. He reached in the trunk and grabbed a Coke and popped the top. The rest of the twelve pack had exploded from the heat and covered the trunk in dried syrup.

“Aah,” he exclaimed and belched loudly. “Still good and worth it,” he said as he eyed the swelling on his arm from the wasp’s stings.

He handed the half empty can to his sister. She turned it up and drained it. She belched loudly, and then giggled. Tobias handed out the other three cans. The rest of the tribe shared them among themselves. No one drank more than their fair share before passing them along. It had been a while since they’d had a whole soda to themselves.

The supplies went into the saddlebags on the animals and they moved on. They’d keep a sharper eye out for more vehicles hidden in the grass.

“This was a good find,” Kodiak said as he tossed the empty Coke can away. “But it’s not enough. We’ll be in Missouri tomorrow if our luck holds out.”

“Maybe the hunting will be better,” Swan muttered. “First set of woods we come across I’m getting us something more appetizing than that scrawny cow and a handful of old Saltines.”

Donny signed at her. I’ll get a kill before you do. What you want to bet on it?

Swan snorted. “Keep dreaming buddy.”

Kodiak pulled out the map he’d marked up with Misty after they’d defeated Gordon. He put his finger on their location and ran it down southward. He pointed at a junction where the road they were on crossed a state highway.

“I think it’s time we get on a bigger road, we’ll still stay away from the interstate but there should be better scavenging near a four lane. There will be more cars, houses and stores. Maybe even a big rig or two full of food.” His stomach growled at the mention of food. They nodded in agreement.

“This is another few days or so away. There are some little towns between here and there. Maybe we can find us some decent clothes before we get to a settlement. I remember Bob mentioning a walled town right here.” He put his finger on a tiny spot marked Gallatin.

“I’m not trading my armor for a dress.” Swan said. “They can like it or not. I don’t care.”

Donny thumped his spear in agreement.

“I’m not getting all fancied up for people I don’t know.” Tobias said.

His coyote pelt poncho had been worked for many hours and was soft but resilient to bites. It was easy to move in and he could pull his arms inside to protect his pale skin from the sun. They had spent a lot of time working and living in their armor and rough leather clothes. It would feel strange, not to mention not nearly as safe, to go back to jeans and t-shirts.

“I didn’t say we were going to put on our Sunday best.” Kodiak protested. “Just something a little less, you know, wild looking. Maybe some normal clothes or something.”

“Meh.” Vanessa said. “I like my skins. Too bad if they don’t.”

“You could at least put on a shirt.” Kodiak said. “You know city people won’t be used to seeing an African princess running around mostly topless.”

“Then they don’t have to look.” She said and smiled, the tribal scars on her face shining under a sheen of sweat.

“Maybe they can show us how to hunt the prairie.” Donny signed. “There must be some way to get the game. We’ve seen plenty but we can’t get close.”

“True.” Swan said. “Wish we still had Murray. One of his books would have told us.”

Her painted face turned into a snarl at the memory of what Gordon had done and her hands fell unconsciously to her tomahawks. She’d kill that bastard over and over again if she could.

They got quiet at the reminder and started adjusting their gear, checking their mounts for any saddle chaffing and mounted up. It was settled. Even if they faced trouble on the bigger roads, they could handle it. They couldn’t watch their companions slowly starve.

They were optimistic, surely the people of the plains would know how to hunt the grasslands. There had to be tricks to taking down the antelope and deer. Kodiak folded the map, tucked it away and fingered the memory bead braided into his hair. It was an oval of polished steel crafted from the melted steel of Murray’s wheelchair and smiled. Yeah, Murray would have had them eating well, knowledge gained from one of the thousands of survival books he’d downloaded.

Chatter broke out among them as they started forward again. Supposedly these fortified towns had tall walls and most even had electricity and running water. They were filled with kindhearted people who were working hard to rebuild the country. Murray had spoken long hours with Bob and he had made it sound like paradise. There would be cheeseburgers and chocolate shakes, movies and real toilets.

Sometimes they rode, sometimes they walked but they always kept moving. Kept picking them up and putting them down one step at a time. It was slow but they steadily ate up the miles, one after another. Hours later as they watched the sun drop in the western sky, the excitement of Gallatin had worn off as the day slowly dragged on. Each lost in their own thoughts, they focused on the ribbon of asphalt that seemed to stretch on forever.

They had to seek shelter for the night. Even though they’d seen nothing of the Savage Ones and very few of the undead, sleeping out in the open was a last resort. They’d done it a few times but no one rested well when they were so exposed. Houses were few and far between on the long, lonely stretch of highway but they weren’t worried. This was farm country and they all had barns or equipment sheds. They preferred those rather than the houses. They didn’t smell as bad from the mold and mildew of wet carpets or the stench of the field mice warrens. Barns were built to get wet and dry out naturally, they were open and airy.

From her perch on Bert’s tall back, Harper spied a grain silo in the distance and called it out to the tribe.

“Another mile, maybe.” She said. “I see a few outbuildings, too. We’ll make it before dark.”

“I hope the well has a hand pump.” Analise said. “I’m overdue for a shower.”

Vanessa swung up on Ziggy and urged her into a run as they darted ahead to scout it out.

2

The Prophet

Hundreds of miles away, headed in the opposite direction of the tribe, a solitary figure shuffled along like an old man although he had turned eighteen only a few months before. Sometimes he thought his name used to be Zack Scott, but he didn’t know for sure. Everything from before had become a hazy blur of muddled memories that were fuzzy at best. He remembered being with a group of friends that weren’t really his friends for a time. They had called him Skull but that wasn’t his true name either. He wasn’t that person anymore. He was someone else.

He’d been struck down by a band of wild children and reborn as something new. He called himself the Prophet now because it was the only name he could remember. The source of his downfall was also the source of his deliverance. The tribe of feral kids. They had been his enemy. He’d suffered at their hands, but he’d deserved it. He knew that now. They had hurt him but they had also shown mercy. He knew he wouldn’t have if the tables had been turned. Not back then, not when he’d been Skull, and the guilt gnawed away at him. Sometimes he didn’t know why he felt so remorseful, couldn’t remember the things he’d done to feel such shame but he knew they must be bad and he had earned what had happened. He’d had it coming.

He knew he’d fought them three times, a mystical number that held power. The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. The maiden, the mother and the crone. Life, death, rebirth. Every time he had gone to war with them, they had struck him down. Once with a war hammer, once with tomahawks and once with a spear. Every time he’d taken a blow to the head, more damage had been done. His cracked skull had healed but something inside his head hadn’t.

He didn’t know if they had names, he only remembered them as wrathful visions as they struck him down. They could have finished him but they hadn’t. The Girl Who Walks with Wolves had spared him, had turned her blades at the last second and hit him with the flats. The One Without Words had knocked him unconscious with the butt of a steel spear then kept his inky black panther from tearing his face off. Their leader, the Keeper of the Hammer, had turned his killing blow aside when he had been dazed and on his knees. He had spared him once more that day in the ratty old mobile home. The young warrior king told him he didn’t deserve mercy but he wouldn’t strike him down as he sat bound and helpless. They’d left him alive; they hadn’t ended his miserable life or turned their animals loose on him. He wasn’t worthy of their kindness but they had given it anyway. It was more than he deserved.

They’d freed him from his addictions, he couldn’t stand the smell of booze anymore. He’d done bad things and would have continued doing bad things if it hadn’t been for the kids and their animals. They’d opened his eyes to the truth of his fake friends. They didn’t care. They left him to die. The Children showed him what true love was. They would kill for each other and would never leave one of their own behind.

For days after he had lain in the mobile home that stank of vomit and death from the body just outside the door. He’d been delirious from the concussion, weak from hunger and had nowhere to go. Gordon, or his friends that weren’t really friends, never came back for him. He was completely alone. His head throbbed and pulsed with every heartbeat and he waited for death to finally claim him but then a miracle happened.

He sat on the floor in a haze, he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness and knew the end was getting close. The next time he closed his eyes, it could be the last. He’d never open them again. A single beam of moonlight came through the tattered mini blinds and he watched it move across the floor until it was full in his eyes. He looked into it and saw the girl and her wolves’ right before she struck him down. In his vision she wasn’t a vengeful, angry banshee about to sink steel into his head, she was an angel of shimmering, ethereal beauty. Peaceful and kind. She wasn’t painted for war; the blood of her enemies wasn’t splashed across her battle scarred armor. She was bathed in the pale light, it seemed to come from within her. He knew she was dead, then. That Gordon had killed her and the other children would be next. He reached out a hand, tried to touch her as the tears ran freely down his cheeks.

“Take me with you.” He whispered “Take me away from this.”

She and her wolves glowed and a beatific smile parted her lips. He bowed his head, unworthy to look at her shining face and begged for her forgiveness. He begged her not to go, not to leave him alone, and to take him with her. He knelt in abject humility, bared his soul and listened to her voice that sounded like wind whispering through the leaves or the tinkling of the wind chime outside the door. He may have listened to her for hours or it may have been seconds but angelic encounters were like that, weren’t they? The moonbeam shifted, the room darkened again and he drifted off into blackness, a whispered prayer on his lips.

When the morning sun woke him, he understood what he must do. She hadn’t come to lead him out of this world and into a better one. It was his duty, his calling, to make this one a little better. The girl who walks with wolves had washed him clean of his crimes with her glow. After a lifetime of bad decisions and poor judgment, the angel in the dust filled beam of light had shown him the way.

She was offering him a life worth living. It didn’t have to end curled in a ball on a filthy carpet. He discovered a hidden inner strength, a new purpose as he struggled to his knees.

Truly, the tribe of wild kids were the chosen ones. How else had they survived on their own? What other reason could explain their power over the beasts that stood by their sides? They were merciless, yet they were not cruel. They were strong, but helped the weak. They lived in harmony with their environment and asked nothing of any man. They were pure and clean. They were the new way, they were the ones chosen to rebuild a better world and he knew he had to save them. To get them out of Gordon’s clutches.

With a renewed heart and spirit, the Prophet had emerged from the run-down trailer and breathed in the fresh air. It had never tasted sweeter. He’d never appreciated the flowers and the trees. He’d never stopped to listen to a cricket chirp or a bird sing from a branch. He soaked up those experiences as he stood with his head tilted towards the sky and his arms outstretched. The hammering in his head stopped, a gift from the Mother of Wolves. He felt alive for the first time in as long as he could remember. It felt good, it felt right. It was their way and he couldn’t let people like Gordon stop them.

Poor Blind Mike never had the chance to see the true path and he didn’t waste time putting him in the ground. The creatures of the earth needed to eat, he wouldn’t deprive them of a meal. The Prophet shouldered the dead man’s rifle and hummed Amazing Grace as he made his way northeast. Yes, he thought, he would follow their path to Smiths Landing. He would free them from Gordon and maybe, just maybe, they would let him walk with them. Follow in their footsteps. Learn to be like them.

It took him all day to make the five mile journey to Smith’s Landing. His spirit was willing but his body was weak. Something was wrong in his head; his movements were slow and sometimes jerky. His coordination wasn’t what it used to be, sometimes he tripped over his own feet because one of his legs didn’t work as well as the other. It dragged a little and he had to concentrate to make it move right. He didn’t run into any of the undead on the county highway. The children had killed the ones they encountered and any that survived had followed their trail and joined the horde at the front gates of Smiths Landing. He was lucky, he wouldn’t have been able to defend himself very well. His thoughts tended to wander and he’d shuffle along for hours in a fugue state, not knowing where his mind had been or what he’d been thinking. A waking blackout.

He made his way to the rear gates and saw them standing wide open, the chain broken and the bars bent. He stumbled in the tall grass of the overgrown golf course but kept pushing forward to the houses where the gang lived. He didn’t know what he would say to convince Gordon to set the children free but he knew he would think of something. The Mother of Wolves would show up and tell him. Her spirit was with him, he believed it with all his heart.

The houses were quiet when he approached and the carnage started in the driveway. Bodies were strewn on the lawn, butchered and dismembered. It wasn’t the kids, it was the gang. The Prophet carefully picked his way through the shattered glass, broken furniture and splintered doors. More bodies littered the kitchen and living room and he smiled at the carnage. The children had done this. He should have known. A lowly human like Gordon couldn’t stop them, they were the chosen ones. A scraping sound caught his attention and he limped out towards the patio area, passing a member of the gang who was still pinned to the wall, his lifeless body held in place by a spear. He stood at the edge of the pool and stared down at the gore encrusted thing reaching for him and keening hungrily. It was the only one still moving, the rest had been put to rest. Two spears stuck through its chest and it had been scalped, days old blood covered its bald head and shoulders. At first he didn’t know who it was but the leather holster hanging on its side told him it was Gordon. The only one who carried a gun and he knew it was she who had left him like this. A warning to others and sign for him. She lived. She and her tribe were truly the chosen ones, protected by power greater than themselves.

He swayed at the edge of the pool, his mind going dark for a time, and listened as the thing spoke to him with its keens and rasps. When he came back to himself it was still there, still reaching for him, but he no longer understood its words. He turned and gazed on the destruction wrought on Gordon’s home, at the bloated and mangled bodies rotting in the afternoon sun and knew what he must do. She had shown him this so he would know their power, an affirmation of his vision. They were on the true path, not him or the gang he’d run with. Not Gordon who had tried to turn him from the way. He would be their voice. He would sing their praises and spread the Gospel of the Tribe far and wide to all who would hear it.

He walked through the mansion with a torch, set each room ablaze then moved on to the next house. He would level them all, erase the stain from the planet. As the fire raged through the million-dollar homes and the scent of burning flesh filled the air, it finally resembled what it had really been. Hell on Earth. He left through the back gate in search of people to tell them of the Tribe. To tell them of the chosen ones.

He adopted their manner of dress. Flowers and feathers were crudely woven into his hair. He skinned out the animals and sewed the hides together as a cloak. He had walked for most of the first day before he realized he only wore one shoe. It didn’t matter and he smiled to himself. He was above such creature comforts and discarded the other in a ditch.

He scavenged when he was hungry or ate from the flesh of the animals that refreshed his clothing. He had no idea how to tan hides, so he wore them fresh from the deer or dog or whatever animal was sacrificed. He wore them until they became too stiff, and then sought out new ones. With the late summer heat he was forced to hunt for new hides every few days. Even the maggots and flies had given up on the furs by that point, but he wasn’t disheartened. There was always game in abundance. Deer or stray dogs fashioned his cloaks, raccoons and opossums provided for his leggings and loin cloth. He paid no mind to the horrific odor they gave off, or the sores that covered his skin from the bites and stings of insects or the rot from the untanned hides.

Days later, his faith was reaffirmed when he encountered a dozen of the undead while searching for his next meal in an abandoned minivan. The undead paid him no mind, further proof in his mind that he was on the True Path. The truth was that the foul-smelling hides that covered his body masked his human scent and his shuffling gait didn’t set off the undead’s radar. In the Before, before he’d been smote down by the children and reborn, they would have torn him apart in seconds and added him to their ranks. They shuffled by him and continued their slow shamble to wherever they were headed.

Realizing they weren’t going to attack him and needing to bear witness, he climbed on to the hood of the van and threw his arms towards heaven and yelled.

“Brothers and sisters let me tell you the story of how God sent his angels in the form of children to vanquish evil from this land. They strike swift and sure but are not without mercy for a repentant soul. I stand before you as proof.”

The zombies turned and approached the car. They sniffed the air, seeking the smell of untainted flesh that would put them in a frenzy of bloodlust. They served one purpose; carry the virus from the infected to the uninfected. They couldn’t detect his human scent, only the smell of animals and rot. They milled about in confusion as he ranted from the hood of the car and implored them to follow him to truth and light. Eventually they lost interest and shuffled on in search of living flesh.

The Prophet was elated as he climbed down from the van. They hadn’t attacked him, just stood there while he testified to them. He was certain he’d gotten through to at least a couple of them. He grinned like the idiot he was as he made his way down the blacktop in search of other souls to enlighten.

As he looked for someone to share the Gospel of the Tribe with.

3

Diablo

Diablo loped along in a broken gait. He was once a magnificent specimen. Covered with thick mottled fur, massive jaws that exerted tons of pressure and weighing in at over two hundred pounds of densely packed muscle, he had elicited fear from every human who peered at him through the iron bars that kept them safe.

Now, every movement brought pain. His body was scarred from endless fighting. Some areas were scarred so badly that fur would never grow in those spots again. Chunks of muscle had been ripped from him by the sharp steel of the girl and the fangs of her pack. His tongue was thick where it didn’t heal properly from her piercing steel. The puncture from the spike of Swan’s tomahawk through the roof of his mouth impacted his nasal cavity. His nostrils were always running with mucus tinged with blood. Deep aches filled his body where glass had embedded itself in his flight through the window of the children’s den. Biting and pawing at the shards only managed to embed them deeper.

He ignored the pain. He ignored the new wounds inflicted by the huge assortment of beasts that trailed in his wake. He’d been gored by tusks from boars twice his size, savaged by the claws and teeth of wild cats, bloodied and ripped under the fangs of dogs, coyotes and a black bear that had briefly joined the pack. Every few days, one would sniff his urine, seeking weakness and the opportunity to challenge him as Alpha. Every few days a new challenger died and became food for those who followed. His powerful jaws and desire to live prevailed time after time.

He had one purpose that drove him onward. The wolf girl. The scent of his brother’s hide draped across her back ignited his primal urges. He didn’t have emotions, only impulses. He didn’t feel hate or anger, only the urge to rend her flesh and crack her bones for the marrow inside while he lay next to the skin of his brother and pack mate. The scent of Demonio had been the only thing of comfort in a life of cruelty and abuse. He whined softly as he searched his olfactory memory for the reassuring scent of his brother.

Many times, he’d padded away silently in the night to distance himself from the pack. They weren’t like him. The only other like him was gone. It didn’t matter where he wandered off to, within half a day he would hear the grunts or barks as they followed his trail. His distinctive scent and his droppings were clear signs for them to follow. The carrion birds that followed the Savage Ones for their scraps would always mark his path.

The tribe of children and their animals was easy to follow even though the breeze was at their backs. The animal waste that littered the road and the pungent smell of wolf urine on highway signs led the way. The last vestiges of their fires told where they’d camped, and it was easy to pick out their individual scents where they’d lain for the night.

Tonight, he would leave the pack for good. There would be a challenge first though. There was always a challenge for the position as Alpha. His instincts told him he was weakening. The pains that coursed through his body warned him that he was past his prime. It was only a matter of time before he was the one that filled the bellies of the others. The canine that followed too closely, the one who was laying his own stream of urine anywhere Diablo did would challenge him soon. He too would fall.

He felt the temperature dropping. Darkness would fall soon. It was time. Diablo would control the encounter, instead of waiting to be attacked when he sought a place to bed down. He had no desire to be Alpha of this strange pack. Had no desire for any of their ilk. They followed him because he found the food. Diablo tore through the stinking ones with a rapturous pleasure, killed for the sheer joy of it and left his kills behind to be devoured by the rest. That murderous nature and their overwhelming numbers gave them advantages that the smaller animals didn’t have on their own. He mated with the females when the urge took him, but nothing came of their unions. He was unique and alone in the world. He growled low in his chest and stopped his lilting gait when he felt the breath of the challenger on his backside.

Diablo turned in the road and faced his opponent. The big canine met him with a growl of its own. The dog was large, but not as large as him. The fur stood up on Diablo’s neck, drool ran from his massive jaws. He lowered his head and body to present a smaller target for the other beast. He lulled his opponent into thinking he was afraid. They began to circle one another with vicious growls and barking laughs. The dog attacked first. He darted in and seized Diablo by the throat, sensing an easy kill. Diablo let him. His neck was too thick and the fur too dense for the smaller beast to seriously hurt him. The dog’s stubby jaws lacked the size to reach something vital. With a twist of his head Diablo flung the smaller animal away. It tumbled and leapt back to its feet. Diablo lowered his body again and barked his laughing bark. The dog attacked again, feinted and went for the shoulder that troubled Diablo. The smell of dried blood and traces of infection were weakness it could exploit. Diablo darted out of reach and bit down on the dog’s side. Fangs laid the skin on the dog’s ribs open to the bone and it yelped in pain, and then attacked once more. The hot asphalt soaked up the blood offering as they circled each other. Diablo was faster and more vicious, he leapt forward at the dog, anxious to end the encounter. He’d never been a pampered pet of man like the inferior creature in front of him. Men had only hurt him and burned any sense of loyalty for their species out of him with their cruelty. He shredded the dog’s ear and opened a gash in its forehead. Blood ran into the dog’s eyes from the wound and it attacked once more. The limited visibility of blood-filled eyes caused it to snap its jaws on empty air. Diablo bowled the dog over and seized it by the throat. He shook his head back and forth until the skin gave. Muscles and veins parted. He ripped them loose and swallowed them down. Blood showered him from the severed arteries. The dog struggled, then weakened, then ceased fighting as its life blood pumped out. Diablo grabbed the dead dog by the neck and growled at the others that were creeping forward. He wouldn’t share this kill. There would be no scraps for them to fight over. He dragged the dog down into the ditch and into the culvert that ran beneath the road as the frenzied Savage Ones began to tear into the weaker members of their pack. They would feed too. Cats, raccoons and opossums fled from the jaws of the larger dogs, coyotes and feral hogs. Soon, more blood ran into cracked asphalt as those too slow or weak to prevail were rendered into gnawed bones and scattered bits of fur.

Diablo dragged the dog through the other end of the culvert into the grass, away from the others. He thrust his maw into the soft belly and devoured the choicest organs. He ripped flesh from the neck, shoulders and haunches and lapped up the blood that pooled beneath the carcass. He cracked bones and devoured marrow until he was sated. He’d seen the other animals, particularly the dogs that had once been pets of the humans rolling in dead things. It messed with their own scents and attracted stinging insects, but they still did it anyway. He lowered himself into the gore and intestines spread out over the ground and rolled. Waste and blood worked their way into his fur. He continued to roll until his fur was matted with the remains of his opponent.

He cocked his head and listened to the Savage Ones still feasting on the road above. Without a backward glance he turned and headed into the wood line. Let them follow if they could. He wouldn’t mark territory until he couldn’t hold it anymore. He sensed it was past time for him to leave if he didn’t want to feed the others. His instincts told him he wouldn’t survive too many more challengers and his genetic coding went from fight to flight. That was the way of the hyena, guile and cunning.

He ran at a painful pace. He ignored the hurts and aches of his body. He stopped to lap up water from a narrow stream then relieved himself in its flow. His deformed tongue caused more water to spill out than went down his gullet. He followed the stream and snapped his jaws at the silvery fish that seemed to glow in the moonlight as they darted through the shallows. Even full, he never missed an opportunity to gorge himself. He emerged on the opposite bank then ran through the night. The woods were thick enough to hide him from the birds. His scent was confused enough to not be followed.

His instincts told him he was free of the pack. Free to pursue the wolf girl with all his wiles and cunning. Done with the fighting to remain the apex predator among the wild dogs, coyotes, and the strange assortment of animals that followed for his scraps. The pack of animals he left behind faded from his memory. A new alpha would take over and the Savage Ones would continue their hunts.

4

Kassie

Gallatin, Missouri

Kassie and her little dog Coffee walked across the smooth tops of the storage containers that made up the wall. Stacked end to end and three high, they surrounded the small town of Gallatin, Missouri. Machine gun emplacements were mounted at intervals and bored sheriff’s deputies manned their stations, smoking or dozing to pass the time. Not much happened here. Gallatin was off the main roads and had a population of less than 2000 before the apocalypse. Its remoteness and the railroad tracks that ran through it made for an ideal settlement. It had a good water source and was far enough away from the big cities that they weren’t too concerned about massive hordes. Goods could be shipped in and out by the rail cars or semi-trucks. The huge stockyards west of the walls and the unlimited grazing opportunities allowed the town to secure its place in the new nation as a livestock provider. They raised cattle, hogs, and sheep and even had a herd of buffalo that was growing quickly. Currently it was home to three hundred and thirty-four permanent residents and a few dozen others at any given time. A steady stream of retrievers and Hell Drivers used it as a rest and resupply point between their missions into the badlands.

Kassie plopped down on the edge of the container and dangled her legs over the side, some twenty-five feet above the ground. She sipped on her hot chocolate and watched as the sky turned colors with the sunrise. It had become her morning ritual. Hot cocoa, a beautiful sunrise then three laps around the town on top of the wall. Coffee sat beside her and begged for attention. He was a scrappy little guy of undetermined origin, but she loved him regardless of his lack of pedigree. Ear buds in, she bobbed her head to the music coming from her cell phone. She wondered where the artist was now. Holed up like her, or wandering among the hordes of zombies that filled the big cities. Other than the pictures of her life before the fall, her phone wasn’t much good for anything else. None of the games she’d had on it still worked, they all needed the internet. She had a large assortment of music though. One of her friends had been gathering all the songs he could find and putting them on some computers in the rec room. Anyone was free to download whatever they wanted and the retrievers were always bringing in more when they found them. Still, she held out hope that one day she’d look down and see the little service bars that indicated a cell signal. There was a rumor that someplace called the Tower still had phones and soon the settlements would too. She couldn’t wait for that day.

She had no idea what happened to her friends and family when the outbreak hit but she liked to think that everyone in her contact list was still out there. She hoped that all of her Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram pals were safe and secure, riding out the apocalypse in comfort. Deep down she knew that probably wasn’t true but she said prayers for them anyway.

She and her mom had been one of the lucky ones that escaped the ravenous hordes. They’d been on a two week vacation, half of it primitive and the second half pampered. The first week they camped and hiked the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. The second week was supposed to be boutique bed and breakfasts and some really neat Airbnb homes. When the news erupted with stories of crazed people attacking each other in the streets and the big cities burning, she couldn’t believe it. Her mom’s first thought was that they might have to cut their vacation a little short because she would surely be needed back at the hospital if it was that bad all over.

The first half of the trip was over and they were both looking forward to a real bed, a hot shower and the swimming pool. They had just gotten back on the main road when Kassie started playing with the radio to see what kind of music the locals listened to. Instead they heard near hysterical broadcasters telling stories of the dead people climbing to their feet and chasing down other people. Looting and rioting were sweeping through the big cities. New York and Chicago were burning, and the firemen couldn’t even respond without being attacked. Bridges were being blown up to stop the tide of undead but they were everywhere. The response was too little, too late. Every town, every city in the country was under siege by the mindless undead. At first they both scoffed at the stories, zombies weren’t real but the fear and barely controlled panic in the newscasters’ voices certainly was.

They had pulled over at a little all in one gas station, restaurant and souvenir shop, still not sure if it was some elaborate prank. While she was walking the dog, her mom went inside but ran back out, told her to get in the car and lock the doors. She was pale and shaking and snapped at her to be quiet when she’d asked what was wrong. She kept dialing 911 and getting a busy signal. She’d hang up and try again, over and over then started calling other numbers. She didn’t get an answer from anyone. She’d never seen her mom afraid before and it scared her. They sat for a long time trying to call people and listening to the radio with the windows up and the doors locked. What frightened them more than anything was when one after another the stations quit transmitting or the emergency broadcast signal came on with the same message being repeated over and over. Her mom became calm after a time, considered all of their options and came to a decision.

“Kassie, Honey, we can’t go home. It’s not safe. What they are saying is true and it’s not just in the cities, it happened here, too.”

She didn’t mention the woman she saw in the bathroom that had lunged at her with snapping teeth and blackened eyes. Her throat had been completely torn out but she was still moving. Still trying to kill. Linda was an ER nurse, had been for nearly a decade, and she knew the thing was dead. There was no other explanation. No other way. In the second she saw her, she’d seen her jugular vein dangling down the front of her blouse. It was large and unmistakable and it wasn’t pumping blood. The woman was dead and had been for hours. The blood coating her was already dry and flaking off.

As they talked, they saw a man walking down the road towards them. At first they thought he was drunk, his clothes were torn and he was weaving all over. He snapped his head around when Coffee started growling and barking and zeroed in on them. He screamed and started running right at them and her mom fumbled starting the car. Coffee went crazy as the man slammed into the window and tried to bite through it, his mangled face leaving bloody streaks on the glass. Kassie screamed, Coffee went into an attack frenzy and when the Escape finally started, she floored it. The man tried to hang on, tore the plastic wind deflector off and fell under the spinning back tire. They both screamed as the SUV rocked over him and shot out of the parking lot. Her mom floored it but then just as quickly hit the brakes. Kassie and Coffee slammed into the dash and both of them yelped. Her mom took a few long and deep breaths then very calmly said that’s why you should always wear your seatbelt.

It was ridiculous. The radio said the world was falling apart, something in the store had scared her mom half to death, a crazy man had just attacked them and they had run over him and now her mom was scolding her about her seatbelt. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry or laugh. Coffee licked at the tears on her cheeks and she laughed. She had to or she’d go mad.

“Your hair is messed up.” She told her mom.

Linda’s ponytail was askew, somehow it wasn’t in the back anymore, and it was on the side of her head.

Her mom started laughing too and it took a while for them to stop.

The man they had run over was still coming, crawling along the asphalt on broken legs. He was still keening and growling, still trying to get them.

“It really is zombies?” Kassie asked as they turned in their seats and watched his slow progress.

It took a minute for her mom to answer but she agreed when she finally did.

“Honey, things are different now. We’re going to have to take care of ourselves, I don’t think there are any more towns or army or police at the moment. I think we’re on our own for a while until they get things sorted out. It might be a while before they get everything under control again. I think we need to go to a place without any other people around until things settle down. I think those creatures are everywhere. We might have to do things that were unthinkable a few hours ago. Are you okay with that?”

Kassie nodded; her eyes wide.

“I’m not going to sugar coat it, we might have to do things we don’t want to do but if we’re going to make it through this, they’re going to have to get done. We can’t half way commit, this is life and death. We have to be in all the way. You understand?”

Kassie nodded again. “All the way.” She said.

Her mom put the car in reverse, aimed for thing in the road and exploded its head in mid scream when the rear bumper slammed into it. They stopped at the gas pumps and she took her pistol case out of the console. Kassie grabbed the ammo out of the glove box and started loading the magazine as her mom rummaged around the back seat for the holster, the one she’d carried the days they’d been in the woods.

They left Coffee in the car, slipped inside quietly and went straight to the restrooms. They could hear one of them shuffling around. Someone had turned into one of those things while inside and couldn’t get out, the door had to be pulled to open. Linda had come face to face with it when she’d first entered the store and thought someone was in need of help when she heard it. She was lucky the door didn’t open the other way or she’d be dead, reanimated and would have been trapped inside just waiting for her daughter to come looking for her. Together they moved a couple of tables from the café over to stack in front of the door in case the thing inside managed to somehow bounce it open.

“We need to take as much as we can carry.” Linda said. “We’re heading back into the park, I think we can stay in one of those ranger cabins, maybe the one that was miles from anywhere.”

The place was deserted, food still on the tables, the grill still on with bacon and sausage burnt beyond recognition. There was blood on the counter and more bloody handprints on the door. A display of kachina dolls, pottery and genuine Indian jewelry had been knocked over and broken shards littered the floor. The thing in the bathroom pounded and screamed incessantly and they were both rattled, in a hurry and more than a little frightened. Everything was happening so fast. They grabbed armloads of food from the shelves and filled the backseat with canned goods and other gear. She topped off the gas, filled every extra can the store had and tied them to the roof. They rushed, nearly running back and forth and always watching for anymore of the undead to come running down the road.

The Escape wasn’t set up for serious off roading, it wasn’t a Jeep or a Land Rover but it had four-wheel drive and the tires were all terrain. It would make it up the fire roads and maintenance trails just fine.

Linda had made the tough decision that there was nothing they could do for their loved ones back home and if they tried to get back to Louisville they would most likely die on the way. She turned the SUV back into Badlands National Park and headed for the most remote part she could find. The roads were rutted and washed out in places, branches and scrub brush added a lot of new scratches to the paint but the Escape took them deep into the park, to the little ranger station they’d hiked past days before.

As they made their way through the bumpy, twisted trails, her mom told her they would be ok. They were far away from the danger. They had their camping and fishing gear, she had her pistol and knew how to use it and they had enough supplies to last for a while. Maybe in a few weeks, maybe a few months, things would settle down. The government or the army or somebody would start to fix everything. They just had to ride things out for a while. Kassie was excited and terrified all at once.

They followed the trails through the canyons and hills until they found the little cabin standing in the middle of a meadow. It was small with a couple of cots, a stretcher, other basic medical supplies and a wood stove. There was no electricity, running water or two-way radio. It was primitive and didn’t see much use but the builders had added an outhouse some thirty yards away near the tree line. It had been a few years since someone had broken an ankle and had to be carried to a clearing so the helicopter could get them. It was dusty and had a stale smell. It wasn’t much to look at it but the roof didn’t leak and the floors were solid. The door was thick and heavy and the latch was strong. The small windows had heavy shutters. Nothing would be getting inside, not even a large bear.

It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect for the two of them. It was warm and dry, far from civilization and only a short walk from a stream. They unpacked the car and mourned the loss of the world as one by one the radio stations went off the air. By the third day, there was only static when they scanned the dial.

“We’re going to have to winter here,” Her mom said as they sat in the Ford. “We need to go back to the store, clean it out, and get anything and everything we might need.”

They stripped the SUV bare, pulled out the back seats went down to the all in one Black Hills country cafe, fuel stop and last chance souvenir shop. It was the same as they’d left if except the electricity was off, they couldn’t top off the gas cans. Someone had been there, another survivor. The beer cooler looked a lot emptier than she remembered and the cigarette rack behind the counter had been stripped bare of everything except the menthols. Linda backed up to the front door and they worked fast, the thing in the bathroom was still trying to get out and whoever took the beer might come back for the rest of it. They weren’t in a panic this time though and took the time to pack the truck tightly. They took all the big cans from the restaurant, the sack of potatoes and onions and every ounce of coffee. They grabbed all of the Navajo blankets to line the walls and floor of the cabin. It wasn’t insulated and winter would be cold. They cleaned the store shelves of anything edible, which was mostly junk food, and everything else they could cram into the nooks and crannies of the Escape. They grabbed tourists’ T-shirts, cheap Indian moccasins made in china, all of the cigarette lighters and packets of aspirin. She found a toolbox in the office and it was tossed in too, along with the assortment of fishing hooks, lures and line. Kassie found a shotgun leaning behind the office door but they didn’t find any extra shells, only the four that were in it. The overloaded truck groaned its way back up the trail and almost as an afterthought, they broke off some branches and swept away their tracks when they turned onto the dirt road. The missing beer bothered Linda. There could be some unpleasant men lurking out there staying drunk and doing whatever they wanted. With no law and lots of alcohol she was worried what a group of men might do if they discovered two women on their own. She knew what people could do to each other. She’d seen some ugly things and heard uglier stories during her decade of working the emergency room.

Linda wasn’t a survivalist or a prepper, she didn’t know how to start a fire with sticks or hunt deer with a knife but she enjoyed the outdoors and was comfortable in the wilds. They couldn’t have survived being stranded in the woods with only the clothes on their backs but that wasn’t their situation at all. They had enough food for maybe six months, a roof over their heads, pure water from a mountain stream and a way to keep warm in the winter. She knew how to clean a fish, could figure out how to set snares and they had the tools they needed to survive. They were set up pretty good and she knew they’d been lucky.

They spent weeks digging a root cellar and lining it with small logs. Kassie’s blisters turned to callouses as one day blurred into the next and the nights got colder. Winter was coming and her mom said snow could be so deep they wouldn’t be able to leave the cabin, maybe for days. Through trial and error they learned to build fish traps that worked and snares that caught small game. Kassie discovered that even though it was gross at first learning how to clean them, fresh rabbit or fish seasoned with wild herbs and cooked over an open fire was way better than ravioli from a can.

After the first rushed weeks of getting everything ready, the days passed slowly. Linda gave her a crash course on what she knew about survival. She taught her the little she knew about which plants could be used for food and medicine and which ones to avoid. They ground their own spices from the herbs that they picked from the foothills. She learned to make medicinal teas and how to field dress an animal. They hiked to different areas to fish and collect plants that could season their food. The only thing they had from the store was salt, pepper and hot sauce.

They said prayers for the family and friends back home. They played cards and read books from mom’s Kindle, which they charged in the Escape. They inventoried their supplies and were content. With the fresh meat pulled from the snares or the creek, they had enough to last until spring. They fashioned warning systems with rocks, tin cans and fishing line that surrounded the approach to the cabin. Bears were a concern and they cleaned the small game on a big, flat rock next to the stream. They were careful not to leave any food scraps outside and tossed the bones in the water to be carried off by the swift current.

She and Coffee chased butterflies through the mesas and buttes and picked wildflowers to give their tiny home some color.

They gathered wood and spent hours each day with the little camp axe chopping it into pieces that would fit in the small stove inside the cabin. The pile grew and they had to go farther and farther to find good downed wood. They fashioned a travois from one of the Navajo rugs and their legs grew strong pulling the heavy loads.

They experimented with different ways of starting a fire without matches and although they finally succeeded and agreed it was good to know, it was so much easier to flick a Bic. They did laundry by hand, dried them on paracord strung between trees and mother and daughter became closer. Their grownup and child roles blurred a little and they became real friends. They never saw another person, living or dead, heard the sound of cars or saw the contrails of airplanes crossing the sky.

Linda drew up a calendar and marked the days off as they passed. September fell away to October and became November. They fell into a routine and once a week they would spend a day looking for civilization, as they started calling it. After breakfast they would fire up the Escape and scan the radio dial. They never really expected to hear anything but they both held their breath, crossed their fingers and hoped as the numbers flitted across the screen, never stopping, never locking in on a signal. Afterwards they hiked to the highest point for miles and stared through the binoculars in every direction for signs of activity. They looked for smoke from a fire, a small airplane, sounds of machinery or anything else that might show them they weren’t alone. They never saw anything.

The snows came at the end of November and stayed by mid-December. Linda pulled the battery out of the Ford, set it in a corner of the cabin and hoped there would be enough juice in it to fire the truck up when the trails were clear enough to navigate.

Winter was mostly boredom and monotony. Kassie learned how to sew and they used fishing line to make jackets and pants from T-shirts and blankets. Once the snows were knee deep, they only went out for wood or the outhouse. A storm came in January and they worried the roof might be torn off in its fury but in the morning, the world was a calm, white wonderland. Cabin fever set in and they made snowshoes then learned to walk in them, covering miles of territory to check their traps and snares. They became lean and hard; all excess fat was stripped away.

5

Leaving the Badlands

Spring chased away the snows and the black hills came alive with birdsong and flowers. Fish became plentiful and their snares were useful again. By the end of March, the snow melt was gone, the trail was dry enough to maneuver and they were both eager to get off the mountain, to travel a little farther and see if any of the towns were showing signs of life, if there were any other survivors. With a prayer on their lips, Linda connected the battery and was rewarded with the buzzes and dings of a car coming back to life. She cranked it and although it turned over slowly, the engine fired and settled into a steady idle.

They whooped and did a little dance but stopped in mid celebration when the scanning radio locked onto a signal and music blasted out of the speakers. Their celebratory cheers were even louder and both dove into the car to listen raptly when a man came on, gave a little news about a shipment of medicines expected to be in later that day and played another song.

They listened for hours before the next DJ came on and mentioned they were broadcasting from Lakota Oklahoma. Over the next couple of days they learned there were other fortified settlements, other survivors and as the country thawed out they were starting to rebuild. There were warnings to avoid the big towns and cities, they were still overrun with the undead. There were call in shows, music shows, how-to hours and the town sounded wonderful. They had electricity and running water. All were welcome and there was still plenty of housing available inside the walls. They were eager to go and started planning the journey.

Using their maps, Linda charted a course for Lakota that avoided any towns and stayed on the back roads. It was a meandering route but it should keep them safe. Her only concern was getting fuel, she didn’t have enough to make it, even with the extra cans. She knew the principles of siphoning gas even though she’d never done it. With a piece of garden hose from an empty house, she was sure she could figure it out. Somebody called Scratch played the most awful music but he mentioned that the zombies would chase you forever so be careful every time you stopped. Even with that good advice, Kassie still wasn’t sure if it was worth listening to his show. All the music sounded the same, like some guy screaming into the microphone while the band made a lot of terrible racket.

They made it around Omaha and into Missouri when the SUV started bucking and running rough then finally died. It wouldn’t start back up no matter what she did and within a few minutes of cranking, the battery died too. All they could figure is that they must have gotten some bad gas.

“It’s not the end of the world.” Mom said. “We’ve got two good feet and maybe we’ll find another car. Maybe the next farmhouse we come to has a pickup truck with the keys in it. We’re out in the country, people don’t lock things up like they do in the city.”

“We could always drive a tractor.” Kassie said. “Do those take keys?”

As they were sorting through their gear, trying to determine what the most important things to take were in case they couldn’t get back to the truck, they saw a stumbling group of people in the distance from the way they’d come. They remembered what Scratch said, some of the farms they’d passed had people still wandering around. They were far off and not moving very fast but they were coming. Like a slow-moving locomotive, they couldn’t be stopped and their arrival was inevitable.

They crammed their packs with whatever was at hand, grabbed the guns and started running. There was no place to hide, tens of thousands of acres of crop land surrounded them in every direction. They slowed their pace to a jog when they lost sight of them but kept moving. They didn’t know if the things would stop at the car or keep shuffling after them. Did they follow the sound of the car or the smell of the people? The land was flat, they could see all the way to the horizon on the straight and narrow roads. Using the binoculars, they watched in dismay from a mile distant as the horde only stopped briefly at the car before continuing the chase. There were a lot of them, they’d probably been picking up followers for a long time.

“We have to keep moving.” Linda said. “They’re slow. If we come to a stream, we’ll go down it. Surely, they can’t track us through water, even bloodhounds can’t do that.”

They jogged for a long time, it felt like hours and they stopped twice to lighten their loads. They got rid of extra clothes and tools the first time. After the second stop and the undead still seemed to be gaining, they ditched everything except the clothes on their backs and the guns. They were at a cross roads, they had run for miles and still no river in sight. Both of them were panting and sweating in their Navajo blanket jackets but didn’t want to toss them. It still got cold at night and they were thick enough to stop a bite if things went really bad and they had to fight hand to hand.

As they got their breath and drank down a can of peaches, they heard a motor far off in the distance. They waited, not wanting to leave the intersection, the machine was heading right for them. It didn’t even occur to Linda that they might be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. She didn’t think it might be bad men coming down the road. They didn’t have much choice, they were slowing and the horde was steadily gaining. There wasn’t a river anywhere to be seen and the vehicle bearing down on them was their only hope.

It was a salvage party from a little walled settlement called Gallatin. They were good men and quickly made room for the pair in their overloaded pickup truck. The mayor of the town greeted them warmly and when he found out she was a nurse, he immediately asked her to stay.

“We can help you get to Lakota,” he promised. “We’ll send one of our trucks out to tow yours here but can you help us out for a little while? A few weeks, maybe? We could really use someone of your skills, all we have now is an EMT. He knows a little but you know as well as I do, their job was to stabilize a patient just long enough to get them to somebody like you. Please say you’ll stay with us for a spell, at least long enough to get him trained up some.”

The mayor gave them a nice house and once she saw the dismal state of the doctor’s office, she rolled up her sleeves and got busy. Babies were sick, broken bones had healed badly and the EMT didn’t have any idea what kind of medicine to prescribe. It was a ranching town and there was a steady stream of minor injuries and sprains and stomped feet to attend to. An old retired history teacher had dusted out a few of the rooms at the courthouse and held classes for the dozen or so kids in town. A few weeks turned into a few months and they forgot about going to Lakota. Her mom was needed here and had become an important member of the community. It wasn’t so bad. Probably not as nice as the capital city but it was better than living rough in the cabin. At least they had electricity and there were people to talk to.

Gallatin seemed like a nice place at first but it had a dark side that they slowly found out about. Before the fall, her mom never would have shared anything she knew with her, she was just a kid. Their months in isolation, all the hard work and closeness had changed that. What mom said was still law but they were more than mother and daughter now. They were survivors and best friends. Lately her mom had told her not to wander by herself so much and to stay away from the men that traveled with the mayor.

“And I want you back inside the house with the doors locked before dark, you understand?” she’d said in her mom voice.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Kassie asked

“I’m not sure” Linda had answered. “But something is. People won’t talk to me, I’m still an outsider but everything seems to be changing. The Mayor is new, they say he took over only a few weeks before we arrived. The other mayor, the one that built this town and saved most of the people, had an accident and Mr. Moretz stepped in. I’m getting a whole Macon County line kind of vibe.”

“A what?” Kassie asked.

“Nothing, Honey. An old movie about a bad cop. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Times have changed, things aren’t the way they once were. The sheriff and his deputies aren’t afraid to use their clubs if one of the cowboys gets drunk and rowdy. They would have been fired for that kind of behavior before. Maybe even face a little jail time. They broke Bobby McClauson’s jaw for mouthing off to them. I don’t think they should be so hard on people if they aren’t hurting anyone and Bobby was just being Bobby. Rip roaring drunk on a Friday night after a week of being outside the walls tending the cattle. He was just blowing off steam.”

Kassie shrugged off her mom’s concerns but promised to be home before dark. Everyone was nice to her but when she considered it, maybe a little too nice. If she didn’t know better, she might think the sheriff had been flirting with her the last time she passed him and his men hanging out in front of the police station. She hadn’t thought much of it but laying in her bed and going back over the encounter, he had seemed a little too touchy, a little too complimentary on how pretty she was getting to be, telling her she was all grown up. He couldn’t have been flirting, though. Gross. She shivered at the thought of it. He was just being nice; he was old enough to be her dad.

She sipped on her hot chocolate, drummed her feet on the wall and figured she’d better get moving if she wanted to finish her lap around the perimeter before school started. Mrs. Daughtery was old and grumpy and she was quick to hand out extra assignments if you were late. The wall was nearly three miles long and it might have been easier on her feet to jog the dirt path that circled the inside of it but there was no view down there. Just ugly metal walls. Up here, she could watch the world change from gray to vibrant. She could hear the birds sing when she passed the wooded areas, the cows lowing when she passed the stockyards and smell the pigs and rot when she jogged past them. They were penned near the garbage pit and if the wind was blowing the wrong way, the stench could be strong on top of the wall. She usually increased her pace a little during that part of the run. She wanted to keep in shape, she felt like she was getting fat and lazy inside the walls. After a winter of roughing it and depending on themselves, city living was making her soft.

She heard a burst of gunfire somewhere to the north and she didn’t think much of it. Gunfire wasn’t uncommon to hear. She’d flinched the first few times but now it only made her curious. Salvage crews or hunting parties were always going out and when the undead chased them down the road the deputies gunned them down from the top of the walls. The echo of the shots died away, they were too far away to be from the guards, and she heard a distant roar unlike anything she’d ever heard. Coffee’s ears perked up he started barking a warning. A cold shiver ran down her back.

6

Tribe

Northern Missouri

They crossed into Missouri without fanfare. Their bellies were full, and their saddlebags stuffed with supplies. Every town they passed through was a dead and silent. Bones and corpses littered the streets where someone had cleaned out the remaining zombies. They didn’t find stores filled with goods, the people that killed the zombies had beaten them to it, but they scrounged enough from the houses to last for days if they were careful. They were getting close, another day, maybe two at the most would put them in Gallatin. They were sure the townspeople were the ones killing off the undead and gathering all the supplies.

As darkness fell, they came across a farm on the edge of a large parcel of undeveloped forested land along a river. Swan and Donny both disappeared into it with promises of fresh meat. They knew how to hunt the woodlands. They managed to bring in four deer during the night. Each was certain they’d outdone the other and they argued over who was the most skilled. Donny’s fingers flew in the pidgin sign language he used while Swan shook her head in amused disagreement. Sure, they’d killed two deer each but one of Swan’s was bigger than either of Donny’s.

“You just don’t want to admit I’m better.” She said.

Size doesn’t matter, you can’t eat antlers. Donny signed.

The deer were swiftly processed by the eager kids. Most of the meat went to the carnivores. A shoulder or haunch went to the panther and four wolves while the rest of the deer were divided amongst the three bears. After a series of warning growls, the hungry animals dragged their meals away from the rest to feast.

Tobias and Analise had the tenderloins and back straps frying in a skillet over a campfire. Sliced, floured, salted and dropped in hot grease, they gave off an amazing smell. Another pot filled with potatoes boiled away next to it. Canned fruit sat divided up in bowls on an old wire spool that Kodiak had found near a barn. They’d even managed to find some snack size packs of Jell-O and a couple of candy bars. It was going to be the best meal they’d eaten since leaving Piedmont and anticipation was high.

Bert was happy to have trees again where he could graze at his discretion, while Ziggy worked her way through a patch of sunflowers, plucking any seeds and bugs from the dead stalks that caught her eye.

Vanessa was exploring the empty house they’d sheltered in. She beamed at the others and held up two rolls of toilet paper. One of her bags was stuffed full with it but she collected it at every opportunity.

While they were waiting for breakfast, Kodiak and Harper sat with their backs against a tree sipping water from their canteens.

“What do you think it will be like?” She asked.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Bob said most of the towns were really nice. Electricity and everything. We’ll see. We should be there in a few hours if I’m reading the map right. I hope they have pizza and ice cream.”

“You think they’ll give us some?” she asked “We don’t have any money and if we did, I doubt if they still use it.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Kodiak said. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe we can work a little, cut some firewood or something.”

“Or maybe do an impromptu circus act.” She said and sat up, excited. “Otis still knows some tricks from his Vegas days doesn’t he? And Ziggy does the laser pointer thing and I bet nobody’s seen anything like the twins riding around on polar bears. This could be fun!”

Kodiak rubbed his chin and smiled.

“You might be on to something.” He said. “We’ll have to talk to the others, see what they think.”

Harper pointed at Otis and giggled. “He’ll have to get over his shyness, I’ve never seen an animal go so far away to go to the bathroom.”

Otis had wandered to the top of a hill and was doing his business. The big bear didn’t like an audience when nature called. His arched back was silhouetted against the morning sky.

Kodiak couldn’t help but laugh. “Believe me, he’s doing us all a big favor by getting far away before he does that.”

“Yeah, thank goodness.” Analise said. “C’mon, foods ready.”

Harper and Kodiak stood and started towards the makeshift table when the sound of gunfire shattered the morning’s calm. Otis roared and slumped to the ground as the children stood frozen to the spot for a second.

“NO!’ Kodiak screamed and sprinted up the rise where his friend had fallen.

7

Gunshot

The strips of meat still frying in the pan were forgotten as children scrambled for weapons. Kodiak tore his way up the hill, war hammer still in his fist. The bear was on his side and moaning. He heard the rumble of an engine getting closer and turned it up to eleven. He ran faster and harder than he ever had in his life. He heard the slamming of doors and the excited chatter from men. The rest of the tribe wasn’t far behind, he heard the twins jump on their polar bears and the ground shook as they thundered up behind him. He reached Otis and dropped to his knees, skidding to a stop beside his friend.

“Drop the guns you bastard sons of bitches!” Swan yelled. She held her bow at full draw on someone Kodiak couldn’t see yet. She was backed up by a chorus of growling, snarling wolves, crouched low, fangs bared, ready to attack.

Tobias and Analise crested the rise in full battle rattle astride magnificent thousand-pound white beasts, saw bladed axes in their hands and murder on their faces. They reined the bears and Popsicle roared a threat at the intruders, his neck extended and long sharp fangs showing. The wound on Otis’s shoulder was bad, it poured blood but there wasn’t any frothing from his nostrils or mouth. It had hit high and wide if they were aiming for his heart. Kodiak raged, his skin burned hot and fury threatened to consume him as he stared at the three dumfounded men standing rooted to the spot some twenty yards away. They didn’t know where to look first, they thought they had gotten lucky and were going to have bear steak for dinner. Things had changed quickly. Now there was a savage looking Indian girl, her face painted for war, ready to put an arrow into one of them. She had a pack of wolves by her side, ready to pounce. On the other side of them a samurai had a spear cocked and an inky black panther curled his lips, showed them long, white fangs. Something was circling around behind them in the woods and they only caught glimpses but it looked like an African warrior riding an ostrich, machetes in her hands and ready to charge. On top of the hill, where the giant grizzly had fallen, were two albino children with long white hair with Gaelic runes tattooed on their skin. They were tiny astride the great polar bears they were on. The boy who had knelt over the bear stood and they took a step back. A little closer to the safety of their truck. He wore battle scared armor and had feathers and beads in his hair. His face was terrible to behold, its anger pure and undiluted. He tightened his grip on a bloody war hammer and started down the hill towards them.

The men didn’t think to raise their guns, they knew the animals would tear them apart if they opened fire.

Another girl, no older than fourteen of fifteen placed a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder. She looked just as fierce with her roughly tanned leather cuirass and bracers but her face didn’t hold the violence his did. She saw how it had been a mistake and no more blood needed to be spilled.

“I, I, I’m sorry.” The man stuttered. “We didn’t know. I thought he was wild.”

Kodiak couldn’t speak, he didn’t trust any words that may come out of his mouth. He wanted to kill them, crush their skulls and grind their bones but Harper’s hand stayed his rage. Helped him see how it could have been an accident. He took a deep, calming breath and lowered his hammer. The tribe followed suit and calming hands went down to animals to soothe them.

“We’ve heard about you’uns.” The man said. “You’re them wild kids that tamed the animals.”

“I didn’t believe it was true, I really didn’t. I thought them retrievers was telling tall tales.” Another man clutching an AR15 said.

Their leader slowly slid his rifle over his shoulder and let it rest on the sling then raised his hands.

“I’m real sorry.” He said again. “We didn’t mean no harm. How bad is he? We got a pretty good doc in town, maybe she can patch him up.”

“Kodiak.” Harper said, drawing his attention back to Otis. “He’s in pain but it’s not going to kill him. Looks like it blew up instead of penetrating.” She said as the big bear chuffed and tried to lick the wound.

“That sounds about right.” The man said. “I told Graham that was the wrong kind of gun, it wasn’t big enough to take down a grizzly. I was going to finish him off with…”

He broke off, realized what he was going to say and cleared his throat.

“Um, look, my name is Denny. This here is Dave Small and that there is Graham Rintoul. We were on a scavenge run up to Jamesport. Doc needs some meds that are probably in the pharmacy. We saw the bear silhouetted against the sky line and um, you know, thought we’d um…”

He broke off again at their glares.

“Um, you kids have names? Where you headed to? We mean you no harm. Think your friend might lower the bow?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice.

Swan should have probably looked chagrined but didn’t. She hadn’t realized she’d raised it, and nocked an arrow when the man started talking about killing Otis. With a curl of her lip, she released the tension and lowered it but didn’t remove the arrow. The men had no doubt she could raise, pull, aim and loose in about a nanosecond.

“Gallatin.” Kodiak said. “We heard it was a fortified town, a safe place to stop.”

“It is, it is.” Wilson assured him. “Um, look, it’s only a few miles away. Really, our doc is pretty good. She’s treated some really bad wounds. Wally James managed to get himself gored by a pissed off bull last month, pardon my French ladies, and she fixed him up right as rain. You think you can get that big fella in the back of my truck? I’ll take him there.”

“I think we should.” Harper said softly. “The bullet came apart into little pieces. I can feel fragments under his skin but they’re in pretty deep. Without something to numb the area, I won’t be able to get them out. It’ll hurt him too much, he won’t allow it. His shoulder doesn’t feel broken. I can pack the wound with cloth and pour honey on it to protect it and slow the bleeding. Pine sap would be better, but we don’t have any.”

Kodiak knew the bits of lead had to come out otherwise infection would set in. Otis might be able to absorb them over time but they would hurt him, possibly even kill him.

“Yeah.” He said. “I can get him in. Can you back up close?”

“You guys want to stay here or follow us in?” Kodiak asked the tribe when the men hurried off to get the truck.

“We’re not letting you go by yourself.” Harper said and the rest of them chorused agreement.

When they saw what the men were driving, they all exchanged glances. It was an old ice cream truck complete with a side window and rolled up awning over it. Stickers of various ice pops and frozen treats were still visible under the layers of grime and the armor.

“It’s more comfortable than a car.” Wilson said. “If we have to stay out overnight. We don’t go out much but when we do, it’s usually for medicines or fragile stuff that can’t get wet. I was on my route and got stuck in Gallatin when all this happened.”

The kids just looked at him.

“An ice cream truck?” Tobias asked. “Really?”

“Well, it’s diesel and gets good gas mileage.” Wilson said, not sure what to say.

“It’ll go just about anywhere.” Dave volunteered. “And it’s got a lot of storage area.”

“Got any ice cream left?” Analise asked.

“Uh, no, sorry.” Wilson said. “But we’ve got some Cokes in the cooler.”

By the time Otis lumbered into the back of the truck, sagging its springs considerably, the tribe had broken camp, were packed up and ready to go.

“Drive slow.” Kodiak told the man. “They’ll follow.”

8

Welcome to Gallatin

“Tell those idiots to point their guns away.” Kodiak heard the man yell over the CB. “These are them wild kids we heard about. They’re friendlies. We’re bringing in a wounded bear, somebody get the Doc. We need her to look at him.”

There was some hesitation but the men on top of the wall pointed their machine guns skyward then came closer to the edge to watch the strange procession. The American flag hung on a pole and another one they didn’t recognize flew right beneath it. The town was enclosed by a wall of shipping containers that circled it completely. There were only two entrances, one on either end of town. They were set up similar to a castle with double gates. Once they pulled inside the sally port, the containers behind them slid into place as they waited for the ones in front to open. If someone came in hot with a horde of zombies hanging all over their truck, they could be safely picked off one by one in the enclosed area.

Time ticked by and no one said anything, simply watched them from above. The other gate didn’t open.

The animals didn’t like the confined space and were getting antsy. Popsicle growled his disapproval and reared up to sniff at a little dog that squirmed in the arms of a girl. She was standing next to one of the men with the guns. They felt the metal container shudder a little as his paws came to rest and he stretched his neck. The man jumped back, the bear was only a dozen feet below him. He could imagine the wild looking kid with the axe running up his neck and leaping to the top. Tobias leaned forward, stroked Popsicles neck and urged him to calm down. He winked at the girl and sat a little straighter in the saddle. She was about his age and kind of cute.

“What’s taking so long?” Denny finally yelled up to the men staring down at them. “Open the damn gate!”

“They need to get checked for bites!” the man yelled back at them. “But nobody wants to go in there.”

“Let us back out, then.” Swan yelled and pounded on the wall they’d just come through. “We’ll wait outside.”

“Hold your britches on, Missy.” One of the guards said. “The mayor said he’d give you an exemption, he’s on his way.”

Swan snarled at him and dropped her hands to her tomahawks. She could put one dead center of his forehead if she wanted.

“Let me out.” Swan said, her voice full of menace and drew them from their holsters.

The other children followed her lead, weapons were unsheathed, and spears were readied but not aimed. Not yet. Guns came up on top of the wall.

“Now, now, everybody calm down.” A man in a dapper black suit said as he walked up and peered over at them. “Lower your weapons, boys.”

They did immediately.

“Sorry it’s taking so long.” The man said smoothly. “My name is Mayor Moretz and I’m the Mayor here.

He smiled a toothy grin at them, amused at his own joke.

“We had to find a place for all of you. A safe place for your animals and to be frank, for us, too. We have a rule, we always check everyone for zombie bites. I’m sure you can appreciate that your situation is a little different.”

“Understood.” Kodiak said. “But our animals aren’t used to being caged. Us either. It’s making everyone nervous. If you’ll open the gate, they’ll wait outside.”

“No need for all that.” He said. “We have a place for you, we’re just tidying it up a bit. Making it presentable for our honored guests. It’s near the back side of town, it should be ready by the time you get there. If you’ll just follow the truck, Denny will have you there in a jiffy.”

He adjusted his smile and bolo tie, a sterling silver piece with turquoise inlay.

“What about their weapons?” One of the men asked. “No weapons allowed.”

“No guns allowed.” The mayor corrected. “The children have spears and knives. I’m sure they’re no threat to you boys now open the gate, let’s get them comfortable.”

“Denny, lead them around the perimeter road over to the stockyard.” He shouted down. “One of my boys will be there to show you where they’ll be staying.”

Denny gave him a thumbs up and the gate started to slowly open.

“Now, I hate to say this, but I feel it is my duty. Please stay right behind the truck and don’t wander off into town. I have the safety of my citizens to worry about. I’m sure you understand. It’s just until we get you checked out, then you’ll be free to go about your business.”

“I’ll wait outside.” Swan yelled up at him from her position at the entry gate.

The mayor turned away and disappeared from sight. Annoyed, she holstered her tomahawks and followed the slow-moving group as they made their way down the dirt road that hugged the wall. She heard the men above keeping pace, their footfalls loud on the steel of the containers, their guns ready to shoot anyone that strayed off the path.

The mayor signaled for three of the men that rarely left his side to follow the procession and make sure they were secured. He and his bodyguard climbed back down to a waiting car.

“We need to keep this quiet.” He said as soon as they were inside. “You were right, Jimmy. Those animals will add quite a few pieces of gold to our coffers. I called on the ham, there are a couple of collectors in the Tower looking for some exotic hides. We might even get a bidding war going.”

The bearded man nodded, he’d seen the cards requesting them pinned up in the retrievers bar in the Tower back when he’d been out hustling. He’d fallen in with Moretz, a local politician who needed some trusted men to do his dirty work, and they’d taken over the little town. It was a lot easier and safer life than running the wilds looking for trinkets for the rich folk. He recruited the other three, men he’d known back when he rode with Casey and his raiders. They’d seen the writing on the wall, they knew that outfit was a little too wild and got out while the getting was good. Now all he had to do was an occasional odd job for the mayor and he lived comfortably behind the walls.

“I wish those fools hadn’t brought them here, it would have been easier if nobody knew about them but no matter.” The mayor continued. “We need to get the word out that they’re contagious. I’ll have the doc check them out and as soon as that bear can walk, we’ll get rid of them.”

“Think she’ll play ball?” Jimmy asked. “She’s one of them do-gooders.”

“She will if she knows what’s best for her and her daughter.” Moretz answered. “You see Jimmy, power doesn’t have to be brandished like a club. Sometimes subtlety, just the hint of what may happen, is all you need. She’s a mother, and mothers will do anything to protect their children. She’ll do as she’s told.”

I don’t like this. Donny signed and Swan agreed. They didn’t feel like honored guests, they felt more like prisoners.

We get Otis stitched up and get out of here as fast as we can. She flashed back at him. Kodiak is distracted, keep an eye out.

He nodded and slowed his pace, put a little distance between them and watched the buildings for anyone else pointing guns. It wasn’t being paranoid if they really were out to get you. The towns people that saw them seemed nice enough. None of them were armed, they were curious but kept their distance. Sound carried in the silence and above the clump of booted footfalls on the metal two stories above them, they could hear snatches of conversation from the men with the guns. The mayors’ deputies. Swan padded softly with her wolves and her keen ears caught phrases like they look like a bunch of savages, probably too wild to be in civilized company and they probably smell as bad as the animals and a lewd comment that the others laughed at. I’d like to tame that one leading the giraffe.

Harper heard some of the remarks, too. The men weren’t exactly keeping their voices down. It was hard to believe they’d been so excited about reaching civilization again. They had believed everything would be great, the town would welcome them with open arms and maybe even fuss over them a little. She’d imagined the ladies wanting to clean them up and smother them with love, the poor things. They’d been talking about eating pizza and playing video games, watching a movie and having an ice cream, maybe putting on a circus act that everyone could enjoy. Now they were trudging towards some animal holding pens. It might still be all right. The mayor was just being careful and he couldn’t help it if his men were a little rough around the edges. They were probably good guys and would be embarrassed if they knew they could be heard.

The girl and the little dog followed the procession but she kept her distance from the men. In her experience, they weren’t very nice. One of them had even spat tobacco juice on Coffee once and they’d all laughed.

It was nearly a mile until they got to the stockyard that was far removed from the town. Swan tried to tamp down her anger and annoyance. She wasn’t so sure she liked civilization. Things weren’t so complicated in the wild. You hunted your food, you ran with your pack, you killed the undead. Nobody stared at your backside for long moments. Nobody wrinkled their nose at the way you looked. She still had unfinished business back in Iowa, she still owed a hunchback hyena a little payback. Her duty was to the tribe but in the back of her mind she knew at some point she would go looking for him even if she had to do it alone. She actually preferred it that way. She and the pack could move swiftly without anyone slowing them down or getting in the way. Nobody to take care of or care about. She would see them safely to Lakota, but after that she would do what she had to in order to settle the score once and for all with the beast.

Mayor Moretz waved them into a large metal barn. Harper tugged Bert’s bridle low so he could get through the door but once inside it was plenty tall enough for him to stand erect.

“This is only temporary.” The Mayor said in apology, his toothy grin white under the black mustache.

The children looked around the open barn. A half hour ago, it had been filled with cattle and they had left cow pies all over. Kodiak urged Otis out of the old ice cream truck and Moretz waved it away.

“The doctor is on the way, try to make yourselves comfortable. Once she’s fixed up your big friend and everyone’s been examined, we’ll rustle you up some hot food.”

He followed the truck out, asked loudly what was taking the doc so long to get there and the doors slid closed behind him.

“What a dump.” Tobias said as he gazed around the interior. It was barely fit for animals, much less a wounded one. He slid off his polar bear and landed in a wet pile of freshly minted cow dung. He cursed and wiped his boots off on a clump of hay as Swan laughed and Donny’s shoulders shook in quiet mirth.

“Keep it up.” He said humorlessly. “I’ll save some of this and add it to your dinner.”

Kodiak found a relatively clean corner and guided Otis into it and got him to lay down. Harper pulled an apple out of her satchel and sliced a piece off for him. It wasn’t spam but he ate it anyway and let them scratch his ears and rub his belly.

Bert sniffed at the motionless fans mounted in the ceiling and licked at it. Flies buzzed lazily around as Swan looked into the stalls, maybe there was a clean one with fresh hay. Something felt off to her. Moretz was a little too smooth despite his smile and good old boy charm. He reminded her a little of how Gordon had fooled everyone in the beginning. Except me she thought. I never trusted the bastard.

The others stood looking around at the cobwebs and burned out lights. It was hot and there wasn’t much air circulating. The big fans along the roof sat idle and rusted. Other than room for all of the animals it had nothing going for it.

“It’s not the Hilton, that’s for sure.” Vanessa said as she pulled the saddle off Ziggy.

Swan spun when she heard the sounds of a chain going through the handles of the sliding doors. She ran back to it and tried to yank it open. It slid an inch then stopped.

She turned to run to the other end but Donny was already sprinting towards it. He jerked the handle but it didn’t budge. The windows were high on the walls and most of them were broken but all of them had wire mesh covering them. They were in a giant cage.

Kassie sat on top of the wall, feet dangling, idly scratching Coffee behind the ears. She didn’t follow the men down the ladder, they would have run her off if they noticed her. She wondered why they put them in the dirty old cow barn. There were lots nicer places they could stay. She wondered why they locked them in, they didn’t even check them for bites. It didn’t seem fair. Her mom would be here soon, though. She’d straighten everything out. She hoped she could go inside and meet them, maybe they would let her pet one of the bears, and they were so huge.

Mayor Moretz and his men stopped at the foot of the ladder and she heard them talking. She knew it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop but it wasn’t her fault they didn’t look up and see her there. She was just minding her own business.

“Nobody comes in or out. You hear me?” Moretz ordered one of his men and pointed him back to stand guard duty at the barn. “That’s a fortune in exotic animals in there. Now that I’ve seen them, I’ll let those people in the Tower know what we have. That giraffe is priceless all on its own and so are those polar bears. They’ll look good once they get stuffed and posed.”

He sent two of the men off to guard both entrances and turned to the other who had a foot on the ladder, ready to climb back up to keep watch from above.

“Keep watch from above.” He told him. “They might try to climb out a window or something. We’re headed over to get the doc. I’ll send her over to see if she can do anything for the bear, get it patched up enough to walk out of here. We’ll get rid of them tonight, even if we gotta haul it out in a truck. Meanwhile we’ve got to keep up appearances. Too many people saw us bring them in, they’ll start talking. Once the doc gets finished, we’ll spread the word they’re infected with something, something real contagious, and we’ll send them on their way. They’ll be easy to track, we’ll give them a few hours head start then pick them off from a safe distance.”

“You got it boss.” The man said “but what about them kids?”

“Dead men tell no tales.” Moretz said “We can’t let them go blabbing. Nobody will miss them so take care of it.”

“So you don’t mind if we have a go at them girls?”

“Consider it a little bonus for your dedicated work. Just make sure nobody finds the bodies.” Moretz said. “C’mon, Jimmy. The sooner we get the doc over here, the sooner we can get rid of them.”

“That’s cold, boss.” He man said with a laugh and slung his rifle to climb the ladder.

“I wasn’t always the fine upstanding mayor you see before you.” Moretz said with a smug smile and walked towards the car.

Kassie rolled quietly from the edge and hurried away from the man puffing his way up the ladder, her moccasins silent on the metal. She couldn’t hardly believe what she’d overheard. She had to warn the kids. She had to tell her mom.

9

The Island

The man’s beard was getting long as he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t need to look good for anyone, he was by himself, but this was the first time he’d seen his image in a long time. He tried to avoid it, after all, he was a killer. His face was gaunt, too. He used to be beefy.

Portly.

Hell, who was he trying to fool? He’d been a fatso. Amazing what the end of the world could do for your figure. He hadn’t seen anyone in months and people out in the wild weren’t the kind of people you wanted to meet anyway. Everyone in the country had made it to one of the walled cities as far as he knew. The only ones left outside were usually the type of people you didn’t want to meet. They were either retrievers or bounty hunters looking to collect a reward or remnants of Casey’s gang looking for somebody to terrorize.

Steven had lived behind the walls right after the world went mad. He’d made it to an enclave up in North Dakota called the Island. It was secure and safe and he was glad to be there. He’d lost his whole family and had nearly been torn apart himself when he arrived. His truck was almost out of gas, a horde was chasing him up the causeway and he would have been killed if they hadn’t opened the gates. It was okay in the beginning but as time went by, the government got stronger and more intrusive and for him, things got worse. He couldn’t seem to catch a break. He couldn’t get a good job and the more he complained the worse it got. The party officials became downright tyrannical but everyone accepted it because they were safe. He’d become a recluse surrounded by unfriendly people. He had worked at a coal fired power plant before the fall but they had assigned him a job as fish processor. He worked eight hours a day gutting, beheading and scaling fish. He couldn’t quit, it wasn’t allowed. They would throw him out. He couldn’t get a different job, this was the one he was assigned. He told his superiors he could be better utilized at the power plant. He had experience, even if it wasn’t hydroelectric. They didn’t listen, the bureaucracy was a nightmare and no matter how many transfer forms he filled out they were always denied. They provided a house and safety and in return you had to do what they said. He hated it.

He tried, he really had, but he wasn’t very good and he kept getting his pay docked, his rations shorted and his living quarters were downsized to a shipping container. He was fifty years old, wasn’t as fast as the younger workers and had a hard time controlling his mouth. He went from fish processor to janitor and then to night shift muckraker cleaning up the piles of fish guts and hosing down the blood. If there was a worse job on the island, he wasn’t aware of it. The council’s overseer who was in charge of the fishing industry was a severe young woman who thought nothing of stepping on her underlings to climb in position. Steven had a hard time taking orders from a clueless party official who loved her power and was eager to show how efficient she was to her superiors. She caught him taking an unauthorized break the night his life went from bad to worse.

“I’m all caught up!” He’d argued. “There’s nothing left to clean, no guts to shovel up, no blood to hose down. I’m ahead of schedule!”

“Then polish the floor. Make it shine, make it pristine for day shift.” She said coldly. “It sets a bad example for the workers not to work.”

“I’ll mop it when there’s something to be mopped.” He said and sat back down in defiance.

“Fine.” She said and pulled out her ever-present clipboard. “You’re being reassigned to hull scrubber, effective immediately. Report to commissar Sanders.”

“I can’t.” he said. “I can’t swim.”

“This is not our concern.” She said. “Report for duty or suffer the consequences.”

“No. What are you going to do, cut my rations again? I’m not going in the water.” Steven said, the old fears slamming into him as if it were forty years ago and he was drowning in the lake again. “I have aquaphobia, I get panicky if I’m in water over my knees. I’d be useless.”

“This is not our concern.” She repeated, her pleasure obvious even though she tried to hide it behind the stern face the party officials wore. “You will do as I say. Report immediately or you will be exiled.”

“Fine.” he’d said. “I quit. I’m out of here. I’m going to Lakota.”

“You can’t quit. You’re fired.” She said with satisfaction and started scribbling notes. “We don’t need your kind.”

She spoke into the walkie talkie, requested guards to escort him off the island.

“No need.” He said and kicked over the bucket of fish slop. “I’ll get in my truck and go. Goodbye and good riddance to all of you controlling bastards.”

It splashed all over her shoes and pants of her crisp black uniform.

“Your truck and all of your possessions belong to the people of the island.” She said with barely contained fury. “They were forfeit when you joined our society.”

“We’ll see about that.” Steven said and headed for the door.

She blocked his exit and spoke quickly into the microphone.

“Subject is aggressive and attempting to flee.” She actually smiled when she added “and he has assaulted me.”

Steven paled at that and started to protest. Attacking a member of the party was punishable by death. They had a cage on a chain they put you in and then dropped it in the lake. It stayed there, twenty feet under water, until it was needed again. He’d seen it happen a few weeks ago. He’d be forced into it next to the bloated, rotten half eaten man who’d been caught stealing. The crabs would be clinging to it, biting off tiny chunks of flesh and feasting on the meat. They’d swim over to him as soon as the cage plunged back in the water. It was a horrible way to die.

He should have left six months ago. He should have figured out some way to steal some gas and get out of the gates. Now it was too late, the vindictive woman was going to have him killed.

He panicked and shoved her out of the way, he couldn’t let them put him in the cage and he knew they would. He wasn’t a productive citizen and she would swear he’d attacked her, that he had laid hands on a party official. She slipped on the bloody mess from the bucket and he ran past her out of the warehouse. He heard the sirens and saw the flashing blue of the judicial police and knew it was too late. There were only two roads on and off the island, both guarded and heavily fortified. They would hunt him down, hold a farce of a trial in the morning and he’d be publicly executed tomorrow afternoon. The Island believed in swift justice and severe penalties. He sprinted for the docks, he had to find something, anything that wasn’t chained down. He had to get to the mainland miles away and unseen in the darkness. He couldn’t paddle it in a canoe or raft, there wasn’t time. Sunrise was only an hour away, they’d find him.

The fishing trawler that went out every morning just before dawn was idling at the dock as men yelled back and forth, secured gear and got ready for a long day out on the lake. Steven swallowed his fears, calmed his nerves and hurried out towards them as the gangway was being pulled in.

“Wait, I’m supposed to be on there!” he yelled and waved his arm.

“And who are you?” one of the crew asked as he ran across the walkway.

“Steven Overturf.” He said. “I was told to report for duty.”

“We already have a full crew.” The man said. “I didn’t hear about this, where’s your paperwork? We need to see the Captain.”

“Fine by me.” Steve said and turned to leave. “I’m just doing what I was told. One of the commissars told me to get on the boat to get trained. I’ll tell her you wouldn’t let me on. Just wait here, I’ll try to find her so she can tell you herself.”

“Hold on.” The man said and scratched his beard. “I guess we can figure this out later, we’ve got to go or we won’t make our quota for the day.”

He didn’t want any trouble from the government, they left the fishermen alone for the most part.

They backed slowly out of the dock and were powering towards deep water before the police arrived to find the body of the overseer cooling in a pile of fish heads, scales and entrails. She’d slipped in the mess when she’d been shoved aside. Her feet flew out from under her and the back of her head had caught the corner of a steel table.

It was hours later when the Captain got a call on the radio to be on the lookout for any unauthorized craft headed for the mainland, a killer was on the loose. Steven knew his time was up and grabbed the flare gun.

“It’ll kill you just as dead as a bullet if it hits you point blank.” He warned and forced them to take him ashore.

He’d been on the run ever since, hiding out in rural areas and keeping on the move. He’d always been a paranoid man, even diagnosed with mild schizophrenia by some quack. He wasn’t crazy though. People really were out to get him and hold him back. At his old job in the power plant he was constantly bypassed for promotions. He was in the same position he’d started out doing fresh out of college. The same thing had happened at the Island. They were all out to get him, that’s why he kept being demoted. He knew they would hunt him, he wouldn’t be safe in any town. He was sure the Island had sent out a description and his wanted poster was hanging in every guard shack at every gate in every fortified settlement.

10

Diablo

Diablo approached the smoldering ash of the campfire. Every sense on high alert for danger. He’d smelled the smoke when he was still miles away and followed the scent. Sensing no threat, he gobbled down the strips of venison and lapped up the still warm grease from the skillet. He sniffed at the potatoes and fruit. They held no interest for him. He sniffed where each of them had sat. He inspected the spots where they’d relieved themselves behind trees until he found her scent. He growled as he inhaled. He could smell a trace of Demonio on the bark of the tree where her cloaked back had rested. Nose to the ground he followed her scent up the hilltop where it was mingled in with new scents. He didn’t recognize these. They smelled of men, tobacco and diesel fuel. He sniffed the blood on the ground where Otis had bled and lapped at its stickiness. He circled the mashed down grass where the trucks had parked and hunted for their trail. It seemed to end here. The diesel smell still clung faintly to the brush and grass so he followed it. He wouldn’t allow another predator to take his prey and set out a loping gait to see where it led.

The trail led him to a road and then to Gallatin. He stayed in the trees, camouflaged and invisible to those who watched from the walls. Many scents came from the lair. Humans, garbage, the smell of cows and cooked food mingled in with exhaust fumes and other odors he couldn’t identify. It was noisy too. Voices of many people and machines. He shied from the sound, they reminded him of his time behind bars and he wouldn’t go back into another cage.

He followed the tree line around the town until the smell of decay and carrion was strong in his nose. He slinked his way through the trees and brush until he reached a large pit far beyond the walls. Flies buzzed and whirled around the hole. High above, carrion birds circled in slow, lazy spirals.

Inside the pit, animal carcasses were mixed in among the decaying corpses of the undead. Some still twitched, their ravaged bodies too mangled to propel themselves out of the hole. His stomach grumbled at the intoxicating smells. He lowered his body to a crouch and inched forward, wary of a trap. He smelled nothing living but man and anything made by man made him cautious.

Invisible in the grass, he inched forward to the edge of the pit. The smell of the pigs was strong in the pit but none were feeding in it at the moment. The men only let them in at night so the towns’ people couldn’t see. He eased over the edge, ignored the flies that buzzed his eyes and feasted on his wounds, grabbed the small corpse of a zombie child and drug it back to the woods.

He settled down and began stripping the corpse or rancid meat. He would wait. He would watch. The wolf girl would hunt. It was her nature. The walls that kept him out wouldn’t keep her in. He had no concept of time or schedules, just the genetic memory of his kind. Patience and cunning would put her in his jaws. He had plenty of food. He could smell water on the breeze. He needed nothing more. Sooner or later, she would hunt and he would be ready.

11

Kassie

Kassie tucked her dog under one arm and hurried down the next ladder some quarter mile away then cut through the middle of town to get back home. She burst through the door and was yelling for her mom when she drew up short. The mayor and his man were already there, talking to Linda in the kitchen.

“What is it honey?” her mom asked a little alarmed, the coffee pot stopped in mid pour.

Kassie slid to a stop and was at a loss for words.

“Oh, I bet she’s excited about the animals that came in this morning, aren’t you?” The mayor said smoothly and gave his cup a little shake so she would finish pouring. “I was just telling your mother she needs to give them a check up and see what she can do about one of them that’s injured. I saw you at the front gate but you need to stay away from them, you hear? They need to be quarantined, who knows what kind of diseases they’re carrying.”

“The poor things.” He added as an afterthought.

Kassie stood rooted to the floor and all eyes were on her. Linda knew something else was bothering her, spending six months confined in a tiny little cabin had attuned them to each other, she could read her daughter like an open book.

“You can tell me all about it later, you need to get ready for school.” Her mom said and gave her that look, the one with the narrowed eyes and the set to her lips that meant and don’t give me any backtalk. “Hurry up, off you go.”

Five minutes later, as soon as she heard the door close, she rushed back down the stairs. It only took her a minute to tell what she’d overheard and Linda’s face went from angry to thunderous.

“I knew that oily snake was up to something.” She said with contempt. “He actually had the gall to threaten me when I told him what he was asking me to do just wasn’t right. He was subtle, or at least he thought he was, but he made it clear that his men controlled the gates and the supplies and the food. Nobody gets in or out without his say so.”

“You mean like we’re in jail?” Kassie asked.

“Yeah, something like that. A big, open one but if you can’t come and go as you please, it might as well be.” She fumed.

In an indirect, ham-fisted way, the mayor had let her know she would do what she was told and she wouldn’t be leaving. He thought he was being sly when he asked after her daughter. When he brought Kassie into the conversation. It clicked for her then. Instantly and clearly and she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. He was sitting at her table, drinking her coffee and smiling like they were old friends. He had just threatened them and took it for granted she would play along because she had no choice. The goon with the gun had casually dropped his hand to it as he lit a cigarette, the one she’d said she’d preferred he didn’t when he asked if she minded. The angry retort on the edge of her tongue was swallowed and she knew this wasn’t a fight she could win, not here in her kitchen. She smiled and said of course, Mr. Moretz. If you think that’s best for the town.

“He said the kids weren’t going to be allowed out and I was to report that they had a disease. Like measles or something worse, something really bad he said. I was wondering why he didn’t want them mingling in town. He’s going to say they’re contagious and everyone will be glad when they’re gone.”

“That makes sense.” Kassie said as she watched her mom pace the kitchen. “If they’re never heard from again, everyone will think they died out there.”

“That’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.” Linda said then stopped her pacing, stared out the window over the sink.

They had a pretty good life here in Gallatin. They had a strong wall to keep out the undead, a roof over their heads and plenty of food to eat. She had meaningful work and Kassie was growing up in a safe place with school and kids her own age to play with. Things were changing, though. She’d never really stopped to consider how different life was now compared to a few months ago when they first arrived. Like everyone else, she rolled with the changes. It was a new world, the old one was dead. Things were done differently. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized everything had been incrementally getting worse. The new mayor had replaced all the old towns’ guards with his own men. They were outsiders, retrievers and nomads, some of them looked like they may have been bandits or raiders. Little by little they had taken over and even though people complained, they complied. He didn’t make big changes all at once, he made small ones that seemed reasonable. He’d locked up the hi-powered ham radio that could talk to most of the settlements. Somebody might be in league with the Raiders he’d said. They might give away our weaknesses, you don’t want those cannibals attacking us, do you? He had reasoned.

He’d taken away everyone’s guns and kept them in the courthouse basement for safe keeping. You don’t need them inside the walls. We don’t want any of our children getting ahold of one, do we? He’d done away with restocking the store shelves, now they had community meals. A lot less waste that way he’d declared. She was one of the few who was allowed to have food because she kept odd hours with her medical duties. He was trying to get rid of money but people were complaining about that more than they had about turning in their guns. Everyone worked and everyone got free housing, food and medical care he’d argued. We can do away with it among ourselves, the town will provide.

She’d treated quite a few truck drivers and retrievers, it seemed like they were always getting themselves banged up. Even they had commented on the changes and they hadn’t been complimentary. Those men and women went to all the settlements, the good and the bad, the old and the new. They delivered goods and spent time in the different towns. From the wild and barely tamed to the ones that were as normal as any place before the fall. If the subject of Gallatin came up, they all said it was getting worse.

“It’s that new mayor y’all elected. He’s running the place into the ground.” was the general consensus.

Except the town hadn’t elected him. He’d been an advisor and when the previous mayor died in the accident, he’d stepped in and taken over.

Linda made up her mind, turned to face her daughter.

“This could get risky.” She said. “I want to help those kids; I can’t stand by and do nothing anymore. If I do, we’re in this together. We’re going to have to leave, it won’t be safe for us here. Are you okay with that?”

This wasn’t a mother daughter conversation. This was two friends, two survivors considering doing something that might be dangerous. This was all or nothing. If Moretz could wipe out a tribe of kids just for their animals pelts he would have no problem doing the same to them and Linda wanted out before it got worse.

“I’m in.” Kassie said. “All the way.”

“All the way.” Linda agreed.

12

Whiskey and Rye

The tall man in the cowboy boots tossed back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and pushed the plate away. The steak and egg breakfast had hit the spot. He’d come in late last night, got a room upstairs and had been catching up on some much-needed sleep. The Dead Mule Tavern was busier than he expected this early in the morning, it was shift change for the guards. He could usually count on Ed, the bartender, to provide him with a lead on a job but lately it seemed like nobody in Gallatin wanted to pay in gold. Everybody wanted to barter and he traveled light. He didn’t have any use for somebody else’s junk.

The bar was abuzz with the news of a group of strange children and a bunch of zoo animals that were being held in the stockyards. He’d heard the stories on Radio Lakota but like everyone else with half a brain he’d dismissed them as tall tales. At first they had seemed credible; a group of kids had saved some women somewhere up in Minnesota. But then the ladies started saying the children rode around on bears and had panthers and wolves that obeyed their every command. Rubbish. Afterwards that buffoon Bastille had every retriever or half-crazy wanderer he could drag away from the pub that claimed to have seen them on his show. Most of them sounded like they were three sheets to the wind and their stories sounded like something you would hear from a drunk bellowing at the end of the bar. Some claimed they had a herd of elephants pulling a caravan of looted gold from Fort Knox. Two Shot Tim, who got his name from what he always ordered when drinking, not any particular gun skill he had, said he saw a girl riding a giraffe. It was ridiculous, same as the stories of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. The people ate it up, though. The CB and the phones were always clogged with people calling in whenever he had someone on that claimed to have seen them.

Gallatin was a stopover for him, a place with a high wall, a well-stocked tavern and a comfortable bed. He’d been out in the wild for weeks and had just finished up a retrieval for a customer. This one had been rough. It had taken forever and the deaders kept showing up. A kid named Carl down in Lakota needed some very specific parts for some old train cars he was restoring. He had given him a list, it even had pictures of the items. He wanted to offer customers safe and comfortable day trips in armored antique dining cars. There seemed to be a demand for it, people wanted to get out from behind the walls for a little while, they just didn’t want to risk being eaten by zombies. The kid had come up with a way to separate them from their gold, good for him. He contemplated a train robbery, a grand one like the wild, wild west just for the thrill of it but he didn’t figure the boy kept the gold on the train.

His Jeep was loaded down with all manner of fancy chrome fittings, unique hand carved fixtures and little tiffany lamps he’d gotten from the railroad museum in Sioux City. He’d managed to not break any of the antiques, not get bitten and was finally headed south to collect his pay. If he would have known it would be so much trouble, he would have charged double. Another night dozing in the driver’s seat held little appeal, he was getting too old for that nonsense. The sleeping area in his rig was chock full of parts and he didn’t sleep very well in some abandoned house. His dog may or may not give him enough warning if a horde of deaders came stumbling by. Gallatin was a little out of his way but a real bed, real food and the security of the high walls made the trip worth it.

He’d been here a lot and used to get some decent retrievals. It was a typical midwestern walled city, they all had their own personalities and this one had a reputation of being a little rough. Decent people but a bar brawl on Saturday night was more common than a Sunday social after church. It seemed a lot more laid back this time, though. When he pulled in last night, the town had already rolled up the sidewalks, there wasn’t anyone around like there usually was. It was a cattle town that had survived the winter and the people were working together to build something from the ashes. The town had a real shot at becoming something. They had expanded their offerings to include sheep, hogs and a little buffalo to compete with Tombstone, the other cow town out west. Some of them had been trying to get the shuttered textile mill back up and running, they saw a need for clothes in the future. The supplies from Wal-Mart wouldn’t last forever.

The town had changed since the new mayor took over. It was hard to put his finger on what was different, exactly, but everyone seemed beaten down. Like they’d given up and were just going through the motions. They were surviving, not thriving.

None of my business he thought and laid a piece of Lakota gold on the bar. He signaled the bartender for a refill. The newly minted coin would pay for his room, breakfast, keep his glass full and would still leave a nice tip.

“One for the road.” He said. “I’m going to check out those kids with my own two eyes then with a little luck I’ll get to Lakota before Pretty Boy Floyd’s shuts down the kitchen. I’ll get some real food then, not this slop. Miss Pam makes the best Shepard’s Pie in any of the settlements.”

Ed grunted and made the gold disappear.

“You cleaned your plate though, didn’t you? Surprised you didn’t lick it clean like that flea-bitten mutt of yours does.”

Rye’s insults didn’t bother him, they’d been friends for six months, a long time in this new world. He only cooked steak or pork chops. If it couldn’t be made on the grill, he didn’t serve it and if you didn’t like it you could go somewhere else.

“Reckon we’ll hear you making a fool of yourself on the radio tonight, then.” The bartender said. “If ol’ Bastille finds out you seen them for reals, up close and personal, he’ll be blasting it out all over the territories.”

“Not unless he’s got a bottle of Angels Envy Rye hidden away.” The cowboy said and knocked back the two fingers of amber liquid in his glass.

He made a face.

“Lord, I think paint thinner is better than the rotgut you pass off as whiskey.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, smiled at the finger Ed was giving him and stood.

“Where they keeping those kids, anyway?” he asked.

“That ain’t none of your business, buddy.” One of the guards said then took a pull on his beer. “The mayor said they was in quarantine. That means you can’t go gawping at them. It’d be best for you to hurry your ass up and get on down the road.”

“He ain’t the mayor of me, boy.” Rye said “And it’d be best if you minded your business before you lose a few teeth.”

The man pushed away from the bar in anger, dropped his hand to his gun but Rye’s was already there and he had a small smile on his lips.

The guard’s eyes showed surprise. Nobody was supposed to be armed, just them, just the mayor’s security force.

And retrievers, he remembered a little too late, his mind dulled by a long night walking the wall and the half dozen beers he’d slammed down. None of those hard heads would give up their guns and the mayor had said it was okay. Some of the things they brought in were critical and besides, they paid in gold. He’d had to make an exception for them otherwise they wouldn’t deliver.

The bartender watched keenly. He knew what was coming and didn’t relish the thought of his place being splattered with blood when the retriever unleashed hell. He pulled the double barrel shotgun he kept handy and laid it down heavily on the bar to grab their attention then cocked both hammers to make sure he kept it. The metal on metal click was loud in the sudden hush. Everybody stared at the coach gun. Rye stared at the man, watched his hands for a flicker of movement.

“Now fellas,” Ed said almost conversationally. “That gentleman in the cowboy hat goes by the name of Rye. He’s got something of a reputation and if you are gonna dust up with him, I’d prefer you do it outside. Blood is mighty hard to get out of my hard wood floors.”

At the mention of Rye’s name, the loudmouth turned to look at him. He didn’t look like much. A tall man with a weathered face. He was lanky and he knew him and his buddies could take him, put an ass whooping on him, but he wasn’t so sure about his chances if guns came out of holsters. Yeah, they’d probably shoot him down but it would be after the cowboy had put a few new bullet holes in his gut. He’d heard of him, heard about some of the things he’d done. Rumor had it that he’d walked into a Raiders camp and killed them all. Twenty of Casey’s toughest.

Probably a load of crap.

There had probably only been one or two.

The captives he’d freed were probably lying.

Probably.

He noticed some of his buddies that had stood up when the argument began were easing out of the line of fire and he started to feel very alone.

“Ain’t worth my time.” He finally said and grabbed his beer off the counter then sauntered over to the pool table. Cool and casual. He wasn’t afraid, not at all.

Rye winked at the barman and strolled out to the sidewalk. If they were keeping the kids in the stockyards, he’d find them easy enough.

13

Swan

Swan had walked every inch of the walls looking for a way out. She’d checked and rechecked both doors but they were chained shut. There wasn’t a weakness she could find. Not yet anyway. She looked up at the windows. She could climb up on Bert and pry the wire loose but it was a long drop on the other side. Besides, the guy with the gun would hear it.

She was nervous and on edge. She could feel the walls starting to close in. She hadn’t talked about what happened to her at Smith’s Landing. She’d never confided to any of the tribe how it had felt to be all alone in the midst of their enemies and knowing you were going to die. She blocked it out when the memories tried to resurface. She was a survivor. She was a killer of men. She’d gotten out of that and she’d get out of this. Gallatin wasn’t nearly as bad as Smith’s Landing. At least they weren’t trying to kill them here, just keep them in a prison. The rational part of her could understand their reasoning but the animal in her wanted out, couldn’t stand being penned in. Her gentle nature from before the outbreak had been pushed aside and replaced with a warrior’s spirit. All of them had become something they weren’t a year ago, all of them had learned to be savage.

She finally stopped pacing, settled into a clean spot and started sharpening her blades, her wolves gathered around her. She watched Kodiak as he brooded by Otis. He was hurting. Blaming himself for their situation. She loved him, but she wasn’t happy with him. He should be taking charge, channeling his rage, not accepting their fate. He was pensive and staring at the lighter he always carried. Much like his bear, he was slow to anger. He wanted to think things through. He wasn’t rash like her. Her first impulse was to lash out with words or weapons and she was deadly with both. Kill first, kill some more then go back and make sure they were all killed. Sometimes that was a good thing, other times it wasn’t. She knew her hot head had caused trouble for the tribe more than once and forced herself to calm. To coil her rage like a spring and unleash it when the time was right.

She didn’t blame him for the predicament they were in, that wouldn’t be fair. Getting to one of the towns had been a common goal they all shared. Worry for Otis had overridden their normal caution and any of the tribe would have made the same decision if it was one of their animals. She whispered a thanks to Mother Earth that it hadn’t been one of her wolves. She would have lost it and killed all three of the men and then set fire to this whole town. If this is what the civilized survivors were like, she had no use for them or their so-called safe towns. It seemed to her that there more evil people than good ones left.

She heard voices coming closer and jumped to her feet. The rest of the tribe had heard them to and snatched up weapons. It was instinct, they weren’t sure if they were in a hostile environment but they didn’t like the way they’d been treated so far and didn’t trust anyone. Calming hands soothed animals but they were tense. Ready. She threw hand signs, told them she’d take point and moved to the open to draw the attention to herself.

Children and animals melted into the dark corners and readied their weapons.

She listened to the sound of forced laughter. It sounded like a woman. Was everyone they met a fake? The door creaked open. Sunlight streamed in through the doors. She kept her tomahawks sheathed but they were ready, her fingers rolled slowly across the heads.

14

Tribe

Kassie froze as they slid open the door and a band of bright light lit up a wild girl surrounded by wolves. She saw the furtive motion of other shapes in the shadows. She felt a shiver. They moved like wraiths.

“Hello.” Linda said. “I’m the doctor here, I understand we have an injured animal?”

“We have a bear that’s been shot by one of your men.” Swan answered, her voice harsh. “They tried to kill him.”

She stood her ground, anger coursing through her and stared at the clean woman in the white scrubs with her perfectly combed hair.

“Um, hi. My name is Kassie,” Kassie said and stepped forward. She could feel the rage radiating from the wolf girl. “This is my mom, Linda. She’s really good, she can help.”

Her eyes went to where Otis lay. “Is it bad?”

“Bad enough.” Swan said but Harper put away her morning star and hurried forward.

“He got hit with a rifle round but it fragmented, there are a lot of pieces in his shoulder, they’re deep.” She said.

“Show me.” Linda said and followed the blonde girl over to the softly grunting grizzly.

She let the big bear smell her then spoke with him for a few minutes before she opened her bag and took out a bottle of hand sanitizer. Otis seemed to know she was there to help and licked the hand that caressed him behind the ears.

The others moved silently out of the shadows, came closer to watch.

“What’s your names?” she asked as she sterilized her hands and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

They introduced themselves and she committed them to memory.

“Hold this light.” Linda said and handed it to Harper. She was no nonsense now that the niceties were over. She had a job to do.

“Stay near his head.” She told Kodiak. “Try to keep him calm.”

Kassie felt no fear as she gazed at the bear, only a sense of awe. He was beautiful. His fur was a rich dark brown with silver tips along his spine. His ears and muzzle were scarred from battle. He was terrifying and majestic. She loved him at first sight. Her eyes roved over his body. He was as big as a small car. She’d never seen an animal as large as Otis this close up. His claws looked longed enough to take a head right off the shoulders. His teeth were like steak knives jutting from his jaws. Her heart broke at the sight of the blood splashed against his fur and the sounds of his pitiful moaning.

“Ok, Otis, it’s nasty looking, but I don’t think it’s going to keep a big fellow like you down for long.” Linda said.

She talked to him like he was a person and her gentle bedside manner wasn’t lost on Kodiak. “I’ve got to irrigate it and wash some of the blood off it. It’s going to sting a little.”

Otis chuffed and flinched as she continued her examination.

“What is this?” She asked as she looked at the sticky substance coating the wound.

“Honey.” Harper told her. “We didn’t have any pinesap and moss to make a poultice, so we used what we had.”

“Good thinking. Honey has a lot of healing properties.” She said.

She looked up at the children gathered around her and noticed their scars and stitched up wounds and her heart ached. What kind of hell had they been through? What kind of life had they been living this past year? How had they managed to stay together and stay safe? They had survived the zombies, the winter and who knew what else and now some jumped up mayor was going to gun them down because they didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be missed and he could make a little gold from their animals’ hides. How far had they traveled to find a safe haven? To find grownups, people they could trust?

“Kassie, Honey. Why don’t you explain to them what you overheard? Do it over there, I don’t need any distractions here, okay?”

“I need you with me.” She told Harper. “You’re the medic in your group?”

“I guess so.” Harper said, unsure. “Murray usually told me what to do, though.”

“Which one is he?” she asked and looked over to the backs of the children Kassie was leading away.

“He’s not with us anymore.” Harper said and her face saddened.

“Oh.” Linda said and couldn’t fathom how hard it must have been for them on their own.

“Okay.” She continued. “Are you okay to be my assistant? I’m going to need help with this. I’ve got to debride it first so I can see how extensive the damage is.”

Harper nodded and cleaned her hands with the antiseptic.

“He’s not going to like this part. Keep him calm and still.” She told Kodiak.

“Hand me that probe.” She told Harper and pointed to the one she wanted

Kodiak nodded and rubbed Otis between his ears. As soon as the metal touched his damaged flesh, he growled and tried to stand up. Linda paused. Kodiak pressed against Otis, soothed him until he was back down then whispered softly to the bear to calm him. Linda breathed out slowly, still not believing what she was doing. A thousand-pound bear was being hurt, poked and prodded, but lay still because a little boy wanted him to. She’d never heard of such a bond, not even with well-loved dogs.

Kassie led them to the other end of the barn, away from the door and any ears that might overhear. Her eyes darted between them. The black girl with the ostrich seemed to be the friendliest, or at least a little less hostile than the others. She smiled at her. She looked like a warrior princess, scarred and fierce with her machetes, mohawk and beads. They didn’t clatter around, though. Like the others, she moved like a ghost, silent and light-footed. She held a spear loosely in one hand while she calmed the giant bird with the other. The ostrich’s neck bobbed constantly, assessing the danger. The thick muscles in her legs were tensed, ready to fight or run. Softball sized eyes looked back at Kassie. She was amazing.

She took a sideways glance at the Indian girl with the wolves. She was savage looking. Her eyes were hard and she wore a scowl. A hyena skin was draped over her shoulders and she wore combat boots. Her pants were black military fatigues: loose, comfortable and well worn. Her top was made of soft leather, hand stitched and was reinforced and padded in places. Her armor was plastic and leather her face was painted to resemble the wolves at her side. Her long black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with feathers, pieces of antler and other trinkets woven into it. The blades of the tomahawks at her waist were well oiled and looked like they were razor sharp. Her high cheekbones and brown eyes hinted at beauty under the war paint and the wolves surrounded her protectively.

The boy with her mom that was whispering to his bear was tall. He had a scar over one eye that started at his hairline and ended at his cheek. His arms and neck were scarred. He was long and lean with muscles like bands of steel. His brown hair was long, it hung almost to his shoulders. Like the others, he had mementos braided into it and wore armor made of sports pads or thick leather.

She stopped when they reached the twins and the polar bears. The boy flashed her a peace sign and bobbed his head. His hair was so blonde it was almost white, just like his sister. They were tall and lean and reminded her of the elven people from the Lord of the Rings movies. His hair was as long as his sister’s and had a braid that wrapped around his head and pulled it back from his eyes. They were both covered in tattoos. Some kind of symbols that she didn’t recognize. Wicked looking axes made from saw blades and with wooden handles were in their hands. Long bladed knives hung from their waists. Their skin was so pale that they probably couldn’t tan from being outside; instead they were both showing signs of sunburns. Their massive bears hovered protectively by the strange pair of children.

Harper, the girl helping her mom, was wearing a rough leather top that looked like it had seen some hard usage. Most of her armor was made of dark brown leather that was thick and tough. The chest piece was molded to allow room for her breasts and there was a bird with spread wings painted across the front. It was almost like something Joan of Arc would have worn if her armor wasn’t metal. It was obvious her and Kodiak shared a love for one another. She was petite and beautiful. Her wheat colored hair hung in natural curls. Tiny braids were interwoven through it and like the others held an assortment of treasures.

Lastly, she looked at the Asian boy as he joined the circle. He too carried a spear as well as machetes that crossed his back and protruded over his shoulders. Knives were strapped to his all black armor, most of it hand made of thick leather strips sewn in an overlapping pattern. He moved easily in it and he reminded her of a Samurai from one of those old Kung Fu movies. His hair was long, held back by a cord around his forehead. Like the others, he was scarred and lean. His face was kind, his eyes gentle but she saw strength, loyalty and determination in them. The black cat stood by his side, nearly invisible in the shadows, except for the yellow of her eyes and the swish of her tail. The boy and his companion exuded danger and menace. They weren’t the kind of enemy you would want to meet in the dark.

Kassie lowered her voice, they leaned in close and she told them everything she’d overheard. She told them that they were going to help them, they just didn’t know how yet and she told them they weren’t from Gallatin. They were only here by mistake.

“We lived by ourselves in the woods up in the badlands all winter.” She said. “We heard about Lakota on the radio, that’s where we were headed but wound up here.”

“I didn’t take you for one of the townspeople.” Tobias said. “You look a little wild.”

“You want to quit flirting with the new girl and concentrate on what she said?” Swan asked and Tobias reddened. “In case you missed it, they’re going to shoot you, skin the animals and rape us girls.”

“No, they’re not.” He replied. “Nobody would want you, you’re too mean.”

Analise elbowed him and Swan growled.

“Fine.” He said. “When Kassie and her mom go to leave, we’ll bust out of here, open the gate and ride out of town. No problem.”

As they started arguing about how dumb his plan was, they didn’t notice the tall man wearing a cowboy hat as he sauntered in and walked over to the wounded bear.

15

The Barn

“I need him to be still.” Linda said as she sat back, her gentle probing finished. “I have to get the fragments out. It would be better if he was sedated but I don’t have anything strong enough. Everything I have is for humans and I don’t want to risk giving him something that might hurt his organs. I can try a local anesthetic but that means multiple injections in and around the wound and if he’s in that much pain, I’ll never be able to work on him if he decides he’s had enough.”

“How about some Ketamine?” the cowboy asked. “That ought to keep him still and give him some sweet dreams of large lady bears.”

Everyone turned at the new, laconic voice.

“Who are you?” Linda asked

“Someone who can’t mind his own business. Name’s Rye, Ma’am.” He said and tipped his hat.

“How come they let you in here wearing that gun? You buddies with those guys?” Tobias demanded as he strode over. “Why would you want to help? We know what you’re planning!”

Swan, Vanessa and Analise all elbowed him and he grunted with the pain. Swan didn’t hold back, she went for a kidney.

“You’re an idiot.” She hissed. “Now they know we know.”

“I’m not planning anything. I mean you no harm.” Rye said. “That guard’s not a friend, he’s a card cheat and he owed me thirty pieces of silver. He’s not much good at drinking and playing cards and I thought it was time to collect. He didn’t have the coin so we did a little trading. Thirty silver for thirty minutes. I wanted to meet you all, you’re famous. And besides, I don’t give up my guns for anybody.”

“How come everyone who starts out telling us they mean no harm ends up trying to harm us?” Vanessa asked.

“Lot of truth in that question, kid. Most people will tell you whatever you want to hear to get what they want from you. I suspect you guys have seen more than your share of that.” Rye replied.

“How come he owed you money then?” Tobias growled. “You said he was a card cheat, why didn’t he win?”

“I’m better at it.” Rye said with easy confidence and an easy smile.

“I remember you.” Linda interrupted. “You’re a retriever. You brought in a couple of half-starved farmers a while back that had gotten themselves surrounded by a horde. Ketamine would be great if you have some.”

“You got it.” Rye said. “I usually keep some in my Jeep, you never know when it will come in handy. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later he returned with the horse tranquilizers and a can of dog food. Kodiak buried the pills in the Alpo and fed it to Otis. Within minutes, he was snoring deeply.

“Ok, let’s do this.” Linda pulled on fresh gloves and grabbed her brush.

She cleaned out the dirt and honey that packed the wound then scraped away the fur and dead flesh that could cause infection.

It was a nasty wound. Gangrene could have killed the bear if left untreated. At the least, it would have maimed him and bothered him for the rest of his life. She irrigated the wound with peroxide and watched it fizz and bubbled as it attacked the infection. She kept pouring until it ran clear. Harper handed her a pair of forceps and she fished out the fragments of the bullet that had exploded in the muscle. She probed aggressively with her fingertips to find every last sliver.

Harper held the light and mopped the sweat from the lady’s brow with a cloth. She watched and learned, asked questions and listened as the nurse walked her through everything she was doing. Finally, Linda let out a sigh and leaned back. She stripped out of her bloodied gloves and took a long drink from a bottle of water. Her apprehension was gone and she was in her element once again. Helping those who couldn’t help themselves. She felt good about the procedure and was sure she’d gotten all of the bullet fragments. Harper was ready with the sutures and she guided her through the process, showed her how to sew the torn flesh back together.

Kodiak watched unblinking. It seemed like it was going well. The lady worked quickly and efficiently. She was thorough. He’d watched her intense concentration as she dug out each fragment and laid them in a tray. Almost like a puzzle, she’d placed them in the pan until she was satisfied she’d gotten them all. He thought about his mom as he watched. She had that same no-nonsense attitude when she’d tended to a wounded animal. He wished he’d have shown more interest in medical care, but he’d always thought he had all the time in the world to learn those things. The wound still bled freely but the nurse reassured him it was going to be okay as Harper stitched up the damage.

“Looks better than mine.” He said when she was finished and indicated a rough scar on his arm. He wasn’t sure what had caused it. Might have been a coyote, maybe a boar? Could have been a raccoon for all he knew. There hadn’t been much time for thought in the battle against the savage ones. It was panic and chaos and trying to stay on your feet. If you went down, you would have been shredded.

Linda stood and stretched. “I removed all of the bullet fragments. He was lucky, it didn’t hit anything vital. No broken bones. The inside stitches will dissolve on their own, but you’ll need to take the outer ones out in a week or so. He’ll be sore but if you don’t let him overdo it, he’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. He’ll be able to walk, but don’t let him run. If he wants to rest, then let him.”

Harper laughed. “You have no idea how lazy that bear is. If he heard that, we’d have to carry him the rest of the way to Lakota.”

Kodiak was nearly overcome with emotion as he watched the softly snoring bear.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Linda nodded then in her no-nonsense nurse’s voice she called out to the rest of them.

“I want to examine all of you.” She said, “Make a line and shed some of that armor.”

They were circled around Rye and from the gathering thunder on his face, she could tell Kassie had shared what she’d overheard. They could fill in Harper and Kodiak as she examined them and maybe they could come up with a plan.

Linda fussed over all of them. She told Tobias he needed to do a better job at brushing his teeth, told Kodiak he needed to do stretching exercises or he would lose some mobility in his arm but overall she was impressed and pleased at how well they’d taken care of themselves. Rye reassured them that Lakota was a good place and they shouldn’t abandon their plans to go there.

“How are we going to get there if they plan on cutting us down as soon as we’re away from town?” Kodiak asked. “They’ve got us penned in by men with guns on the walls. If we try to force our way out, they’ll shoot us down and claim we had rabies or something.”

“Donny and I can get out at night.” Swan said. “We’ll dig under this barn tin, sneak up to the top of the wall and kill all the guards. We dump their bodies outside; they won’t even be missed until morning. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Donny thumped his spear in agreement.

“NO!” Linda said. “You can’t do that. You can’t just go around killing people. There are laws.”

“But they want to kill us!” Kodiak exclaimed. “We’re just getting to them before they do.”

“They’re not all bad men.” Rye said. “Some of them have families and the guards are just doing their jobs. Most of them don’t have any idea what the mayor is planning. We need a stealthy way out. Once you’re away from the town then it’s anything goes if they come after you but you can’t go around slicing throats inside the walls. You’d have bounties on your heads.”

“We could blow up the wall and get out then.” Tobias said. “You got any dynamite?”

Rye shook his head and hid a grin. These kids had spunk. “I said stealthy. You know, quiet like. No explosions.”

“Time’s up, Rye!” a shout came from the front of the barn. “You’ve had your thirty minutes, let’s go.”

“Coming, Slim, just let me say goodbye. I think I’ve taken a shine to this wolf girl.” He shouted back.

There was laughter from the door but the man didn’t dare come inside. The wolves scared him.

When Rye turned back there were looks of shock and surprise on Linda and Kassie’s faces. The children had raw rage on theirs. Weapons were out of sheaths and the animals didn’t look friendly anymore. He hadn’t even heard the whisper of steel on leather, those kids moved like shadows.

“Hold on.” He said. “I had an idea, that’s all. Hear me out.”

They didn’t lower their weapons as he slowly pulled a flask of whiskey from his vest and another horse tranquilizer from a pocket.

“I think I’ll join their gang.” He said and when the weapons still didn’t lower, he repeated what he said before.

“Stealth.” He said. “Not brute force. How much do you think, Doctor? I don’t want them knocked out, just loopy.”

He unscrewed the cap and started breaking off pieces of the pill to let them dissolve in the amber liquid.

“What good will that do?” Kodiak asked. “They’ll sober up and come after us.”

“Not if they’ve been tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail.” Rye said. “Do you trust me?”

“No.” Swan said.

“Yes.” Linda answered.

“I know him.” She continued, addressing the tribe. “We’re not best friends or anything but he has a reputation, he’s risked his life to help strangers. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. He’s one of the good guys, Kodiak. I’ll stake my life on it.”

Kassie nodded. She knew the farmers he’d saved, it was all they talked about for weeks. He’d come in guns a blazing and had cleared out nearly a hundred of the undead by himself and led the rest of them away when he ran out of bullets.

“You, too, Doc.” The man yelled again. “Enough chit chat, let’s go.”

“Can I borrow your phone?” Rye asked Kassie as they headed for the door.

“I like him.” Vanessa admitted. “He seems like someone who doesn’t take no crap off anybody.”

“Yeah, like me.” Tobias said.

Swan snorted and Donny rolled his eyes. They all flinched inwardly when the guard slammed the door shut behind the cowboy, the doctor and her daughter.

16

Job Interview

Rye swatted Linda across the butt as she hurried away from the barn and laughed when she shot him a dirty look.

“Slim” he said as he pulled out the bottle “I envy you. You’ve got yourself a sweet little setup here. How do I get a little bit of this action?”

The man took the proffered whiskey eagerly. Guard duty was tiresome and boring and he hadn’t had time to grab himself a little nip of his own.

They passed the time and it wasn’t long before he had the two others sitting around a table in the shade playing a little five card. They were still guarding, they could see the front door and the back one was chained. The brats weren’t going anywhere. Slim was the only one he knew personally but he’d seen the others around back when they were retrievers. Back before they became the Mayor’s men. If he remembered right, they hadn’t been very good at it. They weren’t very successful at any of the big gold gigs and took the easy ones that didn’t pay very much. Rye was careful not to swallow any when it was passed to him and when the first flask was empty, they started on the second. He brought up the subject again of coming off the road.

“You boys know how dangerous it is out there.” He said. “I’m tired of risking my life for those rich bastards. They don’t even care if we get killed, am I right? They’ll just send someone else out to get whatever it is they’re looking for. I want a job working you boys. Is the Mayor hiring?”

The special K was doing its job. They couldn’t remember whose turn it was or who had bet what. The talk was light and tongues were loose. Rye started off by asking them if they could keep a secret. Three inebriated heads nodded and leaned in closer.

“I ever tell you about that Indian squaw I come across up in Kansas?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper, his hat askew on his head. “Her and her man had a place in a warehouse. Pretty good setup. He was out scavenging when I found her. She put up a good fight, but I like to play rough.”

He laughed and they leaned in closer, wanting to hear the details. The lie left a bad taste in his mouth but they ate it up as he told about two days of “fun” he had with the woman.

“Her old man came home when I was giving her the old in and out. Had to put a couple of bullets in him, he wasn’t the sharing type.”

They guffawed and started sharing stories of their own, like how they’d gotten rid of the old mayor and the sheriff in a tragic cattle stampede. That little “accident” was what paved the way to their life of leisure here in Gallatin.

Rye passed the bottle around again and asked about the kids in the barn.

“Oh we got plans for them.” Slim said. “They’ll be leaving tonight, never to be seen again.”

“That’s right.” Beardy guy said. “Those animals hides are gonna bring us a whole bunch of money and those kids will be feeding the fishes.”

“After we have us a little fun with those girls.” The third man said with a wicked grin. “Me and blondie and the black girl and that albino twin are gonna have us a date tonight.”

“Don’t be getting all greedy.” Beardy complained. “I want some, too.”

“I want me a piece of that wolf girl.” Rye said, his smile predatory under his mustache. “I got a thing for Indians. You think the Mayor would hire me on?”

“Probably would.” A bearded man slurred. “We could use another man that’s good with a gun and ain’t afraid to use it. Can’t trust these townies with anything more than walking the wall.”

“What do you think, Slim. Will you vouch for him?” he asked but Slim was face down on the table in a puddle of drool.

The third man narrowed his eyes and tried to focus them. Something wasn’t right. They’d only had two small bottles of whiskey, nobody should be feeling so loopy. It was barely enough to give them all a good buzz, let alone have one of them passed out. He picked up the nearly empty bottle and gave it a shake, saw the residue of powder in the bottom and dropped his hand to his gun. Rye hooked his chair with his boot and pulled, tipped him over backward and swung a hard left at the bearded man’s surprised face. There was a solid thwock as he cracked his jaw and the man went stiff before his eyes rolled up and he toppled out of his chair. Rye put a pointy toed cowboy boot to the man struggling to free his pistol and sent it flying. He reached for his AR-15 but Rye had already snatched it up.

“Say goodnight, dirtbag.” He said and slammed it against his forehead

17

Ice Cream

The tribe tensed when they heard the rattle of the chain being pulled from the doors but relaxed again when Rye stuck his head through.

“Hey, give me a hand.” He said and they hurried forward to drag the three unconscious men through the door.

“Got any rope we can tie ‘em up with?” Rye asked, sweating from the exertion of dragging the fattest one.

“Don’t need any.” Swan said.

“Look, I know you kids are tough but they’re grown men and…”

“Guard.” Swan said and instantly her pack of wolves stopped being inquisitive about the bodies and low growls came from their throats. They paced around the inert forms, watching for any movement, any signs of aggression, any little reason for them to rip into the soft flesh and bone.

“Uh. Okay.” Rye said. “Point taken.”

“Now what?” Kodiak asked. “This is your plan? How are we going to get through the gate, they still have machine guns. They still have the height advantage.”

“Yeah. We’re worse off now than before.” Swan said. “They’ll figure out they’re missing three guards pretty quick. I thought you said stealth. I could have gone out and konked some drunks over the head.”

“Not just any guards and not just any konking.” Rye said and pulled out Kassie’s phone. “Have a listen to this, I recorded our whole conversation. See if you can edit it some, just leave in the really nasty stuff they admitted to and play it on a loop.”

Tobias grabbed it and started to do as he asked.

“Cut all that stuff I said out.” Rye called after him. “None of it’s true, I was just talking crap.”

“Great.” Swan said. “Now all we have to do is walk around with an ear bud and ask everybody to listen. Good plan.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Rye sighed.

“Do you trust me?” he asked again.

“No.” Swan said.

“Yes.” answered Kodiak.

“What do we do with them?” Harper asked, indicating the three unconscious men.

“Hope they wake up and try something.” Swan said and fingered her tomahawks.

“Just keep them here, all will be revealed but I’ve gotta hurry. I’ve got to stay ahead of the Mayor. Right now we have the element of surprise but this whole plan can blow up in our face.”

Rye gave Kodiak a nod, winked at Swan and hurried towards the door.

“I’m going to run the chain back through the handles but it’s not locked. You can get out if you want but I’d stay inside if I were you. Give me another hour to put the rest of the plan in motion.” He called over his shoulder then was gone.

True to his word, about an hour later they heard the quiet rumble of a truck pull up and Rye slid the barn doors wide open.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked

Linda and Kassie were there with Denny and his ice cream truck.

“Can the bear walk or does he need a ride?” he asked

“He can walk.” Kodiak answered. “He’s limping a little but he’s good.”

“We just going to waltz to the front gate and tell them to open it?” Swan turned to Rye. “That’s your big plan?”

“You can waltz if you want to.” Rye answered with a smile “but it’d be cooler if you didn’t.”

“You have my phone?” Kassie asked “Did you get it edited down to a loop?”

“Yeah.” Tobias said and handed it over. “Good playlist, I like your music.”

“Thanks.” She said and for some reason she felt a little heat creep to her cheeks as she handed it to her mom. “I can get you another one, I have a bunch with even better songs.”

“You kids gather your gear.” Rye said. “We’re leaving.”

Linda found a quiet corner, recorded her message and handed it to Denny as packs were stowed, saddles were strapped on and Rye dumped a bucket of water over the three men.

They spluttered awake and he wasted no time tying their hands and looping nooses around their necks. He ignored their complaints, attached the three ropes to the bumper of the van and signaled Denny they were ready. He took off at a slow and steady pace with the ice cream music blasting its merry tune as he made his way towards the center of town. Kodiak led his band of warriors with Otis at his side, his Warhammer held in his fists. Donny and Swan followed, the wolves and the panther padding softly beside them. Harper rode high on Bert, her blonde curls blowing in the breeze as Vanessa sat tall and proud astride her war bird. The twins brought up the rear astride their massive polar bears, battle axes in their hands, pale hair fluttering.

The people along the way stopped what they were doing and followed the slow parade. Once they reached main street, Denny turned on the recordings and heard their doctor tell them what she’d been ordered to do by the Mayor. They gasped when the voices of the drunken men started bragging about killing the old mayor and the sheriff. Every window had faces in it and every hand stopped its work as the crowds grew. They listened in horror at what had been planned for the children as the truck made its way to the center of town and the courthouse. The Mayor heard and ran to put a stop to it but the words were too damning and when they started repeating, empty hands of the townspeople were filled with whatever was at hand.

Rocks, shovels and hammers. Butcher knives, pitchforks and baseball bats.

They watched the quiet procession, the battle-scarred children riding majestic animals as tame as kittens, and their hearts went cold with rage as they heard the words repeated over the loudspeakers. Rye cut the three men loose in front of the courthouse and motioned for Denny to continue on towards the front gate. Most of the men stayed behind, looked up to the windows of the mayor’s office and made their way inside the building. They sent their women and kids to the gates to see the tribe of wild children off. A great wrong had been done in their town, a wrong they had let happen. It was time to set things right and it wasn’t anything they wanted their families to witness.

Denny stopped the ice cream truck a mile out of town at the first crossroads. They could see for a long way in all directions and there wasn’t a zombie in sight. He passed out some bags of food he’d thrown together for them and watched them pack it carefully away.

“I’ve got something for you.” He said and pulled out a bucket of homemade ice cream. He had cones and sprinkles and chocolate syrup to pour over them and the kids lined up at the window like kids had for generations. He put on his ice cream man hat, turned the jaunty music down low and his eyes shone, basking in their simple joy. Once the animals discovered the sweet, sticky goodness he knew he was going to use up the whole gallon.

“You still headed to Lakota?” Rye asked Kodiak as the boy watched over his people.

“We have to.” He replied. “I made a promise, three of our tribe are already there.”

“It’s a good place.” Rye said. “A lot of real good people there.”

Kassie grabbed her phone out of the truck and took it over to Tobias who was tussling with Popsicle over a handful of ice cream.

“Here you go.” She said shyly. “You can have it if you want.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” He said and wiped his hands on his pants. “Which song is your favorite?”

Within minutes they each had a bud in their ears, heads together and were smiling broadly.

The wolf pups were wound up on sugar and when they realized there was no more of the treat to be had they started chasing each other around a field as Swan watched over them.

“They look so much like children.” Linda said “But I know they’re not. Not anymore.”

“Maybe when they get to Lakota they can unwind, be kids again.” Rye said. “Maybe the scars don’t go too deep.”

“We can only hope.” She said then added “That slap on my ass was just for show, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Rye said quickly. “I’d never want to smack your backside, I found it quite distasteful and difficult to do.”

He was pretty sure that was the right answer.

“Hmmm.” She said and walked off. “Too bad.”

Rye groaned as he watched her give her bottom a little extra shake. He blew that chance.

“Hey, Wolf Girl.” he hollered over to Swan “Trust me now?”

She made a face and waggled her hand back and forth. “A little. Maybe.” She said.

“Donny.” Kodiak said over the hubbub and when the boy looked his way, he flashed some hand signs at him. The boy nodded, waved at Rye and Linda and started a slow jog down the road.

The rest of the tribe saw that it was time to go and like a well-oiled machine everyone mounted up, found their places in the procession and were waving goodbyes and shouting thank you’s.

Everyone except Tobias, he was still head to head with Kassie, lost in the music.

Vanessa gigged Ziggy, got low in the saddle and rode by them at full speed. She let an acorn fly and it bounced off Tobias’ head.

“HEY!” he yelled and realized everyone was ready to go and waiting on him.

“What? A guy can’t listen to music with a pretty girl?” he demanded then turned red when he realized what he’s said.

“You’re having turnips for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next month!” he said in exasperation as he tried to disentangle himself. They’d been twining their hair together in a little braid.

“Better than your cheese.” Swan said as she jogged by, her wolves bounding along beside her.

“Come on lover boy.” His sister said as she rode past on Daisy. “Kiss her goodbye and let’s go.”

“You guys suck!” he yelled after them, his face as red as a tomato.

“Wait.” Kassie said softly and pulled out her knife.

She cut the braid close to her scalp and they came apart. “You can keep it if you want, you know, so you don’t forget me.”

“I won’t ever forget.” Tobias whispered as he turned away. He didn’t want her to see his embarrassed face.

He took the knife and cut out a small braid with a polished bone in it. “This is from the first fish I caught, from my first net. I knew we wouldn’t starve when I caught it, it meant life.”

She took it and no one was watching so she stood on her toes and kissed him. On the mouth. Then ran back to the ice cream truck and her ride back to town.

“Thanks again.” Kodiak told the three adults. “I won’t forget what you did for us.”

He turned and walked after his tribe, Otis beside him as Harper circled around to keep watch on their rear.

“That boy is the King of the Wild.” Denny said, still in awe of the easy way the children handled the creatures.

18

The Road

The tribe traveled throughout the night. Whenever Kodiak asked if they wanted to call it, to find a house and get some sleep, they elected to keep going.

“Just a few more miles.” was the general consensus whenever they stopped to rest. They trusted Rye but who knew if the Mayor had friends that might seek a little revenge. Best to put some distance between them. It was slow going with Otis favoring his foreleg. The bear groaned and moaned when he realized it elicited sympathy from Kodiak or a treat from one of the girls. The big bear played it for all it was worth.

Kodiak walked beside him. “It’s really just a flesh wound you big baby.”

He was thankful and relieved. Thankful for the people who helped him and the tribe. He’d begun to fear that the trip was a mistake. Feared that everyone they would meet was like Gordon or Moretz. It was a relief to know that there were still good people out there like Kassie, Linda and Rye. He thought about Bob, wondered where he was and what he was doing and if they would ever cross paths again.

Tobias was still going on about Rye.

“Did you see his ride when we were heading for the gates? That thing was a beast. Maybe I’ll get me one of those someday.”

Swan snorted. “Hope you can drive better than you cook.”

He shot her a dirty look. She never complained when she was stuffing her face with his culinary creations. Except for the cheese. They all hated his cheese.

“Oh yeah?” He shot back. “Must not be too bad since you are getting fat.”

Swan bared her teeth at his bad joke. None of them had an ounce of fat to spare on their lean bodies. “Keep talking blondie.”

Donny and Yewan were somewhere ahead of the rest of the tribe. He was scouting for a place to hole up so they could rest. Somewhere off the main road that wouldn’t be too obvious.

Ziggy and Vanessa came trotting over to Kodiak and Harper.

“Donny left some sign up ahead. We’ll need to get off about a half mile further. Single brick mailbox by a dirt road.” She said.

“Thanks.” Kodiak nodded.

“I’m gonna let Ziggy run.” She said as the bird danced from side to side. She moved effortlessly on her back in rhythm with the huge bird. “I’ll check our back trail for a couple of miles and make sure no one is following us.”

“Be careful. Take no chances.” Kodiak said.

She raised her spear in acknowledgement and nudged Ziggy with her knees. They were gone in a flash.

Kodiak called out to Tobias and Analise. “Cold camp. No fire. Sun will be up soon, and we all need some rest. Let’s see what you can whip up with what they gave us.”

The twins nodded. The saddlebags were nearly full with dried meat and canned goods.

Swan had kept a sharp eye out for any signs of game trails beside the road, but the wolves hadn’t scented anything that was fresh enough for pursuit.

They followed the signs that Donny had left to a two-story house a couple of miles down a dirt road that was slowly being overcome by nature. They made sure to remove the crossed sticks marking the way when they came to them. No need to be obvious if anyone happened to come along.

When they reached the house, Donny lay in an old porch swing with one leg on the floor pushing himself back and forth. Yewan was curled up by his side.

Harper and Vanessa turned Bert and Ziggy out in the fenced in backyard. There was a plastic kiddy pool full of rainwater, a couple of sad looking dog houses and the grass was thick and tall. Ziggy wasted no time seeking out bugs while Bert surveyed the trees for tasty leaves.

When they gathered around to eat, they realized they didn’t have many utensils left. Everything had been unpacked when Otis got shot and they didn’t have a can opener, any pots and pans and only a few of them had an extra spoon in their pack. When they went inside to raid the kitchen they discovered they only had one flashlight and the batteries were weak. Instead of wasting the last of their light rummaging through drawers Donny pried up a few bricks from the walkway. They rubbed the cans back and forth until the lids were worn down enough to pop off with a knife. They ate quietly and watched the first hints of gray lighten the eastern sky. They were tired from the long night and looked forward to catching up on sleep.

“This place stinks.” Tobias said and opened a few of the sticky windows. “Smells like some old cat lady lived here.”

Harper took first watch, she’d ridden most of the night and had even gotten a little sleep dozing in the saddle. The others dragged couch cushions and mattresses into the living room and settled in. It was how they’d spent every night in Piedmont house and the closeness of the tribe always brought comfort and peace.

When she woke Kodiak for his guard shift, he walked out on the porch to watch the storm clouds gathering. From the size of the thunderheads forming in the west, it looked like it might be a big one. Otis could use a break and the house seemed solid enough even if it was pretty dirty. He scratched idly at his head, it itched. Maybe he’d collect some water and wash his hair, there would be shampoo inside. It looked like they’d be camping out for another night, nobody liked traveling in the rain where your gear got soaking wet and chafed.

19

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers

“Would you look at that?” Tobias whispered to his twin sister. “Ripe for the picking. I bet there’s all kind of stuff in there just waiting to be plundered. Gonna grab me a brand-new Xbox for sure.”

“What are you gonna do with that? Popsicle got a power plug in his butt you haven’t mentioned?” She snapped.

“No but that big mouth of yours could power a town.” He snapped back. “We’ll be in Lakota soon, they have power.”

“Right. I almost forgot. I’m sure he won’t mind carrying around another fifty pounds of useless junk for the next hundred miles.” She sniped right back.

“Quiet, you two.” Swan hissed.

Tobias flipped her off then turned his back to his sister. He hated it when she was right.

Everybody was in a foul mood. The house had been infested with fleas and lice and every other type of burrowing and biting chigger and crab. By the time they realized what they were everyone was itching and scratching and ate up with the annoying little bugs. They left the farmstead and trudged for miles in the drizzle towards the next town, a pharmacy and some relief. They were on the outskirts of an old town with a new industrial district that had been built on what had been farmland a few years ago. They were in a grove of trees across from a strip mall with a Walmart and watched for any signs of movement. The drizzle was constant, it hadn’t let up since they started walking hours ago. Big, fat drops dripped down from the trees and ran down their necks. Their clothes were soaked and they were surprised the little biting insects hadn’t drowned.

“I just remembered an ancient Indian secret of how you can get rid of those crabs, Tobias.” Swan said as he squirmed in his clothes.

“Don’t keep us waiting, Pocahontas.” He said. “How?”

“You have to shave off half your hair down there.” She answered. “Then you set the other half on fire. When the crabs jump across to the shaved part, you stab them with an icepick.”

The others snorted laughter and Analise told him she had one he could borrow.

“You first.” He said. “I’ll help. But let’s start on your head so as I can stab you in the face.”

“Quiet!” Kodiak said again as Donny darted across the road and slid in beside them.

Front of the store is all clear he signed. Doors are broken but nothing inside.

“You’re up, Vanessa.”

The dark girl nodded, pulled down her goggles, swung onto Ziggy, tucked in low and raced around to the back of the buildings. The ostrich flew across the asphalt and at the speeds they were traveling they circled the entire strip mall in a few minutes. She pulled up in front of the store and raised her spear. All clear.

“Okay.” Kodiak told the tribe. “We know what to do. Let’s get in, get the stuff and get out fast. I don’t like being this close to a big town.”

“You worry too much.” Tobias grumbled and scratched at his privates. Then under his arms. Then at his head. They were driving him nuts. “Everybody knows their job, we’ve gone over it a thousand times.”

They slipped across the road and splashed through the mostly empty parking lot to the front of the store. There had been a fight of some kind a long time ago, the glass doors were broken and shopping carts were tumbled. A car was buried in the Game Stop and many others had open doors. While Harper loosely tied Bert’s reins to a rack of potted plants at the far end of the store, the rest of them ducked inside. After hours of walking in the rain they welcomed the roof overhead as they pushed dripping hair out of their eyes and resettled their gear.

Swan volunteered to be the look out and held her wolves in the lobby as the rest of them disappeared into the gloomy interior. She positioned herself by a Redbox filled with DVD’s and a soda machine. It was good to be out of the weather and her wolves shook themselves vigorously, spraying everything. From there she had a good view of the parking lot and the road. The tribe was alert but not too concerned about the undead. Donny had been inside, had made some noise, and nothing came running out after him. There were smells in the air but they were old. Rotted meat and spoiled vegetables from a year ago, nothing like the stench of rotting corpses.

Skylights let in enough light to see even with the heavy gray clouds and never-ending rain drizzling down. Everyone knew their assignments and fanned out to grab the things they needed. Medicine was the priority and Harper made a beeline for the pharmacy. She was going to fill her satchel with every kind of bug killing shampoos and soaps they had. Daisy followed Analise back to the rear of the store and the shoe department. She needed a new pair of boots, her Doc Martens were nearly worn through. The big polar bear detoured at the cereal aisle. She smelled the Cap’n Crunch from a mouse nibbled box and Analise let her go. She didn’t need help finding the right size shoes.

A few hundred yards down a side street behind the Wal-Mart was a cluster of warehouses and small industrial buildings. One of the buildings was still full of milling people. Before the end of the world the company was a parts supplier for a defense contractor. Their production line made injection molded plastic widgets that were packaged, boxed and shipped to another little industrial building where they were assembled with other parts then were sent on to somewhere else. Nearly one hundred people had been at the company’s sixth anniversary employee breakfast early one September morning. Attendance wasn’t mandatory but bonus checks were being passed out so no one wanted to miss it. The production floor had been filled with plastic tables, a catered buffet was brought in and the CEO was making jokes and passing out their annual bonuses. Spirits were high, the checks were generous this year and the food wasn’t bad either. Everyone was having a good time until Tony the Janitor started attacking people and ripping chunks of flesh out of them with his bare teeth. Miss Candace Wilson was a vegetarian and steered clear of the bacon and sausage on the buffet. She was near the entrance and ran when the chaos started. She barely made it out of the front doors before her coworkers slammed against them, teeth gnashing at the glass and bloody hands smearing gore. She watched in horror, too petrified to scream until the barista from the coffee shop near the Wal-Mart slammed into her and tore out her throat.

The horde had railed against the doors in their effort to get out and spread the infection that coursed through them. They had almost succeeded by the time the people of the town were either turned or had fled. With nothing to draw their attention they stopped their ceaseless struggle to escape and stood swaying side to side or wandered aimlessly around the plant. Patient and single minded they waited. Months later a winter storm toppled the shady oak through the side of the building. They could easily climb across the branches and over the tumbled blocks but none bothered. There was no need. There was nothing outside that interested them just like there was nothing inside. More time passed. More storms came and went as they milled around, their heads completely empty.

One of the creatures lifted his nose as he shuffled past the broken wall. He still wore his steel toed work boots, his bonus check tucked into his back pocket. The once yellow safety vest was stained dark brown from the hole in his chest where the secretary had torn a chunk from him. There was a new scent carried on the breeze. The smell of fresh, untainted blood. The living were near. It had been long since he’d sensed the uninfected but time had no meaning for him or the others. Without the elements and scavengers taking their tolls, the group was still day one fresh and they hungered. Most had been denied the opportunity to spread their deadly infection.

He let out a keening cry that was echoed by the rest and scrambled over the tumbled wall, forced his way through the opening. Damaged flesh and broken bones didn’t matter, only spreading the virus did. He tore at the blocks, shoved through the branches and spilled out onto the ground. He jumped to his feet day one fresh and ran for the scent of the living. A hundred others followed him and like a relentless line of predators they made a beeline for the front of the Walmart.

Her wolves alerted moments before Swan heard the keening cries and wails. She slipped outside to get a better view and heard the sounds of work boots and bare feet slapping against the wet asphalt. It came from the far end of the building so she sprinted down to see what they were up against. They were coming up a side street they hadn’t investigated. They didn’t think there was any need, it was only a bunch of warehouses. There weren’t any houses, nobody had lived there. There were a lot of them running right for her and it was too late to hide, the horde knew where they were. There were far too many for her and the wolves to take out. She whistled the pack to her and raced for the Wal-Mart.

“We’ve got company!” She yelled as soon as she was inside. “They’re fast, we can’t fight them!”

Swan cursed the undead under her breath and started shoving rows of shopping carts in front of the shattered doorway. She had really wanted a chance to do a little shopping, to get some dry clothes. She needed new arrows and maybe they had some freeze-dried ice cream in the camping section. What they’d had a few days ago had reawakened her appetite for it. The carts wouldn’t slow those things down for long but it would buy them some time for everyone to get down to the lawn and garden part of the store. Kodiak’s meticulous, relentless planning was finally paying off. Everybody knew where to go if there was an emergency. She was pretty sure this qualified. She watched as they drew closer, picked out the fastest runner and nocked an arrow. She let it fly at the leader of the pack who was outdistancing the rest. It struck true at the base of the creature’s nose and it tumbled to the ground and caused more to trip and plow into the blacktop. She yelled the tribe’s battle cry and found her second target, an old woman in a dress. She was mad eyed and screeching, hands out stretched and hungry. Swan thought she was pretty fast for an old lady before she dropped her with a well-placed broadhead through her cheek. More stumbled and fell as they tripped over the tumbling body and she sent two more to their permanent death before she retreated into the store. She hadn’t seen the end of the line at the far end of the building, she had no idea how many there were still coming but she knew they’d be fine. They’d get them all inside the store then run out the other entrance. They’d gone over it a hundred times as they war gamed different scenarios. As long as nobody panicked, they’d be just fine and the tribe was beyond panicking at the sight of a bunch of zombies. She’d have to rub it in tonight, she officially had more in the wild battle kills than Donny now.

The undead crashed into the barrier of shopping carts and shoved them aside. Swan saw it and swore louder. That wasn’t supposed to happen, they were supposed to jam up against them and have to crawl over the top. With so many packed so tight together, it was supposed to be like crabs trying to climb out of a bucket, the others would pull them back down.

“They’re in!” she yelled, her voice going up an octave. “They’re in!”

She wasn’t panicking, she was still cool, but she was a whole lot more concerned than she had been a few seconds ago. Maybe she should have been running for the safety of the lawn and garden section instead of racking up battle kills. The horde poured into the store. The scent of the uninfected was strong in the building and they raced hungrily to be the first to attack.

Tobias was in the hardware section looking at the paracord when he heard Swan’s war cry. His head snapped around but he didn’t drop everything and run, they needed the paracord to fix some of their armor and saddles. The homemade gear wasn’t holding up very well with the hard use of everyday road travel. Tobias shoved the rope into Popsicle’s saddlebag, swung up in the saddle and unsheathed his battle axe.

“Hey!” He shouted when he saw Swan racing for the outdoor section. “How many?”

“Couple hundred. Too many to fight.” She replied. “We need to get the hell out of here, the shopping carts didn’t even slow them down!”

Tobias nodded at her and put his heels to Popsicles ribs with a yell. “The others are at the other end of the store, get the gate ready, I’ll slow them down!”

She and her wolves didn’t break stride as Tobias screamed something in Norse and gigged Popsicle into the aisle as she ran by. He raised his axe high and charged straight for the mass of keening rotting things gnashing their teeth and ready to eat.

The giant polar bear had been careful plodding down the aisles when they came in. He hadn’t knocked anything off the shelves or blundered into any of the end cap displays. The boy scolded him and was displeased if he bumped into things when they were inside. But that was only when the stinking things weren’t around. Now the boy urged him into chaos, to smash, rend and destroy. To kill the dead and break things. Popsicle complied and barreled down the aisle scattering goods from the shelves and pulverizing bodies as a thousand pounds of pissed off bear drove them down. Hungry hands reaching for the boy high in the saddle were crushed, bodies exploded in great splashes of blackened, rotting organs that sprayed for yards in all directions.

“Cleanup on Aisle 3!” Tobias laughed as boxes of spaghetti noodles and Hamburger Helper spilled to the floor and mixed with the glop of zombie guts.

A glance over his shoulder showed him that Swan wasn’t being chased, his bellowing and battle cries had diverted the attack to him. A pair of women came out of the frozen food section and launched themselves at the boy. He swung his battle axe backhanded, split the skull of one and knocked the other aside. It found a grip on the saddlebag and ignored the rhythmic movements of the bears rear haunches as it screamed and climbed for the boy only a few feet away. It hungered for the fresh, pure blood and the still beating heart pumping it through his veins. Popsicle’s feet scrabbled for traction on the tile floor as he tried to make a hard turn and chase down more of the stinking creatures. The thing lost its grip but still held on with one hand and tried to pull itself back up. Tobias sliced the axe through the mottled flesh and it went sprawling into a rack of Halloween candies, black blood oozing from the severed arm.

“See ya later, Stumpy!” he yelled, laughed like a loon and twirled the saw bladed axe over his head.

He let out a savage yell as they tore down the next aisle, the sounds of shattering glass behind him as the horde gave chase. They jostled to be first to the uninfected flesh. Jellies, jams and syrups erupted as they hit the floor causing some of them to slip and fall, only to be trampled underfoot by those following.

“Attention, Wal-Mart shoppers!” He roared as the thrill of battle surged through his Viking blood. “Be sure to check out our scratch and dent sale in the canned goods section!”

Tobias saw a flash of black to his right. It was Yewan racing down the top shelf of the aisle beside him. To his left he saw Donny. The silent boy thrust his long spear down through the tops of the skulls of the undead that were dogging Tobias’s heels. Zombies had spread out in the chase and came at him from both directions. The polar bear plowed through them without slowing and Tobias reined him in when there were no more undead in front of them. Popsicle spun, sent an endcap tumbling and Donny threw signs at Tobias and pointed across the store. More were coming, lots more. Some were leaping from the tops of the shelves from one aisle to another. It was time to go before they were boxed in, it only took one lucky jumper to pull him down. Donny pointed towards the lawn and garden section where the rest of the tribe were waiting to slam the steel security gate.

“I know! I know!” Tobias yelled back. “Go! I’m right behind you!”

The crashing of shelves and toasters and pots and pans was nearly lost in the cacophony of screams from the hungry undead. Donny and Yewan sprang down and sprinted for the safety of the outdoor section and Tobias saw the rest of the tribe yelling at him to hurry as his bear rose up on his hind legs, roared and took swipes at the broken undead that were close. He leaned forward to get him to drop on all fours then gigged Popsicle down another aisle, one without smashed and broken glass.

20

Watcher

Steven stared out of the mirrored windows of the manager’s office overlooking the floor and watched in fascination as heavily armored children and animals ran for the lawn and garden department and pulled down the gate. They were the ones he’d heard about on Radio Lakota. He was amazed at how well-trained the animals were as a white-haired boy charged through the store running down the undead, controlling the polar bear with his knees.

He’d been camped out in the Walmart for a few weeks and had been eating well, listening to a wind-up radio at night and playing board games against himself. It was a good hideout. He left the front of the store undisturbed except for whatever he took off the shelves. No one would suspect he was hiding out in the back if they came looking. Now all hell had broken loose and a horde of the undead was rampaging through the store, screaming their awful screams. The zoms chased after the kids but they were safe behind the gate. That left him a clear path out the back door and he’d best beat feet now while the undead were busy. He didn’t want to get trapped or be seen by the kids. If they told anyone, he’d have half the bounty hunters in the territories combing the area looking for him. He’d never heard his name on Bastille’s crime report but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe they were keeping the manhunt for him quiet, didn’t want to spook him. He was sure he’d been reported as a cold-blooded killer who had brutally murdered a young girl and hijacked a boat. There was probably a big reward. Who knows, maybe the kids would kill him for the bounty. It looked like they could use the money, they were a sopping wet bedraggled looking bunch.

He heard a shout directly below him and leaned against to glass to look down.

Analise ran through the sporting goods, through the hardware and paint. She heard the frantic cries of the tribe as they urged her brother and Donny to hurry. She had taken a few minutes to grab a towel to dry off and had been shoe shopping and barefoot when the horde broke through the carts. She could get to the lawn and garden by cutting across the back of the store, she had a few minutes and she wasn’t going to go without boots. She hurried but it took her a bit to find the right size. She heard the roaring and commotion, heard her idiot brother screaming battle cries that they pretended were ancient Viking curses but had no idea what the words meant. They could have been calling for a tax audit on purple dresses with extra pickles for all they knew. They didn’t even know if they were pronouncing the words right but that was okay. Her idiot brother was buying them time and what he lacked in brains, he made up for in bravery. She heard her own name, urging her to get to the lawn and garden section.

“I’m coming!” She yelled back and hoped Daisy was already with them. She shouldn’t have let her wander off.

Her voice was lost in the keening of the zombies and the roars of the bears. She hugged the outside wall, ran past the car batteries and mailboxes and pulled up short as she turned the last corner to dash through the paint section. The undead were leaping from aisle to aisle on the tops of the shelves scattering boxes and cartons of goods. They spotted her and screamed. She froze, she’d never seen anything like it, had forgotten how fast and vicious they could be when they were fresh. A dozen dead, black eyes locked in on her and leapt as one.

She ran.

They were fast, unbelievably fast and she was cut off from the rest of her tribe. They were right on her back, they were reaching for her and panic started to grip her. She knocked over an endcap filled with jugs of liquid car wax and heard them stumble and fall behind her but the others jumped the tumbling bodies and kept coming, never tiring, single minded in their desire to tear into her uninfected flesh. She angled towards the back of the store, grabbed a 4-way lug wrench from a shelf, and sprinted past the shoes and through the electronics department towards the double swinging doors into the warehouse area. There was a door somewhere in the darkness of the warehouse area. It would be near the docks and have a sign on it saying emergency exit only, do not open, alarm will sound. She just had to reach it before the zombies reached her.

Donny threw himself into a slide and slid beneath the rapidly closing security gate. Tobias was laughing, still pumped with adrenaline from the fight and chase as he ducked low in the saddle to clear the gate then rolled to the ground as soon as he was clear. Kodiak and Harper slammed the heavy steel closed seconds before the undead slammed into it at a full run.

“That was badass! Did you guys see me?” He laughed.

“More like dumbass.” Swan said but she had to admit, it had been kind of impressive watching the battle from a safe distance.

She slapped her tomahawks against the railing to make noise and joined the others in yelling and drawing the rest of the undead towards them. Vanessa was already spying around the corner of the building, checking for any undead stragglers still making their way through the front door.

“It’s clear.” She hollered to them over the roar of the horde.

“Okay, let’s go.” Kodiak said. “Swan, you and Donny first. Get out of sight and we’ll be right behind you as soon as we get Bert. Vanessa, you know what to do if any of them spot us.”

Vanessa nodded and raised her spear. She and Ziggy could run circles around them, even if they were faster than any they’d encountered. They’d lead them off.

“I’m not through with these clowns.” Tobias said as he taunted the undead. “Hey sis, grab my machete and let me spike a few of these things. I’m not done shopping yet.”

“Doesn’t count as battle kills.” Swan said as she gathered her wolves and started for the back entrance.

There was no response. He spun and looked for Analise.

“Where’s my sister?” He asked.

Everyone stopped their preparations and looked at Daisy who was looking back at them. She was sniffing the air. She was looking for her cub, too.

“Where’s my sister?” Tobias roared.

“She didn’t make it.” Kodiak answered. “She was on the far side of the store, in the shoe department. We need to get out of here, she must have went out the back door in the warehouse.”

“We’ll find her.” Harper said. “She’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”

Tobias slammed his axe into the shelves full of yard gnomes and raged. “Open the gate!”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Swan said. “We can’t go through them. There’s too many. We’ll check the back exit.”

“What if she’s not there?” Tobias yelled. “What if she’s somewhere inside?”

His mind wasn’t working right, he couldn’t think. He’d never been without her and didn’t know what he would do if she was gone.

If she was bit.

If she was at the back of the horde with blackened eyes and screaming for his blood.

“If she’s not there, Vanessa and Ziggy will draw them off through the front and we’ll check every inch of this store. We’ll find her brother. I swear it.” Kodiak said through gritted teeth. “She’s too smart to get bit, you know this.”

“That’s right.” Harper said. “She’s found a spot to hide or she’s made it outside. We’re wasting time. Time she doesn’t have. We’ve gotta move.”

“Then let’s go.” Tobias said, sprung up into his saddle and headed for the exit doors.

21

Analise

Analise slammed against the double doors to the warehouse part of the store and bounced off of them. They were blocked from the other side. She caught her balance and swung wildly with the lug wrench, implanted it in the head of a man in coveralls. He went down but others were right behind him. More were coming straight down the aisle at her, and a few more from the other side. They were following the keens of the undead who had cornered their prey and were about to eat. Analise drew her machetes, threw her back against the doors and didn’t think about the odds. They were coming and she was ready. The first of the undead launched himself, black eyes wide, arms reaching, mouth hungry. She swung both blades with all the force she could muster and split his head into three pieces. She stepped aside and let his momentum splash their contents all over the wall. Two women dove for her, slammed her hard and forced the air from her chest. Yellowing teeth snapped at her face but found leather from her bracers. She slammed the heavy handle of the machete against the side of her head and felt the other one trying to burrow into her belly. Her boiled leather cuirass stopped the teeth but jagged fingernails raked at the binding and searched for skin. Another man jumped from the top of the shelves, mouth wide and screaming and suddenly she found herself falling backward. The doors flew open and she landed on her back. A man was there and swinging a thick bicycle chain. Analise fought to keep the undead away from her face, her most vulnerable spot. The rest of her was protected with leather unless they got lucky and tore into weak spots at the joints. The man roared and the chain ripped into the undead flesh. Bones broke and chunks of heads disintegrated into a black and yellow bloody mist. More were coming, they heard the desperate sounds of battle over the shrieking and keening at the gate.

“Go!” the man yelled and tore the thing biting at her leg off and shoved it away. “GO!”

Analise rolled to her knees and scrambled into the darkness. She’d lost her machetes in the melee.

“Follow me!” The man shouted and grabbed her hand, pulled her into the black of the warehouse. They undead came screaming after them but he dodged through obstacles and jerked her through ropes strung between shelves.

“Careful.” He whispered after they’d made a few lefts and rights down different rows. “You have to follow the path, I set booby traps.”

The rain beat down on the tin roof drowning out their quiet sounds. Behind them they heard the snarls and cries of the undead, the crashing and clattering of things being pulled off shelves by trip wires. Heavy things from the sounds of it. Dumbbells and microwaves. They climbed up two levels at a dead-end aisle, over to the next and dropped down. Her eyes were adjusting to the blackness and she could make out shapes.

“Thanks, mister.” Analise whispered. “I’m glad you were there, I thought I was a goner.”

Steven didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure why he risked everything to help a stranger. He could have been killed. He led her deeper through the maze and towards the back door. Now he’d have to run again. If she told anyone about him, they’d come hunting. From the office he’d seen her running for the rear exit and acted immediately. He didn’t think. He tore out the door and flew down the metal staircase, his feet barely touching the steps. He had pushed a riding lawnmower against the doors to jam them closed since the front of the store was wide open. He didn’t want any uninvited guests wandering around while he was sleeping on the managers’ couch. She wouldn’t be able to get through. She’d be torn apart. He didn’t know how he moved so fast, acted so quickly or tossed the mower aside like it weighed nothing. He had caused the death of one girl; he wasn’t going to be the reason another was killed. He tore open the doors as he reached for his gun but grabbed an empty holster. It was on the desk upstairs; he’d been cleaning it when he’d heard the kids come in. Somehow he’d got her out and hadn’t gotten bit. At least he didn’t think he had, he’d have to check. Everything happened so fast.

“Are you bit?” he asked, suddenly concerned about her turning.

“No, I don’t think so. My armor is thick.”

“Okay.” He said. “A few more turns and we’ll be at the back door.”

“What about you?” she asked. “You okay.”

The man wasn’t wearing any kind of armor, just a plain red T-shirt.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He said a little moodily.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off he asked himself again why he’d risked everything for a stranger. It wasn’t like him to act like a hero. Maybe the scales were even now, maybe he couldn’t stop running but at least his conscience would ease a little.

“When you go out, take a left.” He said. “Your friends are down at the end, by the garden center.”

“What about you?” Analise asked forcing her nerves to calm.

She was breathing hard but the panic was subsiding. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins but she was already relaxing. She pulled her backup dagger from its sheath and felt a little better with the weapon in her hand.

During training Donny had told them something he’d read from a great Sensei. Those who are skilled in combat do not become angered. Those who are skilled at winning do not become afraid. It was hard advice to follow, to swallow all fear.

Steven took a minute to listen at the door before replying but it was difficult to hear anything over the pounding rain.

“I’m going to get my gear.” He finally said. “They’ll never make it through the maze before I get back upstairs. Go on, get out of here.”

“Thanks again, mister.” She said as she pushed open the door leading to the alley that ran behind the store.

Dumpsters, unused shelving units and ratty smoke break chairs lined the back walls of the various businesses. The other side was heavily wooded and bales of cardboard from the compactor were stacked along the curb waiting to be picked up and hauled off to the recycling center.

A waterlogged undead thing turned at the sound of her voice and jumped the twenty feet between them in two leaps. Analise saw it and reacted but not fast enough. She tried to slam the door closed again but lost her grip on the rain slicked handle. The thing shrieked and crashed into the edge of it in the middle of a leap. She thought she heard a collar bone break but it didn’t slow, it sprang at her as she backpedaled into the store. The bearded man ran back to help but she plunged her dagger into the top of its forehead when the thing jumped for her neck. He reached for the door but its legs blocked the opening and others were sprinting down the rain-soaked alley straight for them. He panicked and started slamming the door against the twitching legs as Analise tried to drag it out of the way. There were keens and crashes behind him as a shelf toppled and he heard the hunger cry of the zombies coming fast. They had bypassed his maze, had plowed right through it.

“We’ve got to get out!” Analise yelled over the din of screams, booming thunder and the torrential downpour pounding on the roof.

Steven glanced over his shoulder, saw the horde tearing though the tumbled boxes and shelves and shoved the door wide open. He’d take his chances with the two or three in the alley.

The door slammed open, bounced off its hinges and into the undead as they started streaming out. They ran, him towards his truck hidden behind one of the industrial buildings, her toward her tribe. They weren’t thinking, the panic was back and in full force. Most of them were coming after her. She couldn’t outrun them, they were too fast. She couldn’t outsmart them, there was nothing clever she could do in the alley. She couldn’t hide, they were only a few feet behind her. She pumped her arms, ran as hard as she could and looked for a ladder up to the roof. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could swing up and out of their reach but she didn’t see one. The rain was coming down harder and she heard the rush of running water through the woods behind the soaking bales of cardboard. She darted up a bale, jumped higher to the next and hoped it would slow them down. One grabbed her backpack and she let it slip from her shoulders. She could smell its rancid stench, hear its clacking teeth as it bit at her. The horde only fought over the pack for a few seconds but that was long enough. She jumped from the top bale, nearly twelve-foot-high, and into the woods. She landed hard and her ankle bent wrong. The tightly buckled boots were the only thing that saved it from breaking.

She bit back the cry of pain, let herself fall and rolled to her feet. It hurt but she didn’t let it slow her. She dove into the woods, slapped wet branches out of her face and tried to make a big arc towards the end of the strip mall. Back to the where they would be making their escape. Back to the tribe. Together they would get away and if they had to kill them all one by one so they could get back inside to get Daisy, they’d do it. Together they were strong.

The undead were coming fast, if they broke bones diving off the top of the bales it didn’t seem to slow them down. They reached for her, she didn’t have time to plan anything, any slick moves, and she ran for her life. She ran to stay away from their grasping fingers. She pushed herself harder, ignored the stabbing pain every time her right foot hit the soggy ground. The branches clawed at her wildly flowing hair and the grunts and cries of the undead seemed to surround her. She dodged the trees, ducked under low branches and poured every last ounce of strength she had into a final sprint. She could see a river, swollen and muddy just ahead and knew it was the only way out. Something stinking, cold and slimy grabbed at her arm and she swung the dagger at it. The rain poured off the undead face as she plunged the blade into its eye. It quivered and let go but another slammed into her, drove her into the muddy ground. She was so close, only yards away from the safety of the water and she tried to roll towards it while fighting off the thing gnashing at her. Another one piled on then was just as quickly torn away. The bearded man was back and ripping them off her with his bare, bloody hands. He kicked at one with its filthy mouth clamped on her arm. She heard the jaw bone break and one of its eyes popped from the impact as the side of its head caved in. He snatched her to her feet and pointed at the water. Thunder boomed and lightning danced across the sky. Another one was coming, dragging itself through the underbrush, its broken legs useless. Its black eyes never left her as it crawled through the mud. They heard more, heard their screams of hunger and she grabbed his hand to pull him to the water.

“I can’t swim!” he yelled over the driving rain.

“I can!” she yelled back and kept pulling. “I’ll help you!”

He shook his head and pointed to a wound in his shoulder that was pouring blood. The rain washed it away so fast she hadn’t noticed it against the red of his t-shirt.

“I only came back to make sure you got away.” He shouted over the thunder. “Tell them it was an accident! Tell them I was a good man and tell them I’m sorry.”

“Tell who? I don’t know your name!” Analise yelled as he pushed her towards the river. “What’s your name?”

If he said, she didn’t hear. He shoved her hard then turned to kill as many of the undead as he could before they ripped him apart.

She plunged into a raging current that threatened to overflow its banks and went deep. She swam for the surface as the force of the flooded river gripped her and whisked her downstream. She fought for air and kept getting shoved below the choppy surface. Branches and logs slammed into her, pummeled her from every direction.

Analise was a strong swimmer but the current was relentless and her new boots were dragging her down. She tried to find bottom and kick off towards shore but there was nothing but turmoil and watery chaos. Something snagged in her hair and pulled her downstream. She didn’t know if it was a grasping hand or an errant tree branch and fought it, tried to bash it with her fists. Something hit her in the head and she saw stars, gasped and sucked half a lungful of water. The coughing came and she fought for the surface. She was going to suck in more water, she had no choice, and she was out of air.

She broke the surface and instantly felt a stabbing pain in her shoulder as a sharp branch on a massive log impaled her. She couldn’t even cry out from the gash in her skin, she was coughing too hard, trying to clear the water from her lungs. She pushed away from the branch that stabbed her, wrapped her arms around the log and held on. The rains came down harder and she didn’t have a survival plan. She didn’t think about getting back to the tribe or the ache in her arm or the throbbing of her ankle. Her chest hurt from coughing so hard her vision turned black and she was so tired. The shore looked miles away and she didn’t have the strength to swim to it. She held on, tried to keep her head above water and rode the log down the raging river.

22

Tobias

Tobias stared at the river in front of them. The current was chaotic and was filled with branches, garbage and colorful plastic toys snatched from backyards. He watched as it dashed against the submerged rocks and threw up froths of white spray.

“It’s too swift, Tobias. Don’t do it.” Vanessa cautioned as Ziggy danced around, ever watchful for more of the stinking creatures. It was almost full dark now, a dangerous time to be outside.

The pale boy ignored her. Daisy let out a sorrowful moan. Her cub was missing and there was no more scent to follow. It ended at the banks of the muddy river.

They had checked the alley first but there was no sign of her so they spent the next hour clearing the store. Tobias and Harper went back inside to kill as many as they could through the steel gate while Vanessa and Kodiak quietly set up kill boxes with shopping carts. They split the attention of the horde and slowly whittled down their numbers while Donny started searching the store. He didn’t find her and the rest of them looked for her in the crowd of undead as they killed their way through them. The work was exhausting, it was worse than chopping wood because the wood didn’t fight back and try to kill you. They checked the bodies again but there wasn’t a white-haired girl with pale blue eyes and tattoo covered skin. With flashlights they double checked the chaos in the warehouse. They found her machetes at the entrance and zombies they hadn’t killed. The storage area was in shambles. The undead had torn through it, knocked over shelves and the back door was standing open. They found more undead and knew she’d lived to make it this far. Daisy caught the smell of her backpack and they found it in the mud behind a stack of cardboard bales.

The tribe called her name and spread out to search for any signs of her. She might have climbed a tree. She might be safe and sound but surrounded. The zombies that had chased her through the store and into the woods came screaming for them. Tobias was still in a rage, slid off the back of Popsicle and met them head on. He needed to kill, to spend his fury, to destroy the things that had taken his sister. There were only a handful of them and he dove in, drove his axe in to faces with powerful double-handed swings. The polar bear fought beside him but it was over almost before it started. The rains had tapered off for a while but they were starting up again, streaking the gore and blood that splashed the pale boy’s armor.

They followed the back trail and came to the edge of the river, already well over its banks and steadily rising. Another undead thing hissed and dragged its way towards them. It hadn’t been dead for long, the skin was barely mottled but it had been chewed up by a horde. It was wearing the tattered remains of a red shirt and its intestines were caught on a tree root. Most of its legs had been chewed away and it struggled towards them on gnawed arms. Its black eyes shone in its bearded face as it bit the air, hungering for their fresh blood. Donny plunged a spear through its head and joined the others at the edge of the river.

“She went in here.” Tobias said. “She hasn’t been bit; she was still trying to get away from them. She’s a good swimmer, she’s ok, but she may be on the other side.”

“We’ll find her.” Swan said. “She’s probably downstream a little way.”

“I’ll search the other shoreline.” Tobias said and swung up into the saddle.

Before anyone could try to dissuade him, he gigged Popsicle into the river. Daisy followed. The current grabbed the big bears and pushed them down stream. They were powerful swimmers though and quickly crossed over. Tobias held onto the saddle horn and kicked debris away as the bears’ big webbed feet propelled them across. His face was set in stone and streaked with gore that the rain was slowly washing away. He had to find her.

Once Popsicle clawed his way up the muddy bank, he turned downriver and waited for the bears to scent her. They found nothing. Undaunted he began picking his way through the greenery and disappeared from sight. He was certain he would be able to feel it if their connection had been severed. She was out there somewhere. Maybe hurt, maybe injured, but still alive. He knew it.

“Harper, Vanessa, you want to hurry downstream a few miles, find us a place to hole up that’s on the water. We’ll be down as fast as we can but you’ll make good time on the roads.” Kodiak said.

“Bert and Ziggy won’t bet much use in this thick stuff anyway.” Harper answered and started leading the giraffe out of the woods. “We’ll find someplace dry and gather up some towels and blankets. She might be hurt.”

Swan wiped the rain out of her eyes and let the wolves smell Analise’s abandoned backpack.

“Hunt.” She urged them. The wolves began scouring the ground for a trace of the girl.

Donny was desperate. His emotions were all over the place. He cared for Analise deeply and he knew she had feelings for him too. He had to find her no matter what.

Donny signed to them. “Yewan and I are faster on our own. We’ll go ahead a few miles and work our way back.”

“Go”. Kodiak agreed. He was worried for Analise. The river raged uncontrollably and had already risen a few inches during the time they’d been at its banks. It was full dark, the cloud cover was thick and the storm seemed to be gathering strength. He hoped they found her soon.

They searched for hours along both shorelines deep into the night but were unable to find a scent. Their flashlights danced but visibility was only a few feet.

Analise was gone.

She had vanished.

The tribe met Tobias six miles downstream at a bridge. The water was still rising and already lapping at the bottom of the wooden structure. Lightning crackled across the sky and the tribe was drenched to the skin from the rain that blew in hard.

“I can’t find her.” Tobias moaned.

“Zero never picked up her scent.” Swan said. “Maybe she didn’t go in the water after all. Maybe she found another way.”

Lightning hit a tree a few hundred yards away from where they were gathered. Animal and child alike flinched as it exploded and caught fire.

“We have to get away from these trees and this water. It’s a magnet for the lightning.” Kodiak yelled into the wind. “The girls found a house nearby. This is useless, we’ll start looking again at first light!”

“I’m not giving up.” Tobias screamed back, the wind whipping his hair. “I must have missed her, she’s gotta be somewhere!”

“You won’t find her if you get fried by lightning. We’ll look again in the morning. Come brother, Analise wouldn’t want us to be out here.” Kodiak pleaded.

“No.” Tobias turned his back and climbed on Popsicle. “You guys get safe. I’ll find her and join you.”

The boy and the polar bears disappeared into the darkness.

“He’s a stubborn fool. Analise is no dummy. If she’s not drowned then she’s safe and dry somewhere. We’re not doing her or any of us any good staying out here in this rain. There’s no trail, no scent, I want to find her as much as anyone, but we could walk right past her in the dark and not even realize it.” Swan yelled over the wind and rain.

Donny disagreed, shook his head and tapped his ring. Yewan followed and they disappeared from sight. He was soaked and chilled to the bone, but he wasn’t ready to give up.

Kodiak swung into the saddle and looked at Swan. “One more hour. After that, we’ll hole up and start again in the morning.”

Harper and Vanessa joined them and went back up river as he urged Otis downstream. He didn’t know what else to do. Swan was right, but so was Tobias. He dreaded what would come if she wasn’t found. It would tear Tobias apart. Swan pulled one of Analise’s shirts from her pack and let the wolves smell it again.

“Find her,” She whispered. “Please."

23

Tribe

One more hour turned into the rest of the night. They slowly picked their way up and down the overflowing riverbanks. Swan urged the wolves to push through the underbrush closest to the water. Their low, sleek bodies glided through the thickets with ease. Each wolf had the scent strong in his or her nose, but there was nothing to find.

Tobias fared no better on the other side of the river. His hair hung limp and exhaustion threatened to topple him from the saddle. For hours he had gotten excited over every piece of trash caught in the branches, every plastic bag snagged on a root, it might be a sign from her but it never was. It was just garbage. He was spent and felt hollow and worst of all he was starting to doubt she’d survived.

The lightning had stopped before dawn, but the clouds were still heavy and gray. They continued to sprinkle rain with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

He’d pushed hard, desperate to reunite with his twin but he was starting to give up hope. He’d been born five minutes sooner than her and that was the only time in his short life that he’d lived without her. Common sense told him that if she’d made it this far, she would have walked or crawled out of the muddy water. The river wound through a residential area of waterfront homes and became wide and lazy a half mile below the bridge. It was high up in yards, flooding basements and storage sheds and the hunt became easier without the thick brush to fight through. He was at least six or seven miles from where she’d gone in the water when he came to another bridge.

He guided the bears to the middle, dismounted and watched the water roll by below him. Donny appeared from behind a fence and joined him. He held up a hand and signed, nothing. I found nothing.

Swan and Kodiak came out of the mist a few minutes later, their boots squishing through muddy grass. Tobias noted the exaggerated limp of Otis. The night had been hard on the wounded bear.

“I don’t know what to do.” Tobias said when they met in the middle. “I haven’t found anything. Not a shred of clothing, not a whiff of her.”

Kodiak set his jaw. His fears were being realized. He knew that if he didn’t proceed carefully, he’d lose another member of the tribe.

“Tobias,” Kodiak said.

Tobias gripped his battle axe tightly. “Don’t. Don’t you say it.”

“The others have no idea where we are. We need to go back, they may have found something. Analise could be with them for all we know. If she did go in the water, she’s not here now.” Kodiak met the steely gaze of his brother.

He didn’t mention the possibility of her caught in a tree root, trapped beneath the surface. Or maybe she’d been bit and was wandering aimlessly through the woods. Or maybe the current had carried her body farther downstream and she was floating face down in someone’s yard, gently bobbing against a swing set. He didn’t need to.

“He’s right.” Swan said. “She could be with Harper and Vanessa. Look, my wolves are better at tracking than those bears. I’ll work that side of the river back to the bridge. Maybe you missed her in the dark. If she’s out there we will find her.”

“And if we don’t?” Tobias roared back. “We just gonna leave her for the scavengers?”

“No.” Kodiak replied. “We search back up the river, all the way to the Walmart. We checked every house, we rattled every bush, and we looked up in the trees. You and Donny take this side. Swan and I will work the other. If we don’t find her, then she’s not going to be found. If she’s not with the others, we press on. If she’s out there, she knows where to go. We all do. We planned for this. We all knew something could happen and we could be separated. We’ll take it slow; give her time to catch up. She knows the route by heart. She’s smart and resourceful, she’ll make it, but she’ll never find us if we aren’t where we are supposed to be. It’s all we can do right now.”

“If we can’t find her, we have to be where she can find us.” Swan said.

“What if she’s dead?” Tobias’ asked as his shoulders slumped and the fire went out of his eyes. “What if she’s gone?”

Swan moved to Tobias and placed a hand on his arm. “We can’t think like that.” She whispered.

Kodiak shook his head. “She made it to the water, she’s out there somewhere. She probably got out and is cozy and warm in one of these houses. The rain washed away her scent so we walked right past her. I’m sure she’s fine, probably making herself some herbal tea and she’ll call us all dummies for spending the night out in the rain.”

Tobias gave him a sad half smile and nodded.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind if she is.”

He pulled his hair back, straightened his shoulders and led the polar bears across the bridge. He didn’t really believe it, not deep inside, but he had to hope. He had to try to believe it.

24

Analise

Analise opened her eyes slowly. She was being carried by someone she didn’t know. She heard him humming a tune she didn’t recognize. Panic seized her, her first instinct was to fight and run, but she was so tired, her leg was throbbing, her head hurt, her shoulder ached and his calming voice didn’t seem threatening at all. She was soaking wet, freezing cold and didn’t have the strength of a kitten. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

Sometime later, she slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was laying on something soft and a warm blanket covered her. A bed. A real bed. She didn’t want to give away the fact she was awake just yet and inventoried her body. She felt the bandages wrapping her shoulder and ankle. She hurt all over, even her lungs felt like she’d swallowed fish hooks but she could fight through that. It seemed that some kind of pain was a constant in her world. She could ignore it. She flexed her ankle a little. The pain made her catch her breath. She hoped it wasn’t broken because she might need to run or fight. She wondered where she was and about the tribe, how far away they were. She thought about the nameless man that had saved her life and wondered who he was. She kept her eyes closed and strained her ears.

She heard the creak, creak of a rocking chair and the sound of humming. She cracked her eyelids and tilted her head slightly. She tried to give the appearance she was still asleep but restless.

The humming stopped. “Honey, I think our guest is awake.”

“Be right there,” a woman’s voice answered.

“It’s ok. You’re safe here.” A man said gently. “Would you like some food or something to drink? We have some pretty good rabbit stew and real lemonade I made myself.”

She lay still, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t wearing her armor, she had nothing at hand to use as a weapon and it felt like she was wearing loose fitting pajamas. Injured and weaponless, she considered her options.

“Boo!” a voice said inches from her face.

She startled and her eyes flew open. Laughter filled the air and she saw a teenaged girl looking down at her.

“Dad, she smells funny and it looks like someone drew all over her with a magic marker. Can I draw on her too?”

The man chuckled. “That’s enough baby. Give her some room. She’s had enough excitement for one day.”

The girl backed away and Analise studied her. She was pretty in a no-frills kind of way. Her eyes were large and kind. Her smile was filled with the innocence of a small child despite the fact she was older than Analise.

“Hi.” Analise said.

The girl squealed in delight and ran behind the man in the rocking chair. She peeked over his shoulder at Analise.

She swallowed a groan, pushed herself into a sitting position and studied the man and the autistic girl as a woman walked in the room with a glass of lemonade. He was a big man. Tall and broad at the shoulders. He had a gray beard and most of his hair was gray too. He wore black rimmed eyeglasses that had tape around the middle. The kind her dad used to call BC glasses, whatever that meant. He wore cargo shorts, sandals and a t-shirt from a band she’d never heard of.

The girl grinned at him from behind his shoulder and gave her a little wave. Analise returned it. The woman with the glass smiled at her. She was blonde and pretty with a sassy look about her that Analise instantly warmed to.

She tensed when the man stood from the rocking chair and stepped towards her. He held out his hand.

“I’m Tony Spivey, but you can just call me Spivey. That silly creature there is my daughter Sara and that beautiful lady there is my wife Laurie.” He said.

She shook and his massive fist swallowed her tiny hand.

“Analise.” She croaked and felt the rawness in her throat. Hacking up so much dirty river water had left it sore and tender.

“We’re glad to meet you Analise. It’s good to see you awake, you had us worried for a while.” He said.

“How long was I out?” She rasped.

“Before I fished you out of the water? I don’t know, but you’ve been here for two days.”

“Two days!” She threw the covers off, winced at the pain and went to stand.

She had to get back to the tribe, they might still be waiting in a safe spot near the Walmart. Tobias would be freaking out by now. The Spivey’s didn’t try to stop her as she stood but the big man moved across the room in a flash when her ankle buckled. He caught her by her good arm and helped her sit down. A wave of dizziness washed over her and the pain from her injured leg was excruciating.

“Easy there.” Laurie said. “Your ankle is swollen twice the size it should be, you’ve got bruises over every square inch of your body and a big hole in your shoulder. It took thirteen stitches to close the wound and you have a knot on the back of your head the size of a goose egg. Here, have a sip.”

Analise took the glass and drank. At least her throat felt better with the cool lemonade coating it.

Sara came over and sat beside her and stroked her hair, careful to avoid the knot on the back of her head.

Spivey watched the girl with a mixture of fascination and sympathy. She was too young to be tattooed all over but there she was. The old scars that covered her arms told a story of pain and suffering. Was she a slave to one of the roving bands of marauders? He felt his anger rise at the thought of what heartless men were capable of when it came to pretty young girls. She couldn’t be more than fourteen at the most. Too young to bear the multitude of scars that covered her tiny frame.

“Where are you from?” He asked her.

“Iowa.” She said and tears welled in her eyes, threatened to spill over. “My tribe and I are going to Lakota. We had to leave, there was a fire, and we lost everything where we were staying. I have to find them. My brother and the others are probably going nuts. They probably think I’m dead.”

Laurie sat beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Your tribe?”

Analise blinked her glacier blue eyes rapidly and savage pride took the place of the tears. She told them a little of their story, leaving out the whole episode with Gordon and Smiths Landing. She let them think the fire had been an accident, some things were best left unsaid.

Laurie shooed Tony out of the room as she and Sara removed the bandages to check her wounds. The swelling in her ankle was going down, nothing appeared to be broken, and the gash in her shoulder wasn’t showing any signs of infection.

“You do good work.” Analise said, admiring the straight, even stitches. It might not leave much of a scar. When she smelled the dinner that was simmering on the stove, she realized how hungry she was and determined that maybe she had time to eat, that she didn’t have to leave right that minute.

Dinner was a languid affair with lots of talk, second helpings of food, and the Spivey’s had plenty of news to share. They had a radio and listened to Radio Lakota when the signal was good. She told her tale of survival and how a group of ragtag kids had beat the odds. It was the most incredible thing they’d ever heard and Spivey shook his head when she finished.

“Wow.” He leaned back in his chair. “All this time I thought the wild children riding around on animals was just another tall tale.”

She was a little confused, she didn’t know how so many people knew about them or had stories to tell. Bob was the only one they’d had any interactions with until they’d gone to Gallatin. She was pretty sure none of Gordon’s gang were spreading stories. She was pretty sure none of them were still alive after Swan had been up all night on guard duty and her armor had fresh blood on it in the morning.

“That’s it exactly.” Spivey said. “They’re telling tall tales. If a retriever can get on the radio with Bastille, it ups his street cred. The more famous they are, the more they can charge for the work they do so they tell the stories of the untamed children. It’s good radio, even if anybody with a brain doesn’t believe half the stories they tell.”

“Where are we?” Analise asked. “How far are we from that Walmart?”

“That would be Norton. It’s about ten miles away. Nothing there anymore but a few undead that didn’t get swept up into a roving horde.” Spivey told her.

“There’s a lot more there now.” She said. “They were fast, crazy fast. We had a plan, Kodiak always has a plan he makes us memorize. I’m the only one who didn’t make it to the lawn and garden section. They all went out the side entrance once the zombies were all jammed up inside.”

“They might still be there, I can catch up to them.” She continued. “That’s where we were when we got separated. I went out the back of the store when we got overrun and jumped in the river to get away.”

“I’ve got to get back before they take off, if they haven’t already.” She said and stood. “Thanks for everything but I need to find them.”

“You won’t be going far on that leg until it heals.” Laurie said and shook her head.

“Please, I have to find them. They might still be there but if they’re not, I know which way they are headed. Do you have a car? Can you help me?”

Spivey leaned forward and looked at her. “Yes, I can help you, but you have to trust us. You need to rest up some, you’ve been comatose for days. It’s almost dark and I don’t travel at night. In the morning, we’ll do everything we can to find your friends.”

“I need to go now. They’ve got to be worried sick and if they leave, they don’t always follow the roads. We might not find them. I’m not afraid of the dark. Doesn’t your car have lights?” She implored.

He smiled. “Trust me, I can find them whether they’re on the roads or cutting through the woods and no, I don’t have a car. I have something better. Take it easy tonight and I’ll show you in the morning.”

25

Swan

While Analise was having a home cooked meal miles away, the tribe was making camp in a farmhouse down an unnamed dirt road. The mood was heavy, Tobias didn’t cook and they ate right out of the cans. Harper made the heartbroken boy use the medicinal shampoo to kill the lice. He said he deserved the pain, the aggravation and annoyance of the little vampires. His last words to her had been mean, he’d said he wanted to stab her in the face with an icepick. The rest of the tribe wasn’t having it, though.

“If we get rid of them and you don’t, you’ll re-infect all of us.” She said. “And besides, if she catches up, you don’t want to give them back to her do you?”

He’d sighed and used the soaps, medicine and shampoo but not because he thought she’d be coming back. They’d given up hope of seeing her again although they pretended they hadn’t. Donny left markers, signs pointing her down the roads they traveled and Tobias had spray painted her name on the asphalt every few miles with arrows to mark the way. The tribe moved slowly, barely covering twenty miles a day before seeking a place to rest. They said it was for Otis, he shouldn’t be pushed so hard but the truth was they were all weary. The lure of Lakota wasn’t what it once was and they were in no hurry to get there. Tobias sat on the roof of the old two-story house, hair wet from the shampoo and stared back the way they’d come.

Swan couldn’t stand the melancholy mood and was chasing supper for the animals. She needed something to take her mind off Analise. She ran through the woods trailing her pack. They’d caught the fresh scent of deer and she’d given them leave to run it down. They were far ahead, easily outdistancing her but she’d catch up. She always did. She kept a steady pace, bow slung over her back, her boots nearly as silent as her wolves’ paws. She instinctively avoided fallen branches and the rains over the last few days had left the leaves damp. They didn’t crunch and crackle with each footfall. She ducked under a tree limb and continued her pursuit, following their trail of disturbed leaves or occasional tuft of fur in a briar. The deer droppings she’d found a quarter mile back were still hot. They were closing in for the kill, the animal wasn’t too far ahead. She could call them back with just a whistle but that would mean no fresh meat tonight and she didn’t even consider it. She let them chase the deer, let them be the mighty hunters that they were while she played catch up.

A blur of motion on her flank snapped her attention to the beast coming for her. Terror, then rage filled her as Diablo lunged out of a thicket and ran straight at her. He barked his laughing bark and launched himself. He caught her by surprise and she didn’t have time to whistle for the pack or bring around her bow. He slammed into her, tumbled her over backward and opened his maw wide. She shoved his muzzle aside as he tried to clamp his oversized jaws down on her face. He snapped and snarled, spittle flew and she could smell the gangrenous pus oozing from the roof of his mouth. She tried to yell but he’d slammed her in the ribs, most of the air had been knocked out of her. The bow dug into her back as he snapped and attacked again, his heavy feet stomping her and clawing at her armor. He lunged for her face again, his jaws wide, large enough to cover her whole head. She threw up a protective arm, tried to roll out from under him but couldn’t move.

His strong jaws clamped down on the plastic guard protecting her forearm. It kept the canines from piercing her skin, but the powerful force of those massive jaws was like a hydraulic press and she felt the bone snap in her arm. She cried out in anguish and fury as he ragged her arm back and forth. She was at his mercy, she couldn’t shove him off and the grinding jaws would tear her hand completely off. She’d seen what they did to Derek on the first day of the outbreak. They had ripped him apart. She ignored the pain and reached for her tomahawk with her free hand. He shook his head and dragged backwards towards the dense thicket he’d sprang from. She wouldn’t be able to move in there, he’d rip her to shreds. Desperate, she swung her blade. There wasn’t much power behind it, but the keen edge sliced through fur and skin and bounced off his skull.

He growled, shook it off and kept dragging her to his lair. It felt as if her arm was being torn from the socket. She screamed in agony and rage, swung the tomahawk again and again and tried to wrest her arm out of his mouth. Blood splashed down from the gashes, hot and bitter as it covered her face. She was hurting him, he no longer savagely attacked, he tried to back off and come at her in a different way. He let go of her useless arm and snapped at her neck to rip her head off. She swung wildly at his drooling, blood drenched muzzle and drove the spike into his eye. She smiled through bloody teeth when he howled in surprise and pain. The gooey fluid from his eye mixed with blood raining down on her but she spit and kept swinging. Diablo snapped at the steel that was hurting him and bit down on the fist holding the tomahawk. Fangs sunk deep into flesh but the steel cut him and stopped biting down before he could chew her hand off. In only a second, the battle had turned. She was no longer driving him off, Swan was losing. She was on her back with a beast the size of a small bear ripping into her. It wouldn’t back off, it wouldn’t quit and her kicks were useless. They had no effect on him. Her own blood joined the hunchbacks pouring down on her. The world started going dark as she struggled to draw breath as the thing kept stomping on her, raking his claws across her flesh and armor. She drove a knee into his underbelly. The hyena ignored it, kept a grip on her hand and started dragging her towards the thicket again. He was winning, the fight was going out of the human. He felt her weakening and tugged harder to get her into the dense undergrowth where he could eat her at his leisure. This moment had been coming for a long time and the taste of her blood in his mouth heightened his savagery. Even the pain from his ruptured eyeball wasn’t enough to make him lose his grip. It would be over in moments and he’d feast on her corpse while the hot blood still flowed through it.

The black was clouding the edges of her vision. This fight was almost over, she felt consciousness slipping away from her as he tugged her out of the clearing. She heard them before she saw the flashes of black, gray and silver seemingly glide across the ground. Their panting breath, the whisper of paws on damp leaves, the guttural growls as they leaped. Time slowed as the darkness gathered around her and the hyena looked up at the new threat. She saw them as they cleared the trees, powerful legs leaping and covering the distance in a slow-motion eternity, graceful in flight, teeth bared and murder in their eyes. Zero remembered the beast, the hulking monstrosity that had taken his mate. The mottled hunchback creature with the distinctive smell that was hurting the pack mother. He slammed into the hyena, easily twice his size and then time sped up again. Swan rolled away, snatched up her tomahawk and ignored the punctures pouring blood. The pack tore into the beast from every angle, brutal and lightning quick they dove in and out, avoided his snapping jaws and savaged him relentlessly.

They attacked with a fury and ripped chunks of flesh from the hyena. It swirled and snapped but his jaws closed on empty air. Zero sprung and grabbed the beast by the throat and tore out a chunk of skin and fur. Blood sprayed across his muzzle and Meadow leapt in and tore the windpipe and veins out. They knew how to kill, how to bring down prey. Zero spit out the chunk of flesh and watched as his cubs snapped and snarled and tore in to the beast again. Swan was ready to finish him off, prepared to sink steel between his eyes but she didn’t have to. Her pack left him lifeless and lying in a puddle of spreading blood.

She got unsteadily to her feet, held her broken arm close to her chest and winced through the pain of every step. Night was coming. She had to get back to the tribe. To her friends. To her family.

26

Tribe

Tobias spotted her from his perch on the roof and ran to meet her. He knew from a half mile off something was wrong. They stumbled through the door of the house and he yelled for Harper. Swan was battered and bloodied and almost out on her feet. They eased her into a chair and Vanessa draped a blanket over her shoulders. She was shivering and cold from loss of blood.

Kodiak and the boys stood back to give them room as the wolves whined and stayed underfoot. Harper had to push them aside so she could assess the damage.

“Diablo.” Swan said. “It’s over. We killed him.”

“Her arm is busted.” Tobias said “it looks bad.”

When he met her at the edge of the woods, he had wrapped the holes in her wrist with his shirt. He was afraid to pull off the shredded armor on her other arm, it looked like it was helping to hold the bloody arm in place.

Vanessa cut Swan’s mangled armguard away and they could see the punctures and bruising. The skin was torn from the hyena’s teeth, it had bit through the plastic, but the guard had distributed the pressure. Instead of sawing in, snapping the bone and ripping her arm off he’d only managed to break it. Harper probed at the wound. Swan winced and hissed through her teeth.

“It’s definitely broken. I’m gonna have to set it back in place before the swelling sets in. Donny, find me something to splint it with. Some flat boards. Kodiak get some t-shirts from that bedroom and tear them into strips. Vanessa, bring me my saddlebag. I have peroxide and painkillers in it.” Harper said.

The boys scattered to look for the necessary items, while Vanessa grabbed the satchel that had just been refilled from the botched Walmart raid.

Swan sat at the table, erect and proud, and kept her face a mask. She wouldn’t wince. She wouldn’t cry out. Her pupils were pinpoints from the pain rolling through her body in waves but her breathing was controlled.

Pull air slowly in and push the pain out. One breath at a time. Breathe in life, exhale the hurt.

She smiled a bloody smile at Harper. “You should have seen it. It was a glorious fight. We killed that humpback bastard, we killed him hard. Lucy can rest in peace now.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and left clean lines that cut through the war paint and blood but she didn’t cry out when Harper set the bone in place. She splinted it as gently as she could then turned her attention to the other rips and tears and slashes from the hyena’s claws and teeth. Her armor had saved her from the worst of it, nearly every piece had deep gouges.

Harper ran the boys out and they stripped her to sponge away the grime and crusted blood. Tobias brought a nightgown down from upstairs and by the time she was cleaned and bandaged the Vicodin had kicked in. She was feeling no pain as they moved her to the couch and within minutes she had drifted off.

Kodiak’s heart ached as he stared at her. The road was slowly devouring them. Otis, then Analise, now Swan. Tobias had seemed to come around while he was helping Swan but he was a wreck. His eyes were empty and hollow and he’d gone back up to the roof to keep watch. Donny was heartbroken. He’d seen the looks between the pale beauty and the silent boy when they thought no one was looking. He spent more time looking behind than forward. He knew the boy was a whisper away from turning around to search for her. It was best to know, to bury a body, then it was to not know, to think you may have abandoned her. Part of him wanted to turn back, too. Maybe they had missed her, maybe they should have searched farther away from the river. Maybe they should have broken into every house, not just the ones closest to the water. Maybe she was curled up in a crawlspace, hungry, hurt and alone.

Or maybe she was hunting humans, mindless and a different kind of hungry.

He stared at Harper while she inventoried and repacked her medical bag. He felt the lump in his throat at the thought of anything happening to her. It would kill him. They were getting close to Lakota, close to safety. Close to their new home and he couldn’t lose any more of his people. He had to be more careful, take more precautions but wasn’t sure what he could do differently.

He realized they were alone, everyone was taking splash baths with the lice soap or tending to their animals. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against hers. She smelled like blood and lavender. Sweat and leather. Old fear and new worry.

“I think I’d die if anything happened to you.” He whispered. “I don’t know if I could go on.”

She turned into his embrace, placed her head against his armored chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They held each other silently for a while, a thick layer of plastic and leather between them.

“I’ll be so glad when we get to Lakota.” She said “We won’t have to wear this stuff anymore.”

“Soon.” He said. ‘We’re getting close.”

“You should check on Tobias.” She said “Make sure he’s not planning anything crazy. I’m worried about him.”

He kissed the top of her head then headed for the stairs. He scaled the balcony and sat on the roof beside the pale boy and they sat in silence for a time as the moon rose in the starry sky.

“She’s out there.” Tobias said. “I feel it. I can’t explain it, but I know it’s true. She’s not dead. I don’t know the word for it, but it’s like we have a connection.”

Kodiak nodded. “I’ve always heard that about twins.”

“I was a jerk to her.” Tobias whispered. “I didn’t mean it. She was just being so bitchy, and I lost my cool.”

“Do you want to turn back?” Kodiak asked. “We will. We can spread out the search, look farther away from the river.”

Tobias stared into the darkness for a long time and Kodiak thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“No,” he finally said. “She’s not there. We looked everywhere. Daisy would have scented her if she was anywhere close. She either went down river a lot farther than we looked or she got bit and didn’t smell like herself anymore.”

He said it flatly, almost without emotion. He’d been considering the possibility for days but hadn’t wanted to voice it.

“Did you know polar bears can smell underwater?” He asked. “They can smell a seal even if it’s ten miles away. Even if we weren’t able to find her, Daisy or Popsicle could have. You can’t hide from a bear.”

“Or Donny.” Kodiak added.

“Yeah.” Tobias shrugged. “Or Donny. You know, I think he loves her. I think she loves him too, but she’s never admitted it and he doesn’t give away anything he doesn’t want you to know. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“He’s a good guy.” Kodiak said. “He’s hurting too. I won’t be surprised to find him gone in the morning to look for her.”

“He’d be wasting his time just like we would if we went back.” He said. “You want to hear something funny? She’s ok. I don’t know where she is or how she got away, but I know she’s fine. When I’m still and quiet, I feel it. I can’t explain it, but I feel it right here.”

He thumped a fist over his heart. He supposed he’d always had the connection but he hadn’t felt it like he did now. When he sat on the roof and emptied his mind of all the worry, when he relaxed his brain, he could feel her. She was still out there somewhere.

“She’ll find us. We just need to keep going. She might even beat us to Lakota, who knows.”

“I believe you.” Kodiak said. “You might try talking to Donny. He could use it.”

“I will.” Tobias agreed. “He should stay with the tribe.”

Kodiak stood and stepped to the edge of the roof.

“I won’t give up on my sister. We’ll see her again. Either here or in the halls of Valhalla.”

27

Analise and the Spiveys

Spivey came into the house and watched as Analise hobbled around the kitchen on the crutch he’d made for her. The medicine had knocked her out and she had slept well. They let her rest until she woke up grumbling about it being so late, the day was already half gone. It was nice to see her up and about. She wore some of Sara’s clothes although they were too big and hung limply on her small frame. Without all of the armor she was half the size. Her almost white hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and she reminded him of an elven princess from an epic fantasy novel.

“Wash up.” She said. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

She wielded the knife with a surgeon’s precision as she sliced the shoulder from the deer he’d shot early that morning into thin steaks. She was a study in efficiency as she seasoned and floured the meat and tended the pot simmering on the stove. Laurie and Sara tried to help but she good naturedly shooed them away. Sara had flour on her cheeks and was stirring up the bowl of seasoned eggs.

“Someone is feeling better.” He said.

She was. A good night’s sleep had done wonders. Her ankle bothered her more than the gouge in her shoulder but she couldn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t recovering from some kind of injury. Laurie had offered her another pill to help with the pain but she’d turned it down. It was only a sprained ankle.

“And a fist-sized hole in your shoulder.” Laurie had said.

“Yeah, but it’s not deep.” Analise had replied. “I’ve had worse.”

She flashed him a smile. “I’ll be back with my tribe soon. I wanted to do something nice for you before I go and cooking is kind of my and Tobias’s thing.”

“Smells great. My stomach and I approve.” He said with a laugh while he rubbed his belly. “After breakfast, I’ll show you my ride.”

Analise smiled happily and dropped a steak into the hot grease. “Can’t wait.”

The meal was filled with laughter and some tears as Analise told them tales about each of her tribe. She told mostly funny stories of the children and the monkeys or Teddy running away with the plow or her brothers’ inability to make good cheese. There had been some rough patches but she glossed over them and mostly remembered the good times. When the meal was finished, Spivey pushed back from his chair and groaned with pleasure.

“Young lady, you are the second best cook I’ve ever met.” He shot a wink at Laurie.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Soon as I clean up, I’ll be ready to get out of here.” Analise said.

Laurie threw up her hands in protest. “Oh, no. Sara and I will do the dishes. You’ve done enough. You two go play with his toy.”

Analise arched an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. Toy? He nodded and stood from the table. She grabbed her crutch and followed along behind him as he made his way outside. They were in a small industrial park surrounded by chain link fences with barbed wire along the top. A lone zombie clawed and keened at the barrier when it scented them but they paid it no mind. A sea of solar panels covered a large open area and thick cables snaked into one of the buildings housing the banks of batteries. He strolled across to another building and slid open the roll up door. Excited, she stepped inside expecting a tank or some kind of jacked up vehicle with guns and armor plates covering it. Something like Bob had built. Something tough that could take some punishment and cover the miles easily. She looked around for it. There was nothing but a bunch of dust covered machinery and a big basket with what looked like a circus tent folded beside it. She looked up at Spivey.

“Where is it?” She asked. She was anxious to get going. Doubt settled in her heart for the first time since she’d met him. Were they just stringing her along to keep her there?

He pointed at the basket and the pile of material.

“I present to you the Valkyrie. My hot air balloon. We’ll be able to spot your friends from miles away and won’t have to worry about outrunning the zoms.” He said with a big grin.

She just stood there with her mouth open.

28

Analise

It was still dark out and the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when they returned to the shed the next morning. He was in coveralls with a jacket slung over his arm. It could get cold if they went high. She’d spent yesterday repairing her armor and replacing pieces that had been ripped loose in the currents. Spivey had a well-supplied machine shop and plenty of electricity to power it. She had wanted to leave yesterday but he’d explained about the prevailing breezes and they’d have a much easier time flying if they left early in the morning. The currents nearly always blew to the southwest near dawn as the sun started warming the earth. She had buckled her boot tight and between it and the ace bandage, she walked without the crutch. She moved silently in her armor and carried a freshly made saw toothed battle-axe. She watched in nervous anticipation as Spivey carefully laid out the balloon material. He told her it was called the envelope and she nodded along as he explained how it worked. It was all great, but she wished he would work a little more and talk a little less. He laughed at the serious look on her face and assured her he knew what he was doing.

She offered to help but he waved her off. He affixed the lines from the balloon to the basket then tied it off to the stakes he had sunk in concrete. Satisfied, he hit the starter button on a propane powered generator. The motor hummed to life and settled into a steady idle. He positioned a fan at the mouth of the balloon, plugged it in and the material began to ripple from the forced breeze. She felt something on her arm and looked to see Sara concentrating on drawing something with a magic marker. Analise watched as the lines took shape and she recognized a flower starting to form. Sara smiled sheepishly.

“I wanted to put my mark on you, so you won’t forget me.” she said.

Analise smiled and held her arm steady. The girl focused on her work, tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, as she crudely drew a pink flower.

“All done.” Sara said.

Analise turned it this way and that, admiring the simple work.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’ll never wash it off.” She hugged the girl tightly. She would have Sasha ink it in permanently when she got to Lakota.

“Better not.” Sara said.

The black and yellow balloon began to take shape and it reminded her of a giant light bulb. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach. Closer. She was getting closer to finding her family.

Spivey stepped over, nodded his approval of the new tattoo.

“Won’t be long now.” He assured her. “Once it’s inflated, I’ll light the burners and she’ll be ready. The wind is steady out of the north in the general direction we want to go, and we should make good time once we’re up there.”

“How do you steer it?” She asked. It wouldn’t do to fly off in the wrong direction.

“The wind shifts direction based on how high we are. I’ll take her up or down until we find a current that works. I can’t follow the road exactly, but we’ll be close enough to spot your friends if they’re out there.”

“They are.” She said with conviction.

He nodded. “You know, you all would be more than welcome to stay here. You, your friends and animals. There’s plenty of room.”

“Thank you, but I need to go to this Lakota. The little kids have been there for weeks and I’d love to see them again.”

Spivey stepped back to the balloon, made a few adjustments and lit the burner at the top of the basket. He studied her without being obvious about it. Four days ago he’d dragged a barely conscious little girl from the water near his fish traps. She was bloody, bedraggled and looked like a drowned cat. He wasn’t sure she’d survive. Now she stood tall and proud, her white hair braided and wearing armor like a second skin. She’d fashioned a deadly looking weapon in only a few hours and it was obvious she knew how to use it. She was the most intimidating fourteen-year-old he’d ever met. She didn’t look like a little kid, she looked like a battle-hardened warrior. Within minutes the balloon began to rise from its lazy position on the ground until it was standing straight up. The word Valkyrie stood out boldly in big white letters across the black and yellow background.

“My brother and I are descended from Vikings.” Analise said as she watched it get fuller and firmer. “Valkyrie is a fine ship for me to sail the skies in. Maybe it was my destiny to be here, with you and your family.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe so. Let’s go find your tribe young Shield Maiden.”

Laurie came over to say goodbye. She held a picnic basket loaded down with food and supplies. She smiled and tried to be strong as she embraced Analise.

“There’s food in here for your tribe. There’s also stuff for you and the other girls. Some soaps and cosmetics, things like that. Take care of yourself. This isn’t goodbye, more like see you later. Goodbye would turn me into a sniveling mess and ruin my makeup. Find your way back someday, ok?”

“I will.” Analise said.

She looked for Sara. The girl was poking a stick at some debris by the fence. She waved at Analise then turned back to whatever had her attention.

“She’s fine.” Laurie said. “She just doesn’t want to see you go. She has her own way of seeing the world. Now go before I break my promise not to cry and take care of my old man for me.”

Analise hugged Laurie once more and made her way to the basket. Spivey kissed his wife then closed the wicker door.

He hit the lever and blue flames rushed from the burner. The balloon rose and the ropes grew taut. He signaled Laurie and she released the ropes from their anchors. The Valkyrie lifted into the sky and began to drift in a southeasterly direction as he coiled the ropes and hung them on their hooks.

29

Flying High

The highway was a twisting ribbon far below and she could see all the way to the town where everything went wrong. The river was still brown with mud but it was calm and back inside its banks. She scanned it for any signs of the tribe, any signs of smoke or maybe Bert’s head poking above the trees. She didn’t expect to find them hanging around the town, the plan had always been to keep moving, keep headed for Lakota if they ever got separated. It was the only plan that made sense but that didn’t mean they had stuck to it.

Spivey moved the balloon up and down and they circled the town looking for signs before they set off to follow the road. Her tummy flipped every time the balloon dropped in altitude or surged upward to find the right breeze that would keep them moving in the right direction. They’d been adrift for several hours now and she’d seen nothing but empty fields and deserted roads. Ghost towns and abandoned cars stretched along the snakelike highway far below. Small groups of undead staggered along headed to who knows where.

Spivey tried to keep the mood light and taught her how to fly the balloon but it did little to curb her anxiety. She knew there had to be a limit on how far he could go. She worried they wouldn’t be able to find her tribe. He’d assured her that as long as the wind cooperated, they’d keep going. They could always land when it got dark and hole up somewhere and propane was easy enough to scavenge from the farms and small towns that dotted the landscape. She worried about him making it back home. She had felt an instant connection to him and his family and couldn’t bear the thought that helping her might keep him from returning to his family. He quashed her worries and reminded her that he could go any direction he wanted, it was just a matter of finding the right currents.

“What’s that?” she asked and pointed to an arrow on an intersection.

He rummaged around below the seats, pulled out a pair of binoculars and handed them to her.

“You’ve had these all along?” she asked.

“Just remembered them.” He answered her sheepishly. “I never had a need to use them before.”

She focused them on the arrow, a green one made of tree branches and knew it was Donny leaving signs. He was showing her the way.

“Found them!” she shouted and pointed. “Now that we know what to look for all we have to do is follow the trail.”

A half mile later she spotted her name in yellow spray paint in Tobias’ half legible scrawl. Spivey moved up and down, kept the balloon going in the right direction and they slipped quietly along.

It was early afternoon when she spotted movement ahead. It was right at the limits of her vision and blurred by a heat haze coming off the road. Spivey squinted through his glasses but couldn’t see what she was pointing at. It had been a flash of white against the blacktop right at the crest of a hill. Daisy or Popsicle, she was sure. She willed the balloon to move faster. She willed her eyes not to play tricks on her. She had to know. She felt her brother through the connection that twins shared and her heart pounded. He felt close, she couldn’t explain it, but it was undeniable. Anxious minutes passed as the balloon drifted lazily along. The binoculars never left the crest of the hill and she couldn’t wait to pass over it. They would be on the downhill side, going into a valley, she knew it. As they got closer, more of the valley opened up below them and then they saw it. The parade of people and animals spread out for nearly a quarter mile.

Her heart climbed up into her throat. She saw the unmistakable long neck of a giraffe flanked by the white fur of polar bears and the small forms on their broad backs. A pair of black shapes glided along the asphalt far ahead of the tribe. Donny and Yewan running point. One of her savage sisters was surrounded by wolves and another atop a giant bird. She saw Kodiak striding beside Otis as he limped along. Her heart nearly burst in relief.

“Found them” She said and grinned broadly at Spivey.

30

Tobias

Tobias slumped in the saddle but kept looking over his shoulder at their back trail. He was second guessing himself again. Maybe they never should have left her behind. Maybe they should turn back and search. They were getting further and further away and it just didn’t seem right. She was out there somewhere. He was sure he’d have felt it if their connection had been broken. He felt her now, pulling at his subconscious. He didn’t sense panic or pain but joy. She was happy wherever she was.

He tried to keep a strong face for the tribe. Assured them over and over that moving forward was the right thing to do. She would catch them or be waiting somewhere ahead with a hot meal cooked.

Inside though, he was wracked with guilt. He shouldn’t have been so mean to her, he couldn’t get over it. He’d take the words back if he could.

Daisy lumbered along beside him and Popsicle. He hated the sight of her empty saddle and the sad moaning sounds she made from time to time. She was mourning the loss of her adopted cub too.

He felt the wind rustle the beads in his hair and ran his fingers over Kassie’s braid. He wondered if he’d see her again then chastised himself for thinking happy thoughts when he was supposed to be in mourning. Except he didn’t really think she was dead. He swore he could almost hear her voice. He swore he could almost feel her beside him, like she was close enough to touch. He sat up and scanned the road ahead. Nothing but rolling hills and endless miles of blacktop. He looked over his shoulder. Nothing. He felt the tingle of her presence again.

He swiveled to his left. Fallow fields and strips of woods. Same thing they’d been looking at for weeks. The feeling was stronger, and he caught a wisp of sound on the wind. The bears stopped plodding along and raised their heads, sniffing the breeze. He saw it then and was too dumbfounded to do anything but stare for a moment. A black and yellow balloon floated lazily towards them on a downward trajectory. His sister was standing in the basket with a huge grin on her face. He leapt from Popsicles back and yelled her name as he took off running to intercept the balloon when it touched down. Popsicle and Daisy passed him on either side at the sight and scent of their cub and he cursed them for not stopping to pick him up.

The rest of the tribe shouted greetings and as one they thundered towards the girl whom most of them had already given up for dead.

31

Reunited

The basket had barely touched the ground before Analise unlocked the door and climbed out. Spivey watched with a little concern as she limped directly into the path of two charging polar bears with her arms spread wide. They were being chased by a wild-eyed boy who was undoubtedly her twin brother. The tattooed boy sprinted to catch up and let out whoops as he drew closer.

His concern turned to wonder as the polar bears surrounded the girl and lavished her with their long tongues. They moaned in pleasure at the taste and smell of their lost cub. She kissed their noses and wrapped her skinny arms around their massive heads and whispered softly to them. They were like big, overgrown puppy dogs.

Tobias pushed through the bears and wrapped his sister in a gentle hug when he saw the bandages under her armor.

“I’m not gonna break dummy.” She said and pushed him away playfully.

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk.” He said.

His brow was furrowed with internal angst. Apologies didn’t come easy for him but it was obvious he meant it.

She laughed. “So, what else is new? You’ve always been a jerk.” She softened the words as she wrapped him in a bear hug.

The rest of the tribe hurried in and welcomed her back. Tears and laughter flowed and the questions came faster than she could answer them.

Donny stood back panting as the others swarmed her. He and Yewan had run the farthest and the big cat was rubbing against Analise’s legs wanting her attention as the wolves jumped and tried to lick her face. The man inside the basket had eased the door closed and stood watching animals he’d only seen on TV or at a zoo licking and pawing at the girl, happy to see her. Bears and panthers. Wolves and an Ostrich. It was unbelievable, the end of the world really had happened. The lion had lain down with the lamb and little children led them all.

Donny couldn’t put his finger on the feelings coursing through him. Joy at seeing her alive. Anger at her limp and the bruises on her body. He should have been there to protect her. She should have never been separated from the tribe. He vowed that he would never let her down again. Despite the bruises and bandages, she was radiant. Her hair was radiant and shiny, almost glowing in the sunlight. Her pale skin was clean, not covered by the ever-present dirt that coated the rest of the tribe. Her eyes a vibrant glacier blue and sparkling with tears of happiness. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and stepped forward as Harper let her go.

Analise looked at the boy who stood tall and proud. His cheeks were in full blush as she met his eyes. He was so strong and handsome in his armor. A rock that never wavered in his commitment to the tribe. A warrior that was always in the forefront of the battle. A hunter who never failed to provide and he was hers. She knew it without a doubt. She rushed forward and when they met, he didn’t think about what he was doing, he was so happy to see her he swooped her up in his arms. He felt the heat rush through his body as she pressed her lips to his and ignored the whoops and catcalls from the rest of the tribe. Nothing else mattered at that moment for the two of them. If it took almost drowning and being lost for days for him to finally work up the courage to show that he liked her, she figured it was worth it. In a world full of nothing, they had found everything in each other.

Tobias bumped past Otis as he approached them. His face was an unreadable mask. Donny set her down gently and met the boy’s eyes.

“That’s my sister.” Tobias growled.

“Remember that whole being a jerk conversation we just had?” Analise asked

Donny’s face lit up in surprise when Tobias wrapped him in a hug and lifted him off his feet and spun him around as he’d done Analise seconds before.

Tobias grinned at him as he let Donny go. “Take care of her, or answer to me.”

Donny nodded once. It was enough to cement the bond between the warriors.

“I guess half a jerk is better than all jerk.” Swan said as she gingerly hugged her sister, mindful of both their injuries. “Glad you made it, I knew you were too tough to kill. Who’s this?”

Spivey had staked out the balloon and observed the tribe after the animals sniffed at the basket and lost interest. They were just as Analise had described them. Wild and savage looking but clearly dedicated to one another. He was still amazed at the fact that these children had managed to survive on their own for all of this time. He took in their long hair, braided and adorned with ornaments. Feathers, beads and jewelry were woven into it. Their armor was much like Analise’s. Some was repurposed plastic guards from various sports, some was thick, boiled leather and some was metal. Most of them wore furs of some sort and they all bore the scars of close quarters battle. The dark-haired girl with the wolves was wearing a splint on one arm. He could see the line of sweat on her brow from the injury that had to be causing her endless pain yet she endured as she welcomed Analise back into their group. He marveled at the strange new world they lived in where the dead walked the earth and humans ate each other. A world where a band of feral children met the new reality and didn’t give up. They had forged something special, something unheard of. Like flowers through a crack in the sidewalk, they had blossomed and found a way.

The pale boy approached him. High cheekbones and dancing blue eyes hinted at a mischievous streak. The scars and tattoos showed the warrior side of the young man. He held out his hand to greet the boy but the kid ignored it. Instead he stepped in close and looked in Spivey’s eyes.

“I don’t know who you are,” He said. “But thank you.”

Tobias wrapped him in a crushing hug that surprised him with its strength. He patted the boy on the back.

“Call me Spivey. Your sister is very special Tobias. She touched me and my family deeply. I’m glad we got the chance to know her.”

Tobias stepped back and very solemnly said. “I owe you a debt I cannot repay. I prayed to Odin and he sent you to return my sister on the wings of a Valkyrie.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything.” Spivey said. “We just did what was right.”

Tobias reached up and untied one of his braids. He slid a diamond ring free from his hair and held it out. “For your family.”

Spivey took the ring and dropped it in his shirt pocket. It would have been immensely valuable once, but now it was just a shiny rock. The sentiment behind it is what gave it value.

“My wife will love it. Thank you.”

The rest of the tribe gathered around him with praise and questions. The female polar bear licked his face while the giraffe sniffed at his hair. It was the strangest thing and he wished Sara could witness it.

“Feast!” Tobias yelled. “We must feast the return of my sister and the hero who brought her!”

“We don’t have any food unless motor mouth over there,” Swan gestured at Donny, “can manage to hunt something. Otherwise, it’s whatever we have left from the ice cream truck.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Spivey said. He reached in the balloon and pulled out the food basket Laurie had sent.

Cheers went up from the tribe. Blankets were spread and a small feast was shared between man, beast and children.

Spivey was a little intimidated at first, it wasn’t every day a panther stared at you until you gave her a bit of your sandwich. He wiped crumbs from his shirt and stood. “I have to be going. My own tribe is waiting at home. It was a pleasure to meet you all. If the wind currents cooperate, I’ll be telling my wife and daughter an amazing tale tonight over dinner.”

Analise hugged him once more and kissed his cheek. “I’ll never forget you.”

“Better not.” He kissed the top of her head. “You know where to find us. All of you can have a place there if you change your minds.”

She nodded and stepped back. He climbed into the basket and made his preparations. Tobias and Donny loosed the anchor ropes at his command. Spivey hit the lever on the burner and the balloon rose gracefully in the air. The pups chased it for a while until the Valkyrie was far across the field and high in the sky.

32

Tribe

Analise’ return to the tribe reinvigorated the spirits of the children. Tobias fussed over her like a mother hen, making sure her every need was catered to. She quickly tired of his hovering and told him to get away before she stabbed him.

She was content to sit in the saddle atop Daisy, stroke her fur and watch the silent countryside pass by. The songs of distant birds, the occasional chattering of a squirrel and the click of claws on the pavement were the only sounds in the silent world. Occasionally a screen door would creak back and forth on its rusting hinges or a loose piece of tin would rattle in the breeze but the world was quiet for the most part. Electric lines drooped on poles, cars sat dust covered in driveways and lesser creatures scurried to hide from the predators as they passed.

She talked quietly to Donny about her ordeal and how much she had missed them all. Especially him. They talked about the nameless man and wondered who he’d been. What he’d done to be sorry about. They had no answers and would never find any. It would remain a mystery. He was happy to walk alongside her and pleased in the acceptance the tribe had shown of their feelings for one another. The end of the world had taken away everything from so many but it had given him everything he’d ever wanted.

Despite their wounds, the tribe made good time. Houses and abandoned cars were more frequent the further south they traveled. Scavenging became easy and Donny’s spear flew true when a young buck ventured under the tree where he and Yewan waited.

Otis milked his sore shoulder for all the attention it was worth. His limp seemed to get worse when someone was watching but the bear was healing quickly. Kodiak had removed his stitches and the wound was a healthy shade of pink. The days passed pleasantly as they cut through the empty lands and the winding roads. A small horde of undead scented them and came hissing out of a field, hungry for flesh. They were slow and broken, walking nonstop for a year in all kinds of weather had worn them down. They got tangled up in a barbed wire fence and Swan sent her wolves to kill. The rest of the tribe watched from a distance, glad they didn’t have to get dirty.

Swan scratched at the splinted bandages on her fractured arm. It was sweaty, smelled bad and itched to no end. She muttered curses under her breath as the pain radiated outward from the injured bone. She practiced tossing her left-hand tomahawk at fence posts along the road and one of the wolves would happily retrieve it on the rare occasion she missed. She worried how the wound would affect her aim once it healed and tried not to think about it. She wasn’t bad with her left hand but she was much more confident with her right. Her bow was still in the woods by the corpse of Diablo. In the confusion, she hadn’t thought to send someone after it. It irked her that Donny was providing all the fresh meat. He hadn’t teased her, he probably wasn’t keeping count of his kills, but she was. By her score, he’d have to have a serious run of bad luck once she got healed or she’d never catch up.

Kodiak and Harper walked at the front of the pack, talked for hours sharing plans and ideas about what it would be like in Lakota. He didn’t like to think about the serious aspects, he supposed they would all go back to school and pick up where they left off. He was itching for some X-Box trigger time. Some mindless violence where no one really got hurt and the stakes weren’t real. An escape where when people died, they just hit reset and started over. Harper hoped they had a hospital set up, she wanted to learn more about medicine and repairing damaged bodies.

Vanessa ranged a couple of miles ahead of them on Ziggy. The Ostrich was much easier to handle than Bert and she could run farther and faster than Donny so she took over the duties as their forward Scout. She marked spots where she found supplies so Tobias or Kodiak wouldn’t waste time walking down long country driveways if there wasn’t anything worth having. She would find the best place for them to camp out and be waiting when they arrived. Sometimes she had to clean out a house and sometimes the undead were still fast and vicious but she had gotten good at killing. Most of the time she simply poked around, made sure there weren’t any infestations of fleas and had a fire going so the twins could cook.

They crossed into Oklahoma without much fanfare. They’d come down paths and backroads through Missouri and Arkansas and the sign that welcomed them to the Sooner state was faded. It was a milestone though and they celebrated that evening as they ticked another day off the journey.

33

Twisted

The miles melted behind them as they drew closer to the walls of Lakota, the fabled city they’d heard so much about. Some of the roads they traveled ended at streams and rivers but only once did they have to backtrack to find a bridge. Bert could wade through most of them but he was head strong and if he thought it was too deep, no amount of cajoling could get him in. Ziggy didn’t care much for deep water either but she would follow wherever Vanessa led her. As they got closer, now only a half finger away on the map, excitement, a little nervousness and anticipation filled each of them. They thought they might see or hear cars but they never did. There was no reason for anyone to be driving on the backroads, the truckers, retrievers and Hell Drivers stayed on the main route that linked the communities. Only a retriever would go off the safe roads anymore. There were so many trees and branches laying across many of them, it was slow going.

The weather was weird and everything seemed oddly quiet in an already quiet world. The air was heavy, almost ominous and from the looks of the clouds, there was a storm brewing. The sky was turning a strange shade of yellow they’d never seen before as they passed a sign at an overgrown crossroads.

Lakota: 10 miles.

The animals were acting skittish and kept sniffing the air, almost as if they could smell something troubling coming their way. They unconsciously picked up the pace and kept searching ahead for Vanessa. Miles away the horizon was thick with heavy rain clouds. The tribe wasn’t too concerned as long as they had a dry place to sleep, they’d been through storms before. They’d been trapped inside for days when a blizzard had howled outside Piedmont house. At least the weather was warm, they would welcome a nice gentle shower to wash away the stink and grime of life on the road. The clouds ahead were anything but nice. Evil was the only way Swan could describe them.

They were glad when they finally spotted Vanessa and Ziggy trotting towards them under the darkening sky. They hoped she found a good spot because the heavens were starting to look downright menacing.

Vanessa came in fast and the ostrich danced as she reined her around.

“It looks even worse up the road.” She said “But there’s a farmhouse with a barn about a mile up.”

Blacks and blues and grays shifted and roiled. Mother Earth was upset about something and was about to unleash her full fury. They felt small in the big, open plains. The breezes had stopped and stillness settled across the fields. The insects had ceased their noises, the flies that sometimes pestered them had gone to ground somewhere. Even they knew something was happening, something big and dangerous.

“Guys, I think we need to hurry.” Swan said with awe in her voice. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No but I think a downpour is coming.” Kodiak said. “A real gutter buster. Show us what you found, Vanessa.”

They could feel the charge in the air as lightning danced through the clouds, silent and eerie. It was unlike anything they’d ever experienced. The atmosphere seemed heavy like it too was waiting for something to happen.

It was scary.

It was amazing.

The wind came out of nowhere, they could see it and the rain racing across the fields. It was uncanny. They were perfectly warm and dry, the sun was still shining down but they saw a wall rushing at them. When it found them, it was like being drenched by a bucket of water. Rain drops the size of golf balls were blown nearly horizontal by the wind.

Vanessa dropped her goggles, leaned low over Ziggy’s neck and was gone in a flash. They could barely see her when she crested the hill in the road. Swan swung up behind Kodiak on Otis while Donny leapt on Daisy’s back behind Analise. The three bears broke into a fast lope, the wolves and Yewan pacing them on either side. Harper and Bert galloped ahead and followed Vanessa down a muddy driveway already being washed away in the torrent.

When she caught up, Vanessa was trying to open the storm cellar that was halfway between the house and the barn. She tugged on a big steel door that looked like it opened into the side of a grass covered hill.

“Help me, I can’t get it open!” Vanessa screamed up at her over the howling wind.

Harper twisted in the saddle to slide down Bert’s backside like she’d done a thousand times but he shied, ducked his head and bucked when lightning struck and thunder boomed loud enough they felt it in their bones.

She tumbled over his side, grabbed frantically for the reins and barely caught them before she fell fifteen feet to the ground. They broke her fall but the homemade harness snapped and she landed on her back with a meaty thud. Bert’s eyes were wide and wild as he spun and ran away from the flashing, thunderous cacophony of the storm. Hail pelted them as Vanessa tried to help her to her feet and keep a firm grip on Ziggy’s reins at the same time. The bears ran up and Kodiak slid gracefully off Otis. He and Donny snatched the door open and held it against the wind

“Get in, get the animals in before they panic and we lose them!” Kodiak bellowed, his shouts nearly drowned out by the raging winds.

Swan sent the wolves down in the cellar and they went willingly. Ancient instincts told them to go in the cave, to find shelter, and they hurried in with tails tucked and the pups shivering. The bears shared the same instincts and nearly fought to be the first down the stairs and into the man-made den. Donny helped Vanessa drag Ziggy down the steps and Yewan slunk around investigating the concrete cave before settling down in a corner.

Harper was drenched, her blonde curls plastered to her leather but she was getting her breath back. The air had been knocked out of her. She spotted Bert running from them, heading for the trees in the distance. She started after him when Kodiak grabbed her by a shoulder pauldron.

“Let go!” she yelled above the roar of the storm and before he could answer the buffeting winds stopped. The torrential downpour turned into a light sprinkle and they could see rays of sunshine peeking through the darkness above. Both were surprised and momentarily forgot about the runaway giraffe. They felt the sudden change in air pressure and it became deadly calm. Too calm. Something that sounded like a faraway train cut through the silence and they turned to see the massive black funnel cloud bearing down on them. It took them a second to register what it was. A tornado. The bane of the Midwest, the killer twisters that could flatten everything in their path. They’d never seen one before, only on TV. They stood transfixed and watched as the landscape was ripped towards its center. Trees were buffeted and ripped from the ground and the yellowed corn stalks from the fields were sucked up into the swirling maelstrom. The sound grew louder and the winds started buffeting them as it grew closer and seemed to be aimed straight for them. He snapped out of his stupor and dragged Harper towards the open door as Donny frantically motioned for them to hurry up.

She tried to pull away, to run after Bert, the broken harness still in her hand.

“Leave him!” He yelled.

“NO!” She cried “We have to save him!”

“It’s too late!” Kodiak screamed above the deafening thunderous freight train bearing down on them. Boards and shingles and deadly pieces of tin flew past them. A tractor tumbled end over end and crashed through the back of the house as all the water from a fish pond was sucked into the swirling, black funnel.

She tried to twist out of his grip, she had to get to Bert, but he jerked her off her feet. The roof of the barn sucked up into the sky and the wooden boards followed. His heart raced and fear drove him towards the shelter, he could feel the winds trying to pull them into the hungry turmoil that was sucking up everything in its path. She fought him, punched at him, and cursed him. She was in a panic, a wild cat, he was leaving Bert outside. He would be killed, sucked up into the tornado and ripped apart. Kodiak wasn’t gentle as he forced her through the entrance and dragged her down the stairs. It took Donny and both the twins to muscle the door closed and slide the locking bar into place. The vacuum pulling everything towards the outside died instantly as the world beyond the doors was ripped apart.

“I hate you!” Harper screamed as they untangled from where they’d fallen. “You left him to die!”

She slapped him as hard as she could but the loud crack of skin on skin couldn’t be heard above the roar of destruction all around them.

The doors heaved against the pull of the storm and dust poured down from the ceiling. Something heavy slammed into them and shook the bunker. The pandemonium lasted for long minutes as they found their companions in the dark and tried to stroke their fear away. Whisper to them that everything was fine and scratch them in their favorite places.

After minutes that felt like hours, the wind eased its howling and the swirling cloud of destruction moved further away.

“I think it’s over.” Vanessa said softly, almost as if she was afraid it would hear her and come back for them.

Donny nodded and stroked Yewan’s neck. He could feel the fear in the big cat. Could feel the trembles of her muscles under his fingers.

“Help me with this.” Kodiak said as he tried to open the door. He needed to get out and find Bert. Harper’s slap had hurt but the words hurt more.

The crossbar was bent and he couldn’t push it up out of the heavy steel bracket. It was jammed tight.

“Gimme a hand guys.” He told Donny and Tobias and they hurried up the stairs. Harper was crying bitterly as Vanessa and Swan tried to comfort her.

“He’s dead. I could have saved him.” They heard between the sobs. “He didn’t care.”

The boys threw their backs into the bar and tried to ignore her, they didn’t know what to do about a crying girl. The bar wouldn’t budge.

“Something must have hit the door pretty damn hard to bend this.” Tobias grunted “It’s solid steel.”

They dug out more flashlights and searched the room for anything they could use as a pry bar. At one time it had been an expensive concrete storm cellar in an area along tornado alley. When the owners had it built, they’d had children and had been worried about their safety. They’d held drills and every member of the family knew what to do, all the way down to the littlest who was in charge of bringing the hamsters. It was well stocked with emergency food, flashlights and a hand crank radio. They had water, blankets and a camp toilet. Years passed, nothing happened, the children grew up and went off on their own and now it was used for storage. Old bicycles, tractor parts and baby seats that were too nice to throw away. Now everything was covered in a fine film of mold, the wooden shelves were rotten and during the rainy season water stood stagnant in the floor. It had been a decade since the old farmer had been down the steps and the sum total value of all the things inside would have been zero dollars and zero cents. For the children, they turned out to be very valuable indeed.

34

Salvaged

Harper wanted to scream in rage. It was no use. The thick steel door was bomb shelter quality; they weren’t going to cut through it. Even if they could whatever the tornado had dumped on the other side had buried them. Kodiak’s Warhammer had pried the locking bar loose but the door hadn’t budged. No matter how hard they pushed against it, no matter how many pry bars they jammed into the frame, they couldn’t move it a fraction. Something big was laying on it. Maybe the house, maybe a tree, maybe a bulldozer from the next county over.

Three days. Three long days and nights they’d been trapped in a hole in the ground. The darkness was absolute which led them to believe there wasn’t simply a tree or something on the doors, they’d been buried alive. No light seeped around any of the edges. They had gone through all the junk on the shelves and some of it had come in handy. The camp toilets and the chemicals in plastic bottles were still good. Some of the home canned goods were fine. Whoever had done it years ago had taken the dampness into consideration and dipped the lids in wax. They had enough food to last them a few weeks, long enough to dig their way out, but that wasn’t the problem. They were running out of air. Whoever had built the shelter hadn’t added drainage or a fresh air vent. It was basically a concrete box with a military surplus security door sold to worried homeowners by slick salesmen and built as cheaply as possible. They found a crack in the ceiling in one corner and had decided to break through there instead of the steel of the doors. Once they got through the concrete, there should only be a few feet of dirt. They hadn’t anticipated the steel mesh imbedded in the cement to hold it all together. Getting through it was slow and tedious work that consisted of hammering each strand back and forth a few thousand times until it broke. Concrete dust had filled the air the first few days but now it had all settled. That wasn’t the reason it was getting harder to breathe. When they realized they were slowly dying of asphyxiation, they stopped trying to make the hole big enough to squeeze through and concentrated on busting the rest of the way through the concrete. They had to break through, they needed an air supply.

Harper still sulked, still blamed Kodiak for Bert’s death. If they hadn’t been trapped in a black hole, if things weren’t so frustrating and dirty and smelly, they probably would have blown off a little steam, found a quiet spot and talked things through. Penned up so closely together with no privacy, not even to go to the bathroom, it was easier to stay mad. It was easier to redirect anger at somebody who had dragged you into the tomb you were in than be mad at an animal who just left a load you stepped in. He hadn’t tried very hard either she told herself. She’d rejected his halfhearted apology and he hadn’t tried again. Fine. She wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.

They were hot, sweaty and already down two flashlights, their batteries dead. Swan was feverish, the bites from Diablo were infected and her wolves knew something was wrong with the pack mother. She sat in a corner and dozed most of the time. She would be the first to go, Harper thought. She was the luckiest. She barely knew what was happening.

The boys had built a rickety platform and took turns with the hammers 24 hours a day. Nobody was getting any sleep, everybody was irritable. Even if they broke through and got some fresh air, would they have enough food to last until they made a hole big enough to crawl through? What was worse, dying from lack of air or dying of hunger or thirst? Would they kill their animals and eat them? Would the animals go mad from thirst and attack each other or the children? The situation was grim and she was fine to stay angry for a while longer. It made things easier. You didn’t care if you were mad.

Tobias paused his chiseling at the concrete and let out a whoop.

“I’m through!” he shouted and started pulling out handfuls of dirt. It rained down and made a pile on the floor. When he was shoulder deep against the ceiling he called for a spear and Vanessa handed hers up. With a final prod, grass and leaves tumbled down the fist sized hole and sunlight shone through. They cheered and gathered around, sucking in the cool, clean air. It tasted good, she’d never known it to have a flavor before but it was almost sweet it was so clean and pure.

The wolves smelled the danger first and their growls were heard above the happy chatter of the kids. Everyone got quiet and looked to them as they eyed the hole, fangs bared and low rumbles in their throats.

“Oi, anybody down there?” a British accented voice shouted down the hole from above.

Nobody answered, too surprised at what they heard. There were the sounds of a scuffle above and then the gekkering barks of excited foxes shoving their noses into the hole. Zero answered back with a bark of his own and then they heard Caleb shouting. There was a chattering from the monkeys, the British guy yelled something then they were yelling right back, nearly dancing with joy.

“Move over you little hellion.” they heard him say and his voice replaced Landon’s hollering down at them.

“Have you out in a bit.” He said. “I think we found the door. Seems to have a Cadillac parked on it. Might want to stand clear.”

Now that they had a hole letting in the sounds of the outside world, they heard diesel engines idling, the sound of a chain being hooked to something and the screeching of metal and crunching of wood as the car was dragged off the door. Dirt was shoveled off, boards and tin tossed aside and crowbars jammed into the frame to pry the bent door open. A dozen hands grabbed it from the outside and pulled it open. Bright light illuminated the cellar as dirt spilled down the steps. They squinted up at a tall figure silhouetted in the sun as three little kids ran around him and down the stairs, ignoring him telling them to be careful.

Caleb, Landon and Clara, followed by a trio of foxes and chattering monkeys raced down the stairs and into their arms.

“Ewwww. You guys stink.” Landon said after hugging them all.

“Yeah, smells like poop.” Caleb added. “Come outside, meet our new friends.”

“I think that’s you.” Tobias said and tried to rub armpit sweat on him. “We’ve been bathing in rose petals the last few days.”

Harper and Vanessa helped Swan up the stairs as Donny lent Analise a shoulder to lean on. Kodiak and Tobias gathered their saddlebags and weapons and followed the tribe out into the sunlight. He squinted at the destruction and saw an old red Cadillac on its roof off to one side. The two-story farmhouse was spread out across the fields, a lot of it on the mound of the storm cellar. The barn was completely gone, the only thing remaining was a brown square of dirt where it had been. Harper squealed and ran for Bert who had his head up in a tree that had somehow managed to stay standing. He was languidly picking at the few leaves that had survived the winds. When he saw her running for him, he lowered his head and licked her salty, blonde hair. She hugged him tight then let him get back to his foraging. Her eyes threatened to overflow, she couldn’t believe it. Maybe Kodiak had been right to let him run free. The barn was gone, if she would have gotten him inside, they would be too.

The people that came to help kept their distance. They knew the animals were friendly, they knew the kids treated them like household pets but that was them. They weren’t too eager to run up on a thousand-pound bear or a pack of wolves and introduce themselves.

“I guess you’re those world-famous wild kids.” A scruffy bearded man said when he stepped up after a moment. He was tall, skinny, wore a wide grin and a trucker’s cap.

“And you must be Kodiak.” He added and stuck out his hand. “They call me Scratch. Heard a lot about you, those little one’s never shut up. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” Kodiak said. “Thanks for pulling us out. One of my tribe needs to see a doctor. Do you have any?”

“The best in the territories.” He answered and registered Swans sweating face and pale complexion. “Come on, let’s get her over to the ambulance, we weren’t sure what kind of shape you’d be in when we found you so we came prepared. One of the SS sisters is standing by, she’s just a little wary of the bears.”

“SS sisters?” Kodiak asked and Scratch looked around and held a finger up to his lips.

“Uh, I mean Sara. Best not to let them hear you say that. And if they do, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Okay.” He answered, not sure he understood.

Swan refused to let them help her walk, told them she wasn’t an invalid, just needed a little booster shot.

“Hyenas have a nasty bite, filthy things eat the undead.” She told Sara as she carefully unwrapped the soiled bandages on her wrist.

Sara eyed the wolves nervously, they were huge and hovered around the girl protectively but once she saw the wound, she ignored them. She had work to do, the wolf girl could lose her hand if she didn’t get that infection under control.

“How’d you find us?” Kodiak asked as he was introduced to the others that made the slow trip out to search for them. The giraffe knew where they were, it just wasn’t in any particular hurry. It stopped frequently to nibble leaves.

“Well, that long-legged critter over there showed up at the gates after the storm blew through. He still had the saddle so we figured he was from your group. We’ve been expecting you for weeks. We were all trying to figure out what to do with him, when those three little savages came tearing up the street all painted up like Indians on the warpath toting ice picks and knives like they were ready to go to war. They were sure some guy named Gordon had ambushed you. Once we got them calmed down, President Meadows sent a rescue party. That giraffe led us straight here, although he took his sweet ass time.”

“I need to thank him. Is he here?” Kodiak asked as he scanned the half dozen vehicles and the people gathered near them, some still keeping a safe distance.

“Well, he is a she and that’s her standing by that big ugly fella.” Scratch laughed and pointed at Lacy and Gunny.

35

Vanessa

Vanessa soaked up the warm sunshine and inhaled the fresh air. The storm cellar had been the fuel of nightmares. She had already been preparing for the end, she really believed they would die down there in the blackness after the batteries gave out. She shuddered at the thought. She walked away from the hole in the ground, spread her arms wide, tilted her face to the sun and let it wash the darkness away. She would meet the rescuers in a minute, she needed this.

When she lowered her arms, finished her prayer of thanks and opened her eyes, a man was a few yards away, patiently waiting for her to finish. Ziggy was between them, wings up in a protective stance as she hopped from foot to foot. He was silently crying, the tears rolling down his cheeks were from pure joy and the smile that split his brown face went from ear to ear.

“Daddy?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, baby girl.” He said, almost choking. “It’s me.”

He held out his arms. She felt lightheaded. The earth threatened to spin out from underneath her. The spear fell from suddenly numb fingers. His beard was gray and full, his hair longer, but the rumble of his voice was distinctive and unmistakable. She’d know it anywhere. It had calmed her fears of monsters under the bed, it had sung her to sleep and it had been firm when she’d done wrong.

“Daddy!” She screamed and raced towards him.

Ziggy followed behind, wary and ready to defend her chick. She couldn’t believe her eyes; it just couldn’t be. He’d been in Dallas for work the day her mom had dropped her off for the field trip. She had watched on her phone as the city was overrun before the lights went out for good. In her heart, she had buried him a year ago.

She leaped for his open arms and he caught her, drew her close to his chest and hugged her tight. He let out a laugh of pure joy and swung her around in circles.

“My baby.” He cried softly. “My baby. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Daddy, I thought you were dead. What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story, baby girl. I’m here and you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” He whispered.

He wondered what his daughter had been through, what hell she must have endured and how many of the stories he heard on the radio were true. She was a foot taller than he remembered and lean. Her straight ironed hair was gone, in its place a tight mohawk. She was muscular and athletic, with no trace of the baby fat he had tickled when she was younger. Her face was covered in ritualistic scars, faded war paint and machetes hung at her waist. Her leather armor was crude and thick, hand built for comfort and functionality over looks. It showed signs of hard use and was scarred like her body. He decided he didn’t care what she had been forced to do to survive; he felt only pride that she had.

“You need to meet my tribe.” She said and pulled him towards the others. “How did you know I was here?”

“They’ve been talking about you for months.” He replied. “Most of us didn’t believe half of what we heard; you know how Bastille is.”

“Never heard him.” She said. “We didn’t have a radio.”

“Oh.” He said. “So anyway the three youngsters made it to Lakota and they told all kinds of unbelievable tales. He’s had them on his radio show at least once a week. They said there was an African warrior princess who rode an Ostrich into battle, that she was fierce and brave and made the best S’mores sandwiches. They said her name was Vanessa and even though she was nice most of the time, she made them learn how to read even though it was hard and I knew it had to be you. You’d told me you were going on that field trip.”

The bears had discovered the strangers had food and were fast becoming best friends with anyone who tossed them a fish or hamburger.

“This is my dad, Donald.” She announced as they approached her group that was gathered around the ambulance, watching the doctor work on Swan’s swollen hand.

“And this is my tribe.” She said with pride and introduced them and their animals.

Sara cut them off halfway through the introductions.

“You can get to know each other later.” She barked. “We’ve got to go, I need her in my clinic, I don’t like the way this infection has spread.”

“Wait.” Kodiak said and stopped her from pulling the door closed.

He quickly signed to Swan, asked her if she was okay getting separated. Do you trust these people?

They took care of the triplets. I think it’s safe.

We’ll be right behind you. He signed and let go of the door.

“Scratch!” she yelled. “Get us back pronto, but don’t drive like an idiot. We have a patient back here that needs medical attention.

“Yes ma’am!” he saluted “Needs a bath too, she’s kinda ripe.”

He threw Swan a smile and a wink then hurried away. He didn’t see her snarl and glare.

“I’ll ride with her.” Harper said and ran for the passenger seat. “Donny, can you make sure Bert gets back?”

He nodded and Kodiak felt the rebuke. His cheeks reddened a little but he held his tongue. She was still mad. He didn’t understand why but didn’t have time to figure it out now.

“We need to get you to Lakota.” Lacy said. “John, do we have a trailer to haul the giraffe?”

“Not really.” Gunny said. “But Tommy can rig something up if we need it.”

He turned to address the boy who seemed to be their leader, the wild looking one that rode the Grizzly. “We’re only about ten miles out, if you kids want, we’ll get trailers out here for your animals. If you want to finish the trip on foot, that’ll give us some time to get finish setting up your accommodations. Your choice.”

Kodiak glanced at the sun.

“It’s a quarter after three.” He said. “We can make it tonight but I’d rather take it easy, get cleaned up and come in tomorrow.”

Gunny looked at the sun then glanced down at his watch. Twelve after three. The kid was good. They talked for another half hour, got to know each other a little and had dinner on the tailgate of Gunny’s truck.

The kids wolfed down Martha’s home cooking but then started to look sheepish halfway through the meal. They were eating like animals. Kodiak was the first to slow and actually start chewing his food and using the napkin instead of the back of his hand. Tobias was the last to start acting civilized and that was only after Analise kicked him.

They let the animals have the rest of the food, gave them directions in, told them what to expect in town and wished them well for the night. They’d see them in the morning.

“Don’t be too late.” Gunny said as he fired up his truck and the triplets climbed in the back seat of the crew cab. “The three young ladies you saved from that Gordon character are eager to see you and of course those three probably won’t sleep a wink.” He gestured at Landon, Caleb, and Clara. “They haven’t shut up since the giraffe arrived. We’ve got each of you homes to stay and your companions will be safe. There’s nothing to fear, welcome home.”

36

Swan

She was clean. Her hair was damp and she relished the feel of the soft cotton bathrobe that covered her frame.

She looked at the pictures that decorated the wall of the new President’s house. One in particular held her attention.

“That’s my son, Jessie.” Lacy said.

She watched the girl as she stared open mouthed at the last school picture taken of her boy before the outbreak. His hair was long, he had on a plain black pocket t-shirt, had a half smile on his face and stared directly into the camera. He didn’t seem particularly happy to be there and Swan could imagine his mom giving him a lecture that morning. Something about smiling this time, grandma thought you looked angry in last year’s picture.

“He looks a lot like somebody I knew; only this guy was way more scarred. His name was Bob.” Swan said.

“Bob? Lacy asked. “My Jessie has a dog that travels with him he calls Bob.”

The hair was the same and Swan stared into the eyes. Bob hadn’t been a handsome boy, he had an ugly scar on his face and he’d been black and blue with bruises but the eyes were the same. She reached up to touch the face as she put the two images together in her mind. He looked so different then, so innocent. She supposed they all did.

“I worry about him out there.” Lacy said as she watched the girl touch the photo almost reverently. “He’s been through so much, but he’s making a difference and I guess that’s all a mother can want for her son.”

“It’s him.” Swan said, her mind remembering the broken boy. “He was hurt. We nursed him back to health, but he didn’t have a dog.” Swan said.

“I haven’t heard from him in months.” Lacy admitted. “The last anyone has seen him was at the Tower. His girlfriend had died, Johnny thinks he got a load of supplies and is camping out somewhere in the mountains. Tell me more about this Bob.” She urged.

Swan told her of the week Bob, or rather Jessie, had spent with them back in the spring and something didn’t add up. Jessie had been exploring new territories and his reports, although sporadic, had been regular. She thought she would have heard if he’d been hurt so badly or had lost the car but maybe not. It was a crazy world beyond the walls.

“That sure sounds like him.” She sighed. “He must have used that alias to protect you guys from his enemies. He has plenty, though from what I hear, most of them don’t survive when they catch up to him.”

“He’s very brave.” Swan blushed at the memory of the boy she’d had a crush on. “I’d like to see him again.”

“Me too.” Said Lacy. “Me too.”

Zero interrupted their conversation as he whined at the door. Nature called.

“They are very well behaved.” Lacy said. “I was a little skeptical of having four wolves in my house. Our cat hasn’t come out from under the bed since they arrived.”

Swan took pride in the words spoken to her. “They are my pack.”

“How’s the arm?” Lacy asked.

“It’s getting better. Doesn’t hurt to make a fist anymore. Soon I’ll be sharpening up my skills again.” she answered.

Lacy watched her buckle the weapons belt around her bathrobe then follow the pack out to the meadow. It looked comical but she knew the girl was deadly with the tomahawks even with one arm in a cast and the other just starting to heal from the infected wounds. She’d heard the stories and read the reports. The doctors had been concerned, the infection looked like the beginnings of the zombie virus. It was spreading the same way a bite from the undead did with the long, red runners. They knew penicillin wouldn’t cure it and had given her some kind of experimental drug, something they’d gotten from Jessie, before it spread any farther. It seemed to be working, she was healing nicely and would be starting school next week.

37

Tobias and Analise

Tobias watched through the curtains as the bears splashed in the swimming pool. It was a big one, twelve foot on the deep end and Runa had happily pumped all the treated water out and filled it with lake water. It was a kind gesture and the polars didn’t seem to mind being confined to the back yard. The fence had been reinforced overnight and now stood taller and stronger than the original wooden one. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He understood the bears couldn’t run free, there were too many people, something might happen. He’d argued that Daisy or Popsicle would never hurt anyone on purpose but not too hard. He knew they really couldn’t wander around town on their own. The dogs barked like crazy when they were near and if one was dumb enough to attack them then there would be a dead dog and an angry owner.

He wasn’t sure what they’d expected when they got here, he hadn’t thought about it much. He supposed they would all live together like they had at Piedmont house. That hadn’t happened. They’d been separated to live with foster families and were supposed to go back to a normal life like everyone else. He should have known it would be like this, they all should have but no one had really thought about it. They were impressed with the town at first. It had everything they’d dreamed of. Hamburgers and hotdogs. Movies and popcorn. Hot running water and electricity. It was wonderful but it came with a price and he was still debating if it was worth it.

He wondered what the others were doing, how they were fitting in with the foster families that opened their doors to the orphaned tribe. They’d already been here for a week and the days had been a blur of activity. Doctor appointments, vet appointments, school enrollments, shopping for clothes and getting comfortable in their new environment took up most of their time. They had internet and spent time catching up, reading through other kids’ blogs and Facebook posts. It was limited but every time Lakota added servers the Tower would send more terabytes of random information pulled from the NSA computers. Eventually, if they wanted to keep expanding, they could have the entire internet up until the day it crashed. He’d tired of it after the novelty wore off. He learned that most of the kids hadn’t been outside the walls other than the first few weeks of the outbreak. Their families had fled here and hadn’t left since. They’d been safe and sound for a year and had forgotten about what it was like outside the walls. The things they complained about were trivial and dumb. The chains on one of the swings set were too long. The truckers hadn’t raided any sports stores in ages and the soccer net had already been patched twice. The internet was too slow and there was too much lag on multiplayer Call of Duty matches.

They all sounded like a bunch of sissies and he wasn’t really looking forward to meeting any of them. He was still adjusting to having hot water with the turn of a knob and electricity at the flip of a switch. He worried that someday the memories of their time in the wild would seem more like a dream and not the reality they’d fought their way through.

Analise came out of her room wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt looking like an ordinary girl in every way. None of her tattoos were showing, her long hair was brushed and she had replaced her combat boots with sandals. She was trying her best to fit in.

He let go of the curtains and they moved in unison to the entry way of the kitchen. He watched Runa as she bustled about laying out ingredients. She seemed nice. Like him and his sister she had the pale blonde hair and glacier blue eyes.

She had volunteered to foster him, Analise and the bears and it was probably the best match they could have asked for. She’d been a flight attendant from Oslo and had barely made it out of the Chicago O’Hare International Airport on the first day of the outbreak.

She hummed as she busied herself and nodded towards the cutting board when she noticed them.

“You can chop the vegetables.” She said in her faintly exotic Norwegian accent.

She knew they had been the primary cooks for the tribe for a year and were pretty handy around a kitchen.

“What are you making?” He asked as he eyed the cutlets of fish on the counter.

“It’s a dish from home, but the fish here is not so good. We make do with what we have and thank the Gods it’s not less.” She said, quoting an old Norse proverb.

He picked up the knife and began dicing the carrots and potatoes as she told him about her recipe and asked about the fish they caught out of the Mississippi. Tobias was happy in the kitchen and confident, in a different life he may have become a chef. She watched the tattooed boy as he worked. He was thin, all lean muscle, heavily scarred and tattooed, wild eyed and long haired. He would be a handsome man someday but she wasn’t sure he was going to be able to slip back into society as easily as the others. His hair was long and he hadn’t combed out the little braids and the mementos woven into it. He wore short sleeves and tribal tattoos covered his arms. He had a short fuse and knew if the kids at school teased him it would lead to a fight, he wouldn’t take much abuse from anyone. Her heart went out to him, she knew he was a good kid, but he would need more time to adjust. The other foster parents had met to discuss the best ways to integrate the children back into civilized society. From the stories they shared, they had had it rough. They had been at war, had killed the entire gang that had kept Trish, Misty and Sasha as sex slaves. They had killed thousands of undead and it was a miracle they had survived all that they had endured.

She asked them if they were excited to start school again and meet new friends. Analise was eager to get back and try to have a normal life. Tobias was still on the fence. He said nobody better mess with him or his sister and talked of not going, maybe learning how to drive and become a Retriever.

He seemed more nervous of sitting in a classroom with a group of other children than he would riding into battle.

“Eg vet dere har hatt det vanskelig.” I know you haven’t had it easy. She said in Norwegian.

“We’ve done just fine on our own.” Tobias grunted. “And these soft handed kids’ best not forget it.”

He understood some of the language. Their grandfather had come from Norway as an adventurous young man. A beautiful American exchange student had captured his heart when he was a ski instructor in Lillehammer. After a whirlwind romance they’d gotten married, much to the surprise of her friends and family. He’d followed her back to the States and they spent the next forty-seven years together. Again, much to the surprise of her father who had prophesied a quick end to the foolish marriage. Grandfather Gjurd had regaled the twins with tales of Norwegian explorers and mythology. Brave adventurers and mighty warriors.

“This place, it is safe.” She said, choosing her words carefully. She knew he was trying, that he wanted to be a part of the town, but it was hard for him.

“The people of Lakota are good people.” She continued. “The president is fair and they are rebuilding the world into a better place. I don’t think there is a better town out there.”

She looked at him intensely. “But, is it for you? The way of the warrior is in your eyes and your blood. You may be a great explorer and do heroic things like our ancestors someday but for now, you must be polite in a civilized society.” She stated.

“I know.” He sighed. “I think I’ve had enough of fighting to survive for a while. I want to see what it feels like to be a normal kid again.”

Runa smiled and took the vegetables he’d chopped to add to the hot skillet.

“You know you are welcome to stay with me as long as you like, but when the day comes that you take a boat and sail to Norway, do not forget me.” She said. “I miss home. I miss good fish and the smell of salt air. I miss the wind blowing in off the fjords.”

Tobias contemplated what she said as he cleaned the knife and methodically sharpened the blade. He had never thought that far ahead. Before the fall, he was only worried about getting passing grades. Now he was so used to scratching out a day to day existence that he’d never bothered to think about the future. Her words struck a chord, though. The possibilities were limitless. He could go anywhere, be anything. Why couldn’t he rediscover the places that were lost? Why couldn’t he sail to the land of his forefathers and claim the untold riches and relics that were gathering dust in museums. He was snapped from his daydream by the sudden silence and realized she was waiting for a response.

“Sorry. What?” He asked.

“I said, when you reach the north, you must watch out for Huldra.” She repeated with a smile.

“Huldra, what is that?”

“She is a beautiful elven spirit that lives in the forest. The most beautiful woman you will ever see and she will ask you to dance with her and her friends.” Runa said.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Tobias said. “I’d dance with a bunch of hot elves.”

“Ah, but if you accept her invitation, you’ll be there forever. Time moves different in a fairy ring and long after you’re exhausted and dying of hunger, begging for them to stop, they will laugh and dance until you die.”

Analise giggled. “Tobias will be safe. He’s scared of girls.”

He shot her a dirty look and touched the braid of Kassie’s hair. “No, I’m not. I have a girlfriend, remember?”

38

Donny

Donny and Yewan kept lookout for the kids rummaging through the cargo containers below. They were all younger than him but he enjoyed their company. It seemed the rest of the tribe was all starting to assimilate into society again. The unofficial leader of the band of scofflaws looting below was called Slippery Jim. The mischievous boy was always concocting some scheme that would surely land them in trouble and his pal Gage was right there in the middle of it. There were eight of them all together. Most of them were boys except for Lizzie, a sassy, smart mouthed beanpole of a girl.

When the container wall had been built last year, they’d been in a hurry. Hordes of hungry zombies were following the train and they only had hours to throw it up. Some of the boxes were crooked, some of the hastily bulldozed dirt path they sat on was washing away with the rains. They had brought in another trainload of containers and were methodically swapping them out as they made the wall another row higher and reinforced the foundation. The boxes they replaced were stacked up in a holding yard where they would be inventoried and emptied if they held anything of value. It was a back-burner project and they didn’t have the manpower to search through every box so hundreds were stacked up waiting until someone had the time. Once Jimmy realized what they were doing, the Bullet Brigade went into action. There was too much treasure at stake to stay away and the group had a thriving black market of goods that they ran through the school. Every few nights they would sneak out and ride their bikes to the holding yard. They knew which guards were diligent and walked their post and which ones would stay in the booths on top of the wall and nod off. The only unknown was Phil. He was the head of security and you never knew when he would make the rounds or have a surprise inspection.

From his position on the highest container, Donny could the see the top of the wall to watch for roving guards and also spot a blacked-out golf cart if Phil was trying to sneak up and catch a guard sleeping. He was content but not truly happy. He loved the time he got to spend with Analise exploring the town in safety. They didn’t have to be wary of the Savage Ones or zombies or gangs trying to kill them. He didn’t have to hunt for their food and if he had a bad night, they didn’t go hungry. They’d done all the things dating teenagers were supposed to do. He had bought her ice cream sodas, taken her to the movies and had walked hand in hand through the parks.

One of the bullet brigade had a jet ski and had promised to show him how to ride it. He was warm and safe and happy but something was missing. He was almost bored at the complacency of everything. There was no thrill. No adventure. No adrenaline rush taking down game or killing something that was trying to kill you. His biggest excitement was acting as lookout. The pilfered items meant nothing to him, but his new friends did. He felt protective of them, they were a lot like the kids in the orphanages he’d run away from. Looting the containers was the only real excitement in this town. There was no real danger in it though. Lakota was more secure than Fort Knox. He almost wished the kids would find a long-lost zombie in one of the containers to spice things up. In the days since the tribe had arrived, he hadn’t had an opportunity to hunt. Kim Li acted like a bossy older sister and was adamant that he stay inside the walls. He was pretty sure that she knew he snuck out the window most nights with Yewan to prowl the streets and back alleys but she didn’t push the issue.

Despite his grumpiness, Cobb and his family had welcomed him in with open arms. Kim Li was wonderful to him and Mama Martha treated him like a long lost relative.

Kim’s dad, Tommy, had invited him to help out in the truck shop and he discovered that he liked it. He learned quickly and usually only had to be shown once how to do something. He liked working in the shop better than going to school but he did what they wanted. They said he should give it a try but he was way behind. Most of his classes were with the little kids. Book learning had never been his thing. He could read and write and do some basic math but not much more.

He gazed off in the distance. Out there was where it was really at. Living by the blade. Outsmarting your prey, fighting for your life and the life of your tribe. He missed it, but knew it wouldn’t be the same without the tribe. Those days were over.

He tapped his spear to warn the others of an approaching patrol and melted into the shadows.

39

Girl Talk

“Hold still.” Sasha said. The heavily inked girl began the process of outlining the faded pink flower on Analise’s arm. She was keeping her promise to Sara.

Trish’s boss, Caitlin, sat beside Swan on the couch in the back of the bakery. Kassie, Vanessa and Harper sat in chairs opposite flipping through outdated magazines. The scent of fresh bread and other delicious concoctions permeated the space.

Swan was recounting their escape from Gallatin for the hundredth time when Caitlin heard the wild girl’s stomach growl over the buzz of the tattoo gun.

“I can’t believe it. Are you still hungry?” The redhead asked.

“I could go for some more of that banana bread.” Swan answered. “Where are you getting the bananas anyway?”

“They’re freeze dried, got a few hundred cans of them but they do taste good, don’t they? What about you girls?” Caitlin asked the other three. “You want anything?”

“Chocolate chip cookies!” They chimed in unison.

She shook her head, left the room and returned a few minutes later with a plate of cookies and a thick slice of banana bread.

“I wish I could still eat like you.” She sighed. “I’d be as big as a house if I did.”

“Finish your story. I want to hear more about this retriever you met in Gallatin.” Caitlin urged.

“That’s pretty much it, he helped us out and then he disappeared.”

“Is he cute?” Caitlin asked.

“I guess, for an old guy. He said he would be coming this way before long. Can’t miss him. Drives this big jacked up Jeep thing with guns hanging off it and thinks he’s a cowboy or something.” Swan said through a mouthful of bread.

Caitlin raised an eyebrow at Trish. “Dibs on the cowboy.”

“I dunno.” Kassie said. “You might have some competition; I think my mom kind of likes him. She said she hoped he showed up while we were still here.”

“Oh really?” Caitlin asked. “How much longer are you staying again?”

The girls laughed, everybody knew they were leaving tomorrow. Kassie was bemoaning the fact that she and Tobias hadn’t been able to spend enough time together. They only came in because the doctors here wanted her mom’s opinion about Swan’s hyena bite. The infection was bad and getting worse. They had some kind of new medicine they wanted to try but didn’t know a whole lot about it. They wanted a second opinion before they injected her with the pink liquid.

“I wish those truckers would raid an upscale fashion store.” Caitlin grumbled as she pointed at the beautiful models in the magazine’s pages. “I’d like to have clothes like this. They think all we want is blue jeans and flannel shirts.”

“So.” Trish asked, eager to change the subject before Caitlin went off about the lack of fine clothes again. “Have you forgiven him yet?”

They knew she was talking to Harper and asking about Cody. They’d heard the story about their fight more than once. Everything had been so harried and busy the past few weeks they hadn’t found time to talk to each other. When they did cross paths, there were other people around and it was awkward. It was easier to be excruciatingly polite and keep their distance. Harper stared down at the gossip magazine and the happy couple announcing they were expecting a baby.

“I’m not mad anymore.” She said. “He’s avoiding me though. I don’t think he wants to talk.”

“Well,” Sasha looked up from her tattooing. “It did seem to work out for the best. If Bert hadn’t shown up here no one would have known where to look for you.”

“Maybe.” Harper admitted. “But I’m not going to chase after him. He knows how to find me.”

“I see him moping around when I go out to the gardens.” Caitlin said. “He likes to sit at the end of the wall and stare at the water like he doesn’t have a friend in the world.”

Vanessa looked at Harper over the top of her Outdoor Life magazine. “Girl, you better go get your man or someone will. You know these city girls are just waiting for a chance to get their hands on him. I heard them giggling and whispering when he went in the dollar store to get school supplies.”

Harper looked away from Vanessa’s intense gaze. “Maybe you’re right."

When Sasha finished, Analise admired the new ink on her arm. She’d tried to encourage Donny to come with her, but he’d declined. The boy who feared nothing was afraid of any kind of needle. It made her love him even more. She really hoped Harper and Kodiak worked out their issues because Vanessa was right. The Lakota girls wanted to be with him just because he was famous. They might not even care about him but if posting selfies together got them likes on their Facebook page then they’d string him along.

40

Kodiak and Harper

Cody sat on the southern corner of the barricade wall. Much like the river spot at Piedmont it had become his place to go when he needed time to think. The guards paid him no mind after the first couple of days. Just a wave or nod and a how ya doing kid as he walked along the top of the wall.

It was sort of nice to not be constantly looking over his shoulder for danger. It was a relief to have plenty of food and a real bed to sleep in. His new foster brother Gage had tried to get him involved in some kind of plan to loot some of the cargo containers, but he’d declined and steered him in Donny’s direction.

He pulled a piece of chalk from the pocket of his shirt and began drawing on the rusty red steel paint of the cargo container. Mindlessly he doodled and when he finally looked at what he’d drawn he saw it read C+H. Cody and Harper. He wondered if he really was Cody again. All of the townspeople called him Cody; the only ones who still used Kodiak were the tribe. Except Harper of course, she hadn’t called him anything. She wouldn’t talk to him even though there had been a few opportunities. That was fine. If all it took to make her so mad she’d never speak to him again was saving her life then maybe she wasn’t worth it. He didn’t need a girlfriend and he certainly wasn’t interested in any of the silly girls he’d met so far.

He wondered if Kodiak the Warrior was just a memory in this safe and secure walled city that would fade in time. He started school in a few days. That would be strange. Going back to learning Algebra and other stuff he considered useless was going to be hard.

He heard approaching footsteps but didn’t look up. He automatically categorized them. Soft soled shoes, not boots. A light tread that would be silent if it wasn’t on metal. One of the girls. It had taken a while but he no longer reached for a weapon every time he heard a noise. He had no enemies in this place, nothing to fear. His enemy lived in his head and constantly rehashed his mistakes and bad decisions.

He smelled lavender and the soft scent of lilacs. It was Harper.

“Hey.” she said as she sat down beside him. She offered him a chocolate chip cookie but he waved it off and dropped his chalk in the process. He watched it fall the thirty feet to the ground. Great, he thought.

“Hey.” He replied.

She rested her hand on his knee and spoke softly as they stared out at the wide lake. “I forgive you and I’m sorry. I don’t hate you and I never have. I love you, dummy.”

“I love you too.” He said “That’s why I did what I did. I was thinking about me. I was thinking what it would do to me if something happened to you. I’m sorry too.”

She kissed him on his cheek and lifted his arm. She scooted in next to him and wrapped it around her. “That’s better.”

“Yes, it is.” He smiled and kissed her softly.

“So, I hear you are the hottest thing around. Girls are just lining up to spend time with the fearsome Cody Wilkes.” She smirked.

“Huh?” Kodiak asked cluelessly.

“Oh, yeah. Word on the street is that I have some serious competition as soon as school starts. I figured I better get up and restake my claim before some girl bats her eyelashes at you one too many times.” She teased.

He harrumphed.

“Should I be worried some football jock is going to steal you away?” he asked.

“Not likely.” She said. “Rumor has it you have a big Grizzly bear you would sic on them.”

“Otis? He’s a pussy cat.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that.” She said. “They think we’re all as wild as Swan.”

They laughed at that. She already had a reputation around town. She’d pulled a tomahawk and snarled at a boy who had run to hold a door for her.

“You happy here?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I want to be. Sheriff Collins and Griz are nice. They’ve had their hands full with Caleb, Clara and Landon. I think they appreciate the extra help with them.”

She paused. “I love hot water and watching DVD’s from the old days. Shampoo and bubble baths. I like not being worried about getting attacked. I miss some things, though. The sunrises over the Mississippi and taking long rides on Bert. I don’t miss the fear but I miss the joy, even if it was something silly like making fun of Tobias’ cheese or watching one of the monkey’s ride Kuma Lisa or Mr. Ringtail. I miss the laughter.”

He nodded in agreement. He’d been disappointed to find that the X-Box in his room didn’t make him feel like it once did. The delicious meals and the endless variety left him stuffed yet strangely unsatisfied. Part of him wanted to let go of that old life, but part of him wanted to scale down that wall and disappear into the wilds.

“It seems to be working out for Vanessa.” Kodiak said. “I’m happy for her. It gives me hope for the rest of you. There’s still a chance, you know. We made it, maybe some of your families did, too.”

“Maybe.” Harper said doubtfully. “Mr. Bastille has been broadcasting our names for over a week. I think they would have replied by now.

He changed the subject. “A retriever told me about an African safari park they stumbled across down in Texas. The fences were intact and there was a large herd of gazelles being stalked by lions. Elephants were bathing in the river and tigers were basking in the sun.”

“Was it Rye?” She asked.

“No, it was a Lady called Fat Nancy. She seemed nice enough. I asked about Rye, no one has heard from him since he left Gallatin. Some of them didn’t seem to like him very much. They say he’s a scoundrel and cheats at cards.”

“True.” Harper said. “He admitted as much.”

“Still, I like him. He helped us get away, I don’t think we could have without him.”

They sat in comfortable silence until the day faded into darkness and the chill night air sent them home.

41

Geeks and Freaks

Winter was coming but the tribe didn’t feel anxious about it. The homes were warm, heated with an inexhaustible supply of natural gas, the weather was mild and blizzards were unheard of. Thanksgiving was over and Christmas was three weeks away. Their animals didn’t seem to mind the new homes either. Bert could wander the acres of wilderness inside the walls, the bears were content in their back-yard habitats and Yewan became the house cat down at Tommy’s shop. The children had more or less settled in even though they didn’t really fit in. The same old clicks they’d all experienced in high school were still there. The jocks and the nerds, the stoners and the entitled. Lakota had the best schools and teachers in any of the walled cities and accordingly they had the largest number of students. Many parents moved there not only for the schools but also because it was the capital city. Work was easy to find and more and more positions were needed to fill in the growing government. Power and wealth were becoming important again.

“I want to show you something.” Harper said and ran to her room. “Wait here.”

They were in the big apartment above the jail. When Griz and Sheriff Collins had taken in the triplets they had expanded the little flat to encompass the whole floor. They had knocked out a few walls, added a bathroom and now all six of them lived there.

Analise and the boys didn’t look away from the TV, they were all mashing furiously on their controllers in a four-way Super Smash Brothers battle. Vanessa was the only one to jump up and admire the tooled leather armor Harper held out. It was a beautiful hard leather piece that had been formed to fit her perfectly. It contoured her waist and breasts, buckled along the sides and had boiled leather pieces riveted around the bottom to give it the appearance of a short skirt. Cody stole a quick glance to see what Vanessa was exclaiming about and did a double take. He got knocked out on screen but didn’t care. The cuirass was amazing, it looked like it could have been in a museum.

“Where did you get that?” he asked and hopped up to check it out.

Donny and Analise did too and fingered the fine leather, admired the quality workmanship.

“Griz made it.” She said. “Not only is he the best gunsmith in town, he’s pretty handy at armor, too.”

“Can he make me some?” Tobias asked. “I mean real Viking stuff?”

“Of course. He wants us all to come down to his shop so he can take some measurements. He said you can never have too many guns or too much armor. He saw the one I made and wanted to try his hand at working with leather. He said he’d make some for all of us if we wanted.”

The game was forgotten as she modeled the outfit, complete with arm guards and bindings for her legs. He’d improved her morning star, too.

“You’re ready to ride again.” Vanessa said.

“Yeah.” Harper replied a little wistfully. “I guess those days are over, though.”

At first the other kids wanted to befriend them, after all they were famous, but the friendships were forced and all they ever wanted was to hear the same stories over and over again. There were constant requests to show them their scars or tattoos or bring the animals to school and have them do tricks. It got old after a while. Vanessa may have had it harder than any of them. She was tiny and the ritual scars on her face couldn’t be covered up. No matter how often they saw her, they still turned their heads and stared. She wore dresses and long sleeves to cover the scars from the savage ones. Her hair was growing out and she’d started straightening it again but they still talked about her. Snickered behind her back. She was the smallest of the group of freaks and the daily insults were getting worse as they grew bolder.

Swan’s arm had healed up completely and she was already in trouble for fighting. A boy had made fun of her for the way she drank at the fountain. She cupped her hand, filled it and drank from it. It was how she drank from a creek, you never stuck your face in and lapped like a dog. It was too dangerous. When she snarled a warning at him, he’d laughed. When she broke his nose and threatened to squish his eyes out with her thumbs, he’d cried.

Nobody messed with Tobias or Analise, they looked too wild even though she’d tried to appear normal for the first month. He wouldn’t let even the slightest insult go unnoticed. He was quick to anger and even quicker to react. They learned to avoid him and not to whistle at his sister. He seemed to take great offense at that. Donny was almost invisible to them. He was quiet and stayed to the back of the room. Some tried to goad Cody but out of them all, he and Harper were the ones they accepted the most. Aside from some scars they usually kept covered, they seemed almost normal. It was easy to forget they were barely tamed savages.

The school was big enough that they only shared a few classes together and were usually spread out all across the campus. The worst class for all of them was gym. They had to wear shorts and t-shirts and if the kids ever forgot they weren’t the same as them, gym class brought it all back. The battle with the Savage Ones had left them all scratched and torn. Uneven slashes and skin ripped open from jagged teeth had been sewn without anesthesia. The infected wounds had healed but they didn’t heal pretty. Pink and white lines crisscrossed their legs and arms.

It was a Friday, dodge ball day, and Vanessa was actually glad. It was cold outside and she didn’t want to run around the track or play soccer. She was good at most sports but she excelled with the red rubber balls. Especially the one little one the size of a softball. The burn ball. If she got her hands on it, whoever she targeted was out. A year of slinging heavy steel spears had built up her muscles and her aim was true. She was always one of the last to be picked as they were choosing sides. Even though she was tiny and fast, could dodge the ball with crazy skill and was nearly impossible to hit nobody wanted to pick her. She was weird. As they were lining up to, the coach’s phone rang. He put it to his ear for a second, yelled at Goldberg to take charge and disappeared down the hall towards his office.

He was the boy Swan had punched. There was still some faint bruising around his eyes and his nose looked tender. Goldberg waited until he was sure the gym teacher was gone and announced they were playing a different version of the game. A better version.

“This is called whack a geek.” He said and his buddies guffawed. “The rules are simple. Throw balls at the freak until your arms get tired.”

He shoved Vanessa hard and she stumbled behind the basketball backboard.

“That’s not fair.” Someone said and he got pushed across the line too.

“Anybody else wanna join the freak team?” he asked and no one did.

Goldberg and his friends were the biggest boys in the class, they were seniors, and Vanessa recognized the meanness in them. The savage that hid beneath the veneer of civility. She’d seen it in Gordon but it had taken him a long time before he worked up the courage to hurt someone. To kill someone. Her savage wasn’t buried deep, it hovered right near the surface and she smiled her warrior smile. These boys thought they were going to hurt her, give her a few welts and sore spots from a rubber ball. She laughed and her grin got wider. She welcomed it. She wanted it.

“You can’t do this.” The boy who stood up for Vanessa said. “I’ll tell.”

“And I’ll toss you over the wall and let the zombies eat you.” Goldberg said. “Bet I won’t.”

They were hesitant to throw the first ball, thirty kids against two of the smallest in the class but when Goldberg whizzed the burn ball and it landed with a satisfying smack against the boys leg, his cry of pain sent the rest of the balls flying at the dodging figures. They bounced off the walls and were snatched back up to be thrown again. Vanessa dodged most of them and grabbed a big red one. She used it as a shield and smacked the balls out of the air with it. She laughed louder and pissed them off even more. They couldn’t land a solid hit, she moved too fast. The boy was already crying, big red welts covered his body and he’d curled up into fetal position.

Somebody dragged the basketball cart over and started throwing them. Then the footballs and softballs and finally the baseballs. They hurt when they hit and now they had so many, twenty balls at once were flying in at her. She moved to protect the boy, bouncing as many as she could off her dodge ball but they were aiming at her head, her legs and her body from both sides. Goldberg was getting angrier, he couldn’t make her stop smiling. He couldn’t make her cry out in pain. She’d taken a basketball to the face, blood poured from her nose but it only accented her shining white teeth. She was actually laughing at him, at his feeble attempts and it infuriated him. He ran to the storage closet and pulled the fast pitch machine out to the floor. It was loaded with baseballs and he aimed it right for her and flipped the switch. The first ball slammed against the concrete wall and exploded. The next one barely missed her head and the game was over. It would have killed her if it made contact but no once seemed to realize that but her. The others kept throwing, kept thinking it was a cruel game to teach the freak a lesson, whatever that lesson was supposed to be. She raised her voice, screamed her war cry and it rang through the school.

The tribe reacted instantly. Desks flew, papers were scattered, and door glass shattered as they bounced off the wall. Cody raced down the hall as doors flew open and the tribe joined him. Stunned students and teachers sat at their desks not knowing what happened, why the new students had dashed out of the room. Tobias and Cody slammed through the doors first and didn’t hesitate for an instant. They plowed into the crowd and started smashing heads with Donny half a step behind. They all carried weapons, things they’d grabbed on their dash to help their sister. Math books knocked people out of the way. A laptop computer sent keys and teeth flying across the gym floor. A soda can in each hand delivered devastating blows. Vanessa ducked under the ninety mile an hour baseball that would have shattered her ribcage and leaped for the desperate looking Goldberg. She drove both knees into his chest and pummeled him mercilessly with one punch after another. His nose exploded again as he tried to fend off the blows raining down. The machine twisted and sent bone breaking fastballs careening around the gym and off the screaming students. Swan snarled and jumped from one opponent to another, bashing them with a metal pencil sharpener she’d ripped off the wall on her way out of history class. Caleb, Landon and Clara all had metal toys in their hands and were laying knees and shins open to the bone. The tribe was brutal, they fought as a unit, side by side and back to back, until none of the others were left standing and all they heard was the shriek of the coach’s whistle.

They stopped swinging and all eyes darted for danger, for others coming to attack them. The backboard was shattered, windows and overhead lights were broken and teens were trying to get away from the savage kids. The whirr-thunk of the empty baseball machine wound down when Donny flipped it off.

“You okay?” Cody asked as Vanessa slid into the circle, all of them facing outward among the students laying on the ground.

“Yeah.” She said and pinched her nose to get it to stop bleeding. “You guys?”

“I broke a nail.” Swan complained. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried to grow them out.”

Teachers looked in at the carnage through the windows in the gym doors, wary of the flying baseballs. The new kids had laid out a whole class of students, most of them juniors or seniors. They were afraid to enter, afraid the out of control children would attack anything that moved. The coach finally stopped blowing his whistle and stood looking at them, the damage to the gym and the bloody mess of his class.

“Get out.” He said and pointed to the side door. “You don’t belong here.”

Vanessa made it a point to walk on top of Goldberg instead of around him as they picked their way through the groaning people. The ones that hadn’t been knocked unconscious hurried to move out of their way.

42

Fireside

Tobias was still angry. They were gathered in Runa’s backyard, watching the polar bears laze in the pool.

“They had it coming.” He said again. “They started it.”

“And we finished it.” Cody said with a little exasperation “I know, you’ve told us a million times. The question is, now what do we do?”

“I don’t think they’ll bother us anymore.” Analise said. “Not after that ass whooping they took.”

But they might bother the animals. Donny signed. They might poison them to get back at us.

“He’s right.” Harper said. “Look what Gordon did to Teddy.”

“I say we get out of here.” Tobias said. “We don’t need this place, they have electricity, big deal. Who needs it? We did just fine without it.”

“What about the triplets?” Swan asked. “You want to drag them back out there? They were doing good until we showed up.”

“Well, they can stay.” He shot back. “I meant us.”

“Me, too?” Vanessa asked. “You want me to leave my dad?”

“Nobody has to go anywhere.” Gunny said as he came through the gate in the fence with Lacy, Runa and others following him. “We’ve just come from the school, heard their side of the story. Now I’d like to hear yours.”

They told him and the adults nodded. It was pretty much as they expected. They had seen the damage and heard the defensive stories but the big picture was easy to piece together. Older kids started bullying the odd ball and she fought back. Her friends came to help and the bullies got their asses handed to them. It happened. The difference this time was the ferocity of the attack. The teens could have killed Vanessa or the boy she was shielding. What started out as meanness and cruelty had elevated quickly. The tribe answered with overwhelming force and had put a hurting on some of the older teens. It wasn’t just cuts and scrapes, a black eye or two. There were broken bones, missing teeth and slashes that required stitches. Vanessa was the only one of the group that had any injuries and that was only because she’d been outnumbered thirty to one.

“The parents are concerned.” Lacy said. “The school board doesn’t want to let you go back. They think you were too long in the wilds.”

“They started it.” Tobias said defiantly.

“They could have killed her with the pitching machine.” Kodiak said evenly. “They were trying, they were shooting at her. None of them were ever in any danger of dying, we weren’t trying to kill them or they’d be dead.”

Gunny looked at the ground to hide his grin. He liked this kid. Hell, he liked all of them.

“I know.” Lacy said. “And I know it’s not fair but if you go back, it won’t get any better. You’re the outsiders.”

“I don’t want to go back anyway.” Tobias mumbled. “It was a waste of time.”

“There are options.” Lacy continued. “There is home schooling or apprenticeship programs. You can start working and earning a living. We can get you into any career you want.”

“We just wanted to be normal kids again.” Harper said. “We thought we could go back to like it was, like they did.”

They talked for another half hour and told the grownups they’d figure it out. Donny was already working at Tommy’s shop, Harper wanted to be a nurse, Tobias and Analise wanted to be chefs, Kodiak a veterinarian, Vanessa wanted to finish school and Swan had just shrugged when they asked her. The grownups left and they told them they’d let them know tomorrow so arrangements could be made.

Darkness fell and Cody started a fire to chase the chill as they sat around and discussed options. Nobody was very excited about their prospects. They hardly ever saw each other anymore except on weekends and a little at school. If they started jobs, they’d be just like the grownups. Work all day, take care of house when you got home, watch something on a DVD and fall asleep just to wake up and do it all over again. Life inside the walls was pretty much what it had been before the fall.

“I’m going south.” Swan announced.

“What do you mean?” Tobias asked. “South Dakota? South America? South Park?”

She flicked an acorn at him.

“South of here.” She said. “I’m going to check out that safari park in Texas. If they’re still caged, I’m going to set them free.”

“That’s a long way.” Cody said. “It’ll take weeks.”

“Yep.” She replied and stared into the flames. “Maybe months.”

There was silence around the fire as they contemplated her words. They knew what they meant.

When are you leaving? Donny signed.

Swan looked up at the moon. It was almost full and the stars were twinkling brightly. No rain, no snow.

“There’s no time like the present.” She said and stood.

Donny nodded and looked at Analise. She smiled and he saw the answer in her eyes.

Meet you at the front gate he signed, touched foreheads with Vanessa then slipped off into the darkness.

The twins exchanged a look and an almost imperceptible nod. “Don’t leave without us.” Tobias said and they both hugged the dark girl then went inside to grab armor, weapons and saddlebags.

“Are you going?” Vanessa asked the two hunkered by the fire.

“Yes, I think so.” Cody said and turned to Harper. “This isn’t the place I dreamed it would be. I think I expected too much.”

“I think we all did.” She said. “It isn’t a bad town, most of the people are wonderful and I think it’s good for Landon and Caleb and Clara but not for us. They might be right, we were out there too long.”

“Let me say goodbye to them.” She said. “I’ll be there.”

She hugged Vanessa long and hard then she too disappeared.

“We’ll miss you.” Cody said when he and Vanessa were alone with the fire. “But I would never ask you to come.”

“I know.” She said.

He stood, placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment then went to grab his own fresh new armor and weapons.

43

Lakota Left

Kodiak stood tall and straight as Gunny approached him, Swan next to him. The rest of the tribe made final adjustments to their gear and checked straps on saddles as they waited for Harper, the last to arrive.

“How did you know we were leaving?” Cody asked. “We didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“I’d gotten used to having Zero and the wolves underfoot.” Gunny said with a smile. “It’s easy to notice when they’re not there.”

Zero padded forward at his name, insisted on an ear scratch from the man that smelled of tobacco and gunpowder.

They wore their armor and had braided and adorned their hair again. Swan had painted her face and was eager to go. Kodiak slid his war hammer through a strap on Otis’ saddle. The big bear sniffed the ground where someone had left an intriguing scent. He chuffed and raked a paw over the spot.

“We can figure something out.” Gunny said. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I think we do.” Cody said. “Mrs. Meadows was right. We’ve been out in the wild too long. We like it out there. It seems right and natural. Being inside the walls has felt wrong ever since we got here.”

Gunny knew he wasn’t going to change their minds and it didn’t even occur to him to try to stop them by force. These kids weren’t kids anymore. They were fifteen and sixteen years old. Kids that age were getting married and starting families in the Hutterite community. They’d done more and seen more than most of the people in the compound.

Harper came out of the darkness leading Bert and the triplets followed. They were in their armor, had their weapons and the foxes trotted by their sides.

Gunny opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off before he could protest.

“They’re not coming.” She said. “They wanted to send us off properly. As warriors.”

The goodbyes took a few minutes and they waved as the band of children and their companion animals ambled out of the walled city. The foxes whined, they wanted to join the caravan.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.” Gunny told the little ones and turned back towards the town.

They were almost run over by Vanessa as she slid gracefully off Ziggy and wrapped them in an embrace.

“Love you guys.” She yelled over her shoulder as she ran alongside her ostrich for a few steps then swung into the saddle.

“Wait up!” she yelled and zipped through the gate as it closed. “I’m coming!”

Epilogue

The Prophet

His body was covered in sores and bug bites. The stink coming off of him would turn a buzzard’s stomach. His filthy hair was long and wispy like his beard. His teeth were yellowed and his gums were infected. The undead didn’t know what to make of him in his rotting animal skins and the living shunned him as a lunatic.

He was only seeking to spread his gospel of the Feral Children when he’d stumbled into the guard on watch. He was shoved roughly to his knees at the edge of the fire.

“Caught this thing prowling around the perimeter. Thought it was one of the undead until I heard it humming a tune.” Rocky told his assembled crew. “Course, I don’t think even the zombies smell as bad as this one. Gimme another beer, David Lee.”

They let out a round of laughter as Meeker shoved the Prophet flat on his face. He groaned and ran his tongue over the tooth he’d felt loosen and spit a glob of bloody saliva. This band of outlaws definitely needed to hear the good news. He’d been following the glow of their campfire for miles, eager to share the tale of the Feral Children and have them join his crusade.

His preaching to the undead had not been well received. They would swarm towards him when he approached, like they were eager to hear his words but always stopped short. They stood there swaying listlessly or milling about but soon lost interest in what he had to tell them. He prayed for them anyway then continued his journey. He’d covered hundreds of miles since he’d taken up the cause. When he tired, he rested, often waking up with the undead within spitting distance. He no longer feared them; he only wished they were more receptive to his words.

He pushed himself to his knees and spoke. “Brothers, if I may, I have a wonderful tale to tell you of fearsome warriors with gentle souls. It will lighten your burden and free your…”

He doubled over from the kick in the guts delivered by the one called Meeker.

“Shut up, filth.”

The men laughed as he vomited from the blow.

The Prophet pushed back up from the ground and drug a filthy hand across his mouth to wipe the drool from his wispy mustache.

“As I was saying.”

Another kick to the midsection and he groaned and curled himself up into a ball.

“Let the whack job talk, he came from somewhere and it might lead us to easy pickings.” David Lee said. “It’s boring as hell out here, might as well have a few laughs before we kill the poor bastard.”

One of them grabbed his hair and drug him to his feet. “Speak your peace, freak.”

The Prophet swayed unsteadily. He looked around for something to use as a pulpit. He settled for the stump of a tree at the edge of the campfire.

He raised his hands towards the heavens. Someone flung a half empty beer can in his direction that barely missed his head.

Distracted by the ranting of the Prophet the men hooted and hollered. They hurled insults at him as he tried to preach over their voices. The men never heard or saw the horde of undead as they swept through the camp, drawn by the shouting of the Prophet.

The dead swarmed through the camp and fell on the group of outlaws. They flowed around the Prophet like water and he wondered briefly if that’s how Noah felt when he parted the seven seas. No, wait that was that dude Jonah that did that, he corrected himself.

They fell on the drunken raiders before most of them could pull a gun or blade from its sheath. Jagged teeth tore into tender flesh as a few ineffective shots rang out and the Prophet continued his sermon.

He lowered his arms and said “Amen.”

He stared at the carnage before him. They had been bad men and mocked his story of redemption. God had smitten them for it.

Oh, well, I tried. He shrugged and began pilfering through their belongings.

He whistled a tune as he shouldered a weeks’ worth of supplies and left the carnage behind him. Maybe the next group he encountered would be more receptive he thought optimistically when he told them the incredible story of angels disguised as children and their fearsome beasts.

Author’s Note

Wesley Norris

Hi guys and girls! I hope you’ve enjoyed the tale of The Feral Children as much as we enjoyed telling it to you. This is the story I’ve been waiting to tell since Book 1. It’s been an incredible journey for the tribe, and I feel fortunate to have been a part of it. What comes next for the tribe? I like to think that they are out there free and happy. Maybe they find that other zoo and Bert gets a girlfriend. All I know is that our tribe of unlikely heroes accomplished amazing things with their will and fortitude. We can all take something away from that.

As of this writing the sizzler reel for Zombie Road has been filmed. I got to play Bastille, my wife was Sheriff Collins and one of my sons was Stabby. Keep your fingers crossed this works out for David and we all get to see Gunny and Jessie on the screen someday. Who knows, maybe the Feral Children will be next!

If you are wondering who this mysterious Rye character is then it’s your lucky day. Keep reading, there’s a short story in the back of this book that follows him on a retrieval. I’m excited to announce there’s a brand-new chapter in the Zombie Road saga centered on the retrievers and Rye is the main character. Look for the first book Deadline sometime in early 2021.

Thanks to the incredible David A. Simpson for his faith and trust in me and allowing me to journey down the Zombie Road with him. He’s truly a one of a kind guy and if you happen to see him tearing up the roads in the ZR Mustang or at a convention, stop in and say hi, buy a book and chat with him. They say you should never meet your heroes, well; he’s the exception to the rule in every way. Thanks buddy.

We met a young lady at Walker Stalker 2019 in Atlanta named Kassie. I’ve never seen anyone as excited as her to hold a book in her hands and her infectious attitude is something I’ll always carry with me. She was so excited when I told her that there would be a character named after her in this book that played a pivotal role. I hope we did you justice young lady.

Thank you, Tony Bowman and family, for the insight on autism and the inspiration for the Spivey Clan. Tony is one of my favorite writers of all kinds of twisted tales and if you haven’t read his work, then you are missing out on a real treat.

Thank you Runa Iren Nummedal for the help with the Norwegian translations and the folklore.

Thank you to all the people working behind the scenes to make a good book into a great one. Alina G, for your tireless efforts, thank you. The always excellent Eric A. Shelman for the awesome narration that gives these characters a voice, thank you. Thanks to all of the fans that drive this series and threw their names in the hat for characters. Many of you will see your own names mentioned in here. Thanks for playing along. We can’t kill all of you, but we killed as many as we could! You guys and girls are amazing.

I’d be remiss not to mention my own band of Feral Children. Wynema, Ryan, Garrett, DJ, Landon and granddaughter Harper as well as all of their friends who helped shape the personalities of the Tribe. I love you all!

Most importantly, thank you to the beautiful lady that I call my wife, Shannon. I wouldn’t be doing this without her love and support. She’s been there the whole way with a pat on the back or a kick in the backside, depending on which I needed most at the time.

Wesley R. Norris

August 1, 2020

Authors Note

David A. Simpson

What a tale! This book wraps up their story and Wesley knocked it out of the park. They were too long in the wild and going back to a mundane and boring life just wasn’t in the cards for them. Who knows what they’ll find down in Texas? They are older and wiser now. They are no longer children, no longer think like children and no longer act like children. I think tales of their exploits will be told and retold around fires for generations. They’ll probably wind up being tall tales that no one believes as true, like Paul Bunyon or Pecos Bill. I think they might head up to the plains States and start a new hunter/gatherer society that follows the great herds of buffalo and deer. If you are a reader of the Zombie Road series, I think you may see them again as Jessie tries to find the right time and place to be in.

Thanks for sticking with us through their perilous journey, I hope you found it as fun to read as it was for us to write.

All the latest info can be found in the David Simpson Fan Club on Facebook, come on over and join the rest of the folks.

Thanks again and as always, live life, have fun and don’t get hit by a bus.

David A. Simpson

09/16/2020

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44

Burrito Bushido

A Zombie Road Short Story

WESLEY R. NORRIS

Middle Of Nowhere, Texas

July, 10 Months After The Outbreak

I dropped a gear and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, straddling the center line of the highway. I knew I wasn’t going to outrun them, but I wasn’t going to make it any easier for these assholes either. The road was too long, too straight and too flat for me to pull far enough ahead that they’d give up and let me be on my way with the priceless treasure nestled in the back. There was nothing but low scrub and cactus on either side of the narrow blacktop, so I wasn’t going to be able to hide from them either.

Bo barked at the driver of the Ford Raptor as he pulled alongside the passenger’s side and aimed a shotgun at the Armadillo, my armored up silver Jeep Wrangler. I wasn’t worried about him shooting at us with that scattergun, the windows were bulletproof and the flat bodied design of the Jeep was ideally suited to armoring. The body panels were reinforced with military grade plate armor and a layer of ballistic ceramic on the backside. The open top was covered in a titanium alloy mesh, a prototype material found in one of the abandoned military bases across the country. A fifty-caliber round would put a dent in it, but it wasn’t coming through. What I lost in speed from the additional weight of the upgrades was kind of a moot point anyway as the Jeep wasn’t a real fast vehicle to begin with.

Another car, a convertible SS Camaro approached on the driver’s side. The passenger aimed what looked like a MP-5 submachine gun at me. I gave him the finger and tried to swerve into him, hoping to push him off into the desert scrub. As the Armadillo’s tires squealed in protest from my maneuver, I was rewarded with sixty pounds of pissed off Australian Shepherd landing in my lap. Bo growled at my driving. I shoved him back to the passenger seat and growled right back at him. The Camaro veered wide onto the shoulder to avoid me and the driver fought the high performance sports car for control on the loose gravel. In my rearview I saw a Cadillac come flying out of the dust behind me, a belt fed machine gun mounted on the hood. Terrific, I thought.

Another Ford Raptor roared down the shoulder to my left narrowly missing the Camaro as the driver fought to get asphalt back under the tires of the muscle car. Tumbleweeds and cactus were tossed in the air like confetti by the passing truck and the Raptor veered in front of me. The grinning jackass manning the bed mounted machinegun actually waved at me, before tilting the gun to aim at my face. The Camaro slid back into position on the driver’s side. I glanced at the ugly mug staring at me from the sports cars passenger seat. I was boxed in. The Armadillo was pretty heavily armored but a few armor piercing rounds from that thirty cal through the run flat tires or radiator at point blank range would leave me stranded a long way from home.

I brake checked the Cadillac riding my bumper, just because I’m a dick sometimes. The Caddy driver slammed on his brakes to keep from eating my rear bumper and I swear I heard him yell something ugly about my mother over the roar of the engines and the hum of off road tires on the weather beaten asphalt.

I wanted to go north, but they forced me back south. I’d play their game for now. I wasn’t out of the fight yet though. I had the M&P .45 on my hip and its big brother, the Smith & Wesson Governor in a holster attached to the console. Not to mention the armory in the vault that stretched from the tailgate to the back of the front seats along with a few other nasty surprises. Oh, and Bo, never forget Bo, he wasn’t a large dog, but he was hell in a fight and quicker than a pissed off rattlesnake with the temperament to match.

We passed back through Alpine, Texas and continued our trek towards the Mexican border towns. We passed through empty ghost towns and blew right by the few shriveled undead we passed. My new friends kept their guns on me the whole trip, just waiting for an excuse to rain fire down on me and Bo. I bided my time, slowed down every chance I got, just to piss them off, and waited for the opportunity to turn the table on these clowns.

I’m a retriever. You can call me Rye. I’ve been called a lot worse. I’m one of those people you hire to go after the things you can’t live without but don’t want to risk your own neck for. Priceless paintings, museum pieces, grandmas fine China, the family Bible, it doesn’t matter, I’ll get it for you if you are willing to pay the price. I’m the CEO of World’s End Acquisitions and Bo is my partner and Vice CEO. We operate out of a log cabin a short drive through some of the most inhospitable terrain imaginable near Carrizozo, New Mexico.

The undead still roam this isolated country, but they aren’t the threat they once were, especially in the southwest where the weather and the scavenger animals are relentless. Although, there’s still a lot of fresh and fast ones who’ve been trapped indoors in the bigger cities where most of my retrieves end up being. Those are the best paying jobs but also the most dangerous. One bite and it’s game over. No cure, no antidote just a slow painful turn into a mindless zombie. But if it was easy, anyone could do it. As a rule though, it’s never safe to underestimate any of them. A bite on the ankle from a desiccated dried out husk of a zombie buried in the sand is just as lethal as a bite from a freshly turned one.

Bo and I were on a job to retrieve an extremely valuable set of arrowheads, known as the Livermore Collection, from the Museum of the Big Bend in Alpine, Texas. The obnoxious douche Colonel that hired me was based out of a fortified compound in Idaho, he called Valhalla. Nice place, but he didn’t strike me as a real military man and most of what came out of his mouth sounded like bullshit. Still, it was paying work and it had been a long time since I’d ventured this far south so I took the contract. It should have been a simple in and out job, but my luck never runs that way.

Everything was going to plan until these asshats ambushed me from out of nowhere. I had a sneaky suspicion that we were after the same prize. Retrievers tended to live short lives due to the nature of our work. It wasn’t uncommon for a client to hire more than one retriever for a job since most of us operated on a cash on delivery system. No retrieve, no pay. Most of the retrievers I know are good people. A bunch of loosely wired adrenaline junkies and thrill seekers, but there were quite a few shady ones out there too running the wastelands. If the zombies didn’t get you, or the bandits, or the cannibals, can’t forget those guys, then a shootout with an unscrupulous rival retriever usually ensued.

I was gonna have a word with the Colonel when I got back. I made it very plain that I only took jobs where I was the primary. I didn’t need a bunch of second stringers trying to poach my job. Of course, I didn’t mind occasionally poaching one of theirs. Don’t judge me, I told you I could be a dick sometimes.

We rolled through the gates of a fortified, ramshackle border town. It wasn’t much of a gate, probably wouldn’t stand up to an assault from a few hundred determined zombies, just an old chain link slider on a weathered rubber tire. No one manned the guns mounted on top of the crate container walls. The guards were probably getting sloshed in the cantina. I wished I was with them.

The population was sparse here, even before the outbreak. The machine guns sat solitary under their canvas tarps. Old men sat under the stoops of ragged porches, seeking respite from the blazing sun sipping warm beer, long past its expiration date. Skinny kids and skinnier dogs played in the street. Bo let out a low growl as we passed them. He didn’t like other dogs, or most people for that matter. Half the time he barely tolerated me.

The lead Raptor pulled to a stop in front of a beautiful Spanish style villa. It looked out of place considering the poverty evident in the rest of the town. The bandits kept the guns on me as they ordered me to disarm and exit the vehicle. I did, mostly. There was still the Benchmade folding knife clipped in my belt at the small of my back and a .22 derringer tucked inside my boot.

“Bo, guard.” I pointed at the back-cargo area where the felt lined case with the arrowheads rested. Bo slipped into the back and disappeared from sight.

I stepped from the Armadillo and raised my hands and got a good look at my new amigos. They were an ugly bunch. Dirty, unshaven and they stunk like three day old road kill. Not at all the dashing, roguish type like yours truly. I quickly gave them nicknames. Happy was the gunner who waved at me. Bumper Humper for the Cadillac driver. The Camaro SS guys were Hans and Franz the Nazi twins. Raptor drivers I called them Buzzard and Vulture. The ugly bastard carrying the short-barreled shotgun, Shotgun Guy. Gimme a break, its stressful having a bunch of guns pointed at your favorite person and it’s the best I could come up with at the moment.

“Guys, I think there’s a mis-.” Happy slammed his rifle butt into my stomach. I doubled over and almost barfed. I stood back up to stare down the pie plate sized barrel of a shotgun stuck in my face.

“Walk.” Shotgun Guy said gesturing towards the villa with the shotgun.

They fanned out behind me in a semicircle, guns pointed in my direction. I am never in favor of guns pointed in my direction, for the record. I prefer to do the gun pointing. Shotgun Guy jabbed me between the shoulder blades and nudged me towards the door of the villa.

“Take off your boots.” Shotgun Guy ordered.

“What?” I asked, a little confused.

“Take off your damned boots. They ain’t allowed in the house.” He jabbed me again with the shotgun.

I leaned against the door and pushed off my Tony Llama’s, saw my big toe peeking through the hole in my sock. I hoped they weren’t gonna steal them. They were my favorite pair. Ostrich skin and broke in just right. I watched as the one I nicknamed Buzzard pocketed my derringer and placed one of my boots next to his to see if they would fit. Shit, looked like a perfect fit. I heard the shuffling as they all took their shoes off too. Then I was rudely shoved through the door.

I entered the Spanish style house and I can honestly say, for once I was speechless. The interior was decorated like the inside of a Japanese samurai fan boys wet dream. A full suit of Japanese samurai armor graced the foyer. A young Hispanic girl dressed as a geisha, lowered her eyes as she walked by carrying a tray with ornate Japanese cups and a tea pitcher.

The first floor was an open floor plan, divided off with sliding doors complete with rice paper windows. More girls, in geisha dress, faces painted, and hair pinned up with ornamental pins, scurried around the room. Potted bamboo and bonsai trees stood arrayed around a small bubbling fountain in the center of the room. Japanese art adorned the walls and Oriental rugs covered the hardwood floors. All that was missing was a tiger wearing a solid gold collar. Scratch that, the big cat paced restlessly back and forth in a gilded gold cage. Soft music was piped through the speakers, reminiscent of what I’d heard in Oriental massage parlors. You know, the kind usually found near truck stops and seedier areas of big cities, back before the apocalypse. Again, don’t judge me.

My sock footed entourage directed me towards a sliding door. They hadn’t bothered to frisk me. I’m not a guy you should trust when you tell me to disarm.

A geisha darted in front of me and slid the door open smoothly on its wooden track. The sock footed thugs took up position around the door and ushered me through. I stepped into the room and took a moment to admire the nice rug I was standing on as the door slid shut behind me. I had a customer that would pay top dollar for something like it.

“Don’t try nothing stupid.” Shotgun Guy warned me from the other side of the thin partition.

Again, I was struck speechless. Sitting on a pillow behind a low table sat the ugliest damn Mexican I’ve ever seen. He was trimming a bonsai tree with a small pair of scissors. He was decked out in a red kimono, his long greasy hair tied in a top knot. He had a pair of taped up reading glasses perched on his nose. On the table before him sat a daisho stand that held a Japanese katana and a shorter wakizashi. I took note of the chrome 1911 with the ivory grips, scrimshawed with a rising sun, lying on the pillow near his right side. A tanto was tucked into the sash of his kimono. Flickering candles gave the room a soft glow. A low shelf to his left held four human skulls. They were polished bright, and a small brass tag underneath with their names engraved identified them as retrievers. One of them I knew personally, the rest by reputation. This was not a good sign.

“Sit.” He ordered as he set the scissors to the side and eyed his work on the bonsai with a practiced eye.

I didn’t. I stared at him defiantly.

“Sit or I’ll have my men drag you out and break your kneecaps.” He didn’t look up from his bonsai.

I like my aching knees just like they are so I sat cross legged on the floor opposite the table, my eyes stealing glances at the forty-five.

“I am Pascal. You may call me...,” he paused for dramatic effect, like a bad James Bond villain. “Pascal.”

He erupted in the batshit craziest laugh I’ve ever heard, then just as quickly calmed himself. He snapped his fingers. The door slid open behind me and a geisha darted in and removed the tree.

“You are Mr. Rye,” he said. “I have heard of you.”

I’d heard of him too. He was a retriever in name only. Mostly, he was a bandit, slaver, drug dealer and smuggler. Rumor was he used retriever work to scope out his client’s towns and sold the information to other bandits. I’d heard he was eccentric, but I think that was a generous description. This guy was a few eggs short of an omelet.

“I assume the Colonel also hired you to retrieve the Livermore Collection. I always welcome a little competition, it keeps me on my toes, but you, senor, have trespassed into my territory. You should have shown proper respect and saw me before you scavenged right in my backyard.” He said as he poured us each a small cup of sake’ from a bamboo wrapped jug.

“Drink,” he urged. I watched him sip delicately from his cup. Pretty sure he wasn’t poisoning me, I shot mine like it was Mescal and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

He shook his head and refilled my cup. “Sake’ should be sipped and relished not guzzled like cheap whiskey.”

I shot mine again, just to spite him and felt the warm glow of the rice liquor spread through my body.

He chuckled to himself and didn’t bother to refill my cup. Stingy bastard. The stuff was pretty good and with the way this day was going, I could use another drink or four.

“In the future, if you wish to retrieve in my territory, you will come see me first and we will negotiate terms.” He looked at me and I swear I could see the crazy just dancing behind his heavy lizard-lidded eyes.

“You bet. Sorry for the misunderstanding. I’ll see myself out.” I had no intention of following his orders; of course, I just wanted to get away from this psycho. I went to stand up, glad to be on my way, knowing deep down it wasn’t gonna be that easy. It never was.

He placed his hand on the katana. “Sit down!” He snapped.

I eased my hand towards the Benchmade still clipped behind my back. I was itching to gut this bastard and take my chances with his boys outside.

“If I draw my sword, it will taste blood before it is resheathed.” He said softly. “And should you best me; my men will cut you down.”

I sat. Patience, Rye. Miss Campbell, my go to source for weapons and gear back in Lakota always told me my hot head and poor judgment was gonna get me killed one day. I hoped she was wrong.

He continued. “As I was saying, in the future, you will see me before working in my territory.”

“Got it,” I said. Irritation seeped into my voice.

“In the present, we must deal with the affront to my honor.” He slid the tanto from his sash and laid it on the table before him.

He snapped his finger and the door slid open again. The geisha entered and set a scene straight out of your nightmares on the end of the table.

A zombie head sat wedged atop what looked like a big pickle jar filled with murky fluid. I couldn’t make out was bobbing in the liquid. The putrid head stunk something awful. Sagging flesh hung in folds on the cheeks. The remaining eyeball was black and lifeless, the other a nasty empty socket. It gnashed its rotting, broken teeth at me.

“I will accept the first joint of your pinky finger. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you choose which hand.” He slid the tanto towards me.

I reached for it, ready to make my move, when the door slid open behind me and Shotgun Guy jabbed that Remington into the back of my skull. Damn, I was really starting to dislike these guys.

“If I refuse?” I asked him.

He gripped the hilt of his katana. “Then your skull will join the others who dared to insult me. Since you are of some reputation and were kind enough to deliver the merchandise to my front door, I offer you the honorable alternative. Take it, not many get the option.”

I gulped and tried to buy myself some time to think. Time to act and get myself out of this jam. I blurted out the first thing that popped in my head.

“Are you having some kind of identity crisis here? Geographically confused? Bat shit crazy? I mean, obviously you’re Hispanic, but you have this whole Japanese vibe going on. I mean, I’m not judging you or anything, but this shit is just weird.”

He didn’t like my lame attempt at a joke. He nodded at Shotgun Guy. Shotgun guy swatted me across the side of the head with the barrel of the shotgun. Blood filled my mouth and I felt at least a couple of teeth loosen in their sockets.

Tough crowd. I rubbed my jaw. Damn that hurt.

“Do you have another joke Mr. Rye?” He smirked over his steepled fingers, instantly reminding me of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons.

“I always have jokes,” I said through my swollen mouth. “Have you ever considered changing your name to Burrito Bushido? Maybe take your act on the road? I’m sure you’d be a big hit on the drag queen scene with that lovely silk dress and all.” I asked. Stupidly. Sometimes I just don’t know when to shut up.

This time I got the shotgun cracked over the top of my head. Ouch, that was good for at least a mild concussion, but at least I heard Shotgun Guy choke back a laugh. If I could stand the pain, I’d have these guys rolling in the floor laughing before long.

I wobbled for a few seconds, then shook it off as best I could and ignored the blood running down my cheek from my cracked noggin.

Pascal leaned forward. “You are amusing, I’ll grant you that but this is no joking matter. Do it, or I take your head.”

I picked up the tanto and laid my left hand on the table. Pascal snapped his fingers and a geisha appeared with a small brazier filled with glowing embers. A flat piece of steel glowed red in the bed of coals.

I lined up the blade with the first joint of my left pinky finger. Manic glee glistened in his eyes as his façade dropped and his crazy shined through.

“Just give me the tip senor.” He said in heavily accented English. Everyone laughed at his joke. Hell, if it wasn’t my finger about to get amputated, I’d have laughed too. Dick jokes are funny, I don’t care who you are.

I closed my eyes, held my breath and pushed the blade down hard. It was razor sharp and I barely felt it as the tip of my finger was severed. I dropped the tanto and grabbed my wounded paw to staunch the bleeding. Buzzard and Vulture stepped forward and grabbed me, while Shotgun Guy jabbed that shotgun against my spine. They held my arm out while the geisha with the brazier cauterized the stump with the piece of cherry red metal. The feeling in my finger came back in a hurry, and I’m not ashamed to say, I howled like a run over dog as my damaged nerve endings fired on all cylinders. I almost blacked out from the pain. Only stubbornness and pride kept me from crying like a baby. That shit hurt. A lot.

They let me go and I reached for the sake’. I turned the jug up and drained the whole thing. My stomach burned with a fire that matched the burning in my hand as the potent liquor hit my system.

Pascal picked up the fingertip and tossed it into the air. For a second there, I thought he was gonna catch it in his mouth like a grape. He let it fall into his open palm, then flicked it into the open mouth of the snarling zombie head. It chewed on my dismembered digit for a few seconds, and then I heard a plop as it went down its throat into the jar below. Well, that answered my question about what was floating in the jar.

“Now, you will turn over the merchandise to me and I will ensure the good Colonel gets it and you Mr. Rye, can be on your way.” Pascal said, once again playing the warrior monk role.

Hans and Franz dragged me to my feet towards the front door. Pascal rose smoothly, patted his pickle jar zombie on the head and slid the katana into his sash.

He gestured. “After you, Mr. Rye.”

I shuffled in my sock feet towards the door. Hans and Franz flanked me, tightly gripping my arms. The Raptor boys flanked us with their submachine guns ready. Shotgun Guy kept the Remington against my spine. I was almost flattered they thought I was that dangerous. The geisha all bowed as we passed and one of them darted forward to open the outside door. I winked at her and was rewarded with a blush in her cheeks before she quickly lowered her eyes again.

We entered the yard. I looked longingly at the ‘Dillo, wishing I could get my hands on just one of my guns.

“Retrieve my merchandise.” Pascal motioned to Happy.

“I’m sure you have your vehicle booby trapped, where is the deactivation device?” Pascal asked me.

There was a row of rocker switches between the sun visors. The one in the middle was labeled SELF DESTRUCT in big red letters. The Up position was labeled Armed and the Down position Disarmed. Of course, I wasn’t that dumb in case you’re wondering. No one would put it in plain sight like that. However, a lot of the types of people I was concerned with stealing my stuff were that dumb, but I wasn’t sharing that little nugget of information with this finger collecting asshole.

“Overhead rocker switch, can’t miss it.” I tried not to smirk.

Happy opened the door and was rewarded with a face full of fur covered razor blades. He screamed in terror as Bo tore into him, darting in quick to take snack sized bites out of his flesh while he shrieked and flailed under Bo’s assault. The others raised their guns towards the fracas, but didn’t fire for fear of hitting Happy.

Bo continued to savage him until I yelled. “Bo, hide!”

Bo broke off his attack and dashed into the brush in an overgrown neighboring yard. They fired at my furry friend, but never touched a hair on him. I wasn’t too worried about him. Bo could take care of himself and was no stranger to being shot at. Neither of us was. We seemed to have a knack for getting shot at.

Happy stood unsteadily to his feet. Blood poured from the numerous bite marks and he was missing most of an ear. Made me feel a little better about my finger. Not much, but a little.

With Bo safely out of the way, I activated the switch in my belt buckle. The real self-destruct switch. The one hooked to two pounds of C4 plastic explosive located under the gun vault, right above the oversized fuel tank. The gun vault that had a few thousand rounds of ammo and a dozen grenades, some of them white phosphorous inside of it. Plus, the six jerry cans of fuel in the rack above the rear bumper. It would be one hell of an explosion. Let one of them push the clutch in and turn the key and it was the Fourth of July.

Happy peered cautiously inside the door of the Armadillo, just in case I had a honey badger or something equally as viscous just waiting to finish what Bo started. Satisfied, he climbed up in the seat.

His eyes were naturally drawn to the switch that glowed red, indicating the self-destruct was armed. Here’s a secret. It always glows red and always says Armed. It has nothing to do with the transmitter in my belt buckle for the C4. That particular rocker switch is connected to a device called the Mousetrap. It was designed by a half crazy, sneaky bastard who goes by the handle of Wirebender back in Lakota. Tommy and the boys in the Lakota truck shop installed it for me when they armored up the Jeep.

I watched Happy flip the switch to Disarm. I heard the twin soft pops and he fell out of the Jeep in agony, clutching his groin and screaming for his mama.

The Mousetrap was simply a twenty-two-caliber derringer mounted in a steel box. An electronic actuator squeezed the trigger when activated and fired both barrels straight up through the seat. Right into the nether regions of would be thieves. Don’t judge me. I’ve already told you I can be a dick sometimes and I don’t tolerate people who try to steal stuff from me that I’ve already stolen. Ever.

Everyone, including me, cringed as Happy mourned his shot off manhood. He was on his knees cursing and wailing. His hands covered his bloody crotch. Pascal screamed in frustration and strode toward the fallen man. The katana slid smoothly from its scabbard. A flash of steel in the midday sun and Happy and his head were separated from each other. Happy’s head spun like a top when it hit the ground, a look of pure surprise frozen on his face when it stopped its spin and stared lifelessly at the sky.

Pascal spun and headed in my direction. I saw the blood dripping from the yard-long razor sharp blade and the crazed look in his eyes. Uh-oh.

“Enough games!” He yelled, spittle hitting me in the face.

Sneaky bastard that I sometimes am, I now held the Benchmade folding knife in my right hand in a reverse grip. Happy’s unfortunate accident gave me the distraction I was looking for to slip it from my belt and flick open the three and half inch blade.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of black and white fur moving near the corner of the villa. Bo was probably pissed they’d shot at him and he wasn’t the best tempered dog on a good day.

Pascal glared at me, I glared right back. I hovered my left index finger over the switch in my belt buckle. Holding it down for five seconds manually overrode the control module for the explosives. This place would be a smoking crater. I’d do it before I let this asshole steal from me and take my head.

“I will have what’s mine.” He said, seething with rage. “I’ll round up every child in this village and send them one at a time into that ugly beast of a machine until all of your booby traps are spent.”

“I’ll send us all to hell first amigo.” I really didn’t like this guy and considered blowing us up just to get him to shut the hell up. I pressed my finger to the button in my belt buckle, unsure if I even had five seconds before he lopped my head off with that oversized pig sticker.

His men took a step back. I guess they’d seen this show before and didn’t want to be in the way of that razor-sharp katana when it started swinging.

“Then we’ll kill each other.” He pronounced kill like keel. He raised his sword and I pushed the button, counting off the seconds in my head.

I was only at two Mississippi when he swung. Everyone was watching to see my head fly through the air, so nobody was paying attention when Bo raced from his hiding spot and hit him in the middle of the back at full throttle. Pascal crashed into me halfway through his swing. I let go of the override button. I grabbed him and tossed his bony ass right into Hans and Frans. The katana went flying and the three bandits went down in a pile of thrashing limbs. My partner was a blur of motion and I heard Shotgun Guy screaming. Bo had used the kimono clad gangster as a springboard to deliver a mouth full of sharp canines right into the face of Shotgun Guy.

Bumper Humper spit out his cigar and reached for the pistol stuck in his waistband, but I was on him with the Benchmade and jabbed him three or forty times before letting his body hit the ground. Then I ran like hell.

“Let’s go Bo!” I shouted. Bo abandoned the savaged Shotgun Guy, who I instantly renamed Ground Chuck. He was a chewed-up mess and wasn’t moving anymore.

Hans and Frans untangled themselves from Pascal and fired at me as I was running away. I threw myself over the bed of the closest Raptor and watched the bullets punch a line of holes through the thin metal of the truck bed in a horizontal pattern. I scurried behind the metal shroud of the bed mounted machine gun, pulled myself up by the firing handles and opened fire.

I swept the barrel across Pascal’s remaining men, finger locked down on the trigger focusing on the Raptor boys first then moving onto the rest of them. Hot, empty brass piled up at my feet. His goons never had a chance and went down in a shredded pile of bones and guts. I swung the machine gun towards the fleeing Pascal. The skinny prick ran through the door of the villa and slammed it shut as I poured armor piercing rounds into everything but him. Some assholes are just born lucky.

I had no idea how many reinforcements he had inside, but I felt like I was owed a little revenge so I strafed both floors of the villa with machine gun fire in a sweeping pattern at head height, hoping that the geishas had the sense to hit the deck. His crew already ran me down once and not wanting them to catch me again, I turned the gun on their vehicles. I shredded the other Raptor, then the Cadillac. Almost felt bad about the Camaro, it was a sweet ride, but I finished off the ammo belt on it anyway.

The machine gun barrel glowed red from the sustained fire as I let the handles go. I could feel the clock ticking against me as I vaulted over the side of the truck and jumped up in the Jeep behind Bo. I deactivated the self-destruct sequence and fired up the engine. I spun the Jeep around, slowed just long enough to chunk a white phosphorous grenade through the window of the last Raptor and punched the gas.

I saw Pascal run out on the second-floor balcony with a long rifle clutched in his hands as he grew smaller in my rearview mirror. I heard the boom and felt the impact of the heavy round hit the tailgate. Another boom, miss, then another boom, hit. My spare tire exploded. Good thing, that wasn’t a gas can. I buried the pedal to the floorboard. I tore down the now deserted dusty streets, swerved to miss a dog lying in the middle of the road licking himself and redlined the engine before shifting gears, trying to eke out every ounce of power the Jeep had. I hit the flimsy gate at sixty miles an hours just as the second Raptor went up in a spectacular fireball when the fuse on the willy pete grenade burned up. All I could see was smoke and dust in the rearview. Good. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me either.

I scratched my partner behind his ears and fished us out both a piece of beef jerky. He’d saved my ass, again. We raced north as fast as we could, eager to get the hell out of Pascal’s territory. My missing digit throbbed something fierce, and my head hurt from the blows I’d taken. My jaw was swollen and I could feel those loosened teeth moving in their sockets. But we’d made the retrieve and it was gonna be a good payday.

I wasn’t through with Pascal, not by a longshot. I’d be back for his bony ass when the odds were a little more in my favor and before I was done with him, he’d have a body part or two floating in that pickle jar to keep my finger company.

The road behind me was clear as far as I could see. The rapidly cooling desert air felt good blowing through the titanium mesh that covered the top of the Armadillo and the setting sun painted the desert in a myriad of hues of brilliant color. I never tired of a desert sunset. Despite losing my favorite pair of boots and part of my finger, I was still alive and had a story that would earn me a few free drinks down at the cantina in Carrizozo. After I collected my payment and punched the Colonel in his mouth, of course.

Some people were happy to be inside the fortified towns, rebuilding this world into something better, but not me. Don’t get me wrong, they are the future. Someday, people like me will be folk tales and footnotes in the history books. Me, though, I was happiest on a retrieval, risking it all for adventure, glory and a pocket full of money.

I’ll be taking a few days off to heal up and break in a new pair of boots. Use some of my payday to settle up my tab at the cantina and see if I can’t coerce one of the local girls into some debauchery. I’m one of the best at what I do, so if there’s something you just can’t live without and don’t want to risk your own neck to go get it yourself, stop into the general store in Carrizozo, New Mexico and tell them you’re looking for Rye. I’ll be in touch.

Feral Children 2

Savages

A Zombie Road Tale

This is a work of fiction by

David A. Simpson
and

Wesley R. Norris

ISBN: 9781672846554

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No portion of this text may be copied or duplicated without author or publisher written permission, with the exception of use in reviews

Cover by Ryan Schwarz
www.thecoverdesigner.com
www.facebook.com//groups//thecoverdesigner

Copyright 2019 David A. Simpson

All rights reserved

Prologue

July

10 Months After the Outbreak

Kodiak hunched low over Otis’s back as the big bear lumbered through the night. The strange procession that followed the savage boy and his massive bear moved rapidly with barely a sound. Occasionally the click of a claw against a rock or the plod of a hoof marked their passage to anyone or anything that was paying attention.

The scent of animal lather competed with the smell of blood seeping from torn stitches and the stink of infection from vicious wounds that hadn’t been properly treated nor had time to heal. Modern medicine was gone. You made do with what you could scavenge, or you went without.

The young warriors rode on the backs of armored beasts painted with stripes and symbols. The riders appeared little more than animals themselves in their mix of furs and battle-scarred armor. Their faces were streaked in war paint and soot. Their hair was adorned with feathers, beads and other mementos woven into braids. They carried Warhammers, tomahawks and primitive weapons they built themselves. Machetes and knives hung at their hips, were slung across their backs or lashed to saddles.

Anyone from the fortified towns would be laughed out of their favorite bar if they swore they saw a feral beauty barely in her teens with flowing white hair and Nordic tattoos riding a polar bear. Surely, the bartender would cut him off when he told of the tiny girl riding in front of her with a baby doll clutched in one hand and an icepick bunched in the other.

Kodiak peered through the darkness ahead, his eyes alert for the undead or signs of an ambush by their enemies. They pushed hard and ignored the exhaustion. They were in a desperate race against time. The tribe was down by two members. He couldn’t lose another. He was nearly overwhelmed with grief at the loss, at his failure, but he pushed it aside and let rage fill the holes in his heart. He resisted the urge to scratch at the rough stitches that itched under his armor.

His mind drifted as the miles disappeared behind them and moved them closer to what could be their last stand. He’d give anything to go back to those simpler times before the zombie virus wiped out most of the world, but that wasn’t going to happen. This was reality. Fighting and scratching out an existence in a post-apocalyptic world just for the chance to see another sunrise.

He thought about one of his most cherished memories before all of the blood. Before the undead walked the earth and the creatures of the forest went insane with unnatural hunger. At the time, it had been one of the worst and best days he’d had in his short life. He ran his fingers lightly over the stitches, swayed gently with the motion of the bear and let the memory replay in his mind. He pulled resolve from those fateful words. With what was to come, he didn’t know if he’d have another chance to visit old memories.

He remembered.

“When the mountains turn blue, it’s as cold as it gets.” Derek said with a laugh and twisted the top off a bottle of Coors Light.

He handed it to the gangly teenager sitting beside him on the bank of the Mississippi River. The soft gurgle of the slow-moving river was hypnotic and was the perfect spot to unwind after a hard day.

“Go ahead. I won’t tell.” Derek clinked his bottle against Cody’s, and then took a long pull. He smacked his lips and uttered an ahh.

Cody took a tentative sip. Ugh. The first swallow of his first beer went down hard. Burned his throat and the carbonation tickled his nose. He pressed the cold bottle against the black eye he was sporting.

Derek grinned at the look on the boy’s face. “The second one goes down a lot smoother.”

He was right. The second swallow did. By the fourth swallow the bottle was near empty and Cody decided beer was a good thing. He felt the warmth of his first alcohol buzz as it dulled the throbbing in his split lip and bruised eye. He let out a hearty belch and sighed.

Derek pulled himself another one from the cooler.

“You good?” He asked the boy.

Cody nodded. He was already in enough trouble and showing up drunk would only make it worse. He felt mighty fine from the beer though. If only he wasn’t dreading the impending doom his mom was sure to visit on him over his three-day suspension from school.

Derek watched the boy out of the corner of his eye. He’d had it rough in his short life but he was a good kid. His father was gone, he’d lost his life on the job as a fireman. The insurance settlement was a joke and his mom worked eighty hours a week to make ends meet. The boy had practically been raised by his surrogate family at the zoo.

“Buddy, I know I’m not your dad, but there’s things a young man needs to know, and your mom asked me to talk to you.” Derek flicked the wheel on the US Coast Guard engraved lighter, then snapped the lid shut. He didn’t smoke but always carried it. It had some special meaning for him that he’d never shared with anyone. He sat silent for a moment and gathered his thoughts.

Cody stared out across the river, slightly embarrassed. Was this gonna be the birds and the bees talk? He was a teenager, he already knew about that stuff. Had Mom recruited Derek to break the news to him that she was shipping him off to reform school for fighting and being a troublemaker?

“You’re at that awkward point in life. Not really a boy anymore, but not a man either. Not sure where you fit in the world or if you fit at all. But today, you did the right thing. Standing up for that other kid took courage.”

“Yeah, but I got my ass kicked.” Cody muttered.

His pride hurt more than his injuries. Mom had made him leave the principal’s office while she talked to them. Well, maybe talked was an understatement. He’d heard her icy, angry voice directed at the school administrators but couldn’t make out the words. She’d slammed the door on the way out of the office and hadn’t said anything to him on the drive. She surprised him by taking him to the zoo and not home to be loaded down with extra chores and grounding him for the next five years. She’d simply parked the car, spoke to Derek for a moment then walked to her office.

“What did you expect? Three on one is never a fair fight.” Derek chuckled. “Don’t let it get you down. No shame in getting your ass kicked when you are fighting for what’s right.”

“Mom is going to murder me and ground me forever.” Cody said forlornly.

She was probably going to take his Xbox away for a year.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “You might be surprised. Murder you? I doubt it. Ground you, possibly. But even if she does, it’s not the end of the world. Before you know it, you’ll be out of high school and off to college chasing girls and going to keggers. You’ll be making your own way in the world and all this stuff you’re feeling now will just be a memory, if you even remember it at all.” Derek said.

Cody nodded, unsure.

“But, doing all that and turning eighteen don’t make you a man. That’s something you gotta earn. You follow me?”

Cody shrugged.

“What I mean is, it ain’t easy. Every decision you make has a consequence. Every choice means something and sometimes every choice is a bad one, but you still gotta choose. Deep down you had to know they were gonna win, but you couldn’t stand by and do nothing either.” Derek paused. “I’m proud of you kid.”

Cody watched the beads of perspiration slide down the nearly empty bottle. Why had he stuck his nose in it? He didn’t even know that kid. It just pissed him off when he walked in the locker room and saw the three football players with the much smaller boy jammed up against the lockers.

“Life happens fast. I remember when your mom first started bringing you to the sanctuary. You were all snot nosed and toddling around. Trying to eat the animal’s food and getting into everything. Now look at you. Damn near six-foot-tall and breaking all the girl’s hearts. Enjoy it pal, before you know it, you’ll be an old man like me, and those girls won’t be so easy to get.” Derek tousled his hair.

Cody punched him in the shoulder. He was barely thirteen and had no idea what to say to a girl even if he got up the nerve to talk to one. Derek loved to tease him about girls because he knew he was scared to death of the fairer sex.

“You ever made a bad decision?” Cody asked him seriously.

“Yeah, I did, and people got hurt. A couple even died. I carry that every day in my heart. It was back in my military days, but it feels like yesterday. Thing is, I wouldn’t forget it even if I could.”

Cody let that sink in.

“Why?” He asked.

“You can’t really appreciate the good things until you survive the bad ones. Knowing how to win isn’t near as important as knowing how to lose. Somebody knocks you down, you get back up. You keep getting up no matter how many times they knock you down. You may lose anyway but you won’t have any problem looking in the mirror at yourself, because you didn’t quit. Those lessons you learn from failure shape your way of thinking so you don’t make the same mistakes again. Listen to me, your mom might be hard on you, but that’s because she loves you. She wants you to understand that real life mistakes have real life consequences. She’s probably not gonna tell you this, but she’s proud of you for taking a stand against those guys. I never met him, but I’ve heard stories about your dad and I really believe he would be proud too. I’d hate to have been in that office when she unloaded on the principal.”

Cody smiled. The effort hurt his busted lip. He could imagine Mr. Bracewell, the principal, all red faced and looking like a gold fish that’d jumped out his aquarium, gasping for air as he flopped on the linoleum. His mom could be a real fireball when her buttons were pushed.

“All I’m really trying to say buddy is that life ain’t fair. You gotta roll with the punches, but don’t compromise your values. You got suspended for doing what was right but I bet those guys don’t miss a single game. The world makes excuses and allowances for the privileged but throws the book at the regular guys like you and me. There’s no justice in that. There are always gonna be bullies. There’s always gonna be people that judge you by your looks or the brand name of your clothes. Truth is, none of that matters. What matters is that you lay down at night knowing you did your best and gave it your all. You hold the line for those that can’t. You could have walked away today and that pretty face wouldn’t be all skinned up, but you didn’t. You took a stand. You did what a real man would do. It’s ok to be scared. It’s normal to want to run when the odds are against you. I’ve known too many people that turned a blind eye to things they could have prevented and I wonder how they live with it. I don’t know what your future holds, but I’m pretty sure you will meet it head on. I’m proud of you and I’ll take a friend like you any day in my corner.” Derek flicked the Zippo again and snapped it shut.

“What’s the deal with that?” Cody asked him. “You always do that thing with the lighter when you’re trying to be serious.”

“That, my friend is a story for another time.” Derek handed him the lighter. “It belonged to someone who I owe a debt I can never repay. I want you to hold onto it for a while. It’s good luck. I ain’t giving it to you, so don’t get all mushy on me. It’s just a loaner until I ask for it back. You cool with that?”

Cody nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.”

“Alright then. Let’s go see what your mom has lined up for us.” Derek stood and dusted off his pants. He put an arm around Cody’s shoulders as they walked towards the zoo.

Kodiak snapped back to the present. His hand drifted to his pocket where the old Zippo rested against his hip. Derek’s words echoed through his mind. It was time. Time to make that stand. Time to end this, once and for all.

His physical wounds hurt but they would heal. Bruises, contusions, bites and gouges from sharp claws covered his body. No doubt there would be more scars. More of the roadmap of old healed wounds that crisscrossed his body. The wounds in his heart would never heal, though. That pain was too raw and too deep. Too new. He couldn’t process it, didn’t know how to process it and he didn’t have time to properly grieve. Grieving would have to wait until after the blood spilling was done.

He felt the power rippling through Otis as the bear padded along and tried to draw strength from his giant friend.

I’m coming Gordon. This time though, only one of us is walking away.

1

Late May

8 Months After the Outbreak

Kodiak

The winter snows had finally melted. The days became warmer and the fierce northwestern winds ceased their howling as spring gained its foothold in the forgotten corner of the world that encompassed the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary. The nights stayed cool, but the days grew progressively warmer and longer as the calendar inched towards summer and the new challenges that waited for the tribe.

Nestled in the northeastern corner of Iowa, the Sanctuary was off the beaten path, miles from the nearest freeway. It was a destination location that drew crowds from around the States but it was also one of those places that if you weren’t looking for it, you probably wouldn’t find it by accident. That was fine with the tribe. They didn’t want to be found. They were safe and isolated and that suited them just fine.

Abandoned cars blocked the roads that led to the zoo. The sanctuary was far removed from the death and destruction that raged through the big cities around the word. Its remote location and tall fences were one of the main reasons they had survived the roving hordes of undead in the early days. It was home for the eleven children and their animal companions, survivors of the virus that decimated the world’s population in a matter of days. The rival gang of Gordon Lowery and his crew were the only other living people they’d encountered in eight months. There’d been no sign of Gordon or his gang after the fierce winter battle that left their attackers broken and beaten. As far as they knew, they were the last humans on the face of the earth and they had been trying to kill each other instead of working together.

Kodiak stared at the rows of vegetables in the roughly tilled soil, ignored the moaning and keening that came from the front gate. The dead were always there. They let a few linger as a deterrent for anyone seeking to do them harm and as an early alarm system. The brutal winter had been hard on the zombies. Ceaselessly wandering through the frozen landscape with no protection from the howling winds and blizzards, their undead flesh froze and broke off in icy chunks. The scavenger animals, or the Savage Ones as the tribe called them, also played a part, and never ceased their attacks on the undead, stripping rancid flesh and cracking bones in search of the marrow to feed their ravenous appetites. Kodiak wondered what would happen when the supply of undead exhausted itself and the Savage Ones had no other easy food source. Most of those animals had never encountered a live human, they had avoided them at all costs. Now they had no fear of the creatures that walked on two legs. The undead were an easy food source and none of the carrion animals went hungry. They grew fat and lazy and followed the hordes for easy meals. The area surrounding the sanctuary became home to many of the flesh eaters as the wandering undead came down the road, smelled the living and made their way to the gates.

The packs were made up of animals that had no natural reason to be together but with the plentiful food source, they had no reason to fear each other. Swan had been further into the wastelands than any of the tribe. She told them about the coyotes and raccoons, opossums and foxes, feral pigs, stray cats and mongrel dogs still wearing their collars. They ran together in large groups following the walking meals and the tribe feared what would happen if they merged into one giant pack. Their behavior had to be related to the virus, each would treat the others as prey under normal circumstances, but nothing was normal anymore.

She’d reported seeing them tear into the undead and devour every scrap of flesh and bone while flocks of ravens and vultures circled overhead seeking the leftovers.

Before the harsh winter, there’d been no need to worry about the carrion animals attacking the zoo, there was plenty of food wandering around. It was easy to hunt, didn’t try to hide and didn’t fight back. The sanctuary was patrolled daily, everyone took their turn walking the miles of perimeter fence to look for burrowing holes or fallen branches but they’d seen nothing to give the alarm. Kodiak wasn’t too concerned, yet, the animals still tended to shy away from the living.

The long hours of working the plow behind Millie, the old half blind black rhinoceros, were starting to pay off. There had been several grueling days of hauling the nutrient rich compost made from leaves and animal manure while fighting off the flies that swarmed around the horrid smelling mixture. They buzzed incessantly, flew up noses, into ears and open mouths. Tempers had flared, curses were flung but the tribe pushed through it. Every seed had been planted by hand. They didn’t have modern farming equipment or the knowledge to use it, so they did it the old-fashioned way.

They had to know if they could do it. Had to know if they could bring food from the soil and sustain themselves. There were no adults to guide them. They couldn’t find old timers sitting in wicker rocking chairs whittling sticks or playing checkers to tell them the tricks of growing the juiciest watermelons and the biggest tomatoes. All they had was Murray’s books, the willpower and a yearning desire to make something out of nothing. The world was dead as far as any of them had travelled in any direction. They had to make it and make it on their own. Make it or die. So, they sweated under the sun, they endured the buzzing and biting insects. Blisters became callouses on their dirty hands and feet. They watched the skies for rain to turn the field into a sea of green. They made scarecrows to keep the animals away and as they ate Ravioli out of tin cans, they talked about the things they couldn’t wait to bite into.

Millie had bristled and snorted every time the crude harness attached to the single row plow was hooked to the yoke on her thick neck. She was old. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to relax in the comfort of her enclosure with a bin full of hay. Patience and bribery with a steady supply of canned beets had coerced her into doing the job and once she got in the groove, she didn’t seem to mind. They didn’t mind either, because they had plenty of canned beets and nobody liked them.

They were already enjoying the fruits of their labor. The corn was full and heavy on the stalks. The twins had roasted some every night since the first ears were ready for harvest and it was delicious. They were small ears and the corn worms ate their fair share but they picked the pests from the shucks and used them to bait their fish traps. It was all worth it when they bit into the first ears lathered in homemade butter and roasted in the shucks over open coals. Served with venison and freshly dug potatoes, they’d feasted on food that tasted so much better than anything from the cans.

Soon, beans would be ready for picking and canning. More stores to put away in the cellar alongside the potatoes strung from the rafters in the legs of pantyhose. Squash, tomatoes and peppers were already canned in Mason jars and lined the shelves in the cellar. It was trial and error but they studied the books and learned from every mistake. This was life and death, this was eating well all winter or barely scraping by and Murray didn’t let them forget it. The old shelves bowed under the weight of the bounty.

The green house was filled with carrots, onions, potatoes and different herbs. Plastic sheeting was duct taped over the windows that had broken during a winter storm. They made repairs with what they had and talked about building raised bed gardens next year to keep the rabbits out of their root crops.

The twins were trying their hand at jellies made from the abundance of blueberries and blackberries that grew along the fence lines. Each batch was better than the last and once they’d figured out how to turn corn and wheat into flour and meal, they’d enjoyed the pleasures of bread once again. It was flat and lumpy with no yeast to make it rise and another item was added to the list of things to scout for. No one realized how much they missed bread until that first loaf was pulled from the oven and they all got a thin slice. It smelled wonderful and even though it wasn’t fluffy they were all grateful for it. Tobias and Analise promised to find a way to improve the recipe and kept throwing meaningful stares at Swan. She wandered the farthest, she should be able to find the yeast in someone’s home.

It was a new beginning. There was no running to the corner store and grabbing a fresh loaf of Sunbeam or a gallon of milk. If you wanted milk, you got it from the cow in the petting zoo. If you wanted bread, you ground the grain between two rocks and made your own flour. All the bags they’d risked their lives to pillage from the tiny town of Putnam were filled with bugs. They thought they’d be fine in their paper sacks but the weevils showed them otherwise. It was a hard lesson, and not a mistake they’d make again. Plastic bins were everywhere for the taking, it just never occurred to them once the goods were in the cellar that they were still vulnerable.

Their food stores had barely seen them through the long winter. The heavy snows and never-ending blizzards had made hunting and scavenging almost impossible, dangerous even. They’d had to run a guide rope between the house and the barn where the larger animals wintered, just to keep from getting lost in the blizzards. The pipes that supplied the old hand pump in the kitchen had frozen. The heat tape on them needed electricity and they hadn’t thought about it until it was too late. Murray said it could be fixed, they’d have to dig deeper, insulate better and have the night watch pump a little water through the pipes every half hour or so. None of that would happen until spring, though so they melted snow for their water. Personal hygiene was tough to maintain and they had given up on baths. It was too much work to haul buckets of snow, wait on it to melt, heat it and haul it up the stairs to the old cast iron tub. Plus every time the door was opened, it felt like all the heat got sucked right out of the house. They set up a blanket wall near the fireplace and took sponge baths.

It had been tough being cooped up, even though the house had plenty of room for everyone to spread out when nerves got frayed and tempers flared. Board game pieces or playing cards were constantly disappearing, nabbed or eaten by one of the capuchins. Toy trucks and Legos brought curses from the older kids whenever a toe was stubbed. The wolf cubs chewed incessantly, the arms of the chairs and couch cushions all bore the marks of sharp canines. Clara cried when she found one of her baby dolls missing both legs and most of an arm.

Children and animals shared the floor space of the parlor and each jostled for position closer to the warmth of the fireplace. Otis wanted to be inside, so did Yewan and the foxes. They could endure the cold but didn’t like it. Otis hogged the fireplace and no amount of cajoling could budge him from his spot. The polar bears and wolves wanted to be outside and usually slept on the porch. They loved the cold weather. Zero would howl mournfully on the nights when the moon shone bright, scaring everyone out of their restless slumbers. The capuchins were restless and into everything. If it was shiny or could be eaten, they tried to get it.

Millie, Ziggy and Bert wintered in the barn. During the coldest days of winter, the tribe trudged through the snow that was often times up to their waist so that Vanessa and Harper could spend time with them. They cleaned their stalls, made sure the bedding was thick and deep. They filled fifty-five gallons drums with half rotted wood from the unused stalls and burned it to knock off some of the chill. The girls took the souvenir blankets from the gift shop to sew ponchos to help fend off the cold for the giraffe and ostrich.

Bert didn’t like it. He didn’t want to be cooped up in the barn, but he didn’t want to be out in the snow.

He was too big for the house and Ziggy was too skittish bedding down near the predator animals. Vanessa had tried putting her in a room by herself, but she pecked the door like a giant woodpecker until no one could stand it anymore. The carnivores would never hurt her, she was one of the tribe and able to defend herself, but millions of years of instincts couldn’t be changed overnight. Vanessa and Tobias almost came to blows over the situation. She finally relented when Ziggy knocked over a candelabra full of lit candles and the ostrich went back to the barn. They did the best they could to keep them comfortable.

The winter was long and hard. They’d severely underestimated their supply of firewood and had resorted to burning antique furniture from the third floor to keep the house passably warm. On the days when the weather broke, they bundled up and trudged to the forest to carry back armloads of dead wood. The house was more than a century old and drafty. Cold air seeped in around the windows and doors. Thin insulation let the chill in. The tribe stuffed every crack they could find with towels and rags, sealed off the unused rooms, wore multiple layers of clothing and buried themselves under thick piles of blankets. None except Donny had ever been through a winter without the benefits of electricity, furnaces and energy efficient homes.

Blankets were piled haphazardly when they weren’t in use and several times stray embers from the fireplace would land on them. There was a mad scramble to put them out before the old house went up in flames. They learned quickly, but usually painfully about surviving on their own.

Now, with June almost on them, thick green grass covered the fields in the old antelope enclosures. The soil was rich from the droppings over the years and the fence would serve to keep them and the gazelles from grazing on the crop vegetables. The lush green grass kept them sated once they had them all herded in there again. Many of them were nursing young ones born in the spring and they stayed in the smaller enclosure where they were given grains.

Kodiak ran his hands through the long hair on his head, scratched at his irritated scalp. Someone in the house had fleas and his head was covered in tiny red welts from their constant biting. He’d endured Harpers efforts to groom him like one of the capuchins as she tried to get them out of his hair. All of the boys opted to wear theirs long, adorned with beads, feathers, acorns and any shiny baubles that caught their attention during the scavenging runs. After having his hair used as a handhold in the battles with Gordon and his gang, he’d considered going to a buzz cut, but didn’t want to listen to the tribe make fun of his ears that stuck out too far. Besides, it kept them warm in the winter and prevented them getting sunburnt in the summer.

He sighed, just another problem to add to the list of never-ending work and responsibility. I’ll have Murray add flea and tick spray to the list. Along with all of the other things we are out of. I hope I never see the day when the world finally runs out of toilet paper, he thought.

He watched Otis soaking up the rays of the warm spring sunshine. The big bear was on his back, rolling side to side. He had a little gray in his muzzle hairs and along the thick fur of his back, but he was still an impressive beast to behold. He let out a satisfied moan and flopped to one side as he found the relief he’d been seeking. He basked in the warm sun and was soon filling the air with his rumbling snores. Kodiak smiled as he watched his friend, his namesake. He was the faithful companion that never faltered, never judged and was never disappointed if Kodiak made the wrong decision. Scratch his ears, bring him a can of Spam, keep the fire blazing and Otis was content.

He turned his attention back to the garden. It had a calming effect on him he didn’t quite understand. Many of the plants that now stood tall and proud had been loose seeds scooped up from the floor of the feed store after the mice and bugs had their turns at the bags. They just swept everything up from the deserted store into sacks and planted them. They spent hours poring over the pictures in the books trying to identify each one and some were a mystery when they went in the ground. Every seed was precious, their future depended on them. As he leaned on the hoe and gazed over the gardens, he was pleased at the turnout from their first efforts. None of them had experience growing food. All of their knowledge came from the electronic books and files that Murray had downloaded before the power went out for good. The soil was rich and fertile, perfect for farming and the huge compost pile of animal waste gave them an ample supply of fertilizer.

Kodiak was hopeful as he looked at the rows of corn, beans, tomatoes, squash and other plants he had no idea of what they were. They’d just have to wait until they produced something to know. He was pretty sure there were some pumpkins mixed in there somewhere. The triplets were already making plans for the jack-o-lanterns they would carve for Halloween. Tobias and Analise couldn’t wait to try their hands at pumpkin pie. Kodiak had no interest in Halloween and he didn’t like pumpkin pie, but he made sure he didn’t say anything that would dampen their enthusiasm. The scariest monsters in the world hung out around the main gate moaning and keening. Or they rode ATV’s and struck without warning, he thought bitterly as Gordon invaded his thoughts.

Donny, Tobias and he had spent weeks digging an irrigation canal from the Mississippi to their garden. They fashioned pieces of old pallets to make flood gates so they could control the flow coming from the long shallow ditch. It was all trial and error on their part. More error than anything, but progress was progress and the tribe was all smiles when the first juicy watermelon was sliced and shared amongst them.

Murray was wheeling about in his wheelchair energetically, enjoying the warm day. They’d all suffered from cabin fever when the snow was piled to the windowpanes, but Murray had it the worst. Even the mildest of winter days restricted him no further than the front porch while he watched the others engage in snowball fights or build snow forts. They tried to include him in the fun though. In their tribe everyone mattered. The triplets had hauled buckets of snow for him to make snowballs with and didn’t try too hard to dodge them whenever he finally shook off the winter funk and joined in.

Murray had finished checking feed levels in the barn. A lot of the hay had been devoured throughout the winter and they didn’t have the means to cut or bale more. He made a note to himself to look into how it was done before the advent of tractors and balers. His companions, four capuchin monkeys, jostled for position on his shoulders. Their eyes were always on the alert for a snack or something shiny they could pilfer and squabble over.

He rolled himself onward. He wanted to take a look at the antelope and gazelle Swan and the wolves had corralled. He needed to get a good head count of the herd. They’d been turned out to fend for themselves following the outbreak, but it made sense to keep them penned when the grass was lush in the expansive enclosures. The whole tribe was excited about the young fawns. It meant sustainability for the herd. Fresh meat and furs to use for years to come if they managed them properly. He hadn’t been too worried about the antelope over the winter. They ran wild across the Midwest and could take care of themselves, but he was curious about how the gazelle had fared. As he gazed over the herd and took a count, he was pleased at their numbers and their overall health. He jotted a few more notes and rolled toward the house. The monkeys could use a treat and so could he.

Bert plodded along lazily, Harper high atop his back. He had been difficult through the winter but he was back to his normal grumpy self, happily foraging the treetops and releasing thunderous farts. He was getting better about being ridden although he was still skittish around loud noises. She eyed the fences for damage or weakness that could leave them vulnerable. The big giraffe was scanning the leaves, picking the most tender shoots of the new growth that burst forth from the trees and she let him have his head as long as he kept moving in the right direction. He had gotten used to her weight and seemed to like it when she patted and rubbed his long neck. As they came over the rise, almost back to the barns, she watched Kodiak as he looked out over their fields. They had shared a few kisses months ago on the riverbank and some long looks, but he’d been distant since the fight with Gordon and his gang. They still cuddled by the fire and he held her hand when they went for walks with Bert and Otis, so she knew he still cared for her. There was something holding him back. It almost seemed like he was so afraid of losing what he had, that he wasn’t enjoying it while he had it. She would remedy that though. She had a basket of strawberries, a blanket and a few cans of Mountain Dew, his favorite, stashed away for a riverbank picnic as soon as the work slowed down.

Vanessa sat astride Ziggy, her North African Ostrich companion. The pair were engaged in a game of tag with the three smaller children. Ziggy whirled and darted, always out of reach of the kids outstretched arms. Landon, Caleb and Clara fell in tangled piles of skinny limbs as Ziggy constantly outmaneuvered them. They laughed and continued the chase while the foxes darted in and out between them, eager to be included in the fun. All of them enjoyed the warm spring day and giggles filled the air.

There were still chores to be done. Eggs to gather, animals to feed, cows to milk, wood to cut and weeds to pull but it was a perfect day for goofing off. Sometimes they needed to be kids for a while. Kodiak kept silent and let them play. Even the serious twins, Tobias and Analise, were down at the river swimming with their polar bears. Quiet laughter could be heard across Piedmont and he wished he felt that carefree. He plucked a ripe tomato from the vine and bit into it. Sticky juice ran down his chin as he savored the taste. He’d never cared much for vegetables, even though his mom made sure he always had some on his plate. This, though, was different. This was his tomato. He’d toiled for it. He’d watched it grow from a tiny shoot poking its head out of the ground to a fine vine. He’d watered it and kept the weeds from overwhelming it, protected it from scavengers and had carefully made the cages that supported it. He’d helped nothing become something. He couldn’t remember anything that had ever tasted finer.

He watched as Tobias and Analise walked up from the river trail. Popsicle and Daisy were laden down with baskets and his stomach rumbled at the thought of fresh fish. The long winter of eating canned food and tiny portions of meat was a memory he was eager to forget. The twins laughed at a joke that only they shared. Even from a distance, their tattoos stood out in sharp contrast to their pale skin and white hair.

Donny and Yewan hadn’t made an appearance yet, but the fresh tenderloins that were waiting in the cooling chest told everyone their hunt had been successful. Kodiak figured they were tucked in one of their favorite spots sleeping after a long night of stalking game.

No one was sure where Swan was. She’d left with just a grunt and we’re going outside the fence when she and Zero took off the morning before with the wolf cubs. Swan had been spending a lot of time with the three rapidly growing wolves, teaching them the ways of the hunt and to follow her commands. Zero was quick with nips and growls to ensure they stayed in line and integrated into the pack mentality. He was Alpha and would brook no dissent from the cubs. She’d taken to wandering further and further from the normal hunting ground. She used the excuse that she didn’t want to overhunt the home grounds but everyone knew that was nonsense. Donny and Yewan brought in a steady supply of venison for the stewpot and the smokehouse and he said the wildlife numbers were exploding. There weren’t thousands of hunters stalking the woods culling their numbers. In addition, rabbits and squirrels were everywhere, stealing fruits and vegetables from the garden whenever they could. The small number of animals that the tribe harvested to feed themselves was no threat to the population. Kodiak suspected that she was increasing her range for two reasons. The first being the hyena. She wanted to kill him and extract revenge for the loss of Lucy. They’d seen nothing of the beast since that night when Diablo and his brother, Demonio, had killed her. No tracks and no weird laughing bark carried on the wind. Maybe the winter had gotten him or he’d died of his wounds. That would be best, but Kodiak had a nagging suspicion that Diablo was still out there somewhere.

The other reason was Gordon. She blamed Gordon as much as she blamed Diablo for the death of Lucy, maybe more. It had been his thwarted effort to attack the tribe that had brought the hyenas back inside the fences. They still had no idea where Gordon’s compound was located. Only the clues from his boasting and the fact they always rode in from somewhere up north. There’d been no sighting of him or his gang since the night of the battle. The scattered bones of the fallen riders and wreckage of the snowmobiles by the ruined church were the only indications that anyone besides the tribe had ever been there. Kodiak was concerned that she would find them eventually, take them on by herself and end up dead. Or worse. They were cruel and heartless. They’d beaten him for no reason other than they could. It wasn’t a schoolyard fight, they had left scars and would have killed him as casually as they killed zombies. He shuddered at what they would do to the pretty girl if they got their hands on her.

She had been different since the battle, short tempered and moody. She trained constantly, snow, rain or blizzard. Cooped up all winter, she had gotten on all of their nerves with the incessant thunk, thunk, thunk as she threw her tomahawks at wooden targets. She didn’t smile or laugh very much. She rarely removed her war paint or armor, even in the safety of the house and she was never unarmed. She braved the winter winds and the snow, the spring rains and the midday sun to work with her tomahawks and practice with the bow. She was driven, she was ready to fight under any conditions, any circumstances, at any time. If she read anything from the house library, it was stories of soldiers and battles.

2

Swan

Swan chased the wolves as they darted through the trees. Her long legs and runners’ body let her keep pace for mile after mile. Her chest was getting bigger and it annoyed her. A year ago, she would have been proud, maybe even helped the pushup bra with a little extra padding, but now they were a nuisance. She had to wear her armor tight or wrap her chest when she hunted. She ducked under a low hanging limb, swerved around moss covered rocks, leapt gracefully and dodged the obstacles in her path. She never let her eyes lose track of the pack. She couldn’t match their speed, but she was fast and cunning, always looking for the easiest path. If they did lose her, a few yips from her upturned face and Zero would answer. He might outdistance her but he would never leave her behind.

She caught a flash of white from the deer’s tail as it darted up a rise. The young doe ran flat out in a desperate bid to escape the pack. River, Valley and Meadow flanked Zero, their alpha and father, as they spread out wide in a semicircle pattern, narrowing the does chance for escape. Any change in direction by the deer would put one of the pack on an intercept course. Swan leapt over a rotted log, swift and sure footed, the bow in her hands. She could nock an arrow, draw, aim and release the instant the opportunity presented itself. She altered her course slightly to hit the less elevated side of the hill, anticipating the deer to veer to the right once it crested. Her pack ran silent like her, no tinkling collars, no metal on metal rattles, just padded feet and even breathing. The doe seemed to favor right turns from the moment the chase began. She was being corralled; the pack was driving her towards Swans deadly arrow.

She topped the lower portion of the rise, heard the crashing of brush and drew back the bow string. Instead of the deer she was expecting, a zombie burst through the brush and started keening in hunger. It moved fast, day one zombie fast. It had been indoors until recently, it wasn’t broken down and worn out. It was fresh and vicious and headed straight towards her. She whistled loudly for her pack, set the bow aside and focused on the zombie. The pursuit of the deer was forgotten as her blood raced in anticipation of battle. The hungry creature had once been a young man, but now it was just a vessel for the lethal virus that destroyed the world and a training tool for her pack.

It sprang down the hill for her as she reached for the sheath under her left arm and drew her right-hand tomahawk. She waited until the monster was two steps away; side stepped and used the curved lower portion of the blade to catch the zombie above the ankle in a sweeping motion. The zombie went down in a crash of limbs, keens and snarls. The creature’s noise sent flocks of birds cawing out of the trees, fleeing for the sky. She heard a bone snap as the zombie slammed to the ground. It showed no signs of pain, no fear and ignored the broken arm hanging at an odd angle.

Zero came bounding down the hill with the snarling cubs close behind and before they could rip the thing to shreds she barked a command.

“Capture!” she said to her wolves.

The zombie staggered to its feet, only to be met with the flying body of one of the young wolves. River tore a chunk of rotted flesh from its shoulder as the zombie hit the ground again. Before it could rise, Meadow was in the fight. The young wolf grabbed the creature by one leg and held on. The monster thrashed as Valley grabbed an arm at the wrist and dug his claws into the soft earth. River rebounded from his leap and grabbed the other arm, pulled it in the opposite direction. Zero padded over quickly and seized the immobilized and spread-eagled zombie by the throat. The wolf waited for Swan to give the command to snap its neck and tear out its rotten throat.

She looked on with pride as the creature thrashed in vain, struggled to break loose from the iron jaws that held it in place. It keened and wailed, gnashed its yellowed teeth so hard that they broke. Every struggling movement caused the wolf cubs to dig in and pull harder to keep it pinned.

She’d been working with the wolves since they were big enough to walk without tripping over their own feet. She taught them to hunt using the pelts from rabbits and squirrels, or the tails from the deer she and Donny killed. She taught them to follow commands, to protect the pack and themselves. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing them like she did Lucy. They were her cubs now and she loved them with a mothers love. They were growing fast and were slightly more than half the size of their father already.

The zombie struggled with inhuman strength. The wolves dug their paws into the blanket of rotted leaves to hold it in place. Vicious growls emanated from their throats. Fur bristled along their backs and claws churned up the forest floor as they strained against the unnatural strength of the dead thing in their jaws.

Good. She thought proudly. Too bad that’s not Gordon. She had no intentions of letting Gordon Lowery survive their next meeting. She planned to wipe out him and any of his remaining tribe, no matter what. Kodiak and the others might be comfortable with the unofficial truce, but she wasn’t. Gordon was a plague on mankind. He was worse than the undead because he still had the ability to make choices. The undead couldn’t help what they were.

With the wolves mastering the art of capture, all she needed was just one of Gordon’s guys or girls to find out everything she needed to know. She’d make them tell her where their stronghold was, their total strength and whatever plans for revenge Gordon was cooking up. She wanted to take the fight to him, put him on the offensive for once. Let him be the one living in fear of where and when a surprise attack would come. He had to be planning something, there was no way would he let the defeat from the previous winter go unanswered. No way would he live and let live. It went against his nature. She’d argued this point to the tribe until she was blue in the face but it didn’t change anything. Everyone acknowledged that he was probably still out there, but until he showed himself, there was nothing they could do.

She spun her tomahawk in her hand, so the spiked side of the blade faced down and buried it in the forehead of the undead man. The brain died instantly, and it ceased its struggles. The cold rotted flesh became still. River jerked at the arm he held, tested to ensure it was no longer a threat. It was unresponsive. He looked to his master but didn’t break his hold until the command was uttered.

“Release.” She told the pack. The wolves let go of the still creature and backed away, kept their eyes and ears attuned for any other threat to their wolf mother. She dropped to her knees and nuzzled each of them, whispered praise and love into their oversized ears. They were her strength, her pack.

They wouldn’t take a game animal today, but she was still satisfied with their results. This was the first capture outside of controlled conditions and the wolves had performed flawlessly. She’d practiced this move with them in the old lion enclosure, despite Kodiak and the others misgivings. She had Donny standing by just in case something went wrong but she used a catchpole and it was pretty simple to drag a deader inside the gates. All of those zombies had been slow and weather worn. The harsh winter had been hard on already decaying bodies and most of her test subjects were barely able to walk with all of their toes frozen off and many of them had been chewed up by the Savage Ones. This zed had been fresh and full of fight but still no match for the pack.

She looked at the sun halfway to the western horizon, estimated the time to be a little after three. A check of her watch indicated her guess was close. Three seventeen. It was important to be able to read the environment. She’d learned hard lessons about being unprepared. Mistakes she wouldn’t make again. Technology couldn’t be relied on anymore; it was gone and wasn’t coming back. Cunning and skill were the things that gave you an edge. Mother Earth was a harsh teacher but Swan embraced the lessons.

She’d hadn’t picked up her iPad in months and didn’t miss it. Her home was in the wild. Her steel and her pack would protect her, Mother Earth would sustain her. She loved her brothers and sisters at the zoo, would die to defend them, but she cared nothing for the farming they were doing. She’d taken her turn tilling the soil. She’d hauled buckets of compost, sowed the seeds and weeded the garden but her heart wasn’t in it. Even though she enjoyed the fruits of their labor, she was happiest in the woods. She and Donny would bring the meat, the others could toil in the dirt.

She whistled the pack to her side and struck off east. Their chase had revealed a farmhouse nestled in the woods far from the road she hadn’t explored. She’d taken to raiding abandoned homes for supplies and peering into the lives of those lost and forgotten. Sometimes, the houses still had zombies in them. She set them free and took them down with arrows as they spilled from the house, hungry and enraged. She returned their bodies to the earth and freed their tortured souls.

The zombies trapped inside were fast, as fast as the ones on that first day at the zoo. Once she’d had to pick them off from the safety of a tree she scampered up inches ahead of their grasping hands and snapping jaws. That was before her wolves learned to kill quick and move on to the next, not savage the thing long after it was dead. They sensed the unnaturalness of them and had a deep hatred for the undead things. She’d learned to be more careful, to peek through windows so she wouldn’t be surprised when a houseful of them came streaming out when she kicked open the door.

Sometimes, the houses held the remains of families who’d taken their own lives instead of facing the new reality where the dead roamed the earth. These homes she treated with the sanctity of a grave. She walked their empty halls, singing a song her mother had taught her to ease their soul’s passages to the other side. She took nothing from these homes, only a feeling of sadness. There was too much stuff out there to be disrespectful to those spirits. She paid a quiet respect to the fallen occupants, looked into the lives they once led and left the homes as she found them.

In the empty houses though, she would spend hours walking through them, munching on something from the kitchen, studying the pictures of families. She raided the pantries. Looked under the beds and in the closets for things the tribe could use to survive. She flipped through dusty photo albums filled with yellowing pictures of smiling parents and happy children before the virus wiped them all out. She still felt the pangs of the loss of her own family, but it was just a dull ache now. The more time that passed, the harder it was to picture her parent’s faces.

She could go home. She’d toyed with the thought many times. A couple of days and nights of swift footed travel would put her at the small eco-friendly homestead she’d shared with her mom and dad. She had no fear of the undead, of the wandering hordes that still migrated through from time to time. The sharp senses of the pack would allow her to avoid any large groups and she knew they could handle any small hordes quickly and quietly.

She was more afraid of what might be wandering around the house she once called home. Her last contact with her mother was a frantic call from the highway, but the man who doted on her and called her his little Pocahontas had been home that day. She knew in her heart he was gone but if somehow, he’d managed to survive would he even recognize her now, with her war paint and budding chest that she tried to hide? His little girl was armed and armored, ran with a pack of wolves and bore the scars of battles fought and enemies vanquished. She was a killer of men. She wondered if he would be proud of who she’d become or appalled. Would he look at her with his kind green eyes and reassure her that she’d only done what she had to do to survive, or would he shake his head in disappointment knowing his daughter had taken lives? Both of her parents had abhorred violence of any kind. They couldn’t even stay in the room when she watched the National Geographic channel and a lion took down a zebra.

She shook off the thought. It really didn’t matter at this point. In this world, you were either the predator or the prey. Besides, if he was in their home, it wasn’t him anymore. Just another monster that looked like him wearing his pajamas. Some things were best left unknown and she abandoned the thought. She had things to do.

She whistled to the ranging wolves, corrected their course and picked up her own pace. Excitement of discovery coursed through her veins at the thought of the empty farmhouse. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky and find a clue about where Gordon was in one of the homes she explored. A picture with friends or family, a dusty school yearbook with his ugly mug in it. Anything that would give her a hint of where to find the murderous bastard. He had to have some connection to this area, or he’d never have been there the day of the outbreak. Swan vowed she’d never stop looking until she found him.

3

Gordon

Miles to the northeast of where Swan ran with her wolves, in the lavish gated community of Smith’s Landing, Gordon Lowery stared out of the bay window of his mansion. His, all his. His father was one of the wandering horde, a casualty from the first day of the outbreak. His cousin, Richard, was no longer able to contest his leadership. As a matter of fact, he knew right where Richard was and frequently relieved his bladder on his cousin’s undead corpse as it wandered aimlessly in the bottom of the pool. He clicked the remote on the cover and watched it slide open to reveal his collection of corpses. Careful to stop it at the halfway point so they couldn’t climb out, he took great satisfaction watching them. They were his lessers and a reminder to the living of what would happen to them if they crossed him. The only thing that could make his morning ritual more satisfying would be to see Kodiak and some of the other brats down there. Patience, he told himself. He would have his revenge eventually.

He’d put his cousin in there and didn’t regret it one bit. It was a matter of survival. A simple business decision was how he thought of the whole ordeal. After the battle with the snotty little brats from Piedmont, Richard had planned for Gordon to be stumbling around the pool for their entertainment. Gordon had been faster though, smarter. He turned the tables on his cousin, buried a bullet in his guts and let the zombies do the rest.

He gazed down at the dry swimming pool in the carefully manicured yard and watched the undead mill about aimlessly. Mindless and untiring. They raged and keened, tried to scale the smooth walls of the Olympic sized pool anytime anyone came close to it. They’d been next door in Richard’s pool when he first came to Smith’s Landing, his cousin had even put his own father in there. They’d disagreed on the proper way to act in a lawless world. The rape and pillaging were beneath a Lowery the senior Lowery had argued. Control the food and supplies and they’ll give it up voluntarily. Richard had disagreed. The strong take what they want.

Gordon enjoyed the benefits of having a collection of the undead trapped like that. It was a great motivator for the rest of his gang whenever they wanted to grumble about his leadership style. He’d personally put Richard in there and made the other’s throw their buddy, Pole, in with him. The boy had been gangrenous, and his moaning and crying had finally gotten to Gordon. He’d taken over that night and solidified his reign while they all suffered from their wounds from the battle with the brats.

Things were different under Gordon’s leadership. For one thing, he’d vacated Richards’s house. It smelled like a morgue and a landfill. The boys were slobs and the girls weren’t much better. Before he took charge, they partied and did whatever the boys told them to do. They didn’t have a choice. They were objects to be used by whoever wanted them.

After taking Richard out, Gordon changed the rules. My way or the highway he told them. Or more accurately, his way or the pool. Walk the plank, ye scurvy dog! He smiled at that. One of them had tested his resolve, he’d been dumb enough to say he wasn’t going to work in the yard like some slave. Gordon had told them he didn’t care how the rest of the compound looked, but his grounds would be kept in pristine condition or somebody would be going off the diving board. Jeremy had refused. Jeremy had taken a long walk off a short board. It had taken a few bullet holes in him to persuade him he didn’t have a choice. He had even tried to dive head first to break his neck so he wouldn’t be doomed to wander forever but the undead reaching for him broke his fall. Now he was another shambler wandering around the deep end of the pool. Even now with most of the world dead, appearances mattered to Gordon. His home showed it. His impeccable style of dress reinforced it.

His father would have no choice but be proud of his ruthlessness. As it turned out, Gordon had more spine than his old man ever had. He didn’t hide behind his lawyers and accountants, he fought his own battles. Cowardly bastard, Gordon thought as he remembered the day of the outbreak and how his father had run off and left him behind to fend for himself.

They’d kept Richard’s house as a makeshift hospital. A place where all the injured gang could heal or die. He needed them alive for his plans of revenge, at least some of them anyway. He didn’t care which ones it was. He had no love for any of them. They were Richard’s friends, not his. They were simply a means to an end.

The burned-up girl they all called Squirrel had disappeared. No one knew when she left or where she went. She was just gone one morning. He was glad, she was a constant reminder of the failed attack and the sneaky ambush the kids had sprung on them. Gordon figured she was probably dead and devoured by now. Good riddance, she was horrid to look at.

The surviving boys were tools to be used and discarded until something better came along. Something like the group up north whose radio chatter he had picked up while scanning the channels on a walkie talkie. They called themselves Soldiers of Anubis. He had tried to engage them but his handheld didn’t have the power to broadcast that far. It was only strong enough to pick up snippets now and then. Gordon was patient though. He had found a Ham radio in the basement of one of the other houses and was learning how to use it.

The tribe of kids at the zoo were never far from his thoughts. He hated them.

Hated them with a seething black hatred that bordered on obsession.

Hated them for feeling sorry for him.

Hated them for expecting him to get his hands dirty with those filthy animals.

Hated them for casting him out. For rejecting him.

Hated them for the crushing defeat they’d given him at the burnt-out church.

Hated them because he couldn’t control them.

No way would he hit them head on again, he’d be discreet next time. Those savage kids responded to force with even more force. They would get what they had coming when they least expected it. He’d find a way to take everything from them a piece at a time. He would have his revenge and take what he wanted and toy with them before they were crushed under his heel once and for all. He’d have that snooty little stuck up Harper as his personal toy and he’d cover the floor in his study with the hide of her giraffe.

He watched as one of his gang walked the fences, stabbing the undead with a sharpened piece of rebar. He liked to keep a few undead at the gates. Kodiak had done the same thing and as much as hated the boy, he saw the wisdom in it. They were a great deterrent and early alarm system. Their keening wails and howls erupted in full force whenever they sensed anyone uninfected. They had to be managed though. Too many at the gates and they would push it down with the sheer weight of their numbers or trample each other in their eagerness to spread the virus, effectively creating a ramp that would let them spill over the wrought iron bars.

He didn’t see any of the others outside. The rest of the crew had better be getting the other house in order. He didn’t go in there much since moving back into his own place, but when he did, he didn’t want to walk in filth. Filth was for the poor orphans hiding in a zoo. Filth was for nasty flea covered animals. He was a Lowery, and Lowery’s didn’t abide filth.

They complained, but not too loudly, about his tight control of the drugs and alcohol. They’d partied nonstop since the end of the world and would have continued right on with it if he hadn’t stepped in and taken control. They muttered under their breath about how he rationed the food. Bitched and moaned over being forced to spend the winter in Richard’s trashed house whenever there were hundreds of other houses they could use. A house they had trashed. Unchecked, they’d have eaten themselves out of supplies before winter was half over. None of them were in any shape to plunder the other homes in the community and Gordon wasn’t going to haul it for them through the snow. He wasn’t some commoner. There was plenty of food in the house, if it was managed, but they never thought ahead of the moment they were in. He’d saved them from themselves and they should be grateful.

Gordon didn’t care about their complaints. He was in charge. He didn’t want them in his house and he didn’t want them destroying the empty homes in the subdivision. They had nearly destroyed Richards home and no matter how clean they kept it now, it still looked like it belonged in the ghetto, not in the most prestigious gated community for hundreds of miles. They had spray painted graffiti, knocked holes in the plaster, destroyed the hardwood floors and carpets with cigarettes and whiskey spills and broken the finely crafted stair railings with their skateboards. He wasn’t going to let them tear up the rest of the houses, he had plans. His plans had backup plans. If one didn’t work out, he’d move onto the next. He was smart and calculating. He prided himself on his preparedness.

One of his many contingency plans involved recruiting an army of survivors to follow his every command. He’d house them in the lavish homes in exchange for their loyalty if his plans to join the Anubis Society didn’t pan out.

The few girls remaining were required to move into his house and most of the winter he’d had them all to himself. His power, and the only gun, allowed him to do anything he wanted. Everyone complied after he’d grabbed his own stepmother by the throat and backed her to the edge of the pool. He held her at the edge with one hand and threatened to drop her in with the zombies. Misty knew from the look in his eyes, he’d do it. After that, all of them were eager to do what he said.

Gordon ran things tight and precise. No more partying, unless he wanted to party. The girls kept his house spotless and the liquor and pills were kept under lock and key. All the guns but his were locked in a safe, away from temptation in case anyone wanted to contest his leadership. He carried a .44 Magnum Smith & Wesson at all times. He liked the feel of the heavy revolver and how it solidified his reign over the others. If he’d had it during the battle, Kodiak would have been dead. The stupid bear would be dead. He’d have scattered them all like leaves in the wind and taken Harper. If only. He touched the butt lovingly. He could hear it whispering to him. Pull me out, let me roar. Let me show them fear and power. Our power! Oddly, the voice sounded like his father and it never shut up. It was always there. Always goading him to do whatever he wanted or berating him for nothing. There was no law, no consequence. Police cars weren’t going to show up with flashing lights to take him away. No one was going to hold him accountable for his actions. He was the law and the only law was whatever he said.

Gordon would never take any crap from anyone again. He was in charge. King of an empire of the dead. Women to do his bidding and young men to fight his fights. No one would dare cross him if they knew what was good for them. No one, except those snotty brats at the zoo.

During the long, cold winter days while the others convalesced and healed from their wounds, he pumped iron in his basement. It had taken a while for the injury to his wrist to heal but he worked around it. He was sure it had been broken, but it turned out to just be a bad sprain. He worked through the pain with heavy wraps of sports tape and lighter weights until the day it didn’t hurt. Then he got serious with the weights. He supplemented his workouts with the steroids and muscle building proteins Richard had stashed in his room. The others grew soft from inactivity as their bones mended and gashes scarred over. He grew harder. Hours and hours in his basement gym worked his muscles into shape. He would remedy the other boys’ softness in time too. They would get back in shape. They wouldn’t stay blitzed out of their minds on drugs and alcohol. They would get in fighting form, or they would die trying because he wanted an army of warriors, not a bunch of frat boys thinking up new ways to get stoned.

He’d been having trouble getting a decent night of sleep. If it wasn’t the scratching sound tormenting him, it was the voice. Sometimes he’d hear both at the same time and he wanted to claw his ears off. Every time he closed his eyes and more frequently when he was awake, he could hear them. The condescending voice of his father or the scratching sounds.

The scratch, scratch, scratching of the store owner. Gordon had been trapped when the outbreak happened, confined to a tiny room with no escape and something dead wanted in. Jagged fingernails clawed at the office door for days. Then came the pulpy sound of fingers being worn away, blood and meat streaking and drying on the door. Then the scratching again. Bone on wood.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Endless. Hour after hour. Day after day. Week after week, the sound was always there. For months he listened and tried to keep quiet, hoped it would give up and go away. It never stopped. How long until the jagged bones clawed their way through the door one sliver at a time?

He’d spent months listening, cowering and crying as it tried to get in day after day. Night after night. Never ending. Never resting. Never giving him a moments peace. He crapped in a box and pissed in a bottle like a homeless vagrant while the thing scratched and clawed, slowly whittling away at the wood. He’d been too traumatized to realize he was surrounded by food and the means to fight back. He was nearly comatose with fear and spent his days wondering how much longer it would take. He was slowly dying, half-starved and helpless until Kodiak saved him. Saved him, he thought with disgust. Deep inside, he knew it was true. He would have gone crazy or died if they hadn’t come along. He didn’t know how many more months he could have held on. They claimed he’d only been in there for a few weeks but what did they know. It felt like months. He hadn’t opened the boxes of surplus MRE’s or tried to make a weapon from the hockey sticks and baseball bats on the shelves. Didn’t even know what MRE’s were until he saw the kids open a carton that had been in the store. He’d survived off junk food, sardines and a case of Vienna sausages sitting beside the desk.

He was weak then, but not now. Not anymore. His body was strong. The doughy baby fat was gone and replaced by hard, steroid enhanced muscles. He felt no shame or remorse for anything he’d done, only hatred and anger for the boy who’d cast him out and made him look pathetic in front of the tribe.

When he was awake, he was strong and fearless. His only time of weakness and vulnerability was when he tried to sleep. The scratching sounds plagued his nightmares. There was a recurring dream where he opened the door of the storeroom and a zombified Kodiak lurched in and attacked. He stood there helpless as his enemy tore chunks of flesh from his arms and face and the other kids laughed and clapped. He watched himself die and reanimate, then lurch upright and follow Kodiak as they searched for more victims to infect. He hated the dream. He’d wet the bed on more than one occasion when the nightmare woke him screaming.

Some of the boys healed faster than the others and he adopted the carrot and stick approach with them. Do as I say, get some time with the girls, a glass of liquor or a few pills to take off the edge. Failure to comply, spend all day at the gates stabbing the ever-present undead.

Bong, the worst addict of all had served as a lesson to the rest when Gordon caught him lighting up with some weed from a private stash when he was supposed to be patrolling the fences. Gordon had berated him, handed him a machete and kicked him out of the gates.

“You can return when you get me the head from one of the undead. A blonde this time. Good looking, not some kid or crippled old man.” He’d told him.

A half an hour later, Bong was screaming to be let in. He clutched a severed head in one hand while a lurching horde keened and shuffled after him. Their rotted fingers reached for the terrified teen. He’d lost the machete and fear filled his eyes as he waited for Gordon to sort through the ring of keys to find the right one. He let him in with seconds to spare, hungry, gnashing teeth only a few feet behind. You could never tell what Gordon would do, he could have just as easily deemed the head not good enough and watched as they tore the boy apart. After that, Bong was no longer a problem. He followed orders and if he had a stash hidden somewhere else, he kept it hidden and didn’t smoke when he had work to do.

Gordon had carefully lashed the head to one of the spikes at the top of the fence, heavy leather gloves on his hands to prevent even the tiniest risk of a bite. The blonde took her place right next to the brunette and the redhead he’d collected. He was amassing quite the collection of zombie heads. Half a dozen that were wearing ball caps. A few more that wore eyeglasses and ties around the stumps of their necks. They were segregated in his own demented system. The ones wearing ball caps represented the commoner. Their heads adorned both sides of the fence nearest the gates. They were the blue-collar hick type people like Kodiak that he hated.

Those in designer eye glasses and ties represented the upper crust of society. His kind of people. They were situated closer to the center of the long fence. If they could look behind them, he felt they’d have enjoyed the views of the garden and swimming pool with its tiki bar and overpriced patio furniture. Not even in death would he subject the upper class to the humiliation of being forced to spend eternity next to a truck driver or some brewery mechanic, so he tried to position them closer to their appropriate stations. He’d had to use a staple gun to keep the glasses and ties in place since the noses were rotting off and the silk ties wanted to slough off with the rotted flesh, but he didn’t mind. From the beginning he’d had a weird fetish for the dead. He could do whatever he wanted to them. They couldn’t tell his secrets or reveal his nature. Even the smell didn’t seem to bother him, although whoever was tasked with helping him usually ended up puking their guts out after the grisly job was complete. The voice in his head laughed at the weak stomached boys, while the rational portion of his mind wondered why he was the only one seemingly immune to the smell of decay.

Lately, he’d started collecting heads from zombie women. It unsettled his crew and he preferred them that way. He was careful when he attached them to the fences, he didn’t want to damage the brain. He wanted them animated and hungry. They gnashed their teeth at anyone who came near.

Sometimes, when the scratching noises kept him up and the voice nagged at him for not expanding his territory or destroying the feral kids, he’d come out and visit the glasses wearing heads, they were his executive committee. The lawyers and powerful players that got things done. He didn’t always agree with their advice, but he appreciated their input. They gave him their full attention as he told them his thoughts and plans. He shared his ideas for bringing in more survivors to do the work. His stay at the zoo was the last time he would ever touch a shovel or pitchfork again. He told them what he knew about the Anubis people and asked their advice on how to negotiate the best deal. He’d gone through the paperwork in his dad’s old office and had discovered he owned a few food distribution warehouses. They advised him to keep that knowledge to himself to use it as a trump card, maybe in a deal with the Society. He laughed at their highbrow jokes and enjoyed the company of other elites like himself. They were the movers and shakers of the old world and he welcomed their wisdom. They snarled and gnashed the stumps of their broken teeth at him. He listened intently and nodded along as they told their secrets of success. The strong walked on the weak and they always had, the end of the world was no reason to change things.

4

Donny

Donny stretched and yawned a silent yawn. He smiled at the memory of the hunt the night before. He and Yewan, his black panther, had brought down a whitetail deer just before sunrise.

The meat would feed the members of his tribe, the bones and organs would go to the bears and wolves. The hide would be tanned and made into something useful. Nothing from the deer would be wasted. He and Yewan had shared the still hot heart minutes after the kill. It no longer made him nauseous to eat it raw. He felt by consuming the organ, some of the creature’s speed, its greatest attribute flowed into him.

He rose and threw open the upper doors of the barn to let in the afternoon sunshine. He closed his eyes and soaked it up. He didn’t miss the winter at all. It had been severe and seemed like it would never let go of its grip on Iowa. He could handle the cold when he had to. He’d survived a Minnesota winter before he wound up here. Sleeping in utility tunnels near the underground steam pipes helped, but the warmth of the pipes also drew the rats and roaches. Nothing was worse than waking up after a rat ran across your face. One of his foster parents had kept white rats as pets. They told him rats had tongues like a cats, it was rough and covered with little barbs. They said that when a rat got thirsty at night it would lick sleeping children’s eyes for the moisture, it liked the taste of tears. They were so soft and gentle when they drank the child wouldn’t wake up. Their tongues would lick a hole, they would suck out the insides and the eyes would collapse.

“Now you be a good boy and do what we say or we’ll let them loose in your room tonight.” They’d said. “You don’t want to wake up blind, do you?”

He’d hated and feared rats ever since.

This life was so much better. He was at peace. He was happy for the first time in his life. The others used to sit around the fire talking about the things they missed and he’d listened as they talked about ice cream and Netflix. PlayStations and movie theatres. Fresh pizza and cotton candy. He’d never had any of that unless it came from a dumpster or he snuck in when the ushers weren’t paying attention.

Donny felt a deep sympathy for the rest of his tribe. They’d lost everything. Their families, friends and possessions. For him every day felt like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. He’d never had any of the nice things they missed so he wasn’t bothered by their absence. He’d never had much of anything, just the worn-out hand me down clothes on his back and a Hello Kitty backpack with a busted strap to hold his few possessions. Anything he wanted; he could have now. He just had to go get it. The thing was though, he didn’t want much. He felt like he was the richest kid in the apocalypse. He finally had a family, friends and the most loyal four-legged companion that ever lived. He had armor and weapons. Warm clothes that fit. Shoes without holes. No pervert was trying to take advantage of his silence and his body. No one ridiculed his mixed ethnicity or his muteness. His social status didn’t matter. The tribe accepted him for who he was, loved him and depended on him. He couldn’t ask for more than that. He smiled to himself at the thought of his brothers and sisters and felt truly blessed to be part of the tribe.

He watched the big cat stir to life. They’d had to hunt hard for the deer. Even though they were plentiful, the animals had become wary of the Savage Ones that tended to stay close to the zoo for the easy meals that came shuffling down the road. They’d covered a lot of miles before Yewan picked up a scent.

Murray had given him an iPad with hunting information on it as a Christmas present. He opened the device and picked up reading the article where he had left off. It was about the moon phases and how it affected the animals feeding patterns. The solunar table showed that their prime feeding times would be midday for the next few days. He’d never considered that before, they just always took to the woods when it got dark and hoped for the best. Sometimes, they were lucky, other times they weren’t. He needed to hunt smarter, not harder because Murray said they needed another year before the penned herds would be big enough to start culling for meat. According to the data on the iPad, smarter would have them going out late morning to get into position. He wondered where Swan was. She and her wolves hunted differently than him and usually wandered farther. Sometimes she would be gone for days and when she came in, she rushed to get her share of the chores finished so she could head back out. She’d become more sullen and brooding and he knew she was hunting Gordon. He hoped she didn’t find him, things had settled down and they hadn’t had any trouble for months. He doubted if they’d ever hear from him again but if she found out where they were, she’d start a war. She still mourned over Lucy and placed the blame squarely on him.

He finished the advanced hunting strategies book and gauged the time by the sun. They still had a couple of hours to burn before they should head out and he needed to take his turn swinging the ax. They cut wood every day, they weren’t going to be caught short again. Winters were long and cold in Iowa.

His mind was made up. He’d start hunting the moon phases after they were done with the majority of the garden harvest. Attune himself with Mother Earth as Swan would say. The idea of hunting in the middle of the day based on the wax and wane of the moon seemed odd, but what did he know? He was a homeless street kid who got lucky. He was adaptable and would do what it took to feed his tribe.

5

Harvest

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. The garden produced food faster than they could collect it. The cellar was nearly full and every meal had an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables that covered the table.

Before the outbreak, most of them would have moaned and groaned if their parents had told them to eat their veggies. Now, they scarfed them down and wanted more. The long winter of eating canned food, crackers and venison jerky had given them a desire for anything fresh.

Tobias and Analise canned nonstop and were always reminding the hunters to look for propane bottles and Mason jars while they were out. They had nearly exhausted their supply of jars and lids. Their blackberry jelly was now perfect and the smell of the baking bread filled the house every Sunday morning. Kodiak had built a cooling box in the cellar that kept the yeasted dough, milk and butter fresh.

Tobias was a tyrant in the kitchen and was proud of his growing culinary skills. Everything had to be just perfect. The triplets were fed up with him and his bossiness and mutiny was being discussed among the three. They conspired and debated tying him to a chair and rubbing the sweet cooked down juice from the berries in his hair and letting the bears take turns licking him until his face was raw. Analise was about tired of him too. He was like that angry chef from the TV their mom used to watch.

Haul firewood. Pump the water. Get out of my way. Get over here. Get over there. It was nonstop. The three were tired and wanted to play, but every time they thought they’d done everything the older boy asked, he piled on more work.

Landon ran around the kitchen with a section of panty hose stretched over his head. They were supposed to be cutting off the legs and filling them with potatoes and onions to hang in the cellar. Clara and Caleb laughed as he barked orders with his impersonation of Tobias. Analise shushed them when Tobias came back inside with a bucket of blackberries.

Tobias glared at them. Landon pulled the panty hose off his head and glared back at Tobias. Analise put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh but the triplets couldn’t hold it and fell to the floor in convulsions of uncontrolled giggling. Tobias grew red in the face. He wanted to know what was so funny. No one could answer, they just pointed behind him.

Popsicle had nosed his way through the door and had his big face buried in the bucket of blackberries. His long tongue scooped them into his mouth and fished them from the corners. The fur of his face was blue from the juices. Tobias shrieked and Popsicle ran. He chased the polar bear across the yard until they were both out of sight.

He returned a few minutes later. Muttered under his breath and dared any of them to say anything.

“I guess he didn’t want the cheese.” Landon said. Tobias’ latest effort at cheese sat next to the now empty bucket. His cheese was getting better but even Otis still wouldn’t eat it.

Tobias growled at them and grabbed up his wooden spoon. He waved it menacingly and ordered them to go get more wood for the stove. He snatched up his apron from the back of a chair and slipped it over his head.

He swore when he saw the modifications.

Someone had taken a marker and changed Kiss The Cook to Kill The Cook. He glared at his sister and the small kids as they tried to look surprised and maintain innocent faces.

He and Analise had gone through a phase where they wanted to be celebrity chefs and had spent a few months watching cooking shows and trying all kinds of recipes. They never really got very good but they knew much more about cooking than the others whose culinary skills extended only as far as the microwave. He enjoyed working in the kitchen before the outbreak but now he took great pride in preparing the meals. He took the responsibility seriously. It was his job to make sure they all ate properly, they couldn’t live on mac and cheese. To get them all together so he wouldn’t have to keep meals warm for a dawdler, he made it a rule; no one eats until everyone is seated at the table.

Tobias gave up on making jelly for the time being. It would take another trip to the blackberry patch since Popsicle had eaten or ruined all of the berries. He turned his attention to dinner and ran the triplets out of the kitchen.

When he and Analise set out his creations, he poised over the table. He watched his tribe, rolling pin in hand, ready to swat anyone who couldn’t wait to dig in. He waited for the praise. They wouldn’t give it. It’s okay and meh’s were his reward. Getting under his skin was a constant source of entertainment for the tribe and they dogged him whenever they got the chance. He let them have their fun. He could tell by how the plates were cleaned that they enjoyed it.

They had become lean and muscular. None of them carried extra body fat. The softness of hours sitting in a classroom or in front of the TV were gone. They stayed busy from sunup to sundown, sometimes longer. Surviving was hard work and they didn’t want to feel the hunger in their bellies next winter. They didn’t want to stay cold for months because they had to use the wood sparingly. They wanted full stomachs and roaring fires and they worked to make it happen. They had to venture further and further to find wood. Everything close to the house was long gone. Even the little kids took their turn at the wood pile. They weren’t strong enough to swing the axe yet but they could haul the chopped wood and split kindling with the hatchet and add it to the stack at the back of the house. It ran the whole length and wrapped around one corner. It was already head high in some places and Murray said it would act as insulation against the winter winds. And it was close. They wouldn’t have to trudge back and forth through the snow to get it. It was right outside the door. An hour of chopping, dragging or stacking was on the chore chart for everyone and the pile of wood was already nearly as much as they’d had when the temperatures dropped below freezing last winter. They would be ready this year. They would spend the snow bound months lounging and relaxing, not fighting the elements and freezing in the cold.

Darkness had fallen, work was finished for the day and Kodiak was content as he added a spoon of mashed potatoes to his dinner plate. He felt good about everything they were accomplishing but he’d been brooding about their perfect little corner of the world. Nothing good ever lasted. Life always seemed to have a sucker punch waiting. Two steps forward and one step back. How long could their run of perfect luck continue? How long until someone got zombie bit or broke an arm or had an accident with the ax? What if one of them got really sick? He tried to push the dark thoughts away, he just wanted to eat his meal and enjoy the banter of the tribe. Inside the house was the only time they ever got loud and silly. They didn’t yell or make unnecessary noises outside but in the stately old home, they let their guard down. While Caleb told another dumb knock knock joke he let his thoughts drift from one of the tribe getting hurt to Gordon to the undead at the gates to the Savage Ones and back to Gordon.

It was quiet and peaceful. Too quiet and too peaceful to be the end of the world. It can’t last. It won’t last. Something would come along to ruin the moments like these. His mood darkened. He mumbled his thanks to Tobias and left the table without trying the fruit salad the twins had whipped up.

Harper started to protest but saw his furrowed brow and let it go. He’d been quieter than usual, something was bothering him. He couldn’t shake the worries off so he did what he usually did, he double checked things to make sure nothing had been overlooked. Some minor little thing that wouldn’t have mattered before the outbreak but could spell death and destruction now. Almost anything could bring them misery. A fallen tree across the fence. A gate that hadn’t been latched. An empty water barrel for fire emergencies. He grabbed up his Warhammer and headed for the door. Otis chuffed softly and lumbered after him, acting more like a faithful dog than a giant bear.

He’d check the fence lines even though they had already been checked. At a slow jog he could make the round and be back by the time everyone was bedding down. He’d count the dead clawing at the gates even though he knew how many were there. He’d check the petting zoo and the barn. He’d look for tracks and listen for the sounds of the Savage Ones. Listen for the sounds of engines or anything that sounded out of place. In the morning he’d climb on top of the barn, it offered the best vantage point to look around, to see if anything had changed overnight. He’d visit the burned-out church and the scattered and stripped bones of the riders. There weren’t many left. He couldn’t bring himself to bury them, even though the old part of him felt it was the right thing to do. This open graveyard was a reminder of what happened. He needed to remember. It was the night they became killers.

The festive dinners and laughter were great. It was deserved. Making time to play and have fun was important. Listening to the quiet cries of joy from the children on Donny’s tire swing was music for the soul. But they couldn’t forget. He couldn’t let them. Peace was just a lull between battles.

Something was always waiting.

Lurking.

Looking for an opportunity to take what they’d built. The local zombies were in rough shape, but Swan reported seeing scores of fresh ones wandering down the county road. Many that had been trapped inside all winter had found their way out, found each other and wandered together in hordes. The barricade of abandoned cars at the turnoff kept them shuffling along for the most apart although some straggled in. The blocked road kept the zombies moving but if there were any groups of bandits or raiders they would see the roadblock for what it was and would know there were survivors nearby.

Whenever he found burrowing around the chain link fences where animals tried to dig under, a healthy dose of urine from one of the carnivores poured around the area usually did the trick. But for how much longer? How much longer until Gordon led in ten thousand dead and the fences fell? What would happen when Swan or Donny came back with a bite mark from a moment of carelessness? What would happen if one of the companion animals got sick? What if one of them needed a dentist? They were all getting older. Otis was showing gray in his muzzle already and preferred to lounge away most of the day.

The food sat heavy on his stomach. He felt sick thinking about all of these things he couldn’t control. He had to though. He was their leader. It was his responsibility.

He checked everything. It was all just as reported. He took solace in the fact that no one was shirking in their responsibilities, but then again, no one ever did. They all knew the dangers outside of the fences.

The next day, it was late afternoon when he finished his chores and made his way down to the river. Down to the spot where Mom had given Derek her version of burial at sea. Where he’d first kissed Harper and where he’d been baptized into the leader he was now. He thought of his Mom and the promises he’d made when he read her goodbye note. It really didn’t matter where her reanimated corpse was wandering. For him, she was here. Always would be and he came to talk with her often when he was scared or confused. When he needed to let it all out and shed the tears that he wouldn’t in front of the tribe.

Harper was already there. He smiled. He had hoped she’d take the clumsy hint when he said he was going to the river when his checks were finished. She lay on a blanket, twirling her hair, a basket of fresh strawberries at her side.

She tilted her head at his approach.

“Oh my. I wasn’t expecting company.” She said in mock surprise. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

He leaned his war hammer against the trunk of an old elm and plopped down beside her. The muddy lazy river, the eastern boundary of the park rolled by slow and steady. Otis waddled down to the shore and lapped greedily at the water.

Nothing was said nor needed to be as they ate the strawberries and he ran his fingers through her hair. She had the braids tied back in a ponytail and he pulled the band free, let the blonde mane fall to her shoulders. Her face had a smudge of dirt from some chore and he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Now you’re perfect again.” He said softly.

She leaned in and their lips met. He was the only boy she’d ever kissed and if she had her way, he’d be the only one she ever did. She gazed in his eyes. Traced the scar that ran down his face. She leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. They didn’t need to speak, the silence was comfortable and they both smiled as Otis stood on the bank waiting for a fish to get too close to shore. It didn’t take long before one did, was slapped on the bank and then carried over to a shade tree to be eaten as a pre-dinner snack.

“I can barely remember the old world.” She said after a time. “And all the things that used to be important. I remember I was consumed with who liked my posts on Instagram and who was going to be picked for the junior varsity cheerleader squad. My mom was worried about getting her degree and Dad worked all the time. They always talked about what they were going to do when they had the time and the money. Sometimes I can’t remember what they looked like or the sound of their voices. It all seems like a dream and that this is the only life I’ve ever known.”

Kodiak nodded. He understood. Late night X-Box tournaments with his friends and trying to get out of chores had been the norm for him. It had always been tough for him and mom after his Dad died, but they’d been happy. His wildest fantasy never saw him battling zombies beside a grizzly bear and living like a pioneer. Sometimes, he wished he was in a vivid dream and he’d wake up with his mom yelling at him to hurry up before he was late for school.

“Do you think things will ever get back to the way they were?” Harper asked. “Is there any place left to go?”

Kodiak shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. We can’t be the only people left.”

They both looked at the sky, the vivid blues and puffy whites of slow moving clouds. They hadn’t seen or heard an airplane since the outbreak.

6

Donny

Donny watched from his perch on a tree limb near the site of the old burnt out church. It was early afternoon and hot. Sweat coated his lithe body underneath the black armor, but he’d rather sweat with it on than risk getting bitten without it. Yewan lounged on a wide branch next to him. They were as still as gargoyles perched on the ramparts of a cathedral. The gentle swish of her tail was the only indicator the pair weren’t carved from obsidian. It was a good spot to watch for signs of the Savage Ones and overlooked a spot where deer liked to cross the road. The Savage Ones hungered and returned here when they couldn’t find prey. They would sniff for a scrap of bone or leathered flesh leftover from the battle.

It had been a dull and uneventful hunt and they were ready to pack it in and call it a day. Nothing but squirrels and rabbits. Apparently, the deer hadn’t read the same book he had.

Donny and Yewan both tensed at the sound of limbs breaking in the woods across the road. Something heavy was falling through the trees. He heard the grunts and stifled curses, caught a flash of something as it crashed through the branches and plunged towards the ground. There was a thud of a body hitting the forest floor and he winced despite himself. Whatever it was had hit hard. He gripped his spear tighter and laid a reassuring hand on the panther’s thick neck and watched. He wanted to run but held his position, his curiosity strong. They were safe here high above the ground and invisible in the shadows of the mighty oak’s limbs.

A boy older than him staggered out of the wood line, stumbled through the ditch and on to the road. He held one arm close to his body like it was injured. He wore a heavy leather coat, even though the weather was too warm for it. He watched the boy stumble down the road, weaving and swaying, barely able to stay on his feet. He wondered where he came from. He had to have been in the tree for a long time, they would have heard him if he’d climbed up after they had taken their position. He must have been hiding up there for hours, maybe spying on them and had somehow slipped. Probably fell asleep.

Curious, he slid down the limbs, landed silently at the base of the tree and followed. The road was empty and silent except for the rustle of the breeze through the tree limbs and the shuffling footsteps of the mysterious stranger. They watched as he fell, pushed himself back to his feet and staggered on. Donny held back, kept out of sight and watched. The stranger was unsteady, seemed more dead than alive and was moving toward the zoo. Maybe he was infected, maybe he’d been bit and had climbed a tree to get away from a horde. If so, why hadn’t Yewan sensed him? He had only been a hundred yards away.

They could probably take him even though he wore guns. They could sneak up within spear distance. He seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings. They moved slowly through the trees, followed the zig zagging boy and watched for others. Gordon’s gang didn’t travel alone. If other people appeared, if they had guns, it was safer to run away and warn the tribe, they were stronger together. The stranger pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, checked his weapons with his uninjured hand and took a few more steps. Donny and Yewan followed cautiously, kept to the shadows and watched. The stranger could be overplaying his injuries, hoping to lure them out.

They followed him for nearly half a mile. He stumbled over the debris that littered the road. He fell, forced himself back to his feet and left bloody handprints on the road. Donny heard him whispering to himself, but he couldn’t make out the words. He snuck closer and strained his ears. He kept repeating a name, Scarlet, almost like it was a prayer, like it gave him strength to keep moving. Donny didn’t sense hostility from the boy even though he was wearing armor and was armed to the teeth. He looked dangerous but there was something about him that didn’t feel like a threat, more like he was desperate for something. Still, he waited and watched. The strange behavior might be the virus, he could be infected and was in the last stages before he turned. If so, he’d run his sharp spear through the stranger’s skull and that would be the end of it. He stroked the panther’s fur, felt the bunched muscles, ready to spring at his command. His ring finger was ready to tap out the command for attack but not yet. He had to be sure it wasn’t just a hard knock to the head or maybe a fever. He’d killed before but he wouldn’t strike someone down for no reason.

He watched as the boy collapsed heavily, saw his head bounce off the asphalt. He didn’t get back up this time but crawled towards the thickets overgrowing the ditch. He was trying to hide. No one else was sneaking up behind them and he knew the boy wasn’t pretending weakness to lure him out. If he was one of Gordon’s crew, he was alone. The way of the tribe was stealth and caution and he waited a little longer after the boy finally stopped moving and lay still.

The older boy stayed down. Donny looked skyward and saw the buzzards circling over the body. He wouldn’t last long if the Savage Ones got scent of him. With the carrion birds overhead, the rest would soon follow.

Donny watched for another minute, and then made his decision. He turned and raced for his tribe, Yewan by his side.

7

Tribe

The tribe stood around the stranger lying on the side of the road. They watched his chest as it rose and fell, his breathing ragged and uneven. His face was smashed and bloody and old scarring was visible through the puffy blue and black bruising. He wore leather pants, heavy boots and a battered leather jacket stained with old blood. Low riding holsters with deadly looking pistols were slung around his hips. His hair was long, his face ragged. He looked like a warrior, but there was no fight in the stranger. The only fight left in him was the fight to stay alive.

“We should just put him out of his misery.” Tobias said. “He looks like Popsicle chewed him up and spit him out.”

Analise punched him in the arm. “He needs help, dummy. We can’t just leave him here.”

Harper and Vanessa agreed with her. Swan paced back and forth, her eyes studying every inch of the stranger.

“He could be a spy.” She said. “Look what happened when we rescued Gordon. We can’t trust anyone outside of the tribe. He looks dangerous. Look at all that armor and those guns and knives. If he’s not one of Gordon’s he’s probably something worse. I say we take him back with us. I’ll get him to talk if he ever wakes up.”

Kodiak crouched over him and started pulling the guns and knives out of their sheaths and holsters. The boy didn’t move, didn’t wake up. Otis stepped in close and sniffed. He chuffed and pawed him gently, checking to see if he still lived.

“Otis doesn’t know him.” Kodiak said. “Neither do I. I saw all of Gordon’s gang up close when they beat the crap out of me. Unless he stayed behind in their hideout, he’s not one of them. Otis would have his scent and I would recognize him.”

“Then where did he come from?” Harper asked but nobody had an answer.

Zero and Yewan approached the boy. They each sniffed him and gave no indication they had ever smelled his particular scent. No growls or snarls, just indifference to a creature that posed no threat to their children. Like Otis, there was no aggression from the ebony cat. No raised hackles or bared fangs. Each of the animals sniffed him, prodded him with wet noses or paws. Satisfied, they returned to their companions.

“I guess that settles it, then.” Kodiak said and stepped towards the older boy. “Gimme a hand guys. We’ll take him with us. If nothing else, maybe he’ll have some news about other places.”

Harper gathered his weapons and placed them in her satchel as Donny and Swan quickly put together a travois. They both carried the ropes needed to build one, it’s how they carried the deer back from their hunts. Kodiak eyed the odd-looking belt around his waist, but it wasn’t a weapon. It seemed out of place considering the rest of his garb but it looked harmless, so he left it where it was.

They took turns pulling him back, he weighed a lot more than a fully dressed whitetail. It was a long and bumpy ride but the stranger never woke up.

8

Diablo

Diablo caught a new scent on the wind. It smelled human, but it was an unknown scent. His sensitive nose took it all in and processed it against the smells he was familiar with. He never forgot a scent once it entered his nose and this one was new. He smelled the sweat and the stink of illness. He set out in a cautious lope to investigate. The pack of Savage Ones trailed him at a safe distance. He was a brutal leader, often snatching the weaker ones to sate his ravenous appetite. The brutal memories of the long hard winter lingered in his brain. The hyena had never felt such cold and hated it. His kind were used to dry, arid environments. He had spent all winter shivering in a den formerly occupied by a mountain lion. The lion had fought viciously, and then tried to flee, but the sheer numbers of his pack had cornered and overwhelmed the big cat. After he’d feasted on the hot organs and bitter meat, the rest of them had reduced the animal to a pile of scattered fur and shattered bones. The kittens in the den soon followed their mother as they filled the bellies of the half mad pack.

Diablo tolerated some of the other animals to share the den for the benefit of the body heat, the rest were left to fend for themselves. They never wandered far though; the draw of the Alpha was too strong. When his stomach growled, he feasted on his den mates rather than face the cold to seek out a meal. There were plenty more of them, eager to take the place of the devoured.

The hyena missed the kinship of his brother, Demonio. He would have preferred to be alone, but millions of years of survival instinct made him tolerate the rest of the pack. He needed them to live and that dominated any other desires he had to travel alone.

He hungered. The stinking humans were in short supply. The winter had frozen them, slowed them down to where they were even easier to catch and devour, but their numbers had dwindled and they ranged far and wide to find prey. The young humans inside the fences were frequently in his thoughts, but the thoughts were tainted with misery. He remembered the loss of Demonio, the fangs of the wolf and the metal claws of his human girl. It kept him cautious, but he always circled back to the zoo. He would stay for a time, eat his fill and watch. There were always stinking humans at the gate but he was wary. The lesser animals could eat their fill but if he was seen, the humans inside the fences would try to hurt him. He kept his distance or only snuck in late at night. He watched the humans inside the fence for a time and when he left again seeking easier prey, only the fastest ran with him: The wild dogs and coyotes. The opossums and rats, the raccoons and cats remained at the zoo. They had grown too fat and lazy to run with the pack, they stayed and gorged themselves, tried to satisfy a hunger that couldn’t be sated.

The humans were weak and slow when they were separated from their group. They were no match for him and his powerful jaws. He would hunt them as his ancestors did. Stalk them and pick off the stragglers. Crack their bones for the sweet marrow. Not yet though. For now, he would content himself with rotted flesh and the weaker animals until the opportunity presented itself. The rancid meat filled his belly, but never sated his appetite. The flesh from the stinking humans stoked the fires of his rage, caused him to devour long after his belly was distended, yet he hungered still. It was maddening. He stifled the urge to let loose a laughing bark and increased his loping gait. He wanted a closer inspection of the new scent.

As he neared the fences, the smaller members of his pack joined the group and followed on silent padded feet. The coyotes, wild dogs, feral cats, raccoons, opossums and the once domesticated pigs fell in place. He always found the food. They understood his cruel reign. He was the strongest of them all and the Alpha.

The scent of the new human grew stronger and he slowed, careful to keep the wind in his nose so he could remain undetected by his prey. He growled a warning to the others to stay back and dropped to his belly and crawled forward to investigate. He detected a multitude of intermingled scents from the young ones and their beasts as he watched from the safety of the thick brush. They rested just inside the fence as they gathered around the source of the unknown smell that lured him there, the blood covered human. He inhaled all the aromas. Cross checked and cataloged them against his olfactory memory. He drooled at the thought of fresh meat. Hot and rich with warm blood. His muscles bunched, his rage and hunger threatened to overwhelm his protective senses when he smelled the scent of Demonio. The wolf girl wore his pelt across her back.

Diablo was a scavenger by design. His DNA was programmed to take the least amount of risk and steal the prey from stronger animals by stealth or overwhelming numbers of his kind. He tamped down his blood lust and watched as the small ones lifted and carried the new one across the field to their den. The big bear sniffed the wind and looked in his direction. He forced his body lower and lidded his eyes. He knew he couldn’t win this fight and remained motionless. His mottled, tawny hide blended seamlessly with the foliage. Hunger gnawed at his belly as he scooted away from the sure death that awaited him. He growled a low growl to his pack and loped into the forest in search of an easier meal. He would watch, he would wait and when the time came, he would close his strong jaws on their frail bodies and feast.

His limping gait carried them swiftly towards the outskirts of Putnam, only a few miles away. He and his pack had found one of the lairs of the stinking humans yet were unable to get at them. They’d circled and scratched, pawed and growled at the shapes moving in the window, only to wind up frustrated and hungry. His growl increased to match the rumble of his belly. He didn’t like being thwarted from a meal, drool ran from his massive jaws and he increased his speed towards the lair of the stinking ones. He vaulted the steps and crashed into the door. Pain coursed through the old wound in his shoulder. The wound inflicted by the wolf so many months ago. He crashed into the wooden door again. He would not be denied this meal. A coyote yipped and crashed into the door beside him. The Savage Ones hungered as much as their alpha and his fury inflamed their own. Diablo eyed the stinking ones through the window as more of the hungry animals flung themselves against the door. Opossums and raccoons scaled the rain gutters and chimney. Strong teeth and nimble paws tore at the mesh chimney cap, eager to work their way inside to be the first to feed. A mixed breed dog flung himself at the pane glass window. It shattered and he yelped as the glass shards dug into his flesh. He fell and flopped on the porch, licking at his wounds until the others sensed his vulnerability, fell on him and devoured him in seconds. The cats ran under the porch, chunks of meat in their jaws. Wild pigs and coyotes snapped tusks and fangs at each other as they fought over the bones. The ravens, crows and vultures descended in flocks that blotted out the sun in their own quest for a tasty morsel. The undead family spilled through the shattered window. A mother, father, teenage girl and a toddler. Trapped inside since the outbreak, the virus inside them screamed for a chance to feed, to spread and replicate. The chimney cap fell free and the raccoons and opossums scurried down. They spread through the house, seeking anything to fill their bellies. The pantry doors were torn from their hinges from the weight of the animals, food boxes were shredded and the contents gobbled up.

Diablo watched as the stinking ones fell through the shattered window. They made their awful noise, staggered to their feet and set off at a run in search of prey of their own. Many of the Savage Ones poured through the new opening in search of food, while others focused their attacks on the stinking ones. A large boar crashed into the man bearing him to the ground. His tusks ripped and shredded flesh. The creature ignored it and tried to crawl away. It wanted to seek prey of its own. More of them fell on the keening creature and tore away mouthfuls of flesh.

Diablo leapt and grabbed the smallest of the stinking ones. He crunched the skull in his jaws, felt it go limp and drug it to the shade to feast in peace. None would dare defy him and try to feed on it until he was finished. The carrion birds swooped down on the teenaged zombie. The sheer weight of them forced it to the ground where talons and beaks tore off shreds of flesh. Wild cats darted in among the birds to grab their shares. The woman was dragged down under the jaws of the coyotes and mongrel dogs. Smaller animals darted in to take what they could. Some escaped with a mouthful of flesh while others became part of the buffet. The frenzy was over in minutes. Only the sound of bones cracking, and the calls of the carrion birds disturbed the silence. Temporarily sated, the larger savages collapsed to rest and digest their grisly meal, while the smaller ones flitted about scooping up the bits of flesh and shattered bones that littered the yard.

Birds flew into the open house and lit on the furniture. Their wings knocked pictures from the walls as they sought out leftover morsels.

Diablo cracked a femur in his strong jaws and devoured the marrow. His stomach was full to the point of bursting, yet he continued to feed. The tainted meat only increased his hunger. He regurgitated a chunk and then swallowed it back down again. When he could force no more into his gullet, he rested his paws over the remains to protect his meal, lowered his bloodied muzzle and closed his eyes.

9

Swan

Swan watched the stranger as he tossed and turned in the bed. He kicked off the covers every time she tried to cover him up. Sweat covered his lean, hard body. She tried not to admire his muscled physique but found it hard not to. Old, puckered wounds from bullets dotted his body. Other scars, long and white, like those from an edged weapon, crisscrossed his skin like a roadmap of pain and suffering. Whoever he was, he’d seen action and was tough enough to have survived. She grudgingly admired that and wanted to know the story behind each one.

She thought he would be attractive in a roguish sort of way if it wasn’t for the mottled bruising and swelling that covered his body. He had a prominent scar on one side of his face but he was so swollen and piebald she had to use her imagination to figure out what he really looked like underneath. She scolded herself as the urge to trace her finger along the scar struck her from out of nowhere. He might be the enemy, he might be there to kill them all, but he looked helpless in his fitful sleep. She couldn’t help it, her heart ached as she sat and watched, wondered over the damage done to him. He could have been dead from any of his wounds and there were a lot of them. His face wasn’t quite symmetrical, almost like a cheap puzzle where the pieces didn’t fit just right and he frequently clenched his teeth as if he was in a lot of pain.

He’d been out for three days and at first, they weren’t sure he’d make it. They stripped him, washed the blood from his body but were mystified when there were no cuts, no bleeding gashes. He seemed to be sweating it out of his pores. Murray wrapped his arm to help the collarbone heal and had to convince Tobias and Kodiak he wasn’t suffering from Ebola. They’d given him water and broth. She and Harper had held up his head and poured it into his mouth. Much of it dribbled down his chest, but they’d gotten enough in him. He wasn’t dead yet and they’d done what they could. The rest was up to him.

She stopped hunting, hurried through her chores and kept her vigil. She wanted to be there when he woke up. She had questions for the stranger and she would get answers, one way or another. She had to know if he was one of Gordon’s gang or if they had done this to him. She had to know if he held the answers she was seeking, if he had encountered them and did he know where they were. She wore her armor and kept her weapons with her, she was guarding a prisoner. A dangerous one from the looks of him. Her anger had faded as she listened to him, to his dreams, to his occasional moans and the words he sometimes spoke. He sounded desperate and lost most of the time.

It irked her at first that Zero had accepted him so easily while she kept both tomahawks handy if he woke and tried something. It irked her that the wolf was laying on the rug beside the bed, keeping vigil of his own. It wasn’t like him to be so trusting. She trusted Zero, trusted him with her life, and his acceptance of the stranger eased some of her suspicions. If the wolf had picked up any sense of danger from him, surely, he would show it.

His sleep was deep, almost like he was in a coma at first but it became lighter. By the third day they expected him to wake up at any time. His dreams became more vivid and the words he uttered started to make sense. He seemed to be reliving the same nightmare, one where he was trying to help someone called Scarlet but he never succeeded. The dream would end, his fists would unclench and he’d sleep peacefully for a time before the cycle started again. Swan sharpened her blades or groomed her wolves as she kept watch, listened and wondered who he’d been.

Swan startled awake; she’d been dozing in the rocking chair. The stranger was upright on the bed, his eyes wide and darting. They found her in the moonlight and the first thing that popped in her mind was God, what beautiful eyes you have. He stared at her intently for a second then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed back onto the twisted sheets. Zero lowered his head and went back to sleep.

Her heart pounded, she gripped her weapons tighter and watched to see if he would regain consciousness. When he didn’t stir, she relaxed and told herself she needed to stay awake but soon drifted off. Zero was there, he would keep her safe.

“He woke up for a few seconds then passed out again.” She told the tribe in the morning.

“Let’s put him on the couch.” Kodiak said “I think he’s over whatever was wrong with him. If he’s dangerous, I’d rather more of us be ready. Besides, I’m sure you could use a break.”

Donny and Tobias moved towards the bedroom and returned a few seconds later with the unconscious boy draped in a sheet. Vanessa shooed the wolf cubs off the couch and Harper covered it with a clean blanket as Analise brought in a damp washcloth to lay over his forehead.

Swan didn’t care for how the other girls were staring at him. Didn’t care for the extra attention they lavished on him. She forced them aside as she tucked the sheet in around his body.

“What?” she said defensively. “He still has a fever. I don’t want him dying before I find out what he knows. Besides, Clara doesn’t need to see him naked.”

She met their eyes one at a time, dared them to challenge her.

Tobias snorted and burst out laughing. “Swan’s hot for the stranger!”

The taunt caught like wildfire and soon the whole tribe was giggling and making kissy faces. Swan blushed, told them they were idiots and stormed outside. She slammed the door behind her and looked for something, anything to throw her tomahawks at, and anything to distract her thoughts from the stranger. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe she was a little jealous of the way they were fawning over him.

Maybe.

Just a little.

10

Call Me Bob

Kodiak watched from his perch in the windowsill as the stranger opened his eyes to find the muzzle of a bear breathing heavily in his face. He watched as the older boy eased his hand down under the blankets for the pair of guns that were now safely hidden away. The scarred stranger looked a little surprised when he found nothing but skin beneath the covers and he slowly bunched himself up to spring off the couch. Kodiak reflexively gripped the haft of his Warhammer as he watched.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He said. “Relax, he won’t hurt you.”

“Unless I tell him to.” He added after a pause, a little menace in his voice.

The boys studied each other from across the room. Both were lean and hard; both bore scars from their deadly encounters. Kodiak didn’t blink. The stranger didn’t blink either. He saw no hostility in the stranger’s eyes. Sadness and determination, but no malice or ill intent. Kodiak broke the gaze and looked to Otis.

“Otis, back off.” The boy commanded.

The big bear chuffed once more in the strangers face then ambled off to flop down in front of the fireplace. The triplets and their foxes immediately hid behind him and peered over the top of his shaggy brown pelt, safe from whatever was going to happen next. This was the first time they’d had a guest in the old house.

The stranger sat up slowly. No sudden moves that could be misconstrued as aggression. Still, he gave the impression of a coiled spring, ready to burst loose at any second. He probed his shoulder tenderly.

“Good work, whoever did this.” He said. “Thanks.”

Murray gave a slight bow from his wheelchair. “At your service, stranger. Got a name?”

The stranger ignored the question as they stared at his mottled body and watched him run fingers over the broken bone. He was one massive bruise from head to toe.

“What happened to my pants?” he asked and snatched the blanket back in place before it fell to the floor.

Swan blushed and the others started snickering.

Clara piped in. “Swan took them off!”

Clara ducked down behind Mr. Ringtail so they couldn’t see her but she couldn’t hide her giggles.

“They were filthy and you were stinking up the place,” Swan said in her defense. “Somebody had to do it, they were all bloody and you were drawing flies.”

Murray rolled up to face the stranger. “Yeah, that’s weird. You were soaked in blood, but you didn’t have any cuts. How did you get so bruised up, anyway? You get into a fight with a weed whacker?”

Harper handed him his pants and kept her eyes averted, she was nearly as red as Swan.

The stranger tried to smile, “Got beat with the ugly stick.” He said as he struggled into his leathers and tried to keep himself covered as all the girls raptly watched his muscles flexing.

The stranger kept glancing at Analise and Tobias out of the corner of his eyes. Kodiak thought he saw a twinge of sadness.

Caleb snickered. “Need help? Swan got them off you real quick, maybe she can help you put them back on.”

“SHUT UP CALEB!” Swan growled and flung a pillow at him. Caleb ducked behind Otis, who acknowledged it bouncing off of him with a half open eye before getting back to his nap.

Kodiak hopped down from his place in the windowsill. He held his hammer loosely and stopped in front of the stranger.

“It’s time you answered some questions.” Kodiak said.

The stranger, still struggling with his pants acted as if he didn’t hear him. The chatter from the others fell silent as they all waited to hear what he had to say.

The stranger looked up at Kodiak. “Sorry. What?” He tossed the sheet aside and began looking for his boots.

“I said it’s your turn to answer questions.” Kodiak tried to hide his annoyance.

The stranger met his gaze. “Okay. No problem. But I really gotta pee. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Donny stepped from the shadows and gestured for the stranger to follow him. They returned from the outhouse a few minutes later to find the tribe bustling around and laying out breakfast.

The large oak table was loaded down with food. Fresh vegetables, roasted ears of corn, fried game and fish, scrambled eggs and Tobias’s slowly evolving efforts at homemade cheese. The stranger stared at the spread and the growling of his stomach elicited giggles from the triplets.

“I had a locket.” He said. “Did I still have it when you found me?”

Harper spoke. “Oh, I have it.” She stepped over to a rocking chair and picked it up, along with the stranger’s shirt. “I stitched up some of the tears.” She blushed again as he met her eyes.

“Thanks.” he said and started unwrapping the bandages that held his arm tight to his chest.

Murray watched him. “You should leave that. You’re not supposed to move it for a few weeks.”

The stranger pulled the last of the bandages away. “I heal fast.” He said as he probed his collarbone.

“Let me see. Bend down here.” Murray said.

The older boy obliged and Murray gently felt the damaged shoulder. This is odd, he thought. I know it was broken, I set the bones back in place. He probed some more. It was still bruised around the break, but it was definitely not broken. Not anymore. There were a lot of things about this stranger that had Murray’s Spidey senses tingling.

“I could have sworn it was broken. It felt broken, but bones don’t grow back together in three days.” Murray said.

The stranger stopped struggling with his shirt. “Three days? I’ve been out for three days?”

“Three days and three nights, sleepyhead!” Landon said.

“Three days and nights.” Echoed Clara. She wanted to add something to that, but Swan shot her a dirty look and the little wild girl held her tongue.

Swan watched as he resumed the struggle with his shirt, wincing as he tried to put his arm through the sleeve.

“Oh, give me that.” She said and watched the muscles ripple as she eased his damaged arm through the shirt, her fingers brushing over his skin. It suddenly felt a lot warmer in the house.

“It’s just a sprain.” She chastised. “You’re worse than Kodiak. Big baby.”

Clara pointed at the empty seat next to her. “You can sit by me,” and stuck her tongue out at Caleb and Landon.

“Unless you want to sit by Swan.” Caleb snorted. Swan kicked him under the table and stared at him until he looked down at his empty plate. Swan was scary.

Kodiak gestured to an empty seat between him and Donny. All the girls were acting stupid over his presence, even Swan. Especially Swan. If this guy tried anything, he wanted to be closest to react. Donny would have his back and Tobias would cut the stranger off if he tried something and bolted for the door. So far, he’d been nothing but polite, but so had Gordon when he was trying to get them to lower their guard. Kodiak would never make the mistake of underestimating an outsider again.

“Join us. You can sit here.” Kodiak said.

The stranger took his place between Kodiak and Donny. He picked at his plate, although it was obvious from the growls of his stomach he was starving.

Tobias looked on in annoyance. He and Analise worked hard on their meals and he was sensitive to any criticisms. This was the first outsider they’d invited to eat and he was eager to see how his food went over with someone who didn’t know that any smart comments would get them a bloodied nose.

“You don’t like it?” Tobias asked. He teetered between embarrassment and anger for a few seconds.

“No, it’s, good.” The stranger said. “But I don’t want to eat someone else’s share.”

Kodiak waved his fork. “Food we have plenty of. Don’t be shy. Those two will get insulted if you don’t eat enough, they might just stab you.”

From the other end of the table Vanessa said. “Or make you eat Tobias’ cheese.”

The table erupted in snickers and giggles.

“I heard that.” Tobias said. He stared everyone into silence. “And that was only one time.”

Breakfast was a loud and raucous affair. They dug in hungrily and their table manners weren’t what they were before the outbreak. The wolf cubs and foxes milled around under the table, greedily accepting morsels snuck to them by the triplets.

When Kodiak was done, he pushed his plate back and patted his full belly. When the stranger pushed his back as well, the table grew silent and all eyes went to him.

“We have questions and we need answers,” Kodiak said, his voice held an edge. “Because so far, you haven’t answered a single one that’s been asked. You haven’t told us your name, where you’re from, who you’re with, how you got so beat up and why you’re here.”

The stranger looked at the hard stares of the tribe. They were all waiting. The shadow of Gordon always lingered in each of their minds. They liked this stranger and the animals showed no animosity towards him like they had Gordon. Still, outsiders couldn’t be trusted. He was the first seemingly friendly face they’d met since the world ended. Each of them wanted him to be ok, to be a friend. Someone who could tell them what it was like in other places. Someone to offer reassurance that there were still other people out there and they weren’t all evil.

“My name is Bob, I’m from Canada, I’m by myself and I’m on a scouting mission to find a warmer place for our village. I’m on my way to Mississippi or maybe Louisiana. My car broke down and I got lost in the woods. I climbed a tree to see how to get out and fell. I must have hit every branch on the way down. Next thing I remember, I woke up here.”

Murray pondered the story. It pretty much matched Donny’s version, but Murray didn’t completely buy it. No way this guy snuck by Yewan’s nose and Donny’s keen eyes. The Asian boy was too savvy to be surprised the way he was.

“How many people are in your town?” Murray asked.

“Um, about thirty.” Bob answered. “But we don’t want any trouble from anyone. I’m just scouting a route. It’s mostly old people.”

Kodiak was suspicious. He was thinking the same thing Murray was thinking. “Did Gordon send you? Are you a spy?”

“No.” Bob answered. “I don’t know any Gordon and I’m not a spy. A spy for what?”

“A spy for Gordon.” Murray said.

Bob shook his head. “Never heard of her.”

Laughter erupted around the table and the tribe relaxed. Kodiak still had questions. Bob answered them, even when they weren’t what the kids wanted to hear. He told them about his fortified town way up in Canada and how he hoped to lead the village to a safe place in a warm environment. He warned them about the big cities and the millions of undead that wandered through them.

They fell silent after hearing about the devastation that had wrecked the country but their minds swam with the knowledge that there were other survivors.

“I need to leave.” Bob finally said. “I have a long way to go.”

Since eating, his color was better, and he wasn’t moving so sluggishly now. He still gave off a vibe of danger. Kodiak noticed it. Swan liked it. She mentally chastised herself. He was just a boy. A distraction she didn’t need.

Everyone stared at him silently. They were enjoying his stories and the news from outside. It was horrifying, but deep down they’d all suspected as much.

“You should wait until you’re healed.” Murray said. “Your people would understand.”

“Yeah, you have to wait.” Landon butted in. “You haven’t seen Sage ride Mr. Ringtail. You have to see that, its soooooo funny.”

“Bob doesn’t want to see a monkey ride your fox.” Swan said and caught those cobalt blue eyes staring at her. She bit the inside of her lip and narrowed her eyes. She channeled some of her anger to get the image of her fingers softly tracing his scars out of her mind. “But he owes the tribe a debt.”

“We saved your life.” She told him. “We nursed you back to health. We’ve sewn your clothes. You’ve eaten our food. You owe a debt.”

“He doesn’t owe us anything…” Harper started, but Swan cut her off.

“He does!” she demanded, her voice rising. “You have to pay for what you take.”

“I don’t have much.” Bob said. “I’ll give you my shirt. Or my jacket but I don’t have much else.”

“Swan wants his pants again.” Landon whispered. Swan kicked out at the small boy but Landon wasn’t about to let her nail him again and snatched his leg out of the way. She missed and muttered a curse as her toes found the bottom of the table.

Before Kodiak could cut her off, she said. “You have knowledge. You’ve traveled far from the looks of you. Are you any good with those guns? You can teach us.”

Kodiak paused, mouth open, whatever he was about to say forgotten.

“Can you?” he finally asked. “We’ve had trouble in the past and we expect more in the future.”

Kodiak knew guns were a bad idea around the animals. He knew the sound of gunfire was a beacon for any wandering horde or people who would harm them. Still, it seemed foolish to pass up a chance for the tribe to at least learn how to handle them and use them. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to one of his people because they couldn’t defend themselves.

The stranger hesitated, glanced out the window towards the road. It looked like he was going to refuse.

“I know where there is a good truck you can drive.” Vanessa said. “It’s already been zombie proofed with bars on the windows and things like that.”

“Yeah, the one at the grocery store.” Analise said. “We can help you get it if you teach us guns.”

The stranger considered then smiled.

“Sure.” Bob said. “I can do that.”

11

Chores

“Look, we’ve got work we need to do today, it can’t be put off.” Kodiak told Bob. He watched the others disperse and head off to take care of their various chores. The zoo ran on hard work and some things had to be done whether they felt like doing them or not.

Kodiak continued. “Just chill out and rest for now, we can go into town tomorrow for the truck, we’re due for a supply run anyway.

Kodiak gave a nod to Donny. He’d been lingering in case the stranger made a wrong move. He was still unsure about the whole situation and didn’t buy the strangers story. He’d seen him fall but didn’t believe for a moment he’d just lost his grip on a tree limb. He’d have to be a ghost to move through the forest without Yewan or him detecting him. Kodiak flashed sign language to the mute boy. They would trust the stranger. Donny nodded as he and Yewan slipped from the porch and headed towards the woods to check traps and fences.

“Take it easy today buddy; you really do look like hell.” Kodiak continued. “Murray can show you around the shops and garages so you’ll know what we have to get the truck started if it won’t crank in town. We can tow it back with Millie.”

Bob nodded his approval. “Sounds good. Appreciate it.”

Kodiak left him on the porch and set off for the barn. He had a full day ahead of him, although he’d like to have spent more time with the stranger. He had a lot more questions about the outside world. He was happy here, but he questioned whether or not they would be better off with a bigger group. He’d give the tribe some time to stew it over and bring it up around the dinner table one night for a vote.

Murray wheeled himself out onto the porch. He had the weird looking belt that Bob had worn sitting in his lap. He’d played with it for days trying to figure out what it did but he’d been unsuccessful in his tinkering. It seemed like it didn’t do anything, but it was obviously some kind of high-tech gadget. It was a strange item to be carrying around, it didn’t seem to belong in the apocalyptic world. It wasn’t anything that could protect you or kill your enemies. Everything else about the stranger was all armor and weapons, nothing flashy or fancy. It seemed to Murray like a waste of time to carry some gaudy belt around, unless it had some significance to Bob. Something he was missing. Murray resolved himself to find out its mysteries.

“So, it’s just you and me today.” he said and stroked Sage as she sat in his lap.

He looked at the older boy. Watched for signs of deception or dishonesty.

“You wanna tell me what this is?” He held up the belt and watched the sunlight dance off its dull surfaces.

“Movie prop.” Bob said. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Murray knew bullshit when he heard it. He wanted to trust this guy, but trust was a two-way street.

Murray stared at Bob for a long moment before asking “Do I look dumb to you?”

Bob stared right back and remained silent. Murray could see he was contemplating an answer but was it a truth or another sidestep? Another lie? Murray pretended to scratch at an itch, but his nimble fingers caressed the throwing knife, ready to whip it out if needed. He liked Bob so far, but he’d take no chances when it came to protecting the tribe.

“No, you don’t,” Bob sighed “but some things are secret and are best kept that way.”

“You’re not from Canada.” Murray said. ‘From the accent, I’d say somewhere down south. You’re not scouting for a new home, either are you?”

Bob shook his head. Murray wondered what else he was withholding. Was he a runaway from Gordon’s gang? Advance scout for those raiders and cannibals he’d told them about at the breakfast table? Some kind of military guy on a mission?

“And you didn’t get so beat up by falling out of a tree.” It was a statement, not a question.

Bob didn’t answer. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Okay, I get it. You’re not going to tell us who you are.” Murray said. “Was anything you said true?”

Bob came back from wherever his mind had roamed off to. “Most of it. I mean you no harm, I got a little lost, but I need to be on my way. I could use the truck they were talking about; it would save me a lot of time but I’ll leave right now if you think its best.”

Murray pondered and scratched the little capuchin’s neck. The guy had a way about him. He gave off a steady vibe of danger, but he wasn’t dangerous, at least not towards them. The animals paid him no more mind than any other member of the tribe. They had accepted him in a way they never had with Gordon. He’d been nothing but humble, despite the fact he was hiding something. He was covered with scars and muscles and moved in a fluid way; much like Donny and Swan did after spending so much time with their animals. Murray trusted his gut and held the belt out.

“No, stay. I don’t think you’re a threat. Your guns and jacket are hanging on the coat rack, just inside the door.” Murray said. He wasn’t done with his interrogation though. Not by a long shot. He was too curious and too clever and the best way to get information was to keep him talking, to get him to let his guard down. To become friends.

“Your sleep is fitful.” Murray said. “You have nightmares and your tears were blood.”

Bob looked away without responding. He was granted a reprieve from Murray’s questions when Sage came screeching out of the house and scampered onto Murray’s shoulder. Elmo and Ernie clambered up the chair and across Murray’s body in a desperate attempt to get the cookies the clever capuchin had stolen.

“Oh, crap.” Murray said. “They got into the cookie jar. Tobias is gonna be pissed.”

He shooed and swatted at the monkeys until they dispersed. Sage, unwilling to share her loot, raced up one of the poles on the porch. Her brood mates took off in hot pursuit.

Murray showed Bob around the zoo. He introduced him to the animals that roamed about freely and took him through the shops and garage. There was a lot of stuff crammed in them over the years. The children had no use for most of it and no idea how to use the rest of it. It just gathered dust and rust, but maybe there was something Bob could use from the old tractors covered in weeds and spider webs or the empty cages with their thick steel bars. They would make good reinforcement for the armoring of a vehicle.

Bob asked a few questions about their security. Murray explained how they monitored the fences daily and controlled the horde at the gates. They were cautious and quiet outside the house, chose stealth to avoid confrontations and would run if the situation allowed it. They were aware of their physical limitations and only chose to fight when there was no choice. Bob nodded his approval.

Murray showed him a few projects he was working on and needed help with. Bob eagerly pitched in and Murray noticed he was good with his hands and his strength was out of proportion to his size. He wasn’t much bigger than Donny or Kodiak but he easily moved items that the other boys struggled to move together.

Murray and Bob spent the early afternoon painting the porch. Everyone else hated painting and always had an excuse why they couldn’t help. The traps need checking, I saw some berries down by the shore, there’s a dead limb getting ready to fall on the fence or a hundred other reasons.

Murray had heard them all. He spent more time in and around the house than any of them. Was it too much to want a freshly painted porch to sit on while he was reading or just enjoying the breeze?

Bob didn’t seem to mind a bit and he painted all of the high places Murray couldn’t reach. Thrilled at having a captive audience, Murray told him stories of their ordeals. He told him all about Gordon and how they kicked him out after he poisoned their buffalo. He shared some of the details of Gordon’s raids, Lucy’s death and the big battle at the church. There was no pride in telling it. People had died, even though they were bad, it was nothing to be proud of. Bob took it all in. He seemed content in the soothing monotony of moving the brush back and forth against the old cracked boards.

They fell into an easy, comfortable silence as the porch slowly transformed under the new coat of paint. Murray turned and looked towards the river when he heard the grunts of approaching bears.

Tobias and Analise had brought back baskets of fish and quail and the pride was obvious on their faces.

“The nets worked.” Tobias bragged. He was proud of the traps him and his sister had woven during the long cold winter. He held it up and displayed the covey of quail inside of it.

Tobias cut his eyes at Bob. For someone who ate as much as he did and was a guest in their home, he felt like the older boy had gotten off pretty light on helping out. Prettying up the porch wasn’t work. Wounded or not, Tobias thought he didn’t look nearly tired or sweaty enough.

“Could use some help cleaning them, though. There’s a bunch of them.”

“Be glad to.” Bob said and wiped his hands on his pants. “But, you’ll have to show me how.”

Tobias snorted. City boy, he thought He’d starve to death if someone hid the can opener. He totally disregarded the fact that until the outbreak, he’d never fixed anything that didn’t come from the store and the idea of his hands in fish guts would have sent him screaming from the room. Tobias wasn’t impressed by this guy. He didn’t care for the way the girls all mooned over him. He didn’t like the funny feeling he got in his belly when Swan was tripping all over herself in front of him. What was that about anyway? She was like another sister to him. Sure she was pretty and fierce and would make a good Viking but he didn’t like like her. Not like a girlfriend or anything. He shrugged and eyed Bob one more time. Just let him get out of line with Analise and he’d freshen up those black eyes for him.

Tobias stopped laying out the days catch on the table and muttered when he saw the nearly empty cookie jar. He glared at the stranger.

“Just had to help yourself didn’t you?”

Bob looked back at him with a goofy grin and chittered like a monkey.

“Sage.” Tobias growled. “I swear, I’m going to catch her in the act one of these days and we’re going to have monkey stew.”

He turned back to the pile of fish and expertly filleted them out in just a few minutes as he muttered about the best way to cook a monkey. When he finished, he turned to watch Bob struggling to clean the quail.

“Here. Look.” He said.

Tobias took one of the game hens from the basket and in a few short seconds had it cleaned and laid aside, ready to be washed and fried. Bob caught on quickly and they worked their way through the pile of birds.

Swan watched from the stairs while the mottled boy focused on prepping their dinner with Tobias. He was even more alluring now that he was awake and alert. His movements were graceful, and efficient, almost animalistic. It reminded her of the way the wolves moved. She could smell the danger on him across the room, he gave off a vibe that was deadly and calm all at the same time. It reminded her of a rattlesnake. He’d be just fine if you left him alone, but anger him and he’d strike. It made her tingly all over. She watched the furrow of his brow, he seemed to be trying to remember something that eluded him.

She wondered what it would be like to press her lips to his forehead.

To his lips.

She blushed. What is wrong with me?

She’d seen the grins on Tobias and Murray’s faces when she’d been a little too eager to help him get dressed. Felt her cheeks turn red with embarrassment, again. She couldn’t believe she was mooning over this stranger. He could be a skilled liar and turn out to be one of Gordon’s guys and she’d end up burying her tomahawk in the same forehead she’d just been daydreaming about kissing. She bit her lower lip, got angry at herself. Angry at Bob for distracting her. She’d spent the last three days watching him sleep and creating a story of who he really was in her mind. He wasn’t a lost soldier, the last of his company. He wasn’t a swashbuckling freebooter searching for survivors. He wasn’t a mighty warrior chief of a noble tribe, he was just some guy from Canada.

She shook her head, started brushing River again. She should be out hunting Gordon and she finally knew where to start.

It came to her last night as she lay with her wolves curled up around her, thinking about everything and thinking about nothing. In the old days, if you found somebody laying in the road and wanted to know who that somebody was, oh, say Bob for instance, you looked at their papers. Their high school ID, their library card or driver’s license. Bob didn’t have any, they weren’t important anymore. But Gordon would have left a paper trail. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why Gordon was in the store when they found him. He wasn’t shopping; he was there on business with his father, she remembered him mentioning it. His pompous ass would never be caught dead buying second hand military surplus in a place like that. Her heart pounded at the idea that was under her nose the whole time. They’d been back a few times for supplies but never bothered with the office. Nothing much of use in there, just a dusty desk and filing cabinets and out of date MRE’s that would be okay for an emergency. If they ever needed them, they knew where they were. If Gordon and his dad were doing business, probably raising the rent or something, she was certain what she was looking for would be in the paperwork. There would be an address. Gordon’s fathers’ address which meant Gordons address. She would check it out for herself, but first, she was gonna take Bob up on his offer to show them his guns and then she was gonna prod him into sparring with her. She had to know if he was as good as he looked.

The rest of the tribe filtered into the old house as the sun drifted below the trees and sister moon made her appearance. They plopped down in their favorite spots and swapped stories while they waited on dinner. Tobias the Tyrant abhorred anyone other than Analise in the kitchen while they were cooking and even Kodiak had learned to stay out and not question when dinner would be ready. Vanessa cracked open the book she’d been reading and reclined in a window sill. Harper put the little kids to studying, while the boys worked on the edges of their blades with their whet stones.

Analise asked Bob to go get some carrots from the greenhouse. She was waiting on him to ask where that was so she could show him. She’d been stuck with Tobias all day as usual and he was working her last nerve. She was disappointed when Swan popped up from where she’s been eavesdropping and said she’d show him.

Snickers and raised eyebrows followed the pair as they exited the house. Analise swore under her breath. Tobias smirked at her and she punched him in the shoulder. Her brother shrugged it off and dropped a piece of fish into the hot grease.

“You guys don’t have flashlights?” Bob asked her.

“Yeah, but Murray said these are less likely to draw unwanted attention. A flashlight beam can be seen for a long way at night.”

Bob nodded. Swan led him into the greenhouse and they began pulling carrots. She brushed up against him accidentally on purpose. She felt him tense but he didn’t take the bait.

He didn’t grab her up and kiss her passionately like in the books she’d read or the Hallmark movies she’d seen.

Her hand accidentally slid across his again.

When he couldn’t control his passion any longer and took her roughly in his arms, when their lips met in an urgent heat, she would resist of course. She would try to push him away, maybe even slap him. But not very hard.

He ignored her. She felt a flare of anger. Was she not pretty enough? She’d washed away the war paint and had put on one of Vanessa’s shirts. It was at least a size or two too small. She thought it showed off her budding attributes. She still wore the rest of her armor though and her tomahawks hung at her belt. She would only take those off for one thing. That was still a few years in the future, though.

Bob broke the awkward silence and asked her about the wolves. She mumbled, still embarrassed at his obliviousness to her flirting. She’d never paid boys too much attention, but this one was different. Maybe she was doing it wrong. She told him about her wolves and how she’d lost Lucy, how she rode a hyena and fought it with her steel. She grew animated at the memories, showed him battle scars. She told him of a glorious hunt in the dead of winter, the tribe on the edge of starvation and considering butchering one of the herd animals. She and her wolves ran for miles and miles, wearing down their prey and coming home with a prime buck in her travois. She showed him the tiny piece of polished antler she wore in one of her braids, a trophy from a momentous hunt. What made it even better was that Donny had come back empty handed that day. She forgot about her silly girl fantasy of kissing in the moonlight and lost herself in the tales. He was easy to talk to and he didn’t just listen to her, he heard her words and understood.

They gathered the rest of the carrots and made their way back to the house. She did her best to glare at each of the tribe before they even started. It worked. No one made any kissy faces or smart comments.

Harper ensured everyone washed up properly and they took their places around the table when Tobias started bring out the platters. Plates were piled high and stomachs were stuffed. The animals prowled around the edges looking for handouts. Conversation was easy and sprinkled with laughter. Bob asked them about their time in the zoo and the floodgates opened.

The tales were somber at first but grew more fanciful as each tried to outdo the others with their stories. The truth stretching went on long after the food was devoured and Swan translated a tale from Donny that included him swinging through the trees like Tarzan. They were silly and fun stories, much better than the truth. The number of zombies slain and the odds against them increased with each telling. Gordon had descended on them with an army of thousands of undead trying to steal Harper and they’d flicked them away like flies. The rescue of the little children took place in the middle of the night with lightening crashing around them and hordes of the undead stretching for miles. They boasted of how Bert could burn down a city if someone was brave enough to light off one his farts and that Ziggy could outrun the fastest cars. The stories got sillier and the children got louder but they never shouted. Never yelled. Even when giggling so hard tears were streaming down their faces, they never lost track of where they were and the danger that was all around them.

Bob leaned back from a slice of blackberry cobbler and laughed along with the rest of them. At first it was a creaky sound, like he’d forgotten how. He laughed the hardest of all when Sage darted across the table and grabbed a handful of cobbler for herself and Tobias promised they were having monkey stew for breakfast. When the tattooed boy finally settled down, the others grew silent and looked at the stranger expectantly. He had made promises of his own and now would be a fine time as any to make good on them.

While they cleared the table, Bob retrieved his guns. They gathered around him and watched the easy way he handled the weapons. There was no doubt he was intimately familiar with them.

He dropped the mags from the Glocks then popped the rounds out of the chambers. Wide eyed and fascinated they watched and listened as he walked them through the basic operations and the rules of the gun.

It’s always loaded.

Never point it at anything you don’t want to destroy.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to kill.

Know your target and what’s behind it.

They were eager students. None of them except Kodiak had ever handled a real gun before. Bob taught them how to load and insert the magazines. He showed them how to make sure the markings on the bullets matched the markings on the barrel and that there were hundreds of different calibers. Every gun wouldn’t shoot every bullet. He worked with them on their stances. Taught them how to hold it properly and to align the sights. He broke them down and showed them the cleaning sequence, then quickly reassembled them. When each was familiar with the basics, he asked if there were any questions. Every hand went up.

Swan caught on to the whole process quickly and challenged Donny to a contest to see who could disassemble and reassemble the guns the fastest. Bets were placed and the tribe cheered on their champions. It ended in a draw when neither could beat the other consistently.

Bob liked the kids and was enjoying himself. He buckled on his holsters and began showing them some of his advanced moves. He called it gun kata, explained that even though it was a little showy, each move had real world applications. Black Lotus rising was his foot snapping up and kicking the gun from its holster to be caught in a hand above his head. Dancing swans was a liquid move where one gun was replaced with the other as it was reloaded one handed.

“It’s practice and repetition.” He said. “It becomes muscle memory and instantaneous reaction. In a fight, you don’t have time to think about your next move, you barely have time to react. If you have to think, you’re probably going to be dead.”

They nodded. Serious, scarred faces with eyes too old to be children’s knew and understood.

“You can do the same thing with your own weapons.” He said as he flowed gracefully from one position to the next, his arms rippling. “Warhammers, tomahawks, throwing spears and knives all have their own unique uses and strengths. Doing this slowly trains you to be perfect then you pick up the pace, staying perfect until you can do it at top speed without even thinking.”

He holstered the guns, gave a slight bow and quietly said “I have trained my hands to know the ways of war. I have taught my fingers to fight.”

He exploded into motion, doing everything he’d just done that had taken long minutes to execute in a matter of seconds. His hands were a blur as he raced through the kata and he was finished almost before he started. They stared at him. Donny signed something and Swan translated.

“He said you messed up on two cats kissing.”

Bob smiled. “Good eye.” He said, and Donny looked like he was almost ready to blush at the praise.

After working with each of them individually, he suggested they set up a target and send a few rounds downrange, even though he didn’t really have the ammo to spare. The tribe unanimously declined. Gunfire upset their companions and they wouldn’t risk any of the animals hurting themselves on the fences if they got spooked. Bob nodded in understanding. The tribe had long ago decided against trying to get any guns and using them, even though Gordon and his gang were armed. They’d done just fine during the battle at the church with their weapons and animals, but hard mistakes had taught them to never pass up an opportunity to learn a new skill that could mean the difference between life and death.

They were enjoying the company of the stranger and stayed up much later than they normally did. Harper started a campfire and they moved outside into the night, each with their weapons and playing around with some katas of their own. Swan taught him how to throw tomahawks and Donny beamed when Bob couldn’t match his bull’s-eyes throwing the metal spears. The fireflies danced and it was cool enough that the fire felt good. They sat on logs spread out around the fire and Bob tilted his head back and looked at the Milky Way spread across the sky. It was immense and bright with stars, tens of thousands of them. Swan pushed him over backwards.

“Let’s see what you’ve got without your guns.” Swan teased.

She drew her tomahawks.

“Think you can take me without your boomsticks?”

“Definitely not.” he said, and lay on the grass, still staring at the stars, “you’d kick my ass two ways to Sunday.”

“What?” she said, disappointed. “Come on. We spar all the time. You scared?”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Those were the wrong words to say. Her dancing smile disappeared and so did the others. He had just insulted them. They were warriors and he’d just insinuated they were nothing more than children playing dress up.

“You’re wrong about that, mister.” She growled. “You’re the one who needs to worry about getting hurt.”

Bob dusted himself off and stood, realized his mistake and tried to backtrack.

Kodiak stood, his Warhammer held loosely and formally asked in a cold tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Will you spar with us, Stranger?”

They all looked affronted, a little annoyed and eager. Even Murray watched and wanted to see how the tribe would fare in hand to hand with someone who was older and a little bigger.

“Okay.” Bob said. “Um, do you have blunted weapons? And can you lock the animals up, I don’t know if they would like it, me beating up on you all.”

Swan stepped in front of him while the other challengers hurled promises of a fast coming beat down.

“Oh, you’re in for it now, buddy. I’m first.” She said “You guys can have the leftovers.”

12

Bob VS Tribe

Bob followed Swan to the open area they used for sparing as the rest of the tribe grabbed their training weapons, buckled on armor and ushered animals into the house. He rolled his shoulders and stretched to limber up his body.

“You want some pads or a hockey mask or something?” Murray asked. “They train pretty hard, I mean, they don’t pull punches or soften blows. They usually don’t aim for the head but they might make an exception for you.”

“Good.” Bob said, the scar on his face twisting his smile. “Might pretty me up, some.”

Swan slid the leather tomahawk sheaths from her belt, covered the blades with them and twirled the weapons, making them dance through her fingers.

“I’ll try not to hurt you too bad.” She said “But don’t worry, Murray is standing by with the first aid kit.”

The rest of the tribe gathered around to watch, each paying close attention to spot his weaknesses in case he did happen to beat Swan and they got a chance to try him.

“Say what?” Swan asked as she looked at something over his shoulder and wrinkled her brow. Bob turned his head to see what the problem was and she leapt at him, a tomahawk in each hand and a war cry on her lips.

He kept his head turned, waited till the last possible second then side stepped her attack. She was still airborne when he gave her a shove, throwing her balance off. Swan hit the ground hard. She rolled, sprang to her feet then charged him again, attempted to do the ankle sweep with the hook in the tomahawk blade. He shifted away from it and she missed by a hair. She followed through, pivoted and brought the other sheathed tomahawk up to slam into his chest. Again, Bob twitched and she barely missed, her leather clad blade only cutting the air. Swan overbalanced and he tripped her then deftly plucked a tomahawk from her hand. She stumble stepped a few feet then turned, angry at herself and angry at his speed. She shifted the tomahawk back and forth from left to right and he watched, waiting to see which she would use to attack. She approached in a crouch, didn’t rush in. Bob feigned boredom, yawned loudly, casually flipped the tomahawk in one hand while he pretended to check his watch on the other. She flung her tomahawk at his head and darted in to grab the other in the middle of a flip. She’d double tap him and she wasn’t going to do it gentle either.

Bob snatched the flying tomahawk, sidestepped her rush and grabbed the other halfway through its flip. He tripped her again as she went by and slapped her hard on the butt with the flats of both blades. She went down in a cloud of dust but rolled away and bounced back to her feet. Her chest was heaving, her lip bloodied and she had murder in her eyes. He held them loosely in one hand and beckoned her with the other.

“If you want them back, come and get them.” He said.

Swan sized him up. Her bottom was stinging from the smacks and he was so quick. She’d never seen anything move as fast as he did. Not even Yewan was that fast. There was no wasted effort, his every move was perfectly choreographed. She was tempted to call her wolves to catch and hold him, but that wouldn’t improve her own skills. Besides, she’d picked this fight, she’d finish it.

She wiped her brow with the back of her arm. She was worked up and sweaty. She circled him slowly, eyed her tomahawks in his outstretched hand. He moved as she moved, kept his distance from her, watched for her to spring or dart in for the weapons.

“I thought you guys were a tribe.” Bob taunted. “You don’t fight like a tribe. I’m kicking her ass and you guys are just standing there watching.”

Tobias needed no further incentive. He didn’t particularly care for this guy and he noticed how the girls couldn’t take their eyes off him when he was laid up in his underwear. He ran at him with a fearsome battle cry and leapt high in the air. His sheathed battle axe was cocked back behind him as he sailed towards Bob, a snarl on his tattooed face. He wasn’t holding back. He wouldn’t bust the strangers head wide open but by the Gods of Asgard he’d put a hurting on him.

Bob pivoted and caught Tobias by the front of his shirt in midair. He used the feral boy’s momentum against him and flipped him. Tobias hit the ground with a thud, a cloud of dust pluming around him. All of the air rushed out of his lungs and he groaned as his axe flew out of his hands.

He stepped quickly towards the boy and smacked him across the chest with the flat side of a tomahawk. “You’re dead.”

Analise let out a shrill cry and rushed in, swinging her battle axe at his midsection. He evaded it, moved only enough to let the blade skim past him. She spun and swung a back handed blow towards his head that would knock the stuffing out of him. He stopped it a millimeter from his skin with one of Swan’s tomahawks.

Swan used Analise’s distraction and leapt onto Bob’s back. She curled one arm around his throat and reached for her tomahawk with the other. He reached over his shoulder, grabbed the back of her shirt and flipped her. She hit the ground next to Tobias. She growled and locked her arms around Bob’s leg and tried to bite him through his pants.

Analise tired quickly and her blows slowed without much strength behind them. She couldn’t even get close to him. It was like he knew what she was going to do before she did. Bob caught the battle axe by the handle, threw her off balance and dumped her onto Swan. Swan let go of his leg as Analise crashed into her. He tapped each of them with the flat of the tomahawk blades.

“You’re both dead.” Bob skipped away to meet the next attack.

Vanessa and Donny leapt into the fray using the blunted end of their long spears They poked and slashed at him, the long hafts kept them away from the dual tomahawks and Bob’s size advantage. Vanessa lunged in with hers, a hard blow aimed at his belly to knock the air out of him. He batted it aside an inch from his stomach, grabbed it behind the shaft and jerked her forward. She stumbled and lost her grip. Bob wrapped an arm around her and touched her temple with the tomahawk in his other hand.

“You’re dead.” He released Vanessa and she stormed off in a huff to join Swan, Tobias and Analise on the sidelines.

Donny twirled his spear like a bo staff, reminiscent of the old martial arts movies. He knew a few kung fu kata’s too. It was a blur of motion as he advanced towards Bob. Bob took a step backwards. Feeling confident Donny surged towards his retreating opponent. Bob leapt forward and caught the spinning staff with the beard of the tomahawk. Donny recovered quickly though and managed to keep his grip on the shaft, turn it out straight and swung it towards the stranger, a blow that would send him reeling. Bob quickly ducked under the whistling steel. A tuft of hair drifted towards the ground. It was the first time any of them had managed to touch him with a weapon. He barked out a laugh. Donny grinned and thrust the blunt end at the older boy, aiming right at his bread basket. Bob turned his body slightly, caught the shaft between his arms and ribs. He swept Donny’s feet and the boy hit the ground with a thud. Bob reversed his grip, spun the spear and touched the end to Donny’s throat.

“Nice try, kid. But you’re dead.” Bob grunted.

Kodiak watched his tribe getting trounced from his seat at the fire. Bob was the superior fighter no doubt. He nodded at Harper and they homed in on him at a run. The stranger watched them come. He tossed the tomahawks towards Swan who snatched them out of the air then stood there unarmed once more.

Kodiak let out a yell and swung his wooden training hammer in a crushing blow from Bob’s right. Harper attacked from the left with her monkey’s fist, the heavy ball a good substitute for her wicked spiked Morningstar. Bob stepped into Kodiak’s swing, grabbed the boy above his wrists and spun him towards Harper. She already had the heavy ball at the end of the chain flying towards his legs and it was too late to pull it back. Bob swung Kodiak and the Warhammer in an arc that intercepted the ball. The chain wrapped around the shaft of the Warhammer and Bob snatched both weapons from their grasp then let them fall. He grabbed each of the teens by the back of their armored outfits and brought their heads together at high speed. Just before their skulls smacked into each other, he brought them up short, so they were lip to lip. Harper smiled at the closeness. Kodiak snarled at being bested so easily.

“What about you guys?” Bob asked as he released the two. He looked at Murray and the triplets who sat wide eyed watching the whole thing. They adamantly shook their heads side to side.

“Yeah, I want another go.” Kodiak said. Bob nodded and the two circled each other warily.

The boys all looked disgruntled and pissed. The girls had a different look in their eyes. They were riveted by the stranger. It didn’t go unnoticed by the boys and their moods soured further.

Kodiak dropped the Warhammer and moved towards the older boy. He’d done a little wrestling in school, he knew how to take him down. He tackled him around the waist. Bob slipped out easily and danced away. Kodiak feinted to the left and when Bob shifted to counter, Kodiak hit him from the right. They fell into a tangle on the ground and Bob let out a pained yell.

Kodiak jumped to his feet. He looked at the older boy clutching his collar bone. He felt bad. He knew Bob was still healing. He should have taken it easier on him.

They helped him to a seat on a log. Murray poked and prodded at the injury and then sent Caleb after some bandages so he could rewrap it. Swan appeared with a glass of lemonade and shot Kodiak a dirty look. He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. How was I supposed to know he didn’t know how to fight without a weapon?”

“Yeah he wasn’t any good without something in his hands.” Tobias quickly agreed.

Bob kept quiet, sipped the lemonade and let Murray fuss over the injured shoulder.

“We usually fight with our animals.” Kodiak said. “Together, we’re unbeatable.”

Bob nodded. “Agreed. Nobody can stand against them, but what happens if you are separated from them or the quarters are too close, maybe you’re fighting indoors. You guys need to work together. Play to each other’s strengths and supplement each other’s weaknesses. Almost every one of you let out a battle cry when you attacked. I knew you were coming before I ever saw you. That split second gave me time to prepare and counterattack. That may be fine for fighting the undead, but it’s gonna cost you against everyone else. They have guns and lots of them. I’ll give you this though, there’s no shortage of guts in any of you.”

The boys perked up at the praise, the girl’s eyes got wider and they wore silly grins.

“Now, if you guys are through beating up on me I could use some rest. Tomorrow I could really use some help finding that truck you were telling me about.”

Kodiak studied him warily as he limped through the door, collapsed on the couch. Soon the living room was filled with soft snores and he watched the stranger sleep. He knew the older boy let him win. He felt the strength of him when they grappled. It was like trying to move Otis. It said a lot about his character. He was a good man and his presence brought new hope to the tribe. Kodiak felt pride swell in his heart. The decision to bring Bob to the zoo had been the right one and not another mistake. He vowed to do whatever it took to help him get what he needed to continue his journey.

13

The Truck

The sun was just peeking through the windows, but the tribe was up and bustling. Clara and Landon came in with fresh eggs and milk while Caleb finished up the morning feeding of the barnyard animals.

Bob tried to stay out of the way of the comings and goings of the kids and finally wandered into the kitchen where Tobias and Analise were getting ready to start breakfast.

Tobias acknowledged him with a grunt and told him to get on the butter churn. It was a tedious job and if the albino boy was going to slave over the stove to feed the stranger, then he was going to get some work out of him in the process.

The delicious smells from the kitchen greeted the tribe as they came in from their chores. Harper and Bert had done a hurried perimeter check while Kodiak fussed with Millie. He finally got the harness on the old rhinoceros and filled her hay bin. She snorted and bumped him out of the way with her massive shoulder. He gave her a rub between the ears. She hated the harness and always made it as difficult as possible to get it on. She knew it meant they wanted her to pull something for them.

Donny, Swan and Vanessa cleared the front gate of undead. Vanessa, astride Ziggy, lured them down the road and deep into the woods where Donny, Swan and their companions put them down. Killing and leaving them at the front gate wasn’t an option. No one wanted piles of rotting, stinking bodies so close to the house.

Murray rolled around looking for a pen to finish up his supply list. Elmo had snatched one from his hand and ran up the stairs with it chittering loudly. The other three chased him, eager to fight over the bauble. In minutes, it would be reduced to a disassembled piece of chewed up plastic and they would all have blue teeth. He’d need the tribe to grab him some more. I’d put pens on the list if I had a pen to write with he ironically thought to himself,

Even though there was still a lot of merchandise sitting on the shelves in Putnam, they weren’t things they could use. The small town was drying up as a resource and before long they would have to start venturing further for the things they needed. The garden was producing better than expected and with the foaling of the herd animals, their need to venture outside of the gate was greatly diminished. All of the stores that didn’t have undead stumbling around inside had been raided for toilet paper and Swan had started gathering it from the houses she explored. Tobias had told them they could use corn shucks when the supply was finally exhausted, but the girls had some very strong opinions on that. He’d just shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t understand girls, not even his sister.

A big bowl of scrambled eggs was set on the table alongside the thin strips of fried venison back strap. Freshly churned butter, courtesy of Bob, was smeared on chunk of thick flatbread. Tomatoes and cantaloupe were sliced and glasses of fresh milk were poured. The raw milk had taken some getting used to, but now every drop was drained by the hungry children. Breakfast was devoured and the dishes piled high in the sink for later. Excitement was high about a trip to town as weapons were gathered and Murray went over the list with Harper and Kodiak one more time.

They passed through the gates to the chorus of Landon, Clara and Caleb telling them to be safe and how much they would miss them and to bring back candy. Lots of candy. And toys.

Kodiak spoke to Bob in a low voice. “No guns. I don’t care if you carry them, you know, just in case there is some kind of extreme emergency, but if you shoot them, you’ll spook the animals. They’ll run off. We’ll lose them. You understand?”

“Understood.” Bob said. Kodiak watched as he pulled the pistols and cleared the chambers. He dropped the rounds in his pocket and slid the guns back into their holsters.

Kodiak heard Otis moaning from the fence. He was leaving him behind this time. Millie was difficult and would require most of his attention to keep her plodding along. They’d be lucky if she didn’t stop and refuse to move or decide to turn around and drag him back to the zoo at least once. He had a pouch full of her favorite treats slung over his shoulder though so he wasn’t too concerned about keeping her motivated.

The trip to town passed without incident. No undead stumbling out of the woods or signs of the Savage Ones. Swan kept an eye on the sky. The carrion birds usually gave away the location of the strange band.

Vanessa scouted ahead and came back with news that the truck was still there and the area was clear. The fleet footed ostrich couldn’t be caught once she started running and Vanessa loved the thrill of tucking down low, giving her free reign and urging her to go faster. Ziggy could easily hit forty miles an hour, faster than most horses and way faster than any zombie could run.

They hid in a copse of trees and waited for Vanessa to make one more pass through the area around the grocery store. If there were any undead hanging around, she’d draw them out as she and Ziggy raced between the derelict cars and abandoned shopping carts. Satisfied that they were as safe as they could be, Bob and the tribe made their way over to the truck. Vanessa sat on the hood, beaming a radiant smile. Bob smiled a crooked smile back at her then motioned her to scoot off so he could raise it.

The tribe conversed in whispers or sign language even though there didn’t seem to be an immediate threat. They were careful not to do anything to draw the attention of any undead that might hear them from blocks away.

Donny, Swan and Vanessa scattered with their animals to keep watch at the cross streets. Harper tied her giraffe’s reins to the shopping cart corral and joined the twins to raid the store one last time. Tobias kept a sharp eye out, battle axe ready, while the girls checked the small piece of clear tape near the top of the sliding glass doors. It was intact, no one had been in or out since the last time they’d been here. They pried the doors apart and slipped inside. A quick walk thru confirmed nothing had been disturbed, the back door was still locked. They relaxed, grabbed carts and started loading up. Tobias wanted to try experimenting with different seasonings. The spice shelves had been cleared of salt and pepper, chili powder and paprika but the less common ones, the marjoram, the dill weed and rosemary were still there. He’d come across some recipes that called for them. The air inside had a stale, musty scent with just a hint of decay from the meats and dairy that had spoiled long ago and rotted away. Analise filled the cart with different spices while Tobias loaded powdered marinades. Satisfied with their selection, they walked the aisles one last time, taking everything that was still good. Most of the shelves were empty. It was the only grocery store in town, the only one they’d been shopping at for the past nine months. Rodents had gotten to a lot of the boxed and bagged foods before they had a chance to take them. When they met at the front of the store, instead of the half dozen overflowing carts they normally took back, the three they had were barely full. Harper tossed in a handful of magazines and a few cat toys for the monkeys. There was plenty of room for extras this trip.

Kodiak kept watch as Bob examined the truck. He muttered under his breath, shook his head at some of the things, nodded in approval at others. He crawled underneath and Kodiak figured he was looking for damage or oil leaks. He didn’t know much about cars, but he remembered there was always an oil stain in their driveway and his mom had shown him how to check and add oil to the old Subaru she drove.

Bob finished his inspection and slid into the cab. The key was in the ignition but nothing happened when he turned it. He shrugged, they hadn’t really expected it to fire up, it had been sitting for nearly a year. Kodiak led Millie over to the truck and together they started rigging up the ropes to the bumper. She snorted at him, tried to pull away but a carrot from his satchel settled her down.

Tobias and Analise slid the grocery store doors closed, reapplied the tape then helped Harper finish loading the supplies into the bed of the truck. It was the smallest haul they’d made. Analise signed to Kodiak they were ready. He signed back and the crew spread out to take their places for the trip back.

“Plenty of room for more.” Bob whispered.

“That’s the last of it.” Kodiak whispered back. “We’re going to have to go farther next time, to the next town. Donny is going to scout it soon, we just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“There’s food warehoused down by the river.” Bob whispered.

“How do you know?” Kodiak asked.

Bob shook his head. “I don’t. Some places used to, back when there was river traffic. I guess they’re long gone now. Do you want to try to get some guns so you guys can practice?’

Kodiak shook his head and got another nagging feeling that the stranger knew more than he was letting on and his attempts to change the conversation didn’t go unnoticed. The older boy was hiding something.

“Not this time,” he whispered. “Not with Millie dragging the truck. We’ll have to break in and if the noise draws any of them, we’ll have to leave her, she’s too slow.”

At the strangers raised eyebrows, Kodiak added

“They don’t bother her, we’ll come back and get her but it might take a day or two before it’s safe if they get riled up and start wandering around.”

Bob nodded and made himself comfortable behind the steering wheel. He eased the door closed and dropped the truck into neutral as Kodiak gave a gentle tug on the reins to get the old rhino plodding back toward home.

The clop of Bert and Millie’s hooves and the truck tires crunching the sticks and leaves littering the road were the only sounds to be heard on the slow walk back towards the zoo. Donny and Yewan were a half a mile ahead scouting the way and Swan moved silently through the woods with her pack. Harper walked alongside Kodiak and Millie. Vanessa let Ziggy nibble at the wild berries on the side of the road while Tobias and Analise brought up the rear of the strange procession.

Kodiak brought Millie to a halt when he saw Donny and Yewan racing back and signing the word for zombie at them. This was bad. It took a lot to spook the boy and his shadowy companion. Bob braked the truck, slipped it into park and moved beside Kodiak. He watched as they flashed signs back and forth in in their silent language.

“Big horde moving down the road.” Kodiak translated for him. “Massive. We’ve got to hide, circle around them. I’ll tie Millie up, they won’t bother her. She’ll be okay for a while. The walkers will be gone in a few hours, the crawlers by tomorrow at the latest. We can’t let them get wind of us, we’re too close to the park and they might follow us in.”

“How many?” Bob asked.

Kodiak had already started unhooking Millie from the truck. “Too many to fight.”

“Yeah, but how many?” Bob asked him again.

Kodiak was annoyed at Bob’s persistence. They needed to be moving, getting to safety, not arguing about whether it was one or a thousand. It didn’t matter. The odds weren’t in their favor. He cursed himself for leaving Otis behind. He’d have to double up with Analise and Bob would have to ride with Tobias if the bear would allow it. If Donny’s estimate was right, it might already be too late. The undead could be spread out wide in the woods. It only took one to scent them and he’d alert the rest. His mind raced, considered the options. If they got spotted, they couldn’t run back to the sanctuary, they’d have to lead them away. They might be stuck out in the wild for days trying to lose them.

“More than you got bullets for.” Kodiak almost snarled. “They’re not a bunch of kids with blunted weapons, you can’t take all of them on. Stop wasting time and help me get her untied.”

Kodiak turned his back on Bob, and went to work on the ropes holding Millie to the bumper.

Bob grabbed Donny by the arm. “How many?” he asked.

Donny went to jerk it loose, but Bob had an iron grip. He signed to him. Bob didn’t understand.

“Twenty? Thirty?” Bob asked.

Kodiak was getting pissed. The older boy was being reckless now and endangering the tribe. Maybe helping him had been a mistake. He was going to get them all killed.

“He said there’s over a hundred. Too many to fight. We don’t have machine guns and rocket launchers.” Kodiak said angrily.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Bob said then took off at a run.

“He’s crazy.” Harper said, fighting the reins to get her giraffe under control. Bert was skittish. He could smell the undead on the breeze.

“Should we help?’ Swan asked as she jogged up and whistled her pack in close. She’d love for her and the wolves to do battle by Bob’s side, even against overwhelming odds.

“And get torn apart? No, he’s an idiot. He’s on his own. Help me get Millie staked out so she doesn’t wander off.”

Popsicle and Daisy both reared up to scent the air as the twins cursed in Norse and held on. Daisy dropped and started bouncing up and down, eager to fight. Eager to destroy the unnatural things. The ostrich was side stepping, flapping her short wings and clucking as Vanessa readied her spear. They could all smell the horde even though it was still out of sight around a bend.

The wailing and moaning of the undead started up as soon as the stranger rounded the curve in the road. Their keening dinner cry. They’d seen Bob.

“He’s dead.” Kodiak said. “But he bought us some time. Hurry!”

They dragged Millie to an old oak and lashed the ropes to its trunk so she didn’t wander off and they lost her forever. She’d be ok. The zombies would storm right past her. She had plenty of room to wander around and forage. She’ll be ok, Kodiak reassured himself. He’d come back for her as soon as he could. They should mount up, they should run, but his feet didn’t move. Donny and Swan should have already been gone but they waited and watched, weapons in hand.

He was torn. He liked the stranger, he seemed like a really decent guy but his duty was to the tribe, not an outsider. He scanned his people as they waited for him to tell them what to do. They were ready and willing to fight if he ordered it and that weight was heavy on his shoulders. Would he risk any of them for a guy they barely knew? For a guy who didn’t do what he was told, who brought his death down on himself? No. Absolutely not.

“We need to go.” He said, but didn’t move from his spot on the road. Didn’t sling the Warhammer across his back so he could ride.

Harper struggled with Bert. Vanessa was mounted on Ziggy but the big bird was dancing around and flapping her wings frantically. She sang softly to calm her and listened to the screeching zombies as they attacked the boy. She grasped her spear tighter. She’d fight for Bob if Kodiak gave the signal.

Kodiak stood rooted to the asphalt. The twins had their battleaxes at their sides, ready to charge. Donny watched him with hooded eyes, a calming hand on Yewan.

They should run.

They should run.

They should run!

It was the way of the tribe, it was how they survived. Stealth and cunning, not brute force and bayonet charges. They didn’t go into unwinnable battles, they couldn’t afford any casualties, not one.

They should get to safety while the undead were busy reducing the stranger to scraps.

They stood, weapons at the ready, waited for his command. The battle raged just out of sight, just past the curve in the road, barely glimpsed through the trees. The undead screamed and roared and the sounds of breaking bones and splintering skulls carried to them. The splat and splatter of soft tissue, the hungry keens cut off in mid screech.

They waited, sick with fear and sick with worry.

The screams became fewer and fewer. Had they taken him down? Had they turned the only decent person they’d met since the outbreak into one of them? Run! he thought. Run! Tell them to run!

But he didn’t and neither did they. He stood in the middle of the road, white knuckling his war hammer and his tribe stood with him. The fight raged on, they caught flashes of it through the underbrush. Graying corpses, flashing steel, sprays of black blood, a leather clad wraith slicing through the wall of flesh, bodies dropping and moving no more.

The wall of noise faded, the hungry cries of a frenzied horde, the cacophony of a hundred starving monsters lessened and lessened until they could hear them as individuals. Each screech distinctive as it abruptly ended.

There was one last scream, a crunch of bone, then silence. They looked at each other. They strained their ears to hear the sound of flesh being stripped from bone. Of hungry teeth feasting on fresh meat. Nothing. There was utter silence. No birds chirped. No insects hummed. No squirrels chattered warnings.

A lone figure came around the bend. Tobias and Analise fought the urge to race ahead and engage. There could be more following. Many more.

The figure drew closer and Donny recognized the gore-soaked stranger first and threw a sign. They didn’t believe it. It was impossible, but they were seeing it. Swan wiped the unwanted tears from her cheeks. She was torn between racing to hug the blood-stained boy and bashing his skull with her tomahawks.

“All clear.” Bob said. “There weren’t that many of them.”

They all looked at Donny, who signed furiously. He knew what he’d seen. There had been a lot of them. There had been a hundred if there had been one.

Bob untied Millie and brought her back to the truck as they watched. He hooked her up quickly, ignored the stares and open mouths of the tribe.

“Did you get bit?” Kodiak asked, his Warhammer still at the ready.

“No, they were pretty slow.” Bob answered and tossed his dripping jacket in the bed of the truck. He showed them his arms and they could see no rotter’s teeth had torn through his leather pants.

“Break time’s over, old girl.” He said as he climbed back into the cab.

“How many were there?” Swan asked Donny and he signed again. He was getting frustrated that they doubted him.

“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Maybe you should sit in when Harper is teaching the little ones about math.”

He signed at her again and slammed his spear in frustration.

“No way. One guy can’t kill a hundred zombies. Maybe you need glasses.” Swan said.

She lost count at seventy as the slow parade passed through the carnage. No one could take on that many zombies with just their fists and knives. They were piled haphazardly atop one another and there were more in the bushes alongside the road. She stuck out her tongue when Donny flashed an I told you so sign at her. Swan looked at the slaughter then at the boy with one hand slung over the steering wheel, the other hanging out of the window. She was certain that Bob’s story about being from a sleepy little village in Canada was a Millie sized pile of crap.

The old rhino picked up speed when she smelled the familiar scents of home. Vanessa and Donny had the gate open and she trotted through the opening without slowing. Bob was standing on the brakes to slow her down as she headed straight for her enclosure dragging the truck like it wasn’t even there. Kodiak finally got her reined to a stop so he could set her free.

She snorted, gave him the stink eye and then headed for her pen as the boys helped push the truck towards the maintenance garage.

Caleb, Landon and Clara stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the armored pickup and tears welled in their eyes as they recognized it. Clara buried her face in her hands and let out a heart wrenching whine. Caleb stepped forward as the truck rolled by and dragged his fingers lightly through the dust that coated it.

“This is my Daddy’s truck.” He said and blinked the tears away. He wouldn’t cry. Only babies cried.

Harper and Vanessa moved to comfort the small children.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Harper said. “I’m sure your daddy wouldn’t mind if Bob borrowed it.”

“Daddy always said we should help people when we had the chance.” Caleb said.

“I hope he uses it to kill all of the monsters.” Clara said as she forced her tears to stop. “I hate them. I hate, hate, hate them.”

14

Truth and Secrets

By the time Murray rolled into the maintenance shed, Bob had the truck’s battery out. He’d shown him their jury-rigged charging system. It was an old ten-speed bike on a stand with a lawnmower belt attached to the rear wheel. The belt drove an alternator pulled from one of the abandoned cars in the parking lot which in turn charged the battery.

“It takes a long time.” Murray told him. “You’re going to be on it for hours. That’s why nobody bothers with it anymore, it’s not worth it just to play a game.”

Bob sighed and turned back to the truck to see what else needed to be done. He and Murray were the only ones left in the shop. Everyone else had drifted off to put away the supplies, tend to their animals or swim in the pool with the polar bears.

“No generator?” Bob asked as he lay on the concrete, slid under the truck and loosened the drain plug on the oil pan.

“Yeah, but no fuel.” Murray answered in a harsh tone, “and we haven’t bothered to get more. If you haven’t noticed, we’ve survived by keeping quiet and avoiding fights. We don’t do anything to attract them to us and when we see them outside the gates, we run away. It’s kept us alive so far.”

Bob looked up at Murray and wondered if he’d offended him somehow.

“Swan said you took out a whole horde by yourself.” Murray said while he stroked China’s back. The little monkey chittered in pleasure. “That was reckless.”

“You look like a super villain.” Bob laughed, but Murray didn’t change his expression. He was a little miffed at Bob’s lack of gratitude for all they’d done for him.

“Who are you?” He asked. He didn’t buy Bob’s bullshit story. “This is my family. My tribe. Are you a danger to them? Who are you running from? Are you going to bring a whole army of people down on us?”

Bob stared at the oil running into the catch pan. He had a faraway look on his face.

“Answer me.” Murray demanded.

The older boy sighed, slid out from under the truck and leaned against the front bumper. He locked eyes with Murray like he was unsure what to say. Murray didn’t blink or look away. He wanted answers. He had a right to know Bob’s intentions. The tribe had a right to know. He’d seen the stranger fight, but he wasn’t afraid. There was no room for fear if there was a threat to the tribe.

After a long pause Bob wiped his hands on a rag and looked away.

“Murray, I can’t say much but I need your word you’ll keep it to yourself. You can use what I’m telling you to influence the others but you can’t tell them, okay? Swear.”

Murray leaned forward, suspiciously. “Why the secrecy?”

“I can’t tell you until I have your word.” Bob said. “And after I tell you, you’ll understand. It’s important. Just telling you, one person in the middle of nowhere can alter history. Do you understand?”

Murray started to scoff, the tell him to cut the crap and start talking straight but saw earnestness in his eyes. Whatever it was, the boy was convinced it was important. Murray’s gut told him to trust the stranger.

“Okay.” Murray said. “You have my word. I swear.”

“It’s a heavy burden.” Bob said. “And I’m deadly serious. You can’t tell anyone. People will die.”

Murray nodded and the stranger looked away, gathered his thoughts and tried to find a beginning point to the story. They could hear the splashing from the pool and the quiet laughter of the tribe. Tobias was threatening one of the monkeys but his voice had an edge of amusement, not one of malice. He spoke harshly but it was all bluster.

“A month.” Bob said. “You have to keep this to yourself for a month. After that, it won’t matter. Everything will be fine or it won’t, and anything I tell you now won’t make a difference. Agreed?”

Murray didn’t fully understand the cryptic statement, but his curiosity was killing him so he nodded.

“Okay.” He said.

Bob rolled an old dusty stool over and sat in front of the wheelchair bound boy and told an unbelievable tale. Murray listened and didn’t interrupt as Bob spun a fantastic story of time travel, lost love, a chance to stop the outbreak before it began and revenge.

“I’m not supposed to be here.” He said. “Something happened when they sent me back, something got messed up.”

He started at the beginning, just a teenaged slacker trapped in detention and how he’d managed to survive, but most of his friends didn’t. He told him about the lonely miles as he fought and bled across the country to make it to Lakota, the great walled city trying to rebuild the country. He told him about the horrors he’d seen and the losses he’d endured. He smiled as he talked about the real Bob, his dog. How they’d saved each other’s lives over and over. He talked with unashamed tears spilling from his eyes about Scarlet, the love of his life and how they’d met. They’d been enemies, then friends, then lovers before she was killed by evil people manipulating him into doing their dirty work. He told him about the Anubis Cult and the man that ran the Tower, about Casey and his raiders, how they were killing, raping and pillaging and eating the flesh of other survivors. He spoke of underground facilities in secret military installations and his plans to save Scarlet and the world.

Murray was entranced by the story but nearly fell out of his chair when Bob told him about meeting the tribe, how he and Scarlet found the bullet riddled bodies of Tobias, Analise and the polar bears. Murray was on the verge of crying himself when Bob told how they’d buried their bodies in Putnam after defeating the war party of Anubis soldiers in the grocery warehouse. Bob told him he didn’t know if the tribe needed to meet the other Jessie and Scarlet. He didn’t know if it was important in the timeline but if they did, Murray had to make sure it happened after the battle with the Anubis Cult. If the gun fight wasn’t over, the twins would die.

“You have to keep the tribe away from the warehouse until after the soldiers are dead.” Jessie said. “You can’t let them go there, the soldiers will see if anything has been disturbed. They might be on guard and we might not win. Hell, they might ambush us. They might kill us. They might send a party out to follow your trail and kill all of you. Do you understand, Murray? You can’t interfere with what has to happen. Keeping the twins alive should be fine, I don’t think it will change the future. If it does, I’ll figure it out.”

The stranger was intense, near manic in his urgency for Murray to understand the consequences if they altered anything. It could change everything and not for the better.

“I’ll keep them away.” He said “But wouldn’t it be easier to tell them?”

“Three can keep a secret if two are dead.” Bob said. “You barely believe me, don’t you? Do you think the twins will take the word of an outsider without any proof? Don’t you think Donny or Swan will sneak into town to check it out? The cult may have sent a scouting party, or will send one. It gets confusing, but you have to keep them away, they might be the ones killed if you don’t.”

Murray slowly nodded his head as he thought about it. They would want to go, their curiosity would get the better of them. Time travel seemed too farfetched, too impossible. He reminded himself that a year ago zombies weren’t real either. Could it all be true? Was a small insignificant group of orphans going to be responsible for saving the world because they’d saved Bob? It was almost too fantastic to believe, but he did.

“That’s what the belt is, your way to get back?” Murray asked wide eyed.

“Yeah.” Bob said. Darkness had fallen and it was hard for Murray to see the strangers’ face in the flickering candlelight, but he looked lighter, like sharing the burden he carried eased his own suffering.

“And if it works, we’ll just wake up in our beds one morning, none of this ever happened?” Murray asked. He had so many questions he wanted to ask and didn’t even know where to start.

“Something like that.” Bob said. “When I jumped into this timeline, did you notice? Was there a disturbance in the force or anything?”

“No.” Murray said as he contemplated the situation. “But you didn’t change anything. You just arrived.”

Vanessa poked her head in the door.

“Hey you two, food’s ready! Hurry up before it gets cold. You know Tobias won’t let anyone eat until everyone is there!”

They made their way to the house in silence. Murray thought about all that Bob had said. He wished he could have a chance at time travel. He’d stop himself from getting run over and confined to a wheelchair.

15

Murray and Bob

“You little turds stay out of my blueberries and get out of my kitchen. Go get Bob and tell him it’s time for breakfast and not to drag his feet this time.” Tobias yelled at the triplets.

Landon, Caleb, Clara and their ever-present foxes skipped out to the garage to fetch Bob. They stood in the doorway silently as they watched him doing something under the hood. They remembered the day Caleb’s dad, their uncle Chris, left to go for supplies and never came back. They’d been on the point of starvation. So hungry that they weren’t anymore. They’d been eating dry dog food soaked in rain water. Chris had died trying to get them something to eat. In a roundabout way it was the reason they were here. It was the reason Caleb’s mom had loaded them all up in the minivan and set off to find him. There had been an accident and she’d gotten bit by one of the monsters. She turned into one herself but she’d managed to get them to the zoo. To Kodiak and Swan and the rest of their tribe. They’d whispered about it under the covers last night and they were glad Bob was taking the truck. He was a good fighter and it was better than having it rust away. They stood and watched until their growling stomachs reminded them of why they were there.

“I’ll grab something later,” Bob said and waved a greasy hand at them. “I’m not hungry.”

“But Baaoooobbb,” Clara sang out, “Tobias won’t let us eat without you. It’s his rule.”

“Yeah,” Landon said in agreement. “Nobody eats if everybody isn’t counted for.”

“We’re hungry and I smelled pancakes.” Caleb rubbed his belly at the thought of a thick stack.

“Blueberry pancakes,” Clara encouraged. “With syrup.”

Bob put down whatever the thing was he was working on and picked up a mostly clean rag to wipe his hands. “Okay. Hurry along, I’ll be there in a minute.”

They were all pounding their fists on the table when he finally made it. Tobias snorted and slid a plate loaded down with pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of him.

“Glad you decided to grace us with your presence.” He said and began devouring his own plate.

After attending to his daily admin duties Murray rolled out to see what Bob was up to. They were in pretty good shape as far as fresh food went and the canned goods in the cellar would see them through the winter months as long as the hunts were good. They still needed stuff that couldn’t be grown and he wondered if the warehouse had pallets of toilet paper. He worried about Swan risking her life raiding houses for a roll of butt wipe. He had thought long and hard about everything Bob had told him. He’d read a lot of science fiction, had seen loads of time travel movies and understood how changing anything could affect everything.

He pushed it to the back of his mind to let his subconscious mull it over and asked Bob if he needed help with anything. Murray loved to work with his hands and had been the driving force behind most of the tribe’s projects. The smoke house and green house, the irrigation trench and the garden layout. He didn’t know how to use the cutting torch or weld and Bob said he’d show him how.

Murray watched him fire up the torch, drop the goggles over his eyes and sparks flew from the metal bars. Bob heated sections until they glowed cherry red, then used the vise on the work bench to bend them to the shape he wanted. Murray caught on quick and soon they were working together, him wielding the torch and Bob marking the cuts and bends he needed. They cut into the existing guard on the front of the truck and welded in the newly fabricated pieces. They repeated the process with some of the smaller diameter steel and made a guard over the windshield and side windows. Murray had been good at soldering and welding was the same thing only different.

“Not as good as an arc welder.” Bob said. “But it’ll do.”

It didn’t take long before his welds were smoother and better than Bob’s and he took over the torches to weld the pieces in place.

They reinforced the frame of the truck with angle iron and Bob pedaled furiously on the bicycle powered battery charger while Murray drilled the bolt holes. The day passed pleasantly with easy talk, stories and dreams of the future.

Murray was good with electronics and Bob asked him to disconnect all the chimes and buzzers and interior lights. Those things will get you killed, he’d said. He replaced all the fuses with higher rated ones. By the time the sun started dipping over the trees, Bob declared it was good enough. Murray rolled back from the truck and admired their work. It looked mean and dangerous just sitting there. The passenger compartment and windshield where safely ensconced in horizontal bars. The front bumper resembled a cowcatcher from an old train. It was perfect for shoving the undead out of its path and protecting the vulnerable undercarriage of the truck. Part of him wished he could throw his gear in the back and go along for the ride.

Murray rolled over to where Bob stood. He had a crooked smile and was staring off into space.

“What are you grinning about?” He asked the older boy.

“The future, my man. It’s looking pretty good.” Bob smiled.

“What about us?” He asked, his face serious. “I’ve been going over everything you told me. I’ve read a lot of books, seen a lot of movies. I think it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

Bob waved his hand dismissively, “That’s Hollywood. There has to be a big conflict and the hero has to save the day just in the nick of time. This is real life. It’s pretty straightforward and simple. Seriously, I get Scarlet, we go down to the time machine, reset the parameters and you’ll never know any of this happened. This past year will just be gone. It never existed and never will.”

“That just seems so impossible.” Murray said. “What happens to all these memories? What happens to us? We’re gone? We’re dead?”

“No, you just come back younger. You’re the same you, just from a few years ago.”

“I hated myself a few years ago.” Murray told him. “I wanted to die a few years ago.”

Bob closed the hood and looked at the wheelchair bound boy.

“Cody was picked on in school. His dad was dead and him mom struggled to put clothes on his back. Harper was a ditzy cheerleader; Vanessa was a mouse who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Analise and Tobias were outcasts, Swan was a hippy vegan weirdo, Donny was a homeless runaway, and I was a useless cripple. All I’m saying is for some of us, a reset isn’t such a happy plan.” Murray said sadly.

“Even if it means getting your parents back?” Bob asked after a long pause. “Is it worth it then?”

Murray looked down at his useless legs. “Yeah. It’s worth it. Of course, it is. That’s not what I mean. I just wish I would be able to remember who I am now. Who we all are now. A bunch of losers with no future have done something pretty special. We’ve accomplished something pretty spectacular and I wish I would be able to remember it.”

Bob squatted so they were to eye. “I’ll make you a deal. You’re the keeper of my secrets and you saved my life. By doing so, you probably saved eight billion people. When we fix things, we’ll come visit you and Kodiak and the rest of your crew. We’ll tell you a tale none of you will believe, we’ll tell you how you saved the world. We’ll make you believe it, though and we’ll help you become the people you are now. You have my word on that.”

Murray wanted to believe it. If everything was reset, modern medicine gave him a chance at walking again. In this world it was impossible. He was proud of who he was now and didn’t want to lose that, but with eight billion lives at stake there wasn’t even a choice. He looked Bob in the eyes and held out his hand. They shook on it.

Swan wiped the sweat from her forehead and dropped the axe. She’d been chopping for the last half hour as she rushed through her chores, hurrying to finish everything on the work schedule. She’d jogged the entire perimeter with her wolves and found a few aggressive raccoons hissing at her inside the fences. At her command, her pack made short work of them. She didn’t even break stride. They were eaters of the undead and had actually charged the wolves instead of retreating. She used her tomahawks to take out several rabbits that were munching on the lettuce they’d planted near the back to lure them in. They were cleaned and hanging in the smokehouse. She was dying to spend some time with the stranger. Her and everyone else had tried to get him to stay, to wait until he was fully healed. Even grumpy Tobias had said he was helpful in the kitchen.

A little.

He was still a mottled hue of fading yellows and purples from all the bruising. She was worried that if she ever met him again, she wouldn’t be able to recognize him. His face was still puffy and she wanted to see his real face, not the swollen one. She made her way over to the shop and whistled at the truck. Murray was beaming and Bob was rolling up the torch hoses. It looked positively wicked, like it could take on a thousand undead without slowing down. Murray bragged about the improvements they’d made and she made idle chitchat with the two until Donny and Yewan came by.

“Where you been all day?” She asked Donny.

He signed his answer.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not apologizing.”

Murrays gaze was still riveted on the truck. “Apologize for what?”

“Mr. Brainiac went to count the dead. One hundred and seven, or so he claims.” She twirled her finger by her temple. Donny was crazy, she’d only counted about seventy. There couldn’t have been forty more stacked up or tossed in the weeds.

Probably.

The three approached the back of the truck where Bob was sorting supplies.

“You can’t count that high, you don’t have enough fingers and toes.” She said. “I still don’t believe it. Why were you counting them anyway, just to prove me wrong?”

Donny scowled and signed again.

“Really? How much?” Murray asked.

“Impressive.” Swan said as she stared at Bob. “Not only is he a mystery man who falls out of trees and a badass zombie slayer, he also has magical all-knowing powers. Turns out you were right, Canadian Bob. The warehouse down at the river is a grocery supply place. How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.” Bob muttered and looked at Murray.

Murray tried to bail him out. “If I would have seen it, I could have told you the same thing. But since I hardly ever get to go to town, I didn’t see it, now did I? Everybody knows the barges bring in the food.”

“I didn’t know that.” She said with a snort.

Donny grinned and flashed at her, “That’s because you’re a nobody.”

Swan opened her mouth in retort but Harper stuck her head through the door.

“Everyone is back so dinner is early. Come on, I didn’t have any lunch. I’m starving.”

Bob and Murray exchanged a look and the boy whispered he’d take care of it, he’d keep them away.

They held a celebration dinner for Bob’s last night. Even though Tobias pretended that he didn’t like the stranger, he and Analise went all out in the food preparation and unveiled their first rhubarb pie for dessert. The tribe devoured it to the last crumb. Tobias glared at Landon when the small boy picked up the empty bowl and began to lick the sticky sweet residue still inside. He was secretly pleased, though. The bowls usually got set down for one of the animals to lick clean.

They tried to get Bob to stay a little longer again. He told them he couldn’t, he had to finish his scouting trip and return home so that his village wouldn’t have to make the move to their new location in the winter. Most of them didn’t believe the story anymore but they let it slide. The older boy had his reasons. They played board games and charades by candle light for a time and Swan always found an excuse to stay close to the stranger. They argued and laughed long past their normal bed times and when they finally curled up to sleep, they went down quickly.

Bob tiptoed over the sleeping bodies and only the wolves raised their heads to watch his progress, their eyes glittering in the darkness. The sun was just graying the horizon, it would be another half hour before its fiery brilliance crested. He eased the door closed and looked up to see Donny and Yewan approaching from the front gate. The silent boy was used to being up most of the night and had already cleared the entrance of the undead. He stepped from the shadows and signed to Bob. Are you leaving? Bob didn’t understand so he pointed at the gate and held his hands out in a questioning gesture.

“Yeah.” Bob kept his voice low. “I need to get on the road. Goodbyes take too long.”

Donny nodded and the pair followed him to the garage to help push the truck. If he wanted to leave without waking the tribe, Donny was cool with it. Everyone had their reasons for doing the things they did. As they pushed the truck past the house, the tribe slipped out of the darkness to help. They were wide awake, armed and armored and moved without words.

“Not much gets by you guys does it?” Bob asked them.

They hugged him or shook his hand and said their goodbyes. Swan was sullen and disappointed. She’d thought about hiding in the back of the truck and not revealing herself until they were too far away to turn back. It was just a fantasy though. This was her home and her family, and as long as Diablo and Gordon walked the earth, she had a mission of her own.

Tobias was the last to step forward and placed a bag of food in his hands. Bob had earned his respect and he figured the older boy would be eating MRE’s and canned food for the foreseeable future. He locked eyes with him and nodded, then walked away. He had work to do, breakfast for the tribe wasn’t going to cook itself.

They watched as the stranger fired up the truck, pulled out of the lot and disappeared in the mist coming off the river.

“Think we’ll ever see him again?” Swan asked.

Murray smiled. He hoped so. He hoped it would be in a world that wasn’t overrun by the undead and he hoped it would be soon.

16

Murray

Murray couldn’t keep his mind off everything Bob had shared with him. The tribe was eager to hit the warehouse but he did whatever he could to keep them away from town. Kodiak was their chief but he took council from the wheelchair bound boy because Murray thought things through, planned for the long term and knew what they needed to get through the winter. He convinced them there was no use going until they could make a big haul and if they helped him get the tractor running again, they wouldn’t have to use wheel barrows or mess with Millie to get her to pull a wagon.

“Bob showed me how to fix it,” he insisted, “and it’s as easy to drive as a golf cart.”

Donny and Swan were the only two he was worried about, they went outside the fences every week to hunt. The others rarely left the zoo unless they were going on a raid. When they went on a hunt, he gave them a list of things he needed, most of them should be readily available from any of the abandoned farms they’d mapped out. All of them were north, away from the town. It was easy for the first few weeks, they had just returned from a supply run, there was plenty of work to do with the early harvest and they’d had a scare from the horde Bob had killed. If he hadn’t been there it might have gone bad. Their worries faded and it didn’t take long before they were getting antsy, they really wanted to see what was available and how much there was. Kodiak was getting tired of the excuses and the waiting, too. He pulled Murray aside one afternoon and wanted to know what was going on.

“We need to find out what’s there.” He said. “We need to know if it will be enough for winter or if we need to go to the next town.

“Do you trust me?” Murray asked.

“Of course I do, Mur. But I don’t understand what all the resistance is about. Why are you so dead set against us even checking it out? Donny only looked through the windows, it could be nothing, maybe just pallets of office supplies or something.”

“Do you trust me?” the boy asked again.

Kodiak opened his mouth then closed it, thought about what was being asked and considered why Murray would even ask such a question.

“Did the stranger tell you something?” he asked. “Is that why?”

“It’s life and death.” Murray said. “I’ll tell you everything in another week or so but for now, do you trust me?”

Kodiak had nodded then asked no more. He did what Murray asked, either kept everyone inside the gates or sent them north to the empty farms and the rural houses that Swan had already cleared. Murray tinkered with the tractor in the shop and always had a list of a few little parts he needed for them to try to find.

“No rush.” He’d said. “Don’t make a special trip out but when you go on a hunt, find me these and as soon as we get the tractor running, we’ll go into town. We can make one big haul instead of a bunch of little ones.”

They always went north, always away from the machine guns he knew were coming. There was nothing wrong with the old Kubota except a dead battery but he let the air out of one of the tires, disconnected a few wires and made “progress” on getting it running when they brought him something from the list. They were safe in the hunting grounds, the only danger was the undead and they didn’t like the woods. They stayed on the roads where walking was easy. While he was supposed to be fixing the tractor, he’d hook up the golf cart and spend hours hand pedaling the charger. Using the torches like Bob had shown him, he added a few bars across the windshield and doors as zombie protection. He only had to stall for another week, he couldn’t let Tobias and Analise die. He wouldn’t get a do over if he failed. Every time they started complaining and he was tempted to tell them the secret, he remembered what Bob said. Just knowing a thing could change the future. He kept quiet, ignored their complaints and kept assuring them it would be worth the wait. They would only have to risk going to town once if they had the tractor.

He knew time was close to when the warehouse battle was supposed to happen. When Jessie and Scarlet would form the bonds that might save the world. Bob hadn’t been exactly sure of the date but he knew it happened in the early afternoon and he’d narrowed it down to within a day or two. When everyone was busy with their duties, he slipped out of the maintenance gate near the river. The electric cart scraped both sides as it forced its way through and bounced across the tall grass towards the river. Putnam was only a few miles to the south and the rutted, overgrown path had been used by off roaders and fishermen. He got within a half mile of the riverfront district before the wooded trail ended on a frontage road. It was close enough, though. He could remain hidden and was sure he’d be able to hear any gunshots.

He sat, waited and listened for the guttural sound of an old car and the boom of gunfire. Once he heard the first shots he’d know everything was going to be fine. He’d head back to the house and share the news with the tribe.

The first day of his watch passed with just the sounds of birds and crickets to keep him company. The capuchins played in the trees but didn’t stray far from their boy. He was disappointed but by late afternoon he knew it wasn’t going to happen. He’d try again tomorrow.

The second day waiting for the gunfire passed the same as the first. Nothing happened and Murray felt that first niggle of doubt in the back of his mind. What if it wasn’t true? They didn’t really know Bob. He could have been an escapee from the loony bin for all they knew. He forced the doubt away and strained to hear anything that would validate the stranger’s story. Nothing. He went over the times Bob had mentioned again. Tobias and Analise were gunned down, there would be a lull and then a gun fight. Him and his girlfriend had buried the twins in the afternoon and met the tribe after dark. It was hard to think of Jessie and Bob as the same person. The carefree boy riding around the country with his gal and the jaded, scarred up warrior hell-bent on changing the world didn’t seem like they could be the same person.

He thought of a dozen ways that might make the future better. What if he warned them, told them what Bob had told him? Wouldn’t that save the girl? But if he did, then they never would have met Bob because he would have no reason to travel back to save her. It made his head hurt just thinking about all the possibilities and in the end he had to trust the stranger. He must know what he was doing.

Murray waited until the sun was low in the sky before he headed back to the shop.

On the third day he sat in the shade and tried to read a book as the monkeys played in the trees. They never went far, always kept him in sight and would scramble quickly aboard as soon as the cart started moving. He was half dozing in the lazy afternoon and the beeping noise caught him by surprise. He tossed the paperback aside and gripped the steering wheel. It was faint, a long way off, but the sound carried. It was the trucks Bob had told him about. They were backing up to the warehouse doors. The tribe wasn’t there, they hadn’t fled in panic and the gunfire that killed Tobias and Analise didn’t happen. Everyone was safe back at the sanctuary. He had just changed the future.

Everything was different now.

From this moment forward, nothing was the same as it had been in the world Bob described. A thrill ran through him. His heart thudded in his chest and he strained his ears. His capuchins heard it too and scrambled back into the cart to be near him. He waited for a long time, heard more beeping sounds of fork trucks and an occasional voice barking commands then sighed in relief when he heard it. The throaty grumble of a hot rod was unmistakable as it passed. It was true, everything Bob had said was true.

Murray listened to the gunfight a short time later and finally relaxed. He’d been tense for weeks, snapping at everyone, arguing against a warehouse raid and generally making the rest of the tribe think he was going crazy.

Analise was safe.

Tobias was safe.

They hadn’t triggered the cult to come looking for them. He let out a long shuddering breath and almost shed tears of relief. The burden of knowing his actions could wind up killing them all had almost been too much. From this moment forward, the future was unknown. He’d spent a lot of hours considering what to do next and hoped he was making the right choice. Bob said he’d met the tribe after the twins had been buried but Murray wasn’t sure if they should meet now. Things were already different, how much more different would they be if it slipped out that Bob, or Jessie, had visited them. How much of the future would it change? Bob said just knowing a thing was dangerous. Murray was still mulling it over when he heard the old muscle car fire up a short while later. The sound of its engine faded away as it drove out of town and that made the decision for him. They were gone. It didn’t matter if he told the tribe now, they were isolated and couldn’t affect anything. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. Nobody in their right mind would. It was probably best to keep those secrets but he’d let them know about everything else. He’d tell them all about Lakota and the rebuilding that was happening. They weren’t alone, there were thousands of others.

17

Diablo

Darkness fell and he was hungry again. He was always hungry, nothing satisfied the craving. The pack had already cleaned out the undead wandering around town and they learned how to get to those inside the houses. Windows broke if they slammed into them hard enough. Diablo led them to a place of slaughter just outside of town and they had fed heavily on the dead lying in the road. They ate and slept then ate some more, the food supply seemed endless for a time. The ingestion of so much nanobot infested meat overloaded their senses. It wasn’t enough to feed and rest anymore, they wanted to feast until they burst. Already they were picking off their own members and ripping savagely into them. Blood splattered and fur flew as those too slow to avoid the larger animals became meals for their own pack. The raccoons and opossums scampered to the trees, out of reach of the snapping jaws of the coyotes and wild dogs. The boars and sows ripped their razor-sharp tusks into anything that got too close, including each other. The feral cats scattered into culverts or abandoned cars, away from the savagery of the pack. Yet, none went far. None would break away from the pack. The horde mentality, the need to bunch together in massive numbers, overrode their sense of self preservation. The raccoons and opossums leapt from limb to limb as they followed the odd procession. The buzzards, ravens and crows observed it all from the safety of the treetops, darting in to grab the scraps that weren’t devoured. A bit of flesh, a shard of bone. A piece of fur with a little bloody skin attached. It was all precious and worth fighting to the death over.

The moon was high as Diablo followed the old familiar route. They had fled at the sound of the machine guns, out of town and back into the woods. They hid for hours, waited until darkness fell before they came back out. Now he padded along the fences of the zoo, the same as he had many times before. Only his survival instincts had kept him from pushing under the gates and feeding during his many trips to this same spot. He feared the claws of the little ones and the roar of the mighty beasts that guarded them. His kind were cowardly. Scavengers. They were the garbage disposals of the world. They took the weak or stole their kills from stronger animals by sheer numbers and deceit. But he hungered and nothing he ate satisfied him. He craved the hot blood of the living and the madness worming its way through his mind grew stronger with each mouthful of undead flesh he ate.

He had watched the wolf girl raiding the dens of the humans. Diablo had refrained from taking her several times because of the presence of her pack. They had sensed him but the human smells were strong in the dens and they masked his own. He yearned for the taste of her flesh in his jaws. Reveled in the thought of thrusting his muzzle into her body and eating the protein rich organs while they still pulsed with hot blood. Cracking open her bones with his powerful jaws and devouring the sweet marrow inside. Yet, he’d refrained. The wolf girl killed the stinking ones and left them where they lay. Diablo was confused by the act, she didn’t eat the stinking prey. So, he watched and when she left the bodies he and his pack gobbled down the kills that had her smell on them. It was the hyena way.

His own insatiable need overwhelmed his caution and pushed him forward along the fences. He hungered for the warm blood, could smell it from miles away. Humans had scarred him. Kept him caged, half-starved and beaten. Forced him to fight for his life for their entertainment. The wolf and the girl had killed his brother, his litter mate. He hated and feared them but the cowardice grew less every day as the yearning for their flesh grew stronger.

His nose sorted out the scents, told him they were all there. He’d tracked their smells for months. Had them ingrained in his memory. Their sweat, their urine left on trees or in the bushes. He knew them all intimately. He was ready to take her, he would wait no longer but the wolf girl hadn’t made her solitary hunts outside the fences for days. There had been no dead stinking ones covered with her scent. No deer entrails for his motley pack to fight over. A new human had come, bloodied and weak, and they took him inside. He carried a strange scent that had disrupted their cycle. There was something maddening about his smell that drove the hyena crazy. Diablo lifted his nose but he couldn’t detect that one anymore. His scent had been all over the stinking ones that littered the roadway outside of town. There was enough there for them all to feed without fighting. The pack had gorged themselves for days. Even the smallest had known the comfort of a full belly. But that was many days ago. Food was in short supply now with the disappearance of the horde and the few stragglers they stalked left many of them without an opportunity to feed. Yesterday’s feast was tomorrow’s famine. The more they ate, the more they wanted.

Diablo craved their warm flesh and would be denied no longer. He whined at the thought of the hot blood that would cascade over his mottled coat. He found the weak spot in the fence he’d marked. He pushed his scarred muzzle against it and wormed his way under the gap. The pack followed. The nimbler ones scampered over the eight-foot chain link while others pawed at the ground, each eager to be among the first to feed. The moon shone full overhead and the birds darted across it, casting fleeting shadows on the ground. Thousands of beating wings stirred the leaves in the trees as they settled and watched or circled and cawed, watching for an opportunity to dive in and steal bits of flesh.

They approached downwind of the house and followed the smells of the chickens and goats. They approached the petting zoo on silent feet, soft whines and growls came from their throats at the anticipation of feeding. The cow sleeping in her stall didn’t smell them, didn’t sense the danger as she chewed her cud. The roosting chickens never heard them. The goats were oblivious to the threat until it was too late.

Diablo leapt into the stall with the milk cow and snapped her neck before the first startled bawl escaped her lips. Her eyes were wide with fear when another set of jaws tore at her throat and pulled her down. Hungry maws were filled with warm delicious blood as the animals leapt over the short wall and ripped mouthfuls free. The hyena ignored the cats and raccoons that swarmed over the thrashing body as he ripped at her soft belly. Ropes of intestines spilled out in coils and he probed deeper for the choicest bites. The heart, liver and kidneys. He growled at the others that got too close. They ignored him. They were biting and ripping anywhere they could, a madness overcoming them.

A raccoon washed his hands in blood, snapped off chunks of flesh and snarled at the other creatures. Opossums slashed at her soft nose as ravens cawed and pecked away at her eyes. It was a like watching a shark frenzy or a school of piranhas strip an animal to the bone in a matter of moments.

Coyotes and wild dogs attacked the chicken wire of the coop, snapping mindlessly at the metal, forcing snouts then heads through the openings. They ignored the tearing of skin, the broken teeth and the bleeding jaws. The pack was feverish with the insatiable lust for blood. The hens squawked and flapped their wings, each trying to find a spot on the highest roosting poles. The eaters of the dead pushed through the newly chewed holes and fell on them as feathers flew and terrified cries split the night. The rooster flapped and spurred at the beasts, slapped them with his wings and fought to protect his brood. They tore him to shreds. Wild dogs darted in, gulped down the eggs and within seconds, the only sounds coming from the coop was the snapping of bones and warning growls from the pack.

The two hundred fifty-pound boar tore through the flimsy gate of the goat pen and others rushed in behind him. The herd bleated and ran, tried to leap over the walls but there was nowhere to go. Tusks ripped and shredded flesh.

The barnyard animals were all dead and eaten within minutes, the attack so swift and brutal that their cries were cut short. The Savage Ones devoured them all, bathed in the blood, but were unsatisfied. They still hungered.

Bert, Ziggy and Millie heard from their enclosures and snorted warnings. The gates were left open for them to wander in and out as they pleased and when the hungering beasts came for them, they ran. Bert stomped them under foot, Millie bowled them over and Ziggy easily outdistanced all of them. The Savage Ones didn’t chase far, there was easier meat to bring down.

Diablo, gore stained and insane emerged from the stall and raised his snout to smell the air. He didn’t sniff for danger, he was beyond fear. He wanted more blood. The cow wasn’t enough. She filled his belly but didn’t fill the gnawing ache, the need for more. He smelled panic and terror and followed it on the breeze.

His nose led him to the enclosure where the foaling antelopes and gazelles were penned. The mixed herd bunched in the far corner and darted back and forth along the fence line, desperate to escape from the smell of death coming from a band of savage killers. He ran at the fence and tried to scale it but fell hard to the ground. It was too tall but he wouldn’t be denied. He started digging at the base, and watched his next kills scatter and regroup. Run then stand still in fear. His yellow eyes glowed in the moonlight and a quiet, laughing panting sound mixed with his snarls. Others saw and mimicked his movements. They dug. Dirt flew and soon animals were clawing their way under the fence in a tidal wave of filthy fur and snapping teeth.

Diablo laughed his barking laugh as the others tore into the herd, savaged them and pulled them down. He was far larger than any of them and hadn’t made it under before the bloodletting was finished. He snarled his frustration but he knew it wasn’t the blood he wanted. It wasn’t the blood he craved. Only the wolf girl would sate his appetite. Her or one of the others.

He watched as his pack ferociously tore into them. The antelopes and gazelle flailed their hooves in desperate attempts to protect themselves and their young but it was no use. The Savage Ones swept over them like a flood. They feasted. Their bellies distended from the huge chunks of meat that were forced into them. The blood lust was up and they reveled in killing for the sake of killing. The power of the pack surged through them. The thrill of the hunt flowed in their veins.

Diablo lifted his bloodied nose to the sky. He caught the children’s scents from the big den. He moved in that direction. He still ached from the hunger that hadn’t been satisfied but tonight he would feast on those he feared. Theirs was the blood he needed, fresh and hot and most important, human. His pack followed toward the house as the carrion birds descended from the sky to pick through the remains of the fallen herd.

18

Tribe

“Hush, Zero.” Swan said sleepily and swatted at the wolf who was growling low in his throat.

Zero didn’t hush and the pups joined him. They stood, formed a protective circle around her and growled their warnings, hackles raised and fangs bared. Otis chuffed loudly and raised his head, sniffing the air. He didn’t like what he smelled and rose to his feet. Sage chittered and scrambled with the rest of the monkeys to hide under Murray’s blanket. Kodiak sat up and threw his covers off. Everyone was awake and scrambling for weapons.

“Gordon’s back.” Swan said as Popsicle roared a challenge from the front porch.

Dust shook down from the rafters as Daisy joined in, the polar bears bellowing their defiance.

“Get them inside!” Kodiak yelled “They’ll shoot them!”

“Where’s Donny?” Harper yelled. “He was on guard!”

Tobias and Analise both sprang for the doors, fear for their companions and friend overriding any fear for themselves. Popsicle stood on his hind legs, his head brushing the rafters of the covered porch. The twins were half as tall and only weighed a fraction of the roaring bears and were ignored. Intruders were coming for them and they wouldn’t run from a fight.

They heard the barking laugh of a hyena coming from the blackness and then the snarling, yipping and grunting of a hundred dogs, coyotes and wild hogs as they tore through the carefully planted garden. The stalks danced and fell, the crops trampled underfoot. Swan swore and darted out to the porch, an arrow already nocked in the compound bow.

Donny and Yewan came sprinting out of the darkness, they had been walking the perimeter near the river when the heard the frightened bleats of the goats.

“Hurry!” Vanessa urged but he was already running as fast as he could, his panther pacing him, never leaving his side. A boar turned and charged him, it’s tusks glistening with fresh blood. Swan loosed her arrow as Donny flung his spear. Both buried deep in the ridge back, the hog squealed and stumbled but got back to his feet. Donny darted around as Yewan leapt over him and they bounded onto the porch.

A pack of hundreds had stopped their charge for the house at the challenge from the mighty bears. Beady eyes glowed in the moonlight as the birds circled and cawed overhead. They formed a half circle around the house, all manner of wild carrion animals that had no business running together. It was as unnatural as their hunger and it urged them forward. They could smell the blood and sweat of the children and the longing to fill their bellies was stronger than their fear.

“Get back in the house.” Kodiak said quietly as the line of animals hunkered low and crept closer, their eyes on the humans. They were bloodied and gore coated from fresh kills and their fangs glistened red.

“Bert.” Harper whispered but there was nothing they could do for the animals in the barn.

“Get them in the house.” Kodiak repeated. “They’ll be torn apart out here.”

His eyes were wide and fear hammered his heart. He’d never seen anything like it. He’d rather face down a horde of zombies. He’d rather see Gordon and his goons, he knew how to fight something like that. The low snarls and growls of the savage ones were all around them. Teeth were bared. Muzzles dripped with fresh blood.

“SHOO!” he bellowed at them, stomped his boot on the porch and flapped his arms. They kept coming, slinking closer and their hungry eyes never left him.

“Everybody inside.” He said and started backing for the doors. “They’ve gone mad.”

The twins pushed at their polars and they allowed themselves to be led inside at the urging of their humans, Swan called her wolves and they barred the doors.

“You okay?” Kodiak asked a panting Donny

He nodded and grabbed the rest of his spears from the oversized planter that held them.

“I’m going upstairs.” Swan said. “I can get a clear shot at Diablo from the roof.”

“We should be safe in here.” Tobias said, stroking his big friend to calm him. “They’ll go away once the sun comes up won’t they?”

19

The Battle for Piedmont House

They swept through the garden in a wave. Months of back breaking labor was churned underfoot by a thousand paws as the crazed animals attacked. The corn was knocked down and trampled by their sheer numbers. Beans and tomatoes were ground into the earth. Melons and cantaloupes burst under the weight of the endless wave of bodies that descended on the House. The feral hogs shredded the plastic sheeting of the green house and knocked over the buckets and planters. The flimsy structure listed sideways as the wall supports bowed under the press of animal flesh. The hogs devoured everything in their paths. Carrots, onions and potatoes were shoveled in their maws or ground underfoot. Nothing in the small building was spared as they pushed their way through the outer wall to join the others as they descended on the house.

The smaller animals, the raccoons and opossums, ignored the challenge of the bears and scurried up the gutter pipes to get to the eaves and access to the attic. They gnawed at the wires of the chimney cap, forced themselves through the wire mesh and shimmied down. They found weak spots in the louvered vents and squeezed inside.

Diablos headlong charge for the house stopped when he saw the massive bears blocking the doors and his pack stopped with him. They were crazy, insane with blood frenzy, but the thousand-pound polar bears dwarfed them and they crouched low, out of his reach. They yipped, barked and snarled their defiance but none rushed forward to meet the challenge. These weren’t helpless prey, they were the predators and they had the claws and teeth to kill anything that charged them. The standoff ended when the bears disappeared inside and the house stood like so many others they had breached. The windows were the weak point, food was inside and they followed the laughing bark of their alpha as he leaped up the steps. The hogs battered at the doors. Coyotes charged at the windows and threw themselves through the glass in a bid to be the first to feast on the children they could see scurrying about inside. The shouts and cries of the humans was a beacon, it drew them forward and they knew their meat is what they craved. Their flesh would finally satisfy the craving.

The noise was unbearable, a thousand snarling, barking, howls of hunger was answered with vicious challenges from bears and wolves and the scream of a panther promising violence and death.

The cats forced themselves through the gap in the storm cellar, larger animals widened the opening and they raced for the stairs. Jars of canned vegetables exploded as they were swept from the shelves to shatter on the floor. They bound through the broken glass, ignored the cuts to their paws and legs. Desperate to feed they charged up the stairway and plowed through the door into the kitchen.

The windows imploded as furry bodies slammed through them. Vanessa’s spear arced through the air and killed the first coyote that charged through the shattered opening. She prayed they hadn’t attacked Ziggy or Bert, and that they had enough time run away. She wanted to go to her companion, to make sure she was safe, to hop on her back and flee far away but the battle was here. Within seconds she was fighting for her life and nothing else mattered.

The front doors splintered and bounced open and three hundred pounds of wild hog barely slowed as the sow barreled inside. More behind her squealed and grunted as they all tried to fit through the opening at once. Kodiak flung himself into the fray, swung his hammer at the nearest one. It connected with a sickening crunch of bone and spray of blood and the beast fell, then the rest were charging him. There was no time to think of strategy, no orderly plans of attack, no organized resistance. It was curses and screams and violence and blood. It was trying to stay away from the snapping, biting teeth of a hundred animals. It was try to kill the biggest that could do the most damage and try to ignore the little bites and scratches of the cats and raccoons.

The wild hogs came for him and another met the business end of his Warhammer as tusks slashed at his plastic armor. Otis moved as fast as he’d ever seen him move, lightning quick like he was when he was slapping fish out of the water. Long claws ripped through a squealing hog and sent it flying across the room, a streamer of intestines following.

Daisy and Popsicle roared into the fight, scattering the feral dogs like bowling pins. Mighty paws crushed and killed with every swipe, massive jaws snapped backs and ripped the animals away as they latched on and bit down. Harper and Vanessa fought back to back, morning star and spear whirling, slamming, stabbing and killing with every thrust and blow. The three littlest children were in the pantry with Murray, crowded against the back wall with his wheelchair between them and the door. He had steel in each hand and anything that came at them would have to go through him before it got to the triplets.

Swan made kill after kill with her arrows after she ducked out of the window and stood on the flat roof of the porch. The hyena was lost in the dark, she couldn’t find him. She picked off the bigger animals as her wolves fought in the hallway, savaging the opossums and wild cats, protecting her back.

Donny and Yewan tag teamed the boars and coyotes, much like they hunted deer. They hit them hard and fast, dealt killing blows and moved to the next. Claws raked open soft underbellies, spears plunged through hearts and lungs, jaws shredded jugular veins. Sharp, yellowed coyote teeth sunk into Kodiaks thigh and pulled him down. Otis bellowed and pawed away the animal, sent it smashing bone broke and lifeless into the brick of the fireplace. He stood over him to protect his boy, snapped and bit at the little creatures coming down the flue and pouring into the room. His huge claws decimated the attacking animals and his powerful jaws crushed bones. Kodiak rolled from underneath Otis and pushed himself to his feet. Blood streamed from dozens of slashes from the sharp tusks of the hogs, the bites of the dogs and the scratches of the cats. Kodiak dropped the hammer, pulled his blades and swung in fury and fear. He stabbed the dogs ripping at Otis’s flanks, he kicked at cats leaping for him and screamed his rage. The snarls, roars, yips and screeches of the birds all but drowned out the battle cries of the tribe.

Carcasses were splayed out all over the room and everywhere they stepped was slippery with blood and gore. Analise and Tobias had mounted their bears and smashed through the house swinging their battle axes and screaming Nordic curses at the unending tide of animals pouring through the shattered doors. The moon poured in and the pair seemed to glow, the rune tattoos displayed sharp against pale white skin. Tobias steered his bear out the door and led half a hundred maddened animals with him as they left a trail of dead or dying behind them. The laughing bark of the hyena could be heard above the thunderous cacophony of children and beasts fighting for their lives. Louder than the wet sound of intestines being torn from eviscerated animals, the howls of pain, and the guttural snarls of the wolves as they savaged anything that came near. It drove his pack onward as he skirted the edges of the room, away from the metal claws of the children and the rage of their beasts. He’d let the others fight then take their kills.

Harper batted away raccoons that leapt towards her face, reached over her shoulder to grab an opossum that was scurrying up her back looking for flesh to sink its fangs. She flung the creature into the wall and heard bones snap. She swung her morning star, shattered skulls and crushed ribcages.

They kept coming.

Swan was out of arrows and dove back into the hallway to fight with her pack. She was a blur of steel, a killing machine, as she hacked and spun through the crazed animals. Bloodied limbs flew through the air and heads were separated from necks as she fought with a tomahawk in each hand. The wolves surrounded her. A protective shield of razor-sharp incisors and fury. They ripped and shredded everything that threatened her like a river of sharp teethed fur. As many that died made it past her guardians, her bitten and scratched arms bled freely on her armor and it drove them insane. They had to have the hot, fresh blood. It would stop the cravings, finally satisfy their need.

Analise and Daisy went down under a swarm of mixed animals. Wild hogs, dogs, raccoons and feral cats clung to her legs and loose folds of fur, swarmed onto her back and shoulders. The wild child swung her saw bladed ax and ripped apart body after body but there were too many, every creature still in the yard turned to attack her. They overwhelmed the polar bear and she let out a huge roar as her glistening white fur turned red from the bites and scratches. Analise crouched low and held on, tried to protect her face and urged her bear to run. They couldn’t fight an attack that came from all sides. The bear roared once again and leaped into the pool, taking a hundred clinging animals with her.

Tobias heard the splash over the snarls and screams and urged his mount in that direction. The water would be safer than the land, they would have an advantage. The bear fought the whole way across the courtyard, savage fast and twice as deadly. He reared, grabbed a boar that slashed at his leg and ripped it to ribbons with his claws. Tobias tumbled off and disappeared in a swarm of fur and snapping jaws. He fought with his weapons, his fists and feet to get away, to jump in the pool, while teeth tore into him or broke on his armor. They both stumbled into the water, swam for the bottom and the animals let go, released their grip to rise for air. He hacked and slashed, bit and gouged, every bit as ferocious as any of them. The Viking children stood waist deep and tore through the Savage Ones with a berserker’s rage while their bears crushed and smashed the swimming animals. Pale skinned bodies fought side by side, white hair flew and guttural black-cursed screams of ancient fury cut down their enemies. They bled from half a hundred bites and scratches, the moon shone down, the water turned red and the animals began to flee.

The battle in the house thundered on and the noise was deafening. Vicious snarls, pitiful moans, howls of pain, Otis’s roars, smashing walls, splintering furniture and the war cries of the feral children mixed with the laughing hyena. The children fought to survive, the savage ones fought to kill and it was a free for all. No battle plans, no lines of skirmish. Kill or be killed. Fight them off and stay on your feet, if you fell, you’d die. Desperate, flailing fighting where they kept moving and jumping, helped each other if they could but mostly tried to keep the animals from ripping them apart. There was no time to think of anything other than living through the next few seconds.

Vanessa got her back against a wall, speared a snarling raccoon off the overturned couch. It was coiled, ready to leap and go after the soft flesh of her throat or her eyes. The beast let out a shrill cry as it hit the floor and was trampled underfoot. A dozen bloodied opossums, cats and raccoons crashed into her, scrambled up her armored legs and snapped at her face. She dropped the spear, pulled her machetes and slashed at them. She screamed as one of them sunk its pointed teeth into the side of her hand. She ripped it free and it took a mouthful of flesh, sent a spray of blood, but she barely felt it.

Caleb, Landon and Clara remained in the pantry. They each held their sharpened screwdrivers in white knuckled grips and stabbed at any paws that reached for them under the door. Murray had helped them make the deadly icepicks, they were perfect for their size. Their foxes were crammed in behind them and barked their stuttering barks of warning. The capuchins had climbed to the top shelves and were running around chittering, shrieking their danger sounds and sending a rain of boxes and cans down on them. Murray had his own hands filled with steel, ready to kill anything that broke through. The door shuddered and splintered as a wild boar’s tusk smashed through the solid wood. It squealed in pain as the shivs sank deep in its snout. The long tusk hooked, got jammed for a second before the wiry haired beast tore free and took one of the panels with him. Clara shrieked as a cat bounded through the opening and clawed its way up Murrays legs. More animals came through and their foxes started snapping at them, their gekkering barks lost in the crash of cans and bottles as everyone fought the flood coming in.

The violent attack happened quickly, only a few moments had passed since they smashed their way into the house and already half his pack was dead or dying. Diablo heard the rage of the wolf girl from above and saw the stairs leading up. She would be alone, isolated from the rest of her tribe, the rest of the screaming, battling, killing children were all downstairs. He sprang for the steps, bowled a pair of coyotes aside and ran for her. Her back was to him as she swung her steel claws at one of his pack. He ran for her, his jaws wide, strings of drool trailing from his hungry maw. He passed an open door where wolves snarled and growled and butchered a band of coyotes. Furniture crashed, glass broke, blood soaked into the hardwood floors. Plaster fell away from the walls as flailing, snarling bodies crashed into them, fur and feathers flew and windows were broken. Diablo ignored it all, he only had eyes for the wolf girl. He leapt, mouth wide to crush her head and was surprised when he was slammed aside by a half-grown pup. River sank teeth into his shoulder and ragged viciously, ripping away muscle and mottled hide. They smashed to the floor in a tumble, knocked Swan off her feet and the three struggled to find footing in the blood slick hallway. River spat out the hunk of hyena meat, crouched low and sprang again. He was a third the size of the hunchbacked beast and Diablo met his charge head on. Muzzles crashed the hyenas jaws snapped and flung him aside. River’s snarl of death and defiance became a howl of pain and blood flew from shredded fur. Swan was in a frenzy, her armor torn, some missing. Her arms and face were soaked in blood from a dozen deaths she’d dealt. Her eyes were wild and she was in a battle rage. Like men charging from the muddy trenches to face machine guns or storming a beach being pounded with artillery, she was beyond fear. Beyond rational thought. Kill was all she knew and she screamed as she dove for the monster snapping at her pack. She was choked up on the tomahawks and used them as extensions of her hands, steel fingers finding soft flesh. Diablo bit down on metal as he tried to snap her bones and rip her limbs free from her body. The spike punctured the roof of his mouth and the razor edge sliced through his tongue. He’d never felt such pain in his life. Zero skidded out of the blood-soaked room and the wolf pounced, dragging claws across his hindquarters and snapping canines into his haunch. Diablo yipped, ran for the shattered window at the end of the hall and tried to shake loose the pain in his maw. Swans arm was caught in his mouth, a tooth through her armor and hooked in her flesh. She swung her other tomahawk into his shoulder, tried to throw a leg over his back and held on as he leaped through the opening, landed on the porch roof. He bucked and turned, opened his fang filled mouth wide to free himself of the metal cutting into him. Swan lost her grip, barely felt the ripping of meat as her arm tore free and found her feet. Her hair was wild, blood poured from her arm and her eyes glowed mad in the moonlight. She growled, bared her teeth and crouched to attack. The hyena shook his head, sent long strings of bloody drool flying as the cubs jumped through the opening to join the fight. Diablo turned and leaped down to the roof of the golf cart then to the ground. He barked his laughing bark but it was filled with yips of pain as he ran back toward the hole under the fence.

20

Aftermath

Swan stood in indecision for a moment and watched as animals started streaming out of the house to follow their wounded alpha. They’d be in the woods and gone in seconds if she couldn’t stop him. She looked at the drop, was afraid her pack would try to jump and hurt themselves then raced back down the stairs. Tears streaked her face. She snarled and growled as she leapt over the carcasses that covered nearly every square inch of the floor. She’d almost had him! She was insane with rage and bloodlust; she couldn’t let him get away again. Not again. Not when she was so close to ending him once and for all.

Donny grabbed her as she ran for the broken doors, following the last of the fleeing animals out into the night. He wrapped her up in a bear hug before she could get out the doorway.

“Let me go!” She snarled.

Donny shook his head. No way. He knew what she was trying to do. The animals would tear her to bits of they caught her out in the open.

She struggled against him but his arms were like bands of steel. She twisted and tried to put her knee in his groin. Nothing was going stop her from settling her score with the hyena. She had to get on the monster’s trail before he was gone for good.

“Swan. Swan. SWAN!” Harper said.

Swan snapped her head around to her sister. Her eyes were wet and wild. The gentle Swan from before the outbreak was replaced by a rabid caged animal desperate to break free. A blood painted devil seeking to kill and destroy.

“You can’t do this. There are still too many of them. It’s dark. Let him go. I promise you we will hunt the rest of them down. I promise. We need you here, with us. Look, everyone is hurt. If you go out there you will die.” Harper pleaded softly.

“I don’t care!” Swan yelled and redoubled her efforts to get free.

“But I do.” Tobias said as he limped up the porch steps, Analise beside him. They were soaking wet, dripping with water and blood, their dark tribal tattoos stark against their pale skin in the moonlight.

“Somebody help!” Landon yelled from the kitchen and the fire in her eyes receded as some of the madness faded away. She quit struggling and Donny let her go as everyone rushed toward the pantry.

The little triplets were trying to get Murray’s chair out of the closet but it was overturned and tangled in a jumble of broken jars, boxes of spilled noodles, dead animals and hundreds of cans from the smashed shelves. The boy was half buried from the avalanche and the monkeys weren’t helping as they chittered and tried to tunnel into the pile to get close to him.

It only took a moment to fire up the lanterns, get him upright and back in his chair as the adrenaline faded. The battle craze of only seeing what was trying to hurt you, of kill or die, was replaced with pain as they looked around at the extent of the damage.

Landon, Caleb and Clara’s faces and arms were cut and scratched. The triplets had fought a desperate battle; it was the first time they’d used their homemade icepicks in a real fight. Landon had lost his and had bashed at the furious creatures with a can of beans. They fought with hands. With teeth. With anything they had. Blood crusted Vanessa’s face and leaked from the corner of her mouth. Tobias had an eye almost swelled shut from the gouges above and below it. Murray’s leg was laid open from a boar, the one buried in the jumble of cans with a dagger sticking hilt deep in one of its eyes. Their clothing and armor was tattered and torn. Bite marks and claw slashes covered their arms and faces. Their animals weren’t in any better shape. All were cut, bitten, bloodied and licked at wounds.

Kodiak looked like he’d been through a meat grinder. The hogs had worked him over. If he hadn’t been wearing his armor, they’d have ripped him to shreds. Otis was almost as bad. They both bled from dozens of bite and claw marks.

Harper’s ear was torn where hungry teeth had ripped the earring from it. Her pants were shredded and barely hanging on. Blood dripped from a nasty bite wound on her hand to puddle on the floor.

Swan felt the pain of the bites and scratches she’d suffered as the adrenaline in her system wore off. She was just as bruised and battered as the rest of the tribe but everyone was still alive. They hadn’t lost anyone. Her shoulders slumped. A wave of exhaustion swept over her. The whole fight had only lasted a few minutes but she felt like she’d been fighting for hours.

She felt empty and hollow as her rage ebbed. She was a vicious fighter and she had lost herself in the battle, she hadn’t been ready for it to be over. She wanted to keep killing. It nagged at the edges of her conscience. She was so far removed from the carefree girl from before the outbreak that it didn’t seem real anymore. A wisp of memory of a girl in a tie-dyed t-shirt waving a protest sign was all that remained. It scared her when she thought about it too much, so she tried not to. Push it down, lock it away. The old world was gone and wasn’t coming back. Sometimes she missed her former self, but she had to maintain her edge. It kept her and her tribe alive and that was all that mattered.

Swan looked one more time out of the broken doorway into the blackness. She would chase Diablo to the ends of the Earth if that’s what it took, but the tribe came first. That was the only thing that allowed them to stay strong and survive.

Vanessa would have a set of claw mark scars to go along with her self-inflicted ones. She probed gently at the vertical slashes and winced when her fingers touched the raw flesh. She couldn’t even remember what animal had inflicted it. The battle was a blur of savagery and carnage. Her throat was raw from the screams as she thrust and hacked her way through the invaders. Her arms were so heavy with fatigue she could barely hold them up. She took inventory of herself. Not one square inch of her exposed legs and arms wasn’t crisscrossed with scratches or bites.

Donny finished off the few animals that survived then rubbed a bloody hand through Yewan’s equally bloody fur. Most of his armor was torn off, they’d have to replace the elastic traps with leather bands and buckles. He held his hand over the gash in his stomach that oozed a steady stream of blood. One of Yewan’s ears was in tatters and her sleek fur was torn in places.

Murray cradled the arm that something had bitten. He thought it was a raccoon that took a piece of his flesh but the closet had only been lit with a glowstick, it was hard to tell. The deep puncture wounds throbbed. His leg was ripped open from the jaws of the boar. He’d gladly endure the pain if he could feel it. Even for just a minute. The capuchins fussed over him as they poked and prodded, combed his hair with worried fingers. He swatted at them halfheartedly. He knew they only wanted to help.

“Everybody to the vet’s office.” Kodiak said. “Bring the companions, too. We need to patch everyone up and clean out the wounds, those animals eat the dead.”

They’d be lucky if they weren’t all sick from infection by morning. The Savage Ones feasted on unclean meat. He whispered a silent prayer that their bites and scratches didn’t carry the virus. Murray was certain it wouldn’t jump across species, but who really knew? It was all a guess. He shuddered at the thought of one of them turning. He loved the tribe with all of his heart, but he wouldn’t hesitate to do what had to be done if any of them became one of the mindless undead.

“We’ve got to check the barn! Ziggy and Bert are in there!” Vanessa exclaimed.

She and Harper raced through the door, their hurts forgotten as the others started gathering their own companions and limping to the station.

They rejoined the group with both happy and sad news. The petting zoo had been completely wiped out but their companions were fine. The savage ones attacked the weak and helpless and Bert and Ziggy were neither. They had left smashed and tattered bodies in their wake as they fought their way out of the pens and into the open range. By lantern light they washed away the blood, cleaned out the cuts and scratches, sewed up flayed open wounds and swallowed aspirin to dull the pain. The fight had been brutal but brief and the tribe had only lived it because they kept their weapons and armor so close at hand. They wouldn’t have survived the thousands of scratches and bites the plastic and metal had absorbed and deflected. They would have bled out from a hundred cuts.

“Think they’ll try again?” Harper asked as the eastern sky shifted from black to grey in anticipation of the sun rising over the horizon.

The two of them sat on the bench in front of the clinic, the tribe and their animals patched and sleeping inside.

“Don’t know for sure but I doubt it.” Kodiak said, exhaustion urging him to turn in with the rest on one of the makeshift beds in the office. “We killed hundreds of them. They found out we aren’t an easy meal like the undead.”

“The hyena is leading them.” Harper said and rested her head on his shoulder. “I think he hates us.”

“Animals can’t hate.” Kodiak said. “At least I don’t think they can.”

“That one can.” She said.

21

Cleanup

Kodiak and Tobias struggled to drag the carcass of a large boar through the shattered doorway. Their muscles ached and their wounds trickled fresh blood. Their efforts caused the skin around their crude stitches to pull. They ignored the itching and the burn and pushed through the protest of strained and bruised muscles.

The tribe went about their gruesome task in silence as they tossed them on the open sided wagon used for hayrides. At least they had the tractor to haul them off and it could be done in a single trip, not dozens it would take using the lawn cart. Grunts and the occasional dry heave from the awful smell or the shovel of guts were the only sounds. The triplets had returned from the petting zoo with tear filled eyes and a single, half-filled bag of dead chicken and goat parts. All of their livestock was gone. The only thing left of their cow was bones picked nearly clean by the birds.

Kodiak told them there were more chickens and cows out there they could bring back to the zoo, but they would be without eggs or milk until they found them. The antelope and gazelle were all dead. Slaughtered in the pen that was supposed to keep them safe. It had been a mistake to cage them. His mistake. He muttered a curse under his breath. Why was nothing ever easy?

The garden was trampled flat and the destroyed crops were already turning brown. There might be a few ears of corn that could be salvaged. Maybe a few beans. The greenhouse was in tatters, the plastic torn, the poles knocked over, the raised beds spilled out. Most of the early beans, jellies and fruits they spent weeks canning had been knocked off the shelves in the basement and lay broken in a sticky mess. They still had the canned goods from the pantry and the meat in the smoke house but it wouldn’t be enough to last a winter. Hunting had been slim and dangerous through the winter months last year. Most times Donny and Swan came back with nothing. They had rationed, they had been okay and there was always the livestock to butcher if they absolutely had to. That option was gone now. The new herds, the foals and calves and babies all gone along with their mothers. It was too late to plant another garden, the first frost could hit as early as September and it would take them weeks to get everything prepared for planting again. Kodiak wished he could be as optimistic as Murray about the warehouse. For all he knew it was full of car parts or something.

The house was in shambles, too. Broken windows, broken doors, broken walls. They threw away their gore drenched blankets and scrubbed at the floors to lift the stains. He would have to figure out how to put new windows in it but he was sure Murray had a book that would tell them how. Plastic nailed over the openings would be okay for now but not when it was ten below. The house had the only fireplace, they didn’t have an option to move into any of the other buildings.

There were too many bodies to burn or bury, they didn’t want a pile of rotting meat anywhere near the zoo and they didn’t really trust the tractor to go very far. At least not until they had a chance to test it out. The fish and turtles in the Mississippi would have to dispose of them.

They worked hard but took breaks to care for their companions. The bears shook it off, their thick hides had protected them from the worst of the teeth and claws. River had been hurt the worst, deep puncture wounds from Diablo had torn one of his shoulders to shreds. They still weren’t sure the wolf cub would live if infection set in, the gashes were deep.

With the help of the triplets, Murray took inventory as the rest did what they could do to seal up the house again. The grocery store in Putnam was empty of edibles. It was small to begin with and it had been their main supplier for months now. The kitchens of the few restaurants in town had long ago been raided. He made more notes as they called up from the basement and gave him a count of the unbroken jars. Swan could recheck some of the abandoned places she’d already cleared. Donny and Yewan could look for livestock to replace their slaughtered herd. It was June and they were basically starting all over again. He wasn’t worried about the coming winter like the rest of them, Bob had assured him the warehouse was full of food, enough for years. He’d wanted to get on the road to self-sufficiency, though. He didn’t want to depend on anything outside the fences. He wanted them to be able to live without raiding because they would have to go farther and farther and eventually all the goods would run out. It would be like so many of the movies he’d seen or video games he played. People would kill each other over a can of beans. They needed to be able to make more food. They’d be okay, he wasn’t worried about starving, but he didn’t like having all of their eggs in one basket. That was asking for trouble. He had to look no further than the pen full of dead antelope and their trampled garden to see that.

22

Kodiak

Kodiak leaned against the door of the cleaned-out barn. He was ready to flop down in the fresh hay and take a much-needed nap.

It had taken most of the day to clean the house and board up the windows. His stomach grumbled with hunger but they hadn’t eaten, just snacks. The gruesome task had driven their appetites away and exhausted most of their cleaning supplies. They’d have to get more when they went on a food run. The stink of death still hung over the house, even stronger than the Pine-sol and bleach. No amount of scented candles was gonna clear out that smell anytime soon. His hands ached from carrying hundreds of buckets of bloody mop water from the house.

He was tired and sore. His wounds hurt and his mind was heavy with worry. Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d survived so far. He couldn’t see all of the things he’d done right, just those things he’d done wrong. He’d been the last one at the hyena cage. He should have checked the gate latch. He knew how dangerous they were. Derek’s death was on him. Lucy’s death was on him. He tried to find a way to blame himself for his mom’s death too.

He’d been the one to find Gordon. He’d been the one who’d extended mercy when Gordon continually screwed up. The boy that Bert killed was on him too.

He could have just as easily been home in bed on the day of the outbreak. He could have faked an upset stomach and his mom would have believed him. There was plenty of sickness going around those days leading up to the outbreak. He could have had the whole day to himself, just him and his Xbox and raw chocolate chip cookie dough. She would have been none the wiser. He had thought about, had almost tried it, but he knew they needed him. He’d already heard her on the phone with Derek, had overheard them talking about the others who’d already called off. He’d gone in because it was what he was supposed to do and because his mom was counting on him. She was still counting on him. He’d sworn he’d do what her goodbye letter had asked. He would keep that promise as long as he drew breath.

It wasn’t all his fault, but he tried hard to make it be. He constantly questioned if he was doing the right thing. Harper insisted that his constant self-assessment was what made him a good leader. He’d grunted. Sometimes it was too much to process. He had to decide what was best for the tribe.

He thought about the triplets. They’d never been to a school dance. There’d never be a homecoming football game in their future. They’d never get the chance to make googly eyes at another boy or girl over banana splits at the Dairy Queen. All the rites of passage of growing up were stripped from them. Vanessa, Murray and Harper tried their best to teach them a basic curriculum but so much of it didn’t matter now. Who cared if you knew algebra? It was much more important to know how to build a fish trap. They’d regress further and further without the influence of society. Out here, there were no rules. No structure. Sure, survival was an education in itself but all it took was one mistake and you were dead or one of the undead.

He pondered over something Murray had told them as they had looked at the ruined house, the dead bodies and the work that was ahead of them.

Bob said we could go to Lakota. He’d then went on to describe a walled city with hundreds of acres of open land and clean water and schools and a Chucky Cheese and a whole town of good people.

“I knew he was lying about coming from Canada.” Swan said. “It just didn’t make sense.”

Murray talked about the place as they worked and it sounded too good to be true. Maybe it was. Maybe the stranger had told a lie but what if he hadn’t? Could Lakota be the answer? Murray made it sound like the old world was alive and well within its walls. Bob had assured him there would be a place for the animals, but would there really? Would civilized people be comfortable with a 1200-pound grizzly bear walking down the sidewalk?

If they stayed, he knew someday, someone would leave the tribe. Wanderlust would set in or some dispute that couldn’t be settled. Food was still abundant, but it wouldn’t always be. They thought they’d had it made with the garden and the Savage Ones destroyed it in minutes. He dreaded the day he woke up to find a note from Swan, maybe Donny. They would want to see what was out there beyond the fences and the rivers. Zombies wouldn’t always be the biggest threat. A few more winters and it would be pretty safe to go out in the world as long as you were careful.

Curiosity might be the biggest threat to the tribe. What was there to discover in the burnt-out cities and abandoned towns? The factories and laboratories. The top-secret places on military bases. So many possibilities. Did they really want to stay and be dirt farmers forever? He felt the pull but he felt the duty to the tribe more. The promise to mom. Someday he wouldn’t be needed. Murray thought that in five years most of the zombies would be so ate up they wouldn’t be dangerous anymore. What then? Ride off into the sunset with Harper? Find one of those fortified towns and settle down to raise fat babies and try to forget the past?

He pushed the thoughts away. There was too much to focus on in the here and now. Murray was pretty confident the warehouse held food. If he was right, they’d be okay. If he was wrong, they’d still be okay. It would just be a lot harder.

He rubbed a hand over Otis’s fur as the big bear lumbered into the barn, looking for a spot to sleep.

“We’ll figure something out, buddy.” He said. “We have to.”

23

Gordon

Gordon fiddled with the knob on the Ham radio in the basement of the deserted house. None of the others knew about it and he wasn’t sharing. He knew his way of running things was the best way, but he caught the glares from the corners of his eyes when they thought he wasn’t looking. He was in control, for now. That could change. He knew he was heavy handed and most of their compliance was based in fear. A few of them were onboard of their own choosing, but the others he’d have to watch. It was best to have a backup plan. And a plan after that.

He rubbed his ears, tried to block out the sound. The scratch, scratch, scratching was loud today. He looked around, hoped to see a mouse clawing on something, anything that would explain that dreaded noise. Nothing. He knew it was in his head, just like the voice of his father but he didn’t feel crazy, he felt powerful.

He pushed the transmit button on the mike.

“Rogue to Anubis Society, do you copy?”

The people he’d been talking to said they would give him further instructions when the information about the warehouses panned out. It could be a fresh start for him. He was getting tired of babysitting his crew, tired of their glares, tired of their laziness. He knew they talked about him behind his back. Sometimes it was more trouble than it was worth, especially if the Society could deliver what they promised. He was considering trading the whole sorry lot of them and one of the food warehouses for a ticket to join. He’d leave this place and be with people of his own kind if it was anywhere near as opulent as they described. It would be a lot easier than dealing with the losers he was stuck with. They were very interested when he told them he knew where a whole tribe of kids were. They asked about them every time they spoke. They really liked children for some reason.

A static filled voice came across the radio.

“We copy you Rogue. How’s the weather?” The voice asked.

Gordon grinned. This was a game they’d played every time they’d talked. They were always trying to get little hints of where he might be. He wasn’t giving up his location that easily. He planned on setting up a rendezvous and observing these people for a while before he walked into their midst. Make sure they were on the up and up and it wasn’t a trap by a bunch of slavers or cannibals.

“Still holding my current location.” He answered. “Just checking to see if you guys verified the grocery warehouse I told you about so we can move forward with the negotiations.”

There was silence on the other end. Shortly, another voice came across the radio. An angry one.

“Negative Rogue.” The voice was a snarl. “Do you think this is a joke? Do you think we forgive treachery? We’ve lost all contact with the team. They have missed their last three check ins. If this was some kind of trick, be advised that the might of Anubis will scour you from the face of the earth. There is nowhere you can hide. Our armies are sweeping this country and we will hunt you down if you have double crossed us. Do you understand?”

Gordon’s brain went blank with fear and felt the beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

“My, my info was good, Anubis.” He stuttered. “Maybe your team was delayed?”

What could have gone wrong? Putnam was a ghost town. Most of the undead were trapped indoors. A horde maybe? No way those zoo brats could have stopped them. A bunch of ragged kids and their mangy animals couldn’t have derailed his plans. They couldn’t have defeated a well-armed group of soldiers. He felt a cold knot of uncertainty curling in his belly, making him nauseous. He heard the booming laugh of his father in his head.

“Perhaps they’re having radio difficulties.” The original, soothing voice said “Give us your location. We will meet and you can help us sort this out. You can show us the warehouse. There is forgiveness at the feet of our Lord if you are worthy.”

Something in the tone of the speaker set off the alarm bells in Gordon’s head. They blamed him, thought he set up an ambush. Why did they keep asking for his location?

They’re coming for you Gordon. His fathers’ voice said in his head.

Something was scratching at the door and he whirled in the chair, looked for scabby fingers to worm their way under it. The sound moved, now it was coming from inside the walls. He closed his eyes and repeated it’s not real over and over until the scratching faded. He stared at the microphone and his mind raced. They were tracking him right now. The calm voice was telling him about the luxuriant rooms, the finest foods and the compliant women that would be his once he joined them. They were trying to get him to transmit, to keep talking to them. They were triangulating his position just like they did in the movies. Somehow those brats had done something to the soldiers and before he could push the thought away, tell himself they were just a bunch of stupid kids, he remembered last winter. Them and their animals had wiped out most of his crew and destroyed nearly all of their snowmobiles. They were the real killers and the Society was blaming him. They thought he did it!

“Rogue, are you still there?” the soothing voice asked.

He snatched the microphone and flung it against the wall. It still hissed with static and he felt the panic well up inside of him. What would they do if they found him? He should unplug it, maybe they were still tracking him. He snatched the radio off the table and flung it against the wall. The plug jerked out of the socket, the lights faded out but was that enough? Was the scratching coming from inside of it? He grabbed a chair and started smashing it, over and over until the wooden legs splintered, the metal case was crushed and the fragile components littered the floor. He pushed the sweat drenched hair out of his eyes and stood panting, looking at the broken radio. The busted chairs and table. The shattered furniture and the holes punched in the drywall. The room was a shambles, a hurricane had gone through it and he didn’t remember how it happened. He’d just wanted to unplug the radio. The scratching had finally stopped and his dad’s condescending voice was quiet for once.

His fear turned to anger as he leaned against the wall and got his breathing under control. Those kids had interfered again. Somehow they had stopped him from joining the Society, from living in an opulent palace with undreamed of riches. The radio had said he could join the inner circle if he supplied them with dozens of workers and whole warehouses of food. Now they thought he’d tricked them, had ambushed them. He was innocent, he hadn’t done anything, and now they might come looking for him. Maybe he hadn’t unplugged the radio fast enough. Maybe they knew where he was. He had to find out what happened.

His hands curled into fists. It was time. Time to teach those snotty brats a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. He stared at the shattered remains of the radio one last time then marched up the stairs.

24

Tribe

The tribe was anxious to get going. They had cleaned up the best they could, healed up as much as they were going to. The tractor sat idling and could barely be heard from a few yards away. With the extra muffler welded in place and fiberglass batting wrapped around the engine compartment, it was as quiet as a car. The blood in the trailer had been scrubbed clean and the sides were reattached. If the warehouse held food, they’d be able to haul enough in one load to last them for a long time.

Weapons were checked. Blades were sharpened. Repaired armor was adjusted. They all needed new gear and the wagon would let them haul as much as they wanted. For the first time, Landon, Caleb and Clara didn’t complain when they were told they couldn’t go. The tribe had heaped praise on them for saving Murray, for stopping the Savage ones from eating him. They took their duty of protecting him seriously and had helped Donny grind down more screwdrivers. If they lost one in a fight, they didn’t want to have to use a can of beans again. They wanted backup weapons like the rest of the tribe.

“We’ll be back. Anything else you need?” Kodiak asked the four on the porch.

Murray sat with his capuchins, the triplets at his side. “Some peanut butter cups would be nice. Oh, and some Dr. Pepper, and some gummy bears. Some nuts for the capuchins would be great too. Don’t forget sunflower seeds, beef jerky and some hot Doritos. Remember to get AA batteries and any propane cylinders you can find. Also mac and cheese, a couple of axes, animal feed, some Fruit Roll-Ups and some new solar panels.”

“Ok, ok, we get it.” Kodiak laughed. “It’s all on the list. We’ll see what we can do.”

Clara spoke up. “And a new baby doll. Mine got destroyed.”

The tribe headed out the gate with Kodiak behind the wheel. Murray was right, the tractor was easy to drive, no worse than a golf cart. Bob had shown them a lot more than a few gun tricks. Working with him those few days Murray had learned enough about cars that he was confident he could get one running if they towed one home. They could learn how to drive and that would change everything.

The triplets waved until they were out of sight then dispersed to do their chores. The barn needed shoveling out. The manure had to be moved to the compost pile and fresh straw put in the stalls.

Murray watched for a long time after they disappeared. He hadn’t told them about the dead soldiers they would find, he couldn’t think of a way to warn them without having a million questions thrown at him. If he told a little, he’d have to tell a lot. He’d written it all down in a diary, though. As much as he could remember. Bob had talked for hours and told him many things.

As he rolled himself back inside, his stomach grumbled at the thought of all the sugary snacks he was craving. He didn’t notice the light glinting from a pair of binoculars.

Vanessa and Harper ranged ahead of rest, Ziggy and Bert easily outdistancing the slow-moving tractor. They passed the stripped corpses of the undead that Bob had fought. A few tatters of cloth and stains on the road were all that remained. They stopped short of town, picketed their animals and approached on foot to recon the area while they waited for the others to catch up.

A mile before the warehouse district, Swan signaled to Donny then separated from the group. She and the wolves took a shortcut through the woods and headed away from the riverfront. She’d volunteered to go after the supplies to repair their damaged armor. They needed leather straps and buckles to replace the stretchy elastic and the military surplus store was the best place to get everything they needed. Kodiak had started to protest about her going off on her own in town, but it was useless. She was stubborn and independent and would do what she wanted. She had the four wolves with her at any rate so he didn’t waste his breath.

The twins loped along on the polar bears, easily keeping pace with the tractor and trailer as Donny and his panther brought up the rear. The little industrial part of town was quiet and empty. There were a few blocks of warehouses near the docks that held a refueling station for river traffic and not much else. In a few more years, if the town had kept gentrifying, this whole area would have been bulldozed and expensive riverfront condominiums would have been built. Now, Lowery’s Landing was only a few architectural drawing tucked in with the deeds of the warehouses Gordon’s father owned.

While Kodiak and the girls maneuvered the trailer to the docks of the Independent Grocers distribution warehouse, Donny and Tobias went around to the front entrance. They thought they’d have to break open a door but somebody had already kicked it in.

“Wasn’t like this before.” Donny signed.

They listened for any movement, shared a look then slipped inside. Zombies didn’t kick in doors, somebody else had been here. Maybe it had been Bob, loading up before he left town. They breathed deeply, tried to smell the rotting smell of the undead but the air was clean. Using their flashlights, they found the personnel door to warehouse area. Tobias banged his axe against the metal door. They were met with silence. They waited for the keening of the undead. They waited for the rattle of items displaced by the shuffling corpses. Nothing happened. It was deserted.

They slipped inside, made their way past row after row of industrial shelves full of plastic wrapped pallets that went all the way to the ceiling. They rolled up a loading dock door and sunlight poured, illuminating the labels. Rice. Soup. Shampoo. Vegetables. Paper towels. Cups. Books. Anything and everything that would be found in grocery stores.

Donny tapped the concrete with his spear, drew Tobias’ attention away from the gold mine of supplies. Away from pallet after pallet of food, enough for years. He was pointing at a huge puddle of blood near a fork truck that had mostly dried but was still barely tacky. It wasn’t very old, no more than a few weeks. Stacked neatly next to it was a bunch of military guns. M-4’s if he remembered right. They looked just like the ones in Call of Duty.

“I think Bob was here.” Tobias said when he walked out on the dock. “We found blood.”

“We found the bodies.” Analise said and indicated a jumble of ragged black clothes and a scattering of bones. “Whoever killed them drug them outside, left them for the savage ones.”

They double checked the building but whoever had been here was long gone and they relaxed.

“Whatever you do, don’t open those doors.” Kodiak said and pointed to a silver metal wall on the far end. “That’s the refrigerator, it’s gotta be maggot central with all that spoiled meat.”

They ignored the stacks of useless TV’s and other electronics and tore into a pallet of candy bars. Ants and other insects had already been in some of the boxes, but there were thousands still left to choose from. They tossed aside the ones the bugs had gotten into and tore into the chocolate goodness of the undamaged ones. Sugar buzzed, they laughed and stuffed their pockets with all they would hold.

Tobias and Analise wandered deeper into the warehouse. Popsicle and Daisy ambled behind them, sniffing at the different pallets. His sharp claws made short work of the plastic shrink wrapped around a pallet of marshmallows and they tore into the cardboard shipping boxes. He gulped down the sugary sweets, plastic bag and all. Daisy joined him and they devoured twenty pounds of marshmallows in just a couple of minutes.

“We should save some of those before that pig you call a bear eats them all. Grab some more chocolate bars and graham crackers and make S’mores with the little kids. We could use a little celebration after what we went through.” Analise suggested.

Tobias ignored her. He was rummaging through a box of cheap Chinese made toys and turned to her with a grin. He held his hand behind his back and faced his twin with a devilish smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He teased.

“What is it?” She eyed her brother warily. She knew better than to trust him when he had that look on his face.

“This!” Tobias swung his hand around quickly and squeezed the trigger. The Nerf dart popped her right between the eyes. He burst out in laughter when she glared at him.

“Give me one of those.” She said.

He handed her another one of the guns and a pack of darts and she snuck off in search of Donny. She hadn’t said anything to anyone but she was drawn to the silent boy. She’d caught him staring at her a few times then quickly pretended like he wasn’t. She knew what that meant. He liked her. It made her feel good inside because she might like him too. He was always kind and thoughtful, but vicious in a fight. A lover and a fighter, she mused. She wasn’t sure what those feelings were, but she figured a little harmless play couldn’t hurt anything. She’d shoot him, he’d chase her and if he caught her? She blushed at the thought.

Kodiak looked at the thousands of square feet of supplies and wondered about the dead men. Somebody knew this was here, had done their killing and made sure the bodies didn’t stay inside to rot. Bob, most likely. Murray wanted a complete listing of everything in the warehouse but that wasn’t going to happen. It would take hours. He’d jot some stuff down so he’d have something to show. He looked at the shipping label on a pallet of green beans to see if it had a count of how many were in it. That would give them an idea of how long a pallet would last. He did a double take when he saw Lowery Shipping and Distribution. He frowned. Had Gordon known about this place? Why hadn’t he told them when they were still trying to get along? Had his gang done the killing or were they the scattered bones? There wasn’t enough left of any of the bodies to tell anything about them.

He heard the sound of running feet, dropped the clipboard and gripped his Warhammer tightly. Zombies? Analise darted past giggling madly, shot him with a Nerf gun and disappeared down a shadowy aisle. Donny was in hot pursuit with a gun in each hand and ran to the next aisle to cut her off. He relaxed his grip and smiled. Leave it to the twins to find some mischief to get into.

Tobias came skidding around the corner and fired a dart at Kodiak. He dodged it easily. Tobias tossed him a packaged shooter and a few more at the girls.

“Every man for himself.” He said and fired a dart point blank into Vanessa’s chest.

“Oh, you’re dead now!” Harper yelled as she ripped the cardboard off her gun and started loading the darts.

Kodiak frowned at all the noise they were making. There wasn’t time for this. There was too much work to be done and they were too exposed in town. He started to yell at Tobias and tell him to quit being such a child but then it hit him. Tobias was a child and so was he. He was so worried about tomorrow, he wasn’t living for today and it was exhausting. What could it hurt to unwind for a little while with his friends? They’d seen no zombies on the trip to town. There were multiple escape routes, plenty of places to hide and they could always swim if they had to, they were right on the river. The huge warehouse would absorb the noise they made and what the heck, it was good training. The zoo would still be there. The piles of dung and the destroyed fields. The undead at the gate. None of it was going anywhere and Gordon was probably sitting on a couch eating Cheetos far away. He let the tension slide away from him. Just for a few minutes, he promised himself.

“You’re on!” Kodiak said and closed the overhead door, shutting out the sun and shutting in the noise. The little bit of light coming through the tiny windows left the place shadowy and gloomy, the back corners pitched in utter darkness. He smiled, leaned his hammer against a pallet and stuffed his pockets with extra ammo.

They spent the next hour forgetting what was outside the walls of the warehouse. The fears and worries slipped to the back of their minds. A few breathless kisses were exchanged in the deep shadows, fumbling hands accidentally brushed second base and laughter echoed through the building. The rows of pallets made great ambush points. Several hundred foam darts littered the floors in testimony to the fierce battle that was waged. The pain from the wounds inflicted in the battle with the Savage Ones were dulled by the joy of kids being kids. The worries of surviving tomorrow were pushed aside and the thrill of living for the moment took their place. Donny was kicking all their asses, he kept jumping from rack to rack and attacking them from above. Their return fire hit nothing until they coordinated an attack, led him out in the open and hammered him with dozens of foam darts.

Kodiak finally called a cease fire and opened a case of juice boxes. There was still work to do but he had a pretty good idea of the warehouse layout. They’d be able to get everything on Murray’s list quickly and fill the rest of the wagon with whatever they wanted. Old Mur was probably sitting on the porch watching for them, salivating at the thought of a big bag of chocolate and a warm Dr. Pepper.

It was a good day, a good haul, and the guns from the dead guys were a good find. Murray would have a book with instructions on how to maintain them. With the tractor, they could carry more in one load than they could in ten using the lawn cart and wheelbarrows. One more trip before winter and they’d be set, living like kings. Now that he knew there was plenty of food, the next trip they’d get building supplies. Next week they’d have new doors and windows and freshly fixed walls. He’d never been to the building supply store but they’d probably have all the tools and everything else they needed to fix up the old house before it got cold again.

“Lead the way,” he told Donny as he fired up the tractor.

Everything was loaded and strapped, the warehouse was closed up tight and he was a little surprised Swan hadn’t shown up yet.

25

Swan

Swan slipped into the adventure store and held the door for her wolves. She’d told the tribe she would get what they needed to repair and improve their armor but there was also something else she had to do. She was following a hunch about Gordon. She’d snorted when they warned her about the undead and ignored their concerns about the savage ones. She was out in the wild every week, sometimes for days. She could take care of the zombies and she hoped and prayed the wounded hyena would show its face. She hoped his mouth got so infected and swollen he couldn’t eat. She hoped he starved to death.

They’d followed the bloody path of the savage ones to find out how they got in and found a few of them too injured to go on and put them down. They filled the burrowed holes with rocks and dirt then staked the bottom of the fence tightly to the ground for yards in both directions. Her tomahawk had worked its way loose from the hyena’s mouth and was laying in the weeds halfway across the field. It was gross, slimy with the hunchback’s bloody slobber, but she was glad to get it back.

She tore open a few MRE’s to feed her pack and gnawed on a peanut butter bar as they ate cold chili mac. She laid the compound bow on top of a pile of mismatched military camos in the archery section and refilled her quiver with arrows. She tried to find every one she shot, there wasn’t an endless supply of them, but wasn’t always successful. The aluminum shafts were tough, but a strike off of bone or an errant shot that hit a tree would bend the shafts and render them useless. She thought about Gordon while she threaded broad heads into each of the arrows. Why had he been here that day the virus consumed the town? Why not the bank, or the town hall, or one of the trendy restaurants around the square? He always bragged about being from a gated town up north, so why was Mr. Snootypants slumming in an army navy store?

She slid the last arrow into her quiver then grabbed a backpack. She stuffed it with every leather belt and most of the hard plastic armor they had. Hockey and soccer pads. Wrist braces from roller bladers and knee pads from soldiers. Satisfied her duty to the tribe was finished, she walked towards the rear of the store. She’d never ventured to the back section, there had been no need to; clothes her size and the archery section were near the front. The display cabinet with the knives that she’d taken her tomahawks from was right by the cash register at the front door.

Mice skittered away as the beam of her flashlight fell over their tiny forms. Zero’s ears perked up at the little intruders, but a warning growl from Swan refocused his attention. She loved the playful side of the big wolf, but this was a hunt and there was no time for playing when the stakes were so high.

She passed mannequins wearing surplus gas masks and World War II uniforms as she approached the door that led into the rear section of the store and the manager’s office. The flashlight picked up the claw marks in the wood and there was a musty, foul odor that permeated the place. Zero startled her when he sneezed and shook his big head, tried to clear his nose of the disturbing smell. She stroked his ears, more to calm her own nerves than for his benefit and panned the light around the large room.

Curious as to the source of the lingering odor she followed her nose to a wooden box. An old, brown-stained ammo crate with dried flakes of waste still clinging to it sat in a corner. Zero growled, detected the scent of Gordon and his hackles raised.

“It’s alright, boy.” She said and panned the light around.

It was a cluttered office with boxes of goods stacked nearly to the ceiling in places. The flashlight danced over the pictures, plaques and posters that adorned the walls. There were a lot of awards from the Putnam Recreation League for sponsorship of different sports teams dating back for decades.

The pictures were interspersed among the awards and told the life story of a robust young soldier proudly wearing his uniform as he aged into a kind looking potbellied old man who probably dressed up as Santa every year. Most of them were pictures of the owner with different people. Men in suits, men in sports jerseys, an Olympic girls’ volleyball team. Happy memories of a world that didn’t exist anymore.

She studied one photo of the smiling man and a pleasant looking older lady standing in front of a cruise ship. They looked happy and she wondered for a second what it would feel like to be loved that way. To be with someone your whole life. To have adventures and grow old together. It made her sad, it reminded her a lot of her grandfather and his messy workshop. The office had been cluttered but organized before, now it looked like a giant rats nest. A rat named Gordon, she thought. Clothes, old food wrappers and drink bottles filled with a sickly-looking yellow fluid littered the floor. She realized the wooden crate was Gordon’s toilet and the bottles were filled with urine. She grimaced. This was where Kodiak had found him. Cowering in his own filth. Only the lowest of the animal species defecated where they slept and ate, and in her opinion, there was no lower form of life than Gordon Lowery. She used an arrow to stir around through the mess looking for clues. Zero padded out and waited for her in the store. She didn’t blame him. He maintained a low steady rumbling growl from his chest and bared his fangs. He loathed Gordon almost as much as she did, she thought with a wry smile. She rooted around looking for a discarded wallet or piece of paper, anything he might have dropped that would give her an idea where to find his sorry ass. There was nothing in the pile of dirty clothes that he’d used for a bed. Disgusted, she turned her attention to the desk shoved up against the wall.

Kodiak had hidden Gordon’s shame from the tribe. He’d done everything he could to give him an equal standing and become one of them, but this filthy lair revealed the true nature he hid behind his designer clothes and fast talk.

She plopped down in the worn leather chair and rocked it slowly back and forth, letting her light play over the mountain of clutter that covered the desk. Why were you and daddy Snootypants here, Gordy? What would bring two rich jerks into a business like this? She rifled through the pile.

Papers, bills and flyers.

Invoices.

Purchase orders.

Closeout sale advertisements.

Final Notice.

She took a closer look at that one. She scanned over the text until she reached the bottom of the page. It looked like the store owner was about to lose his lease. Her heart thudded in her chest when she saw what she was looking for. There in scrawling ink across the bottom, the signature of Gordon Lowery Senior. She looked around for the envelope that it was mailed in and found it in the waste bin beside the desk. Some business address in Minnesota. Not his home but probably pretty close to it. She’d never traveled that far north in her search for Gordon, but it made sense. With their ATV’s and a couple of spare gas cans, they could easily roam a hundred miles in any direction they chose. For the first time in a long time, she missed her cell phone. She couldn’t google him up and dig through his life. How did people do it in the old days when all you could do with a telephone was talk?

She opened a drawer and dug through the desk. She found a rubber band bound stack of business cards and flipped through them, tossed each on the floor as she read it.

Near the back of the stack, she found the one she was looking for. Gordon Lowery Senior. CEO. Lowery Investments and Realty. Smith Falls, MN. Her cold smile was downright icy. Now she had a town. Now he was within reach. She pulled out the drawer, dumped the contents on the desk and threw it aside. She was so close; this was the first evidence she’d found of Gordon’s life before the apocalypse. She tossed sales flyers, pocket change, books of stamps and more business cards aside as she rooted around. Nothing else with a Lowery name on it. She swept the desk clean with her arm and opened the next drawer. Inside there was a thick yellow book. She’d never even seen a phone book, if you needed to call somebody, you just googled their number, got it off the internet. She dropped it aside but the search revealed nothing else of any use. Frustrated, she sat back in the chair and sighed. She was so close she could taste it. If he was in Smith Falls, it would be easy to find him. How many gated communities were there in a small town? Her eyes fell on the phone book again. Her grandparents had books like this in the junk drawer of their kitchen. She picked it up and flipped it open. Rows and rows of tiny print. Last name first, address, phone number. She flipped excitedly to the L’s. She almost yelled when she found it. Lowery, Gordon Sr., underneath it Lowery, Richard Sr. They were neighbors. Bingo. It showed his street and house number. She finally had that rat bastard. She committed it to memory then tore the page from the book and folded it into her pocket.

She grabbed her bow, the overstuffed backpack and checked through the windows for any undead. Satisfied, she opened the door for Zero and the cubs and slipped out behind him. A large black cloud of smoke was curling up in the far distance and her hand fell away from the door. It was miles away and coming from the exact direction of home. From the sanctuary.

26

Gordon

Gordon and his gang had crept into Putnam under the cover of darkness and found the remnants of the Anubis cult at his father’s warehouse. There were only scattered bones and shreds of cloth, they’d been eaten by something, but the empty shell casings told how they died. A battle had been fought there and the Anubis people had gotten the worst of it. Gordon kicked a busted and gnawed skull as he cursed silently. He didn’t see any big animal bones or small skulls, anything that looked like it might belong to the brats and their beasts. He heard his father whispering in his brain. Those kids did this. They ruin everything you work for, yet you continue to hide from them. You aren’t worthy of the Lowery name.

“Shut up!” Gordon said. “Just shut up! I’m trying to think.”

His crew looked at him and each other. None of them had said a word. He glared at them, dared, even wanted one of them to say anything. He lightly touched the butt of the Smith & Wesson. They wouldn’t meet his eyes and looked away. The brats had guns and knew how to use them. This changed things. This made them even more dangerous. They might even come looking for him now. He chewed his lower lip and ignored the rantings of his old man. What did he know?

“Follow me.” He grunted. “And keep it quiet.”

They climbed on their ATV’s, kept the lights off and circled miles out of the way to come in a back road to the rear of the zoo. He was being careful, he didn’t want any of the animals to hear the engines and let them know company was coming. They had ruined his plans and probably got him put on a hit list with the Anubis Society. He wasn’t playing nice this time. He’d show them and his old man a thing or two. He’d show them what happened if they messed with a Lowery.

They snipped the chain link fence and stayed to the deepest shadows as they made their way towards the house. They were dressed in their riding pads with camo clothing over the armor and their faces were streaked in hunters paint. Gordon kept expecting to spook the herds of gazelles but the overgrown fields were empty, nothing moved in them. The only sound was the breeze rustling though the trees and as much as he hated the animals it was strange not seeing any of them. Maybe they’d escaped or the brats ate them last winter. Either way, it was good for him, no dumb animals to send bounding away, maybe alerting them.

They took cover on the back side of a slight rise. Far enough away they wouldn’t be scented but close enough to spy on the house. Gordon peered through the riflescope while his men settled in and tried to get comfortable. They had barely gotten situated before dawn and some of them had already nodded off to sleep. He didn’t really have a plan, everything had changed when he saw the dead soldiers and all the spent brass. He couldn’t get close if the kids had machine guns. Maybe he’d wait until they went out to feed the animals, then he’d snipe a few of them. He wasn’t sure how well the hunting rifles would take out the bears but everyone had one and if you shot it enough times you could kill anything. He was in a good position for some long distance shooting. He could pick them off one by one. He could see if they left the house to flank them and they had the cover of the hill to get away whenever they wanted.

As the sun came up, he saw the damage to the house and the garden. Some kind of battle had happened here, too. He couldn’t imagine what had destroyed the place, broken all the windows and tore down the greenhouse. He was eager to count heads when they woke up, maybe most of them were already dead. Maybe the Society had already taken care of them. He waited and was surprised when nobody came out to feed the stinking barn animals and when he didn’t hear the stupid rooster start crowing he swung the scope over to the barn. The gate was wide open. All of the animals were gone. All of their food. Harper and Vanessa came out of the house a few minutes later and he tracked them as they went to their pens and saddled their companions. Harper was still alive, that was good. He had plans for her. He had a cold smile on his face as he stroked the trigger, the cross hairs on the big, stupid giraffes head.

An engine fired up and he moved the scope over to the sound. He was surprised again when the whole tribe and all of the hated animals followed a tractor out of the front gate. None of them had guns, either. They still carried their spears and axes. He frowned and moved his sights over to Murray. Of course, the cripple didn’t go, he was on the porch with the three little ones, whatever their names were. Everyone else was gone and he’d bet money they were going to his warehouse to steal his food. That was okay. That gave him plenty of time to take care of things here. Those brats had suffered some losses, that was obvious, but they were about to suffer some more. He rolled ideas around in his head as he watched. They never should have messed with a Lowery. They never should have killed his people. He hadn’t liked any of them and couldn’t remember their names but that wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the thing. He was going to hurt them and disappear. In a few months after they started rebuilding, he’d come back and do it again. Break their spirits and demoralize them. Death by a thousand cuts. It was much better to see your enemy suffer than kill him instantly.

That was a lesson he’d learned when he was eight or ten. It was so much more satisfying to keep the neighbor’s dogs and cats alive for days than it was to simply smash their heads with rock or poison them. He took immense pleasure helping distraught owners search for the missing pet when he knew the truth. He knew exactly where Fluffy or Fido were caged, hungry and afraid. He would have to control himself, pretend concern and help them hang up flyers for the poor lost thing. He’d look in their worried faces and control the hysterical giggles that wanted to bubble up. It was so, so satisfying. It felt so much better to keep the stupid animals alive for days. To experiment with various ways to cause pain. To burn it or dump battery acid on its face or break a few more bones with the hammer.

He was breathing hard just thinking about it and snapped his mind back to the present. To know-it-all Murray who had let them kick him out. He could have died out in the wild and they didn’t care. He’d never had a chance to experiment on a human. Murray would have the honor of being the first.

He’d been angry when he’d ordered the boys to join him for a visit to the warehouse to find out what happened.

He’d been afraid when he saw the remains of the soldiers and all the empty bullet casings.

He’d been worried when they snuck into the zoo to try to figure out what had happened.

Now he was happy. He would get a little payback and all their guns. The idiots had left them behind. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their stupid faces when they came back with a wagon load of his food and faced down his men with their very own guns. The irony was delicious.

The cripple was alone in the house and they had the place to themselves all day. He hoped the guns were hidden away and weren’t out in the open. He hoped it would take a long time for Murray to tell him where they were. This was going to be a lot of fun. He sent two of his men to watch the gate and sound the alarm if the tribe came back unexpectedly. He sent Cowboy to the garage to get some paint thinner and warned him to keep out of sight until they had disarmed the cripple if he didn’t want to get shot. The rest of his gang followed him to the house. He didn’t know where the three little kids had gotten off to and didn’t really care. They were too young to be of any use to him and too small to be a threat.

Gordon stood with Bong and Jester at the edge of the porch and looked at all damage. The rest of the gang crouched low and stared in every direction, wary of danger. Now that they were closer, they could hear the little kids cleaning manure out of the barn and singing some silly song. Bong and Jester glanced around nervously at all the destruction. Something had really done a number on the place. The door had been repaired but somebody or something had smashed through it. Maybe the rhino had gone wild. The windows had plastic and scrap lumber over them, the porch railing was broken and there were stains everywhere. They’d been scrubbed but it was obvious it had been blood. Lots of it. They hadn’t forgotten the fight last winter either and they didn’t really want to be there. This was a bad idea, they should just leave the kids alone. The old house looked way scary, like it was a real haunted house. Halloween decorations from the year before still hung in some places and the boarded-up windows added to the creep factor.

Gordon saw a flash of motion in one of the windows. He looked up to see a tiny brown and white face staring at him. That stupid monkey, he thought. The capuchin disappeared and he heard the chittering as it sounded the alarm.

“Get in there!” He roared at Bong and Jester and the three bounded up the steps.

He held the big pistol in his hands, ready to blow the boy away if he opened fire.

Jester was the first through the door and stumbled over his own feet. His body hit the floor with a thud, hands grasping at his throat. He gurgled around a knife buried to the hilt. He pawed at it uselessly, tried to draw air and died drowning in his own blood.

Gordon leapt over Jester’s flailing body and shoved Bong ahead of him, used him as a shield. The monkeys were screaming and leaping around the room and one of them hurled something at him. He dodged it and shoved Bong into Murray who was trying to back away and throw another knife at the same time. The two collided in a tangle of limbs as the wheelchair tipped over and something hit him in the back. He spun and fired round after round at the fleeing monkeys, the booming of the gun loud inside the house.

27

Gordon and Murray

“You guys really let this place go downhill after I left.” Gordon looked around at the damage to the old house.

He casually thumbed more rounds into the revolver. He’s shot all six and had only hit one of the screeching little monkeys, they moved too fast.

“What happened here, anyway?” He asked. “And where are the guns?”

Murray said nothing and quietly twisted his wrists, tried to loosen the knots holding them to the arms of the wheelchair.

“Looks like something tried to make a snack out of you but spit you out.” Gordon said and clicked the cylinder closed with a flick of his wrist. Cool and casual like he’d seen in the movies. Like he’d practiced a thousand times.

Murray didn’t respond.

Gordon shot him.

The bullet went into his leg above the knee, ripped a furrow through meat and muscle then punched through the floor. Murray didn’t even flinch, his blood pooled in the seat then dripped out of the hole.

“Tough guy, huh?” Gordon said “Couldn’t feel that could you? How about this?”

He whipped the pistol across the boy’s face and more blood flew from a broken nose.

Murray let out a grunt of pain but refused to give Gordon the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

“Where’s the guns?” Gordon asked again and stared in fascination at the crimson pouring down Murray’s chin. It was so bright.

“I don’t like this, man. What if they come back? I thought this was gonna be a hit and git,” Bong said as he looked out a broken window for any sign of the wild kids or their vicious animals. “Maybe we should just go.”

He glanced down at Jester, he’d finally stopped thrashing around. He had no desire to tangle with them again, especially when he was in their house. Even the cripple kid was deadly.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear the shots from this far away.” Gordon answered. “Besides, they don’t have the guns with them. If you see them, start shooting. Don’t give them a chance, just waste ‘em.”

“And for the record, I’m in charge here.” He added. “You’d do well to remember that so shut your face and start looking for the guns. Bullets, too.”

“What are we gonna do with Jester?” he asked.

“Leave him.” Gordon screamed. “Now go do what I told you.”

They hurried out and the sounds of smashing dishes and overturning cabinets could be heard a few seconds later.

Gordon pulled out his monogramed handkerchief, dabbed at a speck of blood that had splashed on his face and kicked the lifeless body of one of the monkeys out of the way.

Seeing it hurt Murray more than the broken nose but at least the other three were safe. They fled when Gordon started shooting his hand cannon. The noise terrified the small simians and they had all ran upstairs. They were probably already outside and running for the barn. He hoped the triplets had hidden, too. There was nothing they could do, not against a dozen teenagers with guns.

He ignored the blood streaming from his nose. It hurt, but he wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of showing it. Nothing he could do about it anyway with his hands tied to the arms of his wheelchair. He sought comfort in Bob’s promise. If he was successful, this would never happen. He’d promised to fix it all.

Gordon roughed him up some more while his goons smashed anything that wasn’t already broken in the rest of the house. He slapped him and called him names. He could handle the beating and insults, he would heal. He’d let the coward have his fun, let him bust all their stuff. He could take it. The tribe would be hella pissed but there wasn’t much they could do except prepare better if it happened again. He tried to tamp down the rage he felt when Gordon murdered Sage. It ignited a fire inside of him like he’d never felt before. He shifted his gaze to his tormentor. Hatred flared in his eyes.

“She was innocent, Gordon. She was just scared, you had no reason to kill her.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, you killed Jester. He was a person, that’s just a dumb animal. You had your chance, but I was better. Maybe, I’ll hang her carcass from one of the palm trees by my pool.” Gordon laughed as he nudged Sage’s corpse with his foot. He stepped on her leg and applied pressure until he was rewarded with the popping sound of a breaking bone

Murray raged harder against the ropes. If he could just get to one of the hidden knives strapped under his chair, he’d lunge and bury it in Gordon’s eye. The rest of the gang would run if their leader was dead.

“You remember when you exposed me with the poison leaves and then voted to banish me? That was the worst day of my life. I thought for sure you and your friends would kill me, but none of you had the guts. Didn’t want my death on your conscience. You wanted the zombies to do your dirty work for you. Bunch of savages, all of you. Living like animals. Just look at this mess.” Gordon shook his head in disgust.

“You know, that day also turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me. Look at me now.” He flexed his muscular arms.

Gordon paused and his eyes darted around the room looking for the source of the scratching sound. It seemed to be louder than normal in the old house. Maybe this was where it had started and he could purge it from his head by exacting a little revenge. He was hearing it all the time lately. The slow clawing of fingers on wood. Maybe it needed a blood offering.

Murray watched Gordy as his eyes darted around the room and continued to work at his bonds. He had the first niggling doubts about his chances of survival. He was starting to get light headed. The hole in his leg was still bleeding. Not bad, not like an artery had been cut, but it was steady and Gordon wasn’t going to stop it. He hadn’t really meant to kill the other boy but what was he supposed to do when people came barging into his house. It was a snap reaction and he didn’t regret it. At least he took one of them out. He was pretty sure Gordon was going to kill him no matter what. He was crazy, he could see it in his eyes as they jumped around, looking for something that wasn’t there. Gordon snapped back from wherever he’d been and focused on the bloody ropes cutting into Murray’s wrists.

“You aren’t going anywhere. Give it up. Tell me where the guns are hidden, beg me for your miserable life and maybe I’ll let you and one of your little flea bags live.” Gordon pressed the barrel of the gun to his forehead.

Murray spat on one of the expensive hiking boots Gordon wore. Gordon backhanded him across the face with the pistol. Murray instantly felt his eye swelling shut and the shards of broken teeth grating against his cheeks. A wave of nausea swept through him, but he fought down the urge to vomit. He suppressed a moan. He wouldn’t give Gordon the satisfaction. He spat blood and a broken tooth onto Gordon’s other boot. Gordon hit him again and nearly knocked Murray unconscious.

“Now, where was I?” Gordon continued. “Oh, yeah. I was doing my bad guy monologue. You little bastards have ruined my plans for the last time. You messed up a deal I had to get out this wasteland. Tell me, how did a bunch of orphans and animal rejects beat that team of trained soldiers? Is there someone else out there I need to know about?”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You are the only other people we’ve seen since the outbreak.” Murray mumbled through his ruined mouth.

It clicked then. The cult hadn’t found the warehouse by accident, someone had told them where to look. Gordon had told them and thought the tribe had killed them. That’s why he was here, that’s why his goons were destroying the house looking for machine guns.

“Doesn’t matter now, I guess. Deals change all the time. Flexibility is the key.” Gordon said, channeling something his dad would have said.

“I wish I’d brought my cigar cutter. We’d have some fun with your fingers, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting this place to be deserted. I guess I’ll just have to make do with what I have.”

“We’ve looked everywhere, Boss.” Bong said as the rest of the gang trailed back into the living room. “They don’t have any guns.”

“Then go check the outbuildings.” Gordon snarled. “They have to be here somewhere!”

The men hurried out, they didn’t like the way their leader was waving around his pistol.

“Where’s the guns?” Gordon asked the wheelchair bound boy.

“I’ve told you, we don’t have any.”

Gordon shot him again, this time right through the bone of his left leg. Murray didn’t feel it but knew he was dead. Blood spurted out and if he didn’t get a tourniquet on it immediately, he’d bleed out in minutes.

“Oops.” Gordon said and grabbed the can of paint thinner. He poured some in the bullet hole and lit a match.

“This works in the movies.” He said then wrinkled his nose and stepped away.

“That stinks.” He complained and waved away the smell of burning flesh.

Murray struggled to get free, jerked at the ropes and nearly toppled the chair as his leg charred and burned.

“Hey, anybody want some barbeque?” Gordon laughed as Bong and Maggot hurried back through the door to see what happened.

They turned their heads in disgust. Gordon had told them they were getting their revenge, but burning a crippled boy was too much, even for them. The smell of burnt flesh nearly overwhelmed them; the stench was so raw. They backed out into the fresh air.

Murray cursed him, screamed his rage then bent low and started blowing on his burning legs, trying to put out the fire. The paint thinner burned itself out quickly but it had done its job, the blood was no longer spurting out, it was barely a trickle. He stared at the damage and knew his life was over. His leg had a gaping hole, the meat was burnt and blackened and he knew enough about burns to know they’d never stop the infection. It would be gangrenous within days. He wished he could feel it, use the pain to channel his rage and burst free from his bindings, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel anything below the waist and that made it worse. He wasn’t afraid of dying. He’d been at death’s door since the van put him in this chair. He was afraid of leaving his tribe. They were his purpose and reason for living.

Gordon clapped softly when Murray sat back, winded and pale. He felt a perverse pleasure in what he was doing. He even felt aroused by it.

“Your friends are next.” Gordon said then poured paint thinner over Murrays head. “And each one’s agony will be worse than the last.”

“You’ll never win, Gordon.” Murray croaked.

“I’ve already won. They just don’t know it yet.” Gordon chuckled. “Unfortunately, you won’t be around to see it.”

He splashed the rest of the flammable liquid onto the furniture and drapes and made a trail out to the porch. Gordon had a wide grin on his face as he breathed in the fresh air and looked at the shocked faces of his gang. They couldn’t believe he was really going to burn the crippled boy alive. Gordon was half crazy but this was taking it a step too far. There was going to be hell to pay when Kodiak found out what they’d done.

“Um, hey.” Bong said hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

In answer, Gordon tossed the lighter into the puddle of paint thinner leading out the door.

It ignited with a whoosh and Gordon fled the flames that rolled out of the house. It was an old, dry structure and made for a massive blaze. He watched eagerly as smoke rolled from the building and the flames grew higher.

“Wait,” he said sharply. “I want to hear him scream one last time.”

The others were already running for the back fence and their four wheelers. They wanted to be long gone before the kids came back. They hadn’t found any guns, they were hidden somewhere and they knew the kids were good. They had wiped out a whole bunch of soldiers.

He listened for Murray’s screams of agony, but they were drowned out by the sounds of the roaring fire. The smoke would be seen for miles and the others were right. It would be best to get gone and get hidden back up north.

28

The Triplets

Landon, Caleb and Clara scampered down the ladder from the hay loft. They’d hidden when the boys ransacked the barn, held tightly to their foxes away and buried themselves in the hayloft. They didn’t know what else to do.

We run. The tribe had told them a million times. We always run from danger.

They’d held their breath and not moved a muscle when the gunshots erupted from the house. They were afraid. They’d seen what Gordon would do if he caught them. They’d seen him beat up Kodiak. He was a real life boogeyman.

Ashamed at hiding, Landon and Caleb wanted to rush the house when they heard the gunshots, but they were petrified in their hiding place. They wanted to get to their weapons and try to stop whatever was happening, but they couldn’t. Clara begged them not to. She held their hands tightly in hers. They all cringed when they heard Murray scream. Anger rose in their little hearts, but fear rooted their feet.

Minutes passed without any sound. They crept from their hiding places to the window and looked at the house. They saw the smoke pouring from the windows then watched Gordon and the mean boys run for the safety of the woods.

“Murray!” Clara squeaked. The three flew down the ladder and raced towards the blazing house.

Without a second thought, Landon raced up the back steps that were already beginning to smoke and grabbed the brass doorknob. His flesh hissed as the hot metal burned into him. He let go with a howl of agony. Tears streaming down his face, he ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around the knob and tried again. Caleb joined him and they pushed the door open. A wall of heat and pressure washed over them. The fire sucked hungrily at the fresh air and roared towards them. The heat singed their hair and eyebrows and they saw nothing but an orange and red wall of flames racing at them. It pulled the air out of their lungs. Coughing and heaving for breath they ran away from the doorway. Clara batted at the flames struggling to catch hold of their clothes. She pushed them down to the ground, yelled for them to roll like they taught them when the firemen came to their school.

The three children watched in terror as their home burned and blazed. They didn’t try to get buckets of water; it would have been useless. They yelled for Murray, yelled until they were hoarse and the intense heat forced them backward. The fire was so strong it was making its own wind and the house sounded it like it was roaring its pain to the sky. Flames flickered from every window as the heat and pressure blew out the glass upstairs. The wood siding caught fire, its paint curling in wisps that turned to embers and ash. They stood, held hands and watched. Tears streaked down their soot covered faces and when their foxes returned they held them close and cried. The roof groaned, sagged in the middle and collapsed in on itself. Within minutes the walls fell too. The fireplace and the stove were the only things recognizable after a time and when the chimney crumbled, the floor caved in and the stove disappeared into the basement. The fire had burned hot and fast. Without mercy, it destroyed everything they had.

Through it all they watched. Landon held his burnt hand to his chest. He’d never felt so much pain in his young life. He gritted his teeth. It was nothing like Murray must have endured and he hoped in his little heart that Murray was already dead before the fire started.

They heard chittering as the roar of the fire died away. Elmo, Ernie and China raced down from the tree they’d sheltered in and scampered towards them seeking the comfort of the children. Sage was nowhere to be seen. The capuchins were unusually still as each perched on the shoulders of one of them. They seemed sullen, withdrawn. Their spirits were broken. They knew things were different. The boy they loved so much and their litter mate were gone. Their brown eyes reflected the light of the dying fire as the strange grouping of creatures watched everything they’d known curl up in ashes.

29

Ruins

Donny looked around for Yewan but she was already at the head of the alley, staring northward with her tail twitching. He jogged out of the parking lot, his mind still jumbled with happy thoughts of the long afternoon. It had been fun playing tag with the others among the towering stacks of pallets. He wasn’t sure what Analise’s deal was though. She’d shot him at every opportunity, even when the others were easier prey. He shook his head. Had he done something to make her angry? Was she paying him back for some wrong he’d done? He shook off the thought. He would ask Murray later. Murray knew practically everything.

He was pleased and stuffed with candy. He’d never seen so much food at one time. Didn’t even know that one place could hold so much. The tribe would easily survive the next winter and if they could get a second crop in, it would be even better. He missed that roasted corn.

It was later than he thought as he glanced at the position of the sun when he reached the end of the alley. Their nerf war had eaten up a lot of time. He placed a hand on his panther and felt her tense muscles. She was on high alert. He scanned the streets slowly, looked for any signs of the undead or packs of animals then turned his gaze homeward. He saw the smoke in the distance, rising over the treetops. A lot of it. Dread washed over him. He raced back to the parking lot, slammed his spear then signed furiously at the tribe who were still goofing around.

Smoke.

Fire.

Home.

The fun from earlier was instantly forgotten. Their deepest fears bubbled to the surface as they watched the black smoke rolling skyward. They were almost four miles away, but the column of smoke looked as wide as a football field.

“Go, don’t wait on us!” Kodiak told the girls riding the fastest animals. “It will attract any zombies in the area, too, so be careful!”

Harper pulled Bert over to an abandoned car so she could swing into the saddle and wheeled the tall animal around to chase after Ziggy and Vanessa. They were already out of sight, the slim dark girl crouched low on her ostrich who was running thirty miles an hour.

Donny and Yewan sped off in a dead run for the zoo as Kodiak shut off the tractor and swung aboard Otis. The bears weren’t as fast as the others but they would run tirelessly mile after mile after mile.

The short trip back to Piedmont seemed to take forever. Vanessa and Ziggy were the first there and had to clear the gate of the undead that were already stumbling towards the smoke. It could be seen for miles in all directions.

“Go!” Vanessa said “I’ll take care of this.”

She drove Ziggy into the midst of them, shouting Zulu curses and slashing at heads. Her machetes drank the blood of the undead and she led them away so Harper could get inside.

She slid off Bert, hit the ground running and screamed for Murray and the children as she neared the remains of the burning house.

She heard a cry and spun towards the barn. Caleb, Landon and Clara ran across the yard straight to her. Landon was hurt and they were all crying.

“Thank God.” Harper said as she moved towards them and wrapped the three children in a hug.

Vanessa finished her grisly work and joined her a few minutes later.

Swan was the next in the gate, sweat poured from her and she breathed in great, gasping lungful’s of air. She had sprinted the whole four miles and her pack panted heavily with her. Donny joined her a few minutes later, sucking in air just as hard.

“What happened? Where’s Murray?” Swan asked when she could speak.

Harper gave her head a curt shake and went back to soothing the children and dressing Landon’s hand. The story had only taken a few seconds to spill out and they didn’t need to tell it again. Gordon’s gang had come, they had hid, they heard gunshots and Murray screaming then the house was on fire.

Donny refused to believe it and ran to check the back yard and the outbuildings. Maybe Murray had managed to get out, to crawl away in the confusion. Swan and Vanessa joined the search but it was fruitless. Nothing could have survived the blaze.

They watched as the last wall tumbled over and fell in the dying flames. They burned brighter with the fresh fuel but by the time the rest of the tribe arrived, there was only glowing embers and the occasional dancing flame.

“We tried to get him out. We tried so hard.” Landon held up his burnt hand. “It was too hot. We couldn’t get in.”

“You did good.” Harper told them. “You did the right thing. Those bad boys would have hurt you too if they found you.”

All three of them had their eyebrows burnt off, their hair singed and their faces were red. The tribe was lucky they hadn’t lost four of their members.

Kodiak watched the glowing remains of their home and felt despair wash over him. Murray was dead, burned alive by that monster Gordon. The same Gordon he’d tried to help all those times before. The air rushed out of his body and he thought he was going to fall. Gordon hated them, he knew this, but to burn Murray alive? What kind of sick person did that? It was one thing to stand face to face and battle your enemy, it was another to torture and burn a helpless boy. Why did he keep coming after them? Why couldn’t he leave them alone? A wave of guilt hit him hard. He hadn’t been here to protect him, he’d been playing with a Nerf gun stealing kisses from Harper.

He knew he should say something but he couldn’t think of anything, he couldn’t put a sentence together and he wasn’t sure he’d ever know what to say.

They stared into the glowing embers as darkness fell, each lost in their own thoughts, their only comfort was each other. Sometime much later Harper urged them away from the ruins of their home and into the barn. They curled up in the hay and slept fitful sleep with dark dreams and silent tears.

Swan paced back and forth in front of the still smoking remains. Her sadness had been replaced with simmering rage. Gordon had come once again into their home to kill and destroy. Every time he was near, someone or something died. She’d known he was evil the first time she’d stared into his beady little eyes. She should have killed him when he was on his knees in his piss-soaked pants after the battle at the church. He was heartless and cruel and the world would be better off without him in it. She would make sure of that but first things first. Murray deserved a better resting place.

One by one the rest of the tribe joined her as they moved aside burnt boards, melted shingles and chunks of plaster. Most of the floor had caved in and filled the basement with rubble. The part that remained was dangerously weak, nails and broken bricks snagged their clothes and ashes swirled around them as they picked their way through the rubble.

Hour after hour they worked their way downward, cooling the ruins with buckets of water as they advanced. Barely a word was spoken and they were covered in wet ash and soot. Harper found the charred husk of Gordons’ man, the blade still lodged in the bone of his neck. They wrapped the remains in a blanket and unceremoniously dumped the body into the river. No one mourned or had fond memories to share. They didn’t know or care what his name had been.

“Rot in hell.” Swan said “I hope you died slow.”

It was the only words spoken at his funeral.

It was hard, dirty, dangerous work sorting through the rubble and the remains of the chimney were tilted at a precarious angle. A strong breeze might topple it. Tobias and Analise rooted through the ruins of the garden and found enough potatoes and carrots to make a stew. They had the meat in the smokehouse but nothing to season it with. Lunch was bland but everyone ate even though they didn’t have an appetite.

“Here.” Kodiak said a little while later and the crews working in different parts of the wreckage made their way over.

The bent wheel of Murray’s chair was exposed when he moved a chunk of plaster out of the way. The rubber tires and vinyl seat had melted away but the metal frame had shielded the boy from most of the debris. It had kept him from being crushed beyond recognition.

Murray lay curled in a fetal position, half buried in a pile of ash on the basement floor. Smoke and steam still rose from the embers around him. His skin was charred and blackened, brittle to the touch and he looked like a thousand-year-old mummy that had been unwrapped. He was so small laying there they could almost pretend that it wasn’t him. He held another tiny burned body in his arms. Sage. She was cradled tight to his chest.

The tribe stood silent. There were no words for this. No way to express the horror at what was left of their brother. They wrapped Murray’s remains in another gift shop blanket, taking care not to damage the fragile shell. They laid his curled body on a workbench but were afraid to try to straighten him. Afraid he might break in half. They gathered around and held hands but no one knew what to say. They’d thought they were safe behind their iron gates and tall fences. They’d learned how to deal with the undead, they had survived the attack of the savage ones and they had found a warehouse full of food. Murray said there were walled cities and the country was rebuilding. It had been so long since Gordon had bothered them that they thought he was gone for good. That he’d never be back. The future had looked so bright just a day ago. Life was as good as they could hope for. They realized just how wrong they had been.

Tobias wiped the tears from his face and grabbed a shovel hanging on the wall. Without a word he left the barn.

“Go help him.” Vanessa said softly “We’ll prepare him for his journey.”

Donny and Kodiak fell out of the circle, grabbed shovels and left with their heads down.

30

Farewell Old Friend

As they dug by the riverbank, Landon and Caleb hauled river stones to the site to cover the grave. Clara searched for flowers and filled a basket with them.

The girls had done all they could for Murray. They carefully cleaned the debris from his blackened body and wrapped him in an animal print blanket. They’d tied it with cord and wove fresh flowers into the knots. Sage still lay in his arms. They would be together forever.

Each of the tribe cleaned themselves up as best they could, but they were soot stained and smelled like smoke. They had nothing else to wear. It had all burned up with the house. It had been a long, depressing day and the sun was starting to drop over the horizon when the procession made its way to the gravesite. They carried his body on a plank and it weighed almost nothing. The three remaining capuchins were uncommonly still and quiet. They had lost Sage and their boy companion and clung to the triplets for comfort.

The ceremony was simple. They wore their armor, had their weapons and gave him a warriors’ funeral. They lowered him in the ground and said their goodbyes. Some with tears, some dry-eyed with anger bubbling just below the surface. They stacked a cairn of stones and lingered by the river, the mood somber, and their voices low.

“I know where he lives.” Swan said as she tossed pebbles into the water. “I found his address yesterday. A place called Smith’s Landing up in Minnesota.”

“Let’s get him.” Tobias said, fire in his voice. “Let’s end the bastard.”

“Hold on.” Kodiak said “We can’t go off halfcocked. We need to make a plan. We need to be careful.”

“We need to go kill him.” Swan said coldly. “It’s the only way.”

“Can we just go to the place Murray told us about?” Clara asked. “To the city where no one will try to hurt us anymore?”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that.” Kodiak said. “There’s nothing left for us here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until justice is served.” Swan said and stalked off.

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t pay him back!” Kodiak yelled at her retreating back. “But we need a plan or more of us will get hurt or killed.”

“Your plans always seem to include letting him go.” Swan shot back then she was gone.

Kodiak whirled to go after her, hurt and angry at her jibe.

“Let her go.” Harper said and grabbed his arm. “She just needs to cool off.”

The tribe scuffed the ground with their shoes or looked at anything but him. It wasn’t right to be fighting in a graveyard. Kodiak sighed and hung his own head. She was right. He’d been the one to let Gordon live, not once but twice. It was his fault Murray was dead and their house was gone.

Swan was incensed, raging with anger as she stormed back to the barn, her wolves padding along beside her. Halfway back she realized there was nothing there for her. She was carrying everything she owned. Her bow, her tomahawks, her armor and her dirty clothes. She turned towards the back gate and was running with her pack through the forest outside the fences before anyone realized she was gone.

She didn’t need a plan, didn’t need weeks of preparation. All she had to do was figure out which house was his and wait for him to step outside. An arrow would find its way into his face and bye bye Gordy. No more waiting. She’d end this herself then she’d go after the hyena. The laughing hunchback had a little payback coming too. After that, she might take her pack and leave for good, the others could go to Lakota. She couldn’t stand the idea of burying another one of them and if they stayed together it was inevitable. If you didn’t want to worry about someone, you left them behind. She was better on her own.

31

Tribe

The twins made one last breakfast over an open fire as the tribe double-checked their gear. They’d dug up more carrots and found a few ears of corn. The rabbit stew was still bland but it was filling. Once they were on the road, it might be a long time before their next hot meal.

Swan was gone. They had waited for her to cool down, blow off some steam and rejoin them but she hadn’t come back last night. When she didn’t show up for breakfast, they knew where she was headed. A map from the gift shop showed the little hamlet of Smiths Landing some thirty miles to the north. They could make it in a few days if they were careful and didn’t meet any huge hordes. They could make in a day if they ran.

Plans were discussed, ideas floated and rejected. Murray had always been the one to stay behind with the triplets. Kodiak wouldn’t leave them by themselves, they could be gone for weeks. The world outside the fences was dangerous, what if something happened and none of them made it back? It was possible. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind to care for them and in the end it was decided to take everyone.

“Where we go one, we go all.” Tobias said and Donny thumped his spear in agreement.

Kodiak didn’t like the idea of rushing into the unknown without a plan but he liked the idea of losing Swan even less. If he knew her, she’d figure out a weakness then attack the whole gated community single handedly. She had a twelve-hour head start on them, they had to hurry, try to catch her while she was still scouting.

The animals were saddled up and loaded with smoked meat and weapons, they knew what was ahead of them and everyone had painted their faces for battle. There was nothing to delay them and every minute counted. The county road meandered along the river, it twisted and turned for miles. Swan wouldn’t have followed it and neither would they, the most direct path cut through forests and fields. Kodiak gave Donny a nod and he set off at a jog, Yewan loping beside him. He would be able to move much faster through the woods without the tribe slowing him down. Swan was unpredictable and knew trails and shortcuts that no one else did. She might know of swampy areas to bypass or a pasture filled with the undead to avoid. The north was her hunting grounds but Yewan would be able to track her, follow the right trail. Donny would leave obvious markers for them to follow. A machete slash on a tree or trimmed branches pointing the way onward. Maybe he could catch her and slow her down until the rest of the tribe could catch up. If she was thinking clearly, she would realize they needed to scope out Gordon’s defenses, find the weak point then attack with their full strength.

They mounted their animals and Kodiak led them out of the back gate. They were going to end this once and for all. One way or another, in a few days, a week at the most, one band would be dead and the other celebrating the victory. What Gordon and his gang had done was unforgivable and he couldn’t be allowed to do it again. Madmen like him didn’t stop, they only got worse. There would be no mercy this time. They die or the tribe dies, but it ends either way.

32

Captured

Swan kept a steady pace as she ran down an old forestry service access road. It was a little out of the way but it bypassed the sprawling briar patch that stretched for acres. There was enough moonlight filtering through the trees so she could maintain her speed without fear of twisting an ankle. She’d wandered this road many times in her explorations, it narrowed and became a rutted four-wheeler trail once it crossed the Minnesota border. Rage and sadness vied to be the dominant emotion in her heart as she jogged. She pushed on, one foot in front of the other, and ate up the miles. The air was fresh and cool, she was in the best physical condition she’d ever been in and she could run for hours without tiring. There was a clean pond up ahead, she needed to refill her water bladder and let her pack drink.

She traveled light, just weapons and water. Food could be found, she knew which plants were good to eat. Meat was easy to get if she had time to cook it. Any abandoned house would have something inside, even if it was something she didn’t like. She wasn’t worried about going hungry but sometimes clean water was hard to find. The rivers and streams would make you sick, there were too many dead and undead in them.

They drank their fill and rested for a time. She snapped off a few cattail shoots and ate the hearts. It was a lot like asparagus, not her favorite food but it didn’t matter. It was nutrition. She prowled around the shoreline until she found a nest. She tested one of the eggs, made sure there wasn’t a baby duck inside then sucked down the yolks when there wasn’t. Her wolves would be fine, they could go weeks without eating.

Rested and refreshed, they raced silently onward, the miles falling away and the moon casting long shadows in the dirt. When the trail veered off to the west, they went over a fence and kept running north through overgrown cornfields. They came to a farmhouse facing a narrow one lane road. She’d been here many times, there was an upright piano in the family room and she practiced on it sometimes. She gave the wolves a minute to lap water from a cow trough and strained her ears to listen. Sound carried a long way without the noise pollution of the old world. She didn’t hear anything except the frogs croaking and the crickets chirping. She sat on a stump to rest her legs, checked the map by the moonlight to get her bearings and found the county road she wanted. She’d never been any farther North, didn’t know the lay of the land. She could follow the road for a few miles before it crossed a bigger road, one that lead on a pretty straight path up to Smiths Landing. Dawn was lightening the horizon but she was getting close, they had run about fifteen miles through the night. Not bad, she told herself. Not bad. That was more than a half marathon and she’d been fully armored, carrying weapons and wearing boots. She took a drink of water and calculated the time if she could keep up the pace. She should have that dirtbag in her crosshairs by early afternoon.

Skull peeked nervously around the curtains again and his eyes darted up and down the road, looking for their ride home or worse, another horde of the undead. They’d stayed hidden and still the first night when one came stumbling by an hour after the four wheelers had left them. He was in the living room of a single wide trailer where they’d spent the last day and a half. Those jerks should have been back by now, he’d bet money that Gordon was the reason for the delay. He was pissed off at him for crashing the Polaris. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t seen the pot hole. It jerked the steering wheel out of his hands and they wound up in the ditch. That wasn’t so bad. Ripping the tire off when he hit the driveway culvert was, though. He was the chauffer of the four seater model but how was he supposed to see it? They were running without lights. Gordon had flipped out and told Skull he could wait there until he could send someone back to get him.

“You, too,” he yelled at Blind Mike who had been in the back seat, “You should have been watching better!”

They could have doubled up with the others but nobody wanted to share. It was too far of a drive to be cramped up. Gordon took over one of the other quads and left them behind.

Somebody will come back to get you. He’d said. That had been yesterday. Maybe he wasn’t going to send anyone, maybe this was one of those cruel lessons and they would have to walk back. It was daylight again, the second long night was over. Mike and Skull were hungry and hungover from bottles of Old Crow they’d found in the cupboard. Whoever had lived here bought his rotgut by the case. The grill on the deck still had propane in the tank so they dumped cans of soup and a box of macaroni and cheese in a sauce pan then set it over the flames. Something in their bellies might make the pounding headache go away. Or it might make them throw up. That would probably be for the best.

Neither saw the shadow that flickered through the trees or heard the soft footfalls of padded feet. Blind Mike had broken his glasses months ago and squinted at everything and Skull’s headache was worse than ever.

“Somebody should have been back by now.” Mike said for the hundredth time. “I think we’re gonna have to walk.”

“It’s too far.” Skull complained, “It’s at least five miles, nobody can walk that far.”

Swan and the wolves held their position in the trees. She watched and listened. There were only two of them visible, but more could be inside. She’d found the broken Polaris abandoned on the highway and had barely avoided being spotted by the boys in the trailer. She was disappointed Gordon wasn’t one of them, but not surprised.

She watched for another ten minutes but when they split the soup between them, it was obvious they were the only two. They both had rifles leaning against the tin of the trailer so she would have to be patient. Maybe follow until they were tired and sink arrows into their backs when they weren’t paying attention.

“I’m gonna be sick,” she heard one of them say as he rushed into the house.

“Gross, man,” the other one yelled, “Now the place is gonna stink like barf! Why didn’t you puke outside?”

He cursed and stepped off the deck, flapping his hand in front of his face to wave away the smell. Swan kept a calming hand on her wolves and shushed the quiet growls in their throats. She doubted the boys could hear them; they were making all kinds of noise. They were acting as if they’d never been out in the wild before. They didn’t know the rules of survival. Mike slung his rifle and walked to the wooden shed at the end of the driveway. Maybe he’d get lucky and find an old pair of glasses in it. She knocked an arrow and tracked him. When he kicked the door open and started rummaging around inside, she slipped from the trees and moved swiftly through the overgrown field. When he stepped back into the sunlight his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. The wolf girl was grinning at him through a soot blackened face. She had a tomahawk in each hand and her pack was crouched, ready to spring. He was too shocked to move.

“Capture.” She whispered.

The wolves sprang on the boy so quickly, he didn’t have time to scream before he was driven to the ground and had his throat in the vise like jaws of Zero. River and Meadow each had an arm and Valley had one of his legs in their jaws.

“Don’t fight them.” The wolf girl said, close to his ear. “They won’t kill you unless I tell them to.”

Mike felt the sharp teeth punch through his skin but they stopped, they didn’t rip and tear and shred him to bits. Blood trickled down his neck and the breath he was going to use to scream came out in a whimper. He could feel his whole body vibrating, coming from the deep rumble of their low growls. He felt the hot breath of the wolf on his face, felt the teeth sink in a little deeper when he tried to move.

“Shhhh.” Swan said. “Be still. You’re making them nervous.”

Mike squeaked and tried to be very, very still.

“I have questions for you.” She said. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

“Hold.” She told her pack and repositioned the grip on her tomahawks.

She eased over to the corner of the trailer, looked back at her pack and issued the command again.

“Hold.” She told Zero, sternly this time.

She didn’t want him getting excited and killing the guy because she wanted a few words with him first. She only needed to talk to one, her steel would talk to the other guy.

Swan sprinted around to the front door, shouldered it open and ran for the bathroom where she could hear the other boy retching. She kicked it open and nearly gagged. He was sitting on the toilet and throwing up into the bathtub. Last night’s whiskey and the macaroni soup breakfast was coming out of both ends. She nearly threw up herself and at the very last possible second, just as she was swinging the spikes to bury them in the back of his head, she turned the hilt and slammed him with the flat sides. He collapsed in a boneless heap and fell off the toilet, still spewing foul smelling liquids. Swan gagged and backed out of the room, her stomach heaved and she covered her mouth. Something creaked behind her and she spun just in time to see the stock of a rifle smash into her face.

Shaggy stood shakily over her, his whole world reeling. He’d been laying on the couch with a blinding hangover, too sick to join the other two on the deck. When she smashed through the door he wanted to yell at her to stop making so much noise but realized who she was before he opened his mouth. He stood over her and tried to get the hallway to stop tilting when he heard a four-wheeler pull up in the drive.

“I got one of them!” He said in a yell that hurt. “I got one of the brats! Help me with her. The others must be close!”

Cowboy hopped out of the side by side, hurried inside and they drug her out, looking over their shoulders the whole time. They’d been at the massacre last winter, they knew the kids could be hiding in the woods. The psycho kids riding the polar bears could be anywhere.

“Where’s the others?” He asked as they tossed her in the back of the four-seater.

“She killed Skull.” Shaggy yelled as he climbed in. “I don’t know where Mike is. Probably killed him, too. Let’s go, man. We’ve gotta go!”

Zero had been waiting for a command. He heard the machine pull up, he heard voices of the enemy but he didn’t hear his wolf mother. He growled and listened and waited. Drool ran over his lips and dripped on to the boy clamped in his jaws. She’d never made them hold this long before and he quivered in anticipation.

“Mike!” Cowboy shouted, half in the quad, hesitant to leave anyone behind. “Come on man, the kids are here!”

Mike shook in terror and said nothing. Maybe the wolves would let him go, maybe they would go see what happened to the savage girl.

Swan moaned from the backseat and tried to sit up.

“Zero?” she called, her voice thick and uncertain.

The wolf ripped the boys’ throat out and spun away as he gurgled and gasped for air. The cubs released and joined him as he ran towards their mistress.

Cowboy yelped when he saw them come around the end of the trailer, blood on their muzzles and snarls in their throats. He dove in and floored the buggy. Swan was thrown to the floor as the boy bounced through the ditch and hit the road in a squall of tires. Four growling wolves were right on their tail.

Swan pulled herself up and tried to roll out but Shaggy hit her over and over, cursing and screaming with every punch. She tried to fend him off but she could barely see, both eyes were swelling shut and her nose was smashed flat. He grabbed a handful of her hair and slammed her head against the roll bar until she stopped moving then he heaved his guts out over the half door. Whiskey and fear poured out of him, splashed down the side of the rig and left a trail on the road. Cowboy kept the gas pedal buried all the way back to Smiths Landing.

Zero whined in confusion. Her scent was gone. She’d been carried away by a loud animal with the dirty smoke smell. It was too fast for him to catch and its spore disappeared on the breeze. He couldn’t follow it. The cubs sniffed at the foul smell in the road left by one of the men but that was all there was. Her smell simply stopped.

33

Gordon

Gordon felt a thrill unlike any other he’d ever felt. Swan lay on the floor in front of him, trussed up and unconscious. Matted blood caked her hair and streaked her face. They had done a number on her, both eyes were purple and swollen and her nose had a definite lean to it. He propped his feet on her still form and leaned back in his chair. The voice that sounded like his father congratulated him, then berated him for only taking two from the tribe.

“Shut up, old man,” he muttered under his breath. He sipped from a crystal highball glass filled with two fingers of seventeen-year-old Scotch while he smoked a cigar. The Scotch didn’t do anything to silence the old man but at least the alcohol numbed the scratching sounds that plagued him. He nudged the immobilized girl with his foot. She didn’t move. This was where she truly belonged, at his feet. He vowed to break her mentally and physically before he put her out of his misery. She was too dangerous to leave alive. He smiled at the thought of her head mounted beside his other pretties on the fence or maybe wandering around in the pool.

It was a little early in the day to start boozing it up but the capture of Swan called for a celebration.

“Gentlemen, the bar is open, and the ladies are hot and ready for you. Good work, boys. We struck a lethal blow against our enemies and now, we’ll pick them off at our leisure. Two down, nine to go. Trish, get over here and top this off.” He held up his glass. “Misty, you and Sasha get this trash off of my rug and clean her up. She smells like a wet dog. Nobody touches her until I say so. She’s our guest of honor and I want her wide awake for what she’s got coming.”

Cheers went up from the boys as they made their way to the bar and the three women moved quickly to carry out Gordon’s orders. They kept their heads lowered, their eyes averted and hoped the gang would pass out before they got drunk and mean. The boys were downing shots as fast as they could, Gordon didn’t let them drink very often.

Misty and Sasha struggled with Swan’s limp form and tried not to hurt her any more than she already was. The poor girl had just entered the bowels of hell.

34

Pursuit

The endless miles were wearing on Donny, but he kept his pace, he didn’t stop and he didn’t slow. He’d been running for hours without rest. He had to catch her, not to stop her but slow her down so they could finish this the way they started. Together. The tribe against the world. He could feel the blisters starting to form on his heels and took a moment to tighten his boots and share a piece of smoked meat with his panther. She knew they were hunting Swan, she sensed the sadness and urgency. When Donny couldn’t track her on the roads, Yewan could. He’d never been this deep into her hunting grounds, they respected each other’s boundaries. He dragged his spear in the dirt, left a distinct marker and pushed onward. When they came to asphalt, he’d slash the trunks of trees or make arrows from fallen branches to signal which way he went. His heart ached for Murray and Swan. He’d never had friends before the outbreak and Murray was gone forever. Swan too, if he faltered. She was outnumbered and outgunned and she thought she was invincible. She took too many chances. He was angry at her for running off, but he understood. He felt the same way but he had learned from a lifetime of hard knocks that rash decisions had harsh consequences.

He found the pond where she had refilled her bottle, rested and eaten the cattails. He let Yewan drink her fill then they pushed on. His legs ached and the blisters were getting worse. He was gaining on her though. This was the third spot he found where she’d taken a break, had sat and ate berries or mushrooms. He didn’t have the luxury of rest, he had to catch up. It was late afternoon, he’d been running all day and he knew he was closing in on her. He hoped more than anything he’d find her sleeping in a barn or something. He picked up the pace when they hit asphalt again and ignored the wetness in his socks as they filled with blood from the busted blisters. He was close, he could feel it.

He ate up the miles, ignored the fatigue in his limbs and the pain in his feet. He slowed as he neared a wrecked Polaris, wary and watching. The other cars or trucks he’d passed had the long-abandoned look of heavy dust, flat tires and piles of leaves mounded against them. This one was fresh, it hadn’t been there for long. It was in the ditch where it had hit the culvert and broke the front wheel. It was bent at an odd angle and the tire was shredded. His worry ratcheted up a notch. Had she caught up to them, caused one of them to crash? He didn’t see any of her arrows or blood trails but Yewan led him off the road, into the woods. Hatred and anger filled his heart as he imagined all of the hell he would bring down on anyone who’d harmed her. He found her path and saw where she’d stood for a while, apparently watching a mobile home that had been decrepit years before the fall. Yewan flicked her tail back and forth and he knew she sensed something was wrong. Maybe Swan was inside. More likely some of Gordons gang waiting for someone to come get them. He stoked the midnight fur of his companion, readied his spear and crouched low to hide in the waist high grass. Her and the wolves trail was easy to follow and he smelled death before he saw it. The pack had savaged one of Gordons men, the body was splayed out in the dirt next to a garden shed, its throat ripped open. Somebody had thrown a tarp over the dead boy but it had blown off. Ants and other insects covered his skin, each taking tiny little bites and carrying it back to their nest. They would feast for months.

Swan wouldn’t bother covering a body of her enemy and Donny’s stomach dropped. Either she hadn’t been the winner in this fight or she was gone when they came back for their stranded buddy.

Something clattered in the trailer and he froze, still hidden in the weeds. He heard mumbled curses and glass breaking. More indistinct muttering and then something that sounded like sobs. He eased up the weather-beaten steps to the back door, wincing every time one creaked, and peeked through the louvered glass on the door. He saw a young man sitting at a table, a bowl of cold soup broken on the floor. He had his head in his hands and his shoulders shook with each sob. His long, greasy hair was crusty with blood. Donny tapped his ring on the spear, come, and kicked open the door.

The boy screamed then grabbed his head in pain. He toppled over backward and started mewling when the panther landed on his chest, bared her long fangs and snarled in his face.

“Go ahead.” He blubbered. “I deserve it. I know I do. Go ahead.”

Donny dashed through the trailer, made sure there was no one else and came back to the crying boy with the panther still crouched on his chest, claws dug in and hot breath snarling in his face.

Donny clicked his ring and the panther gave one last menacing growl and reluctantly hopped off. His head was bleeding again where he’d been hit. He didn’t know what happened, he’d woke up on the bathroom floor in his own filth and vomit with his head busted open. Shaggy was gone and he found Blind Mike with his head half torn off. The zoo kids must have found them. He didn’t know why they hadn’t killed him, maybe they thought they had. His head was throbbing white pain. He was still having headaches from the battle last winter when the boy with the Warhammer had nearly caved it in. He pushed himself up against the refrigerator and answered any questions the silent boy wrote out. He had a hard time reading them, everything was still blurry. He knew he must have a concussion again. Why did those kids like bashing people’s heads?

Skull told him everything about Smiths Landing. How to get in, where Gordon was headquartered and the best way to get at him.

“We used to just have fun before he came along.” He said. “We didn’t really hurt nobody, we just stayed bombed out of our minds most of the time. He changed everything. We thought he’d learned his lesson last winter, we sure did. Nobody wanted to mess with you kids again but something set him off a few days ago and he’d shoot anybody that didn’t do what he said.”

Donny heard the tale and listened for lies. He was pretty good at spotting them but the boy only seemed sad, resigned to his fate.

“Burning that crippled kid was too much.” Skull said and wrung his hands. “That was too much. He never shoulda done that.”

When Donny was finished with his questions he stood over the boy gripping his spear, the inky black panther at his side.

“I’m real sorry about what happened.” Skull said and met Donny’s eyes. “And I don’t blame you one bit. Go ahead. I know I got it coming.”

He lowered his head, started sobbing again and waited for the death blow.

Donny struck quickly.

He went back through the filthy trailer, slower this time and found Swan’s tomahawks in the hallway. He found a few of her arrows laying in the driveway and the tracks of another four-wheeler tearing through the yard and out onto the road. In the distance he saw her pack trotting towards him and he sighed. They had lost the scent if they were coming back. He glanced at the sun and wondered how far behind Kodiak and the rest of the tribe were. The bears wouldn’t get tired, they could run all day. They were fast for short bursts of speed but if they paced themselves, if they didn’t stop and refuse to go any more, they shouldn’t be too far behind. Maybe only an hour or so.

Thanks to the boy lying in a puddle of blood on the kitchen floor, he knew where Smiths Landing was and an easy way to get in around back. Part of him wanted to continue, keep charging after her, but he knew if he waited for the tribe, they’d have a better chance. They were close, only about five miles away, they could be there in an hour. It was late afternoon. Skull seemed to think Gordon would want to parade her around for a while before they did anything. He’d want to break her and that would take a while. He bent and consoled the wolves, they whined and seemed to urge him to find their mistress.

Donny sat on the front deck with his boots off. He’d tended to his feet as best he could, found clean socks and some Band-Aids. A small horde had come down the road, no more than ten or twelve and they had killed them quickly. He had all the food that was left in the cupboards set out on the deck, the pans were clean and the grill was ready to start. By the time he finished what he needed to do, he didn’t have to wait long until he saw Bert’s tall neck coming down the road. He slipped his boots on, laced them up and fired up the grill.

A weary Kodiak jogged in, swung Caleb from Otis’ back and started asking what was going on. Why were the wolves here? Where was Swan? Otis lumbered over to the plastic wading pool Donny had found two trailers down and filled with fresh pond water. The other animals joined him, lapping it up then flopping down. They’d rode hard all day following Donny’s trail and they were exhausted.

They gathered around as he flashed out what he’d found and why he believed Swan was alive. He showed them the boy he’d tied up and Swan’s weapons. He hadn’t been able to kill him but he’d had no qualms adding another lump on his head. He’d gone down like a sack of potatoes.

Analise rummaged around through the cabinets, found the salt and pepper and went back outside to tend the pot luck simmering on the grill. Vanessa found cans of paint in the shed and started decorating her ostrich with Zulu war sigils and everyone else joined with their own animals. Red or blue hand prints on flanks, Viking runes and lightning bolts across massive bear chests, circles and arrows in bright colors on the foxes, wolves and panther. They were preparing for war, one where there was going to be no retreat and no surrender.

They ate a light meal then saddled up the animals. They needed to push on. It was only five more miles, they could be there shortly after dark.

“What about him?” Tobias asked.

“I don’t know.” Kodiak said

“He doesn’t deserve to live.” Tobias answered his own question. “We should kill him.”

“Probably should.” Kodiak agreed.

The older boy sat tied in the chair in the living room and looked miserable. He didn’t try to talk them out of it, he was tired. He’d done some bad things; he didn’t know how it got so out of hand. He hadn’t meant to; he just went along to get along. He did whatever Richard or Gordon told him. He couldn’t go back to the Landing; he couldn’t live in the wild on his own and there was no place else to go. Maybe a spear through the heart would be quick and wouldn’t hurt too much. It was better than getting eaten alive and turning into one of the undead.

“Can you take the kids out before you do?” he asked. “I had a little sister once.”

Kodiak looked behind him, Landon and Clara were staring wide-eyed through the doorway.

“Mount up,” he told them, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They were waiting on him, silently watching, when he came out down the steps and slipped his knife back in its sheath.

35

The Prisoner

Swan opened her eyes and winced at the brightness from the bare overhead bulb. It had been so long since she’d seen electric light, it fascinated her for a moment. Her eyes felt puffy, her nose hurt and the pain in her head reminded her how it got bashed against something hard over and over until she blacked out. She groaned, reached up to touch it gingerly and pushed herself up onto a sitting position. She was on a plastic covered bed in a concrete room. A basement from the looks and smell of it.

Gordon.

She seethed and took it all in. She panned slowly around and her eyes fell on a young woman sitting in the corner of the room where the light barely reached. She had a white knuckled grip on the pillow in her lap.

The woman stood and approached her, still clutching the pillow. Swan noticed the yellowish tint of old bruises and the scars on her arms from cigarette burns.

“I hoped you wouldn’t wake up,” she said softly. “They hit you pretty hard. You’ve been out for hours.”

Swan glared at her but remained silent.

“They’ll be coming for you soon. I can’t stop them, no one can stop them.” Tears fell from her eyes and carved tracks through the makeup on her pretty face revealing the bruises she tried to cover.

She looked at the pillow, “I thought I’d spare you the pain. Smother you and let them think they killed you with that blow to the head. I’m not that brave though, you’re just a kid. They’re upstairs now talking big talk, thinking up ways to make you pay. Most of its crazy talk, they’ve been drinking nonstop since they brought you in, but you killed Skull and Blind Mike. They’re pretty mad and Gordon is urging them on, offering prizes for best torture.”

“Send him first,” Swan snarled. “He’ll never leave this room alive.”

Misty wiped at the tears on her cheek. “I think he’s afraid of you. I think they all are. They talk about what you did last winter. How you and your wolves killed so many of their friends.”

Swan stared at the pillow. “Are you gonna do it?”

The woman shook her head in shame. “I can’t, even though it would be a mercy, I can’t. I’m too afraid.”

Swan softened her look. She peered deep into the woman’s eyes. “Set me free, I can end this. You won’t have to fear him anymore.”

“You’re just a girl.” She shook her head and turned to leave. “I won’t tell them you’re awake. I can buy you a little more time, but sooner or later they’ll get tired of waiting.”

“Wait!” Swan said. “What’s your name?”

“Misty,” she said, exited the room and closed the door softly.

Swan heard the lock click into place and stood shakily and stretched. Nothing was broken. Her head hurt and her face was sore but she felt okay. She was clean, dressed in a flannel night shirt and someone had filed down her nails. They weren’t dirty and ragged like they usually were. Her hair smelled nice, too. Strawberry shampoo. She hated it. It was useless for hunting, every animal for miles would know she was in the woods. They had rubbed some kind of coconut scented lotion on her skin and she wondered who had bathed her. If it was one of the boys, she’d gouge their eyes out.

She tried the door but it was solid wood, well built and she wouldn’t be able to get through it, not without some kind of battering ram. The room was bare except for some strange looking exercise equipment and it was all bolted down. Some of it looked like stuff from a medieval torture chamber except it was covered in leather. She ignored the big pieces that looked like stocks and concentrated on the hanging swing. It was suspended by chains from the ceiling beams, if she could get one of them loose, she’d have a weapon.

36

Smith’s Landing

Kodiak jogged beside Otis, easily keeping pace since the big bear carried his gear. Caleb rode in the saddle on his back. He saw a horde shuffling along ahead of them in the twilight and yelled back over his shoulder.

“Twenty or thirty coming up, get ready!”

At one time the tribe would have hidden, quietly slunk into the woods or turned around and ran the other way but they were different now. Bob had shown them they didn’t have to be so afraid of the undead. Sure, they were dangerous but so was mowing the yard or driving a car. If you knew what you were doing, if you had safety equipment, it was just a job you had to do. Only the zombies trapped inside buildings were any real danger, they were still fast and vicious. The old broken down deaders wandering the roads were slow and jerky. They only posed a threat if their numbers were so great they couldn’t be killed. The tribe had never seen anything like that in rural Iowa, there weren’t that many people.

The horde heard him yell and turned towards the thundering tribe bearing down on them. Caleb handed down his Warhammer and together he and Otis plowed right through them. They barely broke stride, the weakened husks were bowled aside and tumbled over. The rest of the tribe cut them down as they rode through the hissing monsters. They crushed them under foot or slashed at their heads. Donny brought up the rear and when he jogged through, there was only one still crawling. A spear thrust later and it wasn’t.

They topped a slight rise and a faded sign welcomed them to Smith’s Landing. The river valley was filled with trendy shopping stores, luxury car dealerships and an eclectic mix of ethnic restaurants. It also had an exclusive gated community with tennis courts, an eighteen-hole golf course and tall iron fences to keep the deplorables out.

Even from this distance they could hear strains of music blasting and see the lights. They stood, breathing hard and couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“These people are stupid.” Vanessa said.

“Good.” Kodiak answered. “Better for us.”

Donny pointed to the back side of the dark golf course illuminated by the rising moon.

There is a gate in the back, he signed. The boy said it’s not guarded anymore.

They cut through the side streets to avoid the massive horde of zombies that pressed against the tall iron fence. They keened and moaned and tried to push their way in. Kodiak couldn’t believe how relaxed they were about their security. It didn’t matter how strong the gates were, that many undead pressing against them would eventually break them down. At least they didn’t run into any wandering zom’s, the music and lights pulled them to the front gates of the community.

The strange procession darted down the outlying roads through the outskirts of town. Vanessa and Ziggy trotted ahead of the tribe while the three bears ran in a triangle formation with Kodiak at the tip. Caleb rode tall in the saddle, his body in sync with the bears loping gait. Like the other little ones, he carried a dozen sharpened screwdrivers in bandoliers crisscrossing his chest. Clara rode in front of Analise on Daisy’s broad back, her baby doll clutched tightly in one hand and an icepick in the other. Landon was on Popsicle, doubled up with Tobias. Both boys wore blue lines painted on their grim faces and it made them look fierce. Harper was astride Bert and the three capuchins poked their heads out of the backpack she wore. Feathers, beads of acorns and strips of leather decorated the harness and bold symbols were painted on the giraffes spotted hide. The wolves raced silently along with the foxes right behind them.

The moon illuminated the deserted streets and the tribe of children and beasts painted for battle, prepared for war. Birds watched the procession from the safety of their nests. Small rodent eyes glittered and hid in the shadows as the clicking of nails on asphalt and the quiet thunder of thousand-pound bears rumbled by. All the hours they had spent with their companions, the endless and sometimes frustrating training, the days and nights working together, sleeping together and playing together had formed a bond that was almost supernatural. The children had learned to think like animals. The animals had learned to sense and feel and know what their humans wanted them to do. The connections ran deep. The animals would kill or die for their children the same as they would one of their own cubs and the children would do the same for them.

Kodiak breathed deep and steady as he jogged and prepared himself for what was to come. It was almost time. Time to put a stop to this madness once and for all. This was where it ended for either him or his enemy. He prayed that Swan was still alive and unharmed. He prayed that they all came through the other side of the upcoming battle, but if someone had to fall, he prayed it was him.

The rear entrance was a decorative iron gate which was set in the stone wall. It was locked but Otis did what Kodiak showed him, he reared up and bounced his weight on it a few times until the deadbolt snapped and the gate swung open. They rested for a few minutes as they made last minute preparations. Armor was adjusted and buckles loosened from the run were cinched tight. Weapons were unsheathed and Kodiak asked one last time if anyone wanted to change the plan, maybe come up with a better one.

“The best plan is no plan,” Tobias said. “We rush in, we kill everyone, we free Swan.”

Every head nodded. They had discussed sneaking around, looking for weak points, watching from afar to see if there were roving guards but every minute they waited was a minute Gordon could be hurting her. They remembered the beating he’d given Kodiak, it was harsh and cruel and would have killed him if the tribe hadn’t stopped it. It would be worse for Swan. She was a girl and Gordon hated her even more, if that were possible. Who knew what kind of humiliation and pain he would inflict on her.

They hurried through the overgrown golf course, followed the lights and the sound of music towards the house. They passed by Gordons’ grisly collection strapped to the fence by the clubhouse. The disembodied heads gnashed their teeth as they ran by. The tribe ignored them. The real threat was hidden inside the million-dollar mansion that was lit up bright. They were having a party and Swan was the guest of honor.

They didn’t pass any sentries as they came up the dark streets and as they neared the house Zero howled and charged past them all. He had picked up her scent.

37

Swan

Swan was crouched in the darkness with a chain wrapped around each arm and enough hanging free to lash out and break heads. She was waiting to ambush the first person that walked into the cell.

Misty stopped in the doorway and was silhouetted by the light coming in from outside.

“Swan?” she asked and juggled the box in her hand to flip on the switch.

Swan gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to bash the girls’ brains out, she wanted one of the boys. She wanted Gordon.

She gasped when she saw the girl crouched and ready to spring, her teeth bared in an animal snarl.

“What’s wrong? Move!” A man’s voice growled behind her.

“Nothing.” Misty said. “Stay back. You heard Gordon, nobody touches her. He doesn’t want her damaged anymore.”

She shoved the door closed with her foot before the half-drunk boys could see the feral girl.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Misty broke the silence.

“Can you really put an end to this?” She whispered.

Swan stood and should have looked comical in the flannel night shirt and dangling chains. She should have looked like a thirteen-year-old girl playing dress up in a bad Halloween costume but she didn’t. She looked vicious. She looked scary as hell the way her pitiless eyes glittered and she moved with animal grace.

“How many are there?” Swan growled “and what kind of weapons do they have?”

Misty stuttered her answer, the little girl scared her.

“Probably not, then.” Swan answered. “But I can guarandamntee if you get me close to Gordon, I can kill him. That’s all that matters, right? He’s the one calling the shots?”

Misty nodded.

“They’ve been talking all afternoon,” she said, still standing in the middle of the room with the box clutched in her hands. “They have a hundred different things they’re going to do and each one sounds more awful than the other. They’re going to teach you a lesson. They’re going to make sure you can never hurt any of them ever again.”

A tear tracked down Misty’s face as she continued.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if Gordon didn’t hate you so much. You get used to the sex stuff they make us do but the ideas they have…”

She broke off and hung her head.

“They’re all drunk and afraid of Gordon and I heard what he did to your friend, the crippled boy. They have worse planned for you.”

Swan nodded, fear and reality set into her young mind. This was her last chance. She’d fight them the best she could, but she knew in the end it wouldn’t matter. There were too many. She’d let them know they’d been in a fight, though.

“I’m not telling you this to scare you.” Misty continued. “I’m telling you so you know what’s coming. I’m telling you so you don’t surrender. You have to make them kill you, Swan. If you don’t, you’ll wish you had.”

She opened the box and pulled out the wedding dress, complete with veil and long train.

“This was mine. He wants you to wear it because he said tonight is your wedding night. Tonight he’s going to have his way with you and so will the rest of them.”

“Over my dead body.” Swan snarled, repulsed at the thought.

“Exactly.” Misty said and emptied the rest of the box. “It’s the only way. Gordon has the only gun, you have to make him shoot you.”

Swans’ leather pants, her armor, some makeup and lipstick and a pair of short knives tumbled out on the bed.

“I was supposed to burn your clothes,” she said, “but I thought you might want to wear them one last time.”

Swan looked at the wedding dress in disgust as she pulled on her pants but paused and fingered the soft silky gown.

“I have a plan,” she said. “Help me get into this thing.”

38

Fight

Swan looked at her reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that covered one wall. The dress was too big but with her armor and leathers on she filled it out. She cut off the train and slit the sides from floor to armpits, leaving only a few thin strands to hold it together. She smeared mascara on her fingers and wiped it across her nose, eyes and cheeks. Her smile was savage.

“They’ll know you helped me.” Swan said. “They’ll come for you.”

“I know.” Misty said then showed her the knife in her hand and the scars on her wrists. “I won’t fail this time.”

“You could fight.” Swan said. “You could help.”

Misty shook her head. Up until the world fell her whole life had been about hair styles, beauty magazines and nail salons. She’d never been athletic, had never played sports and had never struck anyone in anger. She didn’t know how to fight back.

“No, I can’t. I tried once. They laughed, plucked the knife out of my hand and slapped me for being silly. I just can’t. This is my way of escape, it’s what I want.”

Swan wanted to argue but the boys outside banged on the door.

“Let’s go!” one of them yelled. “Enough stalling, the Boss wants to see his bride.”

Misty pulled the veil over Swan’s painted face and smiled sadly before she opened the door. They grabbed Swan roughly and pulled her out of the bondage dungeon, past row after row of wine racks and finally into the little elevator. Bong snickered drunkenly when the doors closed and reached over to grab her breast.

“Your boss won’t like that.” She told him as she let the paring knives drop into her hands.

“What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” The other boy said and reached cruelly between her legs. “But it will hurt you.”

Their laughter turned to gargled splutters as the blades flashed across their throats. A crimson shower spurted out in arcs, covered her in hot blood and both boys grabbed their flayed open necks. Their eyes widened as she threw back the veil, revealed her blackened face and wide smile. The elevator came to a stop on the second floor, the doors slid open and the wedding march started playing over the speakers. Drunken cheers and lewd shouts came up from below, promises of pain and what they were going to do to her. Swan thought about running. She could rip off the dress and flee, find a window to climb out. She could escape but there were a half dozen boys dressed in ill-fitting suits waiting at the head of the stairs. Her bridal party. They would catch her. Gordon wanted maximum humiliation and maximum degradation for her. He knew it was supposed to be a special day, the happiest day of a young girls’ life and he was going to make it the worst.

They’re going to know they’ve been in a fight. She told herself. Get a few more before they get you.

She braced herself, stepped onto the landing and smiled at the silence and shocked faces when they saw her blood covered dress, her painted face and the knives in her hands. The balcony doors were open to let in the summer breezes and the sound of a howling wolf could be heard over the strands of the bridal song. Other wolves joined and they were close.

She tilted her head back, let out a howl and heard the answering howls of her pack. She smiled a wicked smile and ran for the stunned boys on the landing. She might walk away from this fight after all.

Swan charged into the older, bigger boys who threw up their hands in surprise and confusion. None of them had weapons, none of them wore armor. There was no need, she was supposed to be a scared, little girl. She sprang, landed and aimed for eyes. One boy went over the banister as they tried to scramble out of her way. She growled and snarled and her steel flashed and found skin with every thrust. She was a hell beast, moving fast, slashing faster then jumping to the next boy. A bleeding arm or slashed leg would stop them, make them tend to their wounds. She didn’t have time to kill them all, she could come back and do that in a minute. They tried to defend themselves, tried to attack but the blades spoke the language of pain, found soft flesh and laid it open. One of them tried to grab her, slam her to the floor but she jabbed the short, blade into his belly and pulled upward. He screamed as it split open his stomach and acid diluted whiskey poured out.

As the last boy turned to run, she jumped on his back, wrapped her legs around his waist and started machine-gunning the blades in and out as fast and as many times as she could. She opened wound after wound until her hands were slick with blood. He struggled to get away from the savage girl, flailed his arms and screeched in pain and fear. Halfway down the stairs he fell just as Gordon’s hand cannon started blowing away chunks of drywall and splintering the railing.

39

Party Crashers

Gordon emptied the gun but wasn’t sure if he hit her or not. He fumbled the cylinder open and tried to remember where he put the extra bullets.

“Don’t just stand there, get that bitch!” he screamed at the transfixed boys. The gang tore their eyes from the bloody body tumbling down the stairs and snatched up the weapons that were laying around. A few baseball bats, some knives and clubs. Gordon had the only gun; the rest were locked away.

The glass in the French doors exploded as Zero crashed through with the cubs right behind him. Their noses sought the familiar scent of the girl. Swan smiled when she saw them.

“Kill!” she screamed. “Kill them all.”

The wolves obeyed.

The double front doors exploded inward as Otis burst through, a wild, painted bear and a demon with a Warhammer on his back. He roared and it felt like the whole house shook to its foundation as he bellowed in rage. He tossed a couch aside, sent it flying across the room and stuffing filling the air.

Gordon’s gang broke and ran. They ignored his screams to attack and scattered as more animals poured into the living room. The wolves slid on the slick tile floors of the kitchen, their claws fighting for traction as their teeth found meat and bone.

The back door exploded off of its hinges and the mob of boys running for it tried to backpedal and find another escape. Two massive polar bears added their roars and challenges to the cacophony of chaos and the tattooed twins swung saw bladed axes at wild eyed drunks trying to slash at them with butcher knives. One of them slammed Analise off the polar bears back with a hockey stick, another threw a microwave at Tobias. The kitchen island splintered when Daisy crashed through it, the hanging rack of pots and pans went flying and added to the deafening noise. The microwave caught Tobias across the chest, knocked him out of the saddle but he landed on his feet. He let loose a primal scream and extended the axe to its full reach as he swung. It slashed across the boy’s midsection, the ragged saw blade’s teeth sliced deep through his chest, breaking ribs, cutting lungs and tearing loose long strands of flesh. He dropped the toaster he’d been ready to crush Analise’s head with and fell gasping for breath. The twins leaped over him and ran into the melee in the living room. Daisy and Popsicle snapped the baseball bat and ignored the desperate slashes of a hunting knife as their long claws and sharp teeth broke bones and ripped limbs from screaming bodies.

Vanessa flung her spear and it pinned a boy to the wall who was swinging a barbed wire bat at Donny’s back. She grabbed a chair as she ran through the splintered door, slammed it into the chest of a boy with a hockey stick and drove him backwards over a coffee table. Yewan pounced with claws and fangs and his shrieks of terror turned to gurgling, blood filled sobs. Harper’s morning star whistled as it whirled above her head and found target after target with its spiked ball. The triplets held back at the entrance like they were told, icepicks in hands and their foxes at their feet snarling warnings to anyone that came near.

The house was absolute chaos. The attack hit the gang so hard and so fast it broke their will in the first few seconds. How did they fight wild screaming children with painted faces and bears and wolves to battle with them? Roars and snarls and screeches of pain filled the air. Breaking dishes, breaking furniture and breaking bones. It was the sound of war. Gordon fumbled the bullets, managed to get some in the chambers but his trembling fingers dropped them as all around his army was slaughtered. He wanted to scream and run but there was nowhere to go. Kodiak battered Spike out of the way with his hammer, snapping an arm and pulverizing ribs. The boy was jerked off his feet by a half-grown wolf as he bounced off the wall. He fell and the others tore into him, savaged him like a rag doll.

Kodiak roared a battle cry and cocked the hammer back to end Gordon once and for all. He wanted his face to be the last thing the despicable scumbag ever saw. He swung but Gordon flipped the cylinder closed on the Smith & Wesson and squeezed the trigger. Jamie fell into him, the panther was slashing at his face and knocked Gordon’s aim off. The gun boomed and plaster exploded from the ceiling. He ignored the howling pair, aimed again and pulled the trigger. Harper sprang over an easy chair and swung her morning star at the boy with the gun. The spikes slammed into his shoulder dug deep into the bone and she jerked him off his feet. Kodiaks hammer whizzed past his face, narrowly missed splashing his brains all over the wall as he was pulled off balance. Gordon screamed, squeezed the trigger as he fell and a bullet tore through Kodiaks armor, skimmed a rib and buried itself in an upstairs hot water heater. Kodiak sucked in breath, hit the floor and rolled behind a broken couch. He kept moving forward. Attack, attack, attack was the only thing going through his mind. He ignored the burning in his side and pushed himself to his feet. They had the momentum, they were winning, they couldn’t let Gordon’s gang have a second to regroup and bring out more guns.

Harper had the morning stars chain wrapped around her arm and when Gordon fell, she stumbled over a body and was jerked off her feet. He rolled into her and before she could shove away, the hot barrel of the gun pressed against her cheek. He pulled her on top of him and held the hand cannon firm. She stopped fighting, afraid he’d pull the trigger, and held still. All around them the battle was dying down. Mostly because all his men were dying or dead.

You might live through this yet. His father told him. Stop struggling. Be calm, you have the upper hand now.

The roars of the bears became heavy snorts when they stopped ripping people apart. The snarls of the wolves become low growls when they had nothing left to kill. The panther stopped screaming when there was no more blood to spill. Kodiak held his hammer, watched Gordon’s beady eyes as they darted around the room and waited. Vanessa joined him, the spear in her fists still dripping blood. Gordon tried to make himself small under Harper, tried to shrink so they couldn’t see him but the gun buried in her face didn’t waver. His finger never left the trigger. He didn’t have to shout a threat, he didn’t have to yell I’ll blow her head off. They knew he would. One by one the animals quieted and sniffed or pawed at the dead as the children joined the circle around Gordon and Harper.

“Don’t hurt her, Gordon.” Kodiak said when the injured boys’ eyes finally rested on him. “We’ll let you go. We’ll trade your life for hers.”

“Damn right you will,” he said. “Drop your weapons. All of them.”

Gordon’s eyes danced madly. He loved the carnage. He reveled at the sight of the priceless paintings that were splashed with arterial spray and the shards of pottery from antique vases that littered the floor. He raged and rejoiced at the sight of his gang, dead and dying. So much blood, so much destruction! It was all because of him. He had caused it all. This was power! A voice in his head was screaming at him to pull the trigger. It urged him to paint the walls with Harper’s brains. To aim the gun at Swan and Kodiak. To blow their faces out of the backs of their heads. He had the power. He had the gun. It competed with the scratch, scratch, scratching sound that tried to drown out the new voice. It screamed in glee, it screamed in terror, it screamed from insanity. The voice that sounded like his old man harrumphed and silenced the others. Don’t be a fool. It said. You don’t have enough bullets to kill them all.

His eyes darted from kid to kid. They were fanned out around him, flanked by their stinking animals but one by one they laid down their arms. Spears, hammers, axes and knives. Even the little kid slid their bandoleers of icepicks over their heads and dropped them to the floor. God, he hated them. His old man’s voice told him he didn’t have any options. He couldn’t win this one. He needed to step away from the table, walk away from the opposition with his life and destroy them later.

“Pull your spike out of my shoulder,” he told Harper, and didn’t move the gun from her cheek as she worked it loose.

He sucked air between his teeth and scrunched his eyes tight at the pain.

“Now get up, slow and easy.” He growled.

“Don’t you brats get any smart ideas,” he said as they stood. “I’m only half a sneeze from blowing her away.”

He backed slowly away from the kids and the carnage, out the broken back doors and onto the patio. He had to think, had to get away from the smell of death and spilled guts. He needed fresh air. The children stepped over bodies and pieces of bodies. They tracked through the blood and even weaponless they frightened him. Painted faces and gore-soaked bodies advanced, even the smallest of them was splashed in blood and it dripped from her hands.

“Let her go and you can leave. We won’t stop you.” Kodiak said. “You have my word.”

“This is my house.” Gordon nearly screamed. “I’m not going anywhere. Your word is garbage, as soon as I turn my back, you’d sic your animals on me.”

He calmed himself and jerked Harper closer. “No. I’m staying right here. You’re leaving.”

They were unarmed and ten feet away, he was getting some of his confidence back. They couldn’t do anything; he had the power. He gave the orders.

“Fine.” Kodiak said “Give us Harper and we’ll leave.”

Gordon swung the gun towards the boy he hated so much. He could shoot him, he really could and then get the gun back on her before they charged him. They’d stop. They could talk some more and he’d do it again, this time Swan. He smiled at them.

“I make the rules here Mr. High and Mighty. Not you. Now get on your knees. Beg for her life if you want it so bad.”

When Kodiak hesitated, he whipped the gun around, slammed it viciously against her head and she cried out. A snort shattered the silence above them and Gordon looked up. Bert had been reaching his long neck over the fence to pull the tender leaves from one of the potted trees when he heard his mistress. He remembered the boy who tormented him and swung his head at him. He was hurting his human.

Gordon shrieked and threw up his hands to protect his face. Bert smashed into him, sent him flying and they all heard the crunch of bones. The gun flew out of his hand and he crashed into the patio table, tumbling it over. He moaned in agony, tried to get to his feet but fell over the umbrella. When he looked up again, spears were inches from his face and he froze, eyes wild and searching for his gun. Harper stroked Bert’s long jaw as he sniffed her, ran a sticky, wet tongue through her hair then went back to his leaves.

“What do we do with him?” Vanessa asked, her spear ready to thrust, her hands willing but her heart was hesitant. The enemy was beaten, broken and unarmed. It wasn’t an honorable kill.

Swan crouched to his level, stared into his frightened eyes.

“Let the wolves have him,” she whispered. “He was going to turn his dogs loose on me.”

Gordon cradled his broken arms and pushed backwards to get away from the bloody black faced girl.

“Make him walk the plank.” A voice came from behind them.

They whirled on the women picking their way through the destroyed house and cooling corpses. They all looked like they might throw up and worked hard not to look down and not to trip.

Zero growled, the cubs joined in and Yewan crouched to pounce.

“It’s okay.” Swan said as Misty and the other two joined them on the patio. “She helped me.”

Calming hands quieted the animals as they stared down at the boy who had caused them so much pain and heartache.

“What’s walking the plank mean?” Landon asked.

Misty pointed at the diving board and the pool half full of milling undead.

“No, you can’t.” Gordon said and tried to get to his feet. “You can’t, it’s not fair.”

Swan laughed and pulled the knives from her behind her back.

“I think it’s very fair,” she said, her voice bitter with hate. “I’ll gut you like a fish then toss you in, it doesn’t matter to me Gordy. Either way you take the walk.”

“Noooo,” he said, and tried to back away, but more sharp blades poked at him, Donny’s spear joined Vanessa’s and urged him to the edge.

The hungry voices from the pool started keening and reaching their arms skyward.

“You can’t do this,” he cried as he struggled up the steps and onto the bouncy board. “You can’t. It’s not right!”

“Tell that to Murray.” Kodiak said and two spears flew straight and true, both found their marks, punched through his chest and stuck a solid foot out of his back. Gordon coughed and toppled over.

Richard and his uncle were the first to reach him and tore into his flesh. The others joined in, pushing and jostling for position as Gordon tried to scream in horror. Harper pulled the triplets away, they had already seen too much. The rest of the tribe turned their backs, they didn’t need to see any more death either. Maybe this would be the last one.

Misty, Sasha and Trish watched until the end. Until he reanimated, staggered to his feet and turned a single hungry eye upwards. The children examined their animals for cuts and scrapes and hugged them tight, praised them for being so good. Misty hit the button and the cover closed slowly over the keening faces, locking them in darkness forever. Tobias leaned against Popsicle and idly stroked the big bear behind the ears where he liked it but his eyes were on the heavily tattooed and pierced Sasha. He thought he might be in love. Analise elbowed him in the ribs but he ignored her. He couldn’t look away from the beautifully inked woman.

40

Kodiak and Misty

Kodiak, Donny and Tobias went through the house as the girls talked to the older women and introduced them to the companions. The found blood trails and footprints leading away from the killing ground. Some went upstairs, some went out of the front. Some of the gang had survived.

“Should we go after them?” Tobias asked but there wasn’t any eagerness in the question. Now that the battle rage was over, he was sick of the bloodshed.

“No.” Kodiak said. “I’m done with them; they won’t come after us again.”

They joined the others on the patio and tried to imagine the horror the poor girls had been through. The scars from cuts, cigarette burns and the lost looks in their eyes told him all he needed to know about their ordeal. Each of them bore fresh bruises, many of them over old bruises that were yellowed.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

Tasha shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been made clear we can’t come with you.”

She cut her eyes to Swan who had an unforgiving look on her face. She didn’t have a whole lot of sympathy for the women. They hadn’t been chained up. They hadn’t been in a cage. They could have escaped at any time. “This place has fences, it keeps the zombies out.” Misty said “There’s nowhere else for us to go, I guess we’ll stay here.”

Harper stepped up beside Kodiak. “That’s not true. We’ve learned of a place. A safe place down south, a town, fortified and filled with good people. They have electricity and food and room for all of you. There are empty homes and jobs. It’s a fresh start and everyone is welcome.”

Trish and Sasha came in closer. “Really? There is really a place like that? Where? How far is it?”

“Not here.” Misty interrupted and gestured at the pool and the house full of bodies. “Let’s go someplace else.”

She headed for a house at the end of the block and the strange entourage followed her. She fished a key from underneath the doormat, unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. The children and most of the animals followed the older girls inside. Bert busied himself grazing the ornamental trees in the yard as Ziggy started snatching bugs out of the air that were attracted to the light coming from the house. It wasn’t lost on Kodiak that they hadn’t wanted to check on the dead or the injured. They hadn’t wanted to help any of the wounded in Gordon’s gang.

“Gordon kept this house a secret from the others. It’s fully stocked with food and supplies. He brought me here to…” she paused and didn’t finish the sentence.

“Anyway, this was part of his escape plan if things went bad. He was paranoid the others would turn on him, that’s why he didn’t let them carry guns. There’s a Hummer in the garage, loaded down with food and weapons and about a dozen gas cans on the roof rack. He’s been here a lot lately and he made me come most of the time. I had to cook and clean and… things. There’s one of those old timey radios in the basement, I think he called it a Ham, and I overheard him talking to some people on it a couple of times. They were from up north somewhere. He was trying to join up with them but he had to give them something first. They wanted supplies and people to work for them. I think he was going to give them you and probably us, too.”

“Is there a first aid kit here? Sasha interrupted.

“In the Hummer. I’ll get it.” Misty said and hurried off.

“Let me see to your wounds.” Sasha said. “I’ve learned a lot about nursing, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“So have we.” Swan said coldly and took the kit from Misty. “Mostly because of your gang.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“We weren’t part of them.” Trish said. “Maybe at first, in the beginning, but not since Gordon’s been in charge. It’s been hell.”

“Then why didn’t you leave?” Swan asked dismissively. “Why stay?”

“We couldn’t.” Misty said quietly. “We’re not like you. We’re not warriors.”

“Some tried.” Sasha said. “We don’t know if they made it or not. It’s dangerous beyond the gates.”

“Look, would you guys like something to eat?” Trish asked, changing the uncomfortable subject. “There’s some frozen beef in the freezer. I could make spaghetti.”

The cloud of mistrust lifted for most of them and they answered with a chorus of enthusiastic yeses.

Misty looked at the children and the animals spread around the large room. They were covered in blood and gore and stunk.

“There’s a pool out back if you want to clean your friends up a little. Maybe let them take a swim? Get some of the gunk out of their fur?” she asked hopefully.

“Also, there’s water if any of you would like a shower,” she said. “There’s four bathrooms in this house with body wash, shampoo and conditioner in all of them. The big garden tub in the master bath has a Jacuzzi. How long has it been since you’ve had a hot bath? You need to get cleaned up before you get patched up.”

Vanessa, Analise and Harper looked like they could kiss her and ran for the stairs.

“She’s right.” Harper yelled over her shoulder at the boys. “After you get your animals cleaned up, get all that dirt off of you before you get infected!”

“Dibs on the Jacuzzi,” she hollered up the stairs and she was gone.

“I need to get this smelly strawberry crap out of my hair,” Swan said, acting like she wasn’t all that excited about a hot shower, but she hurried up the stairs, too. She was sticky with blood.

Landon, Clara and Caleb had found some coloring books and crayons as they ran from room to room and were trying to color while the capuchins chattered, fought over the crayons and tried to eat them. Their foxes were still exploring, poking their sensitive nose into corners and hunting the mouse that had left his scent behind.

Tobias sniffed his arm pit, shrugged and relaxed into the deep comfort of the plush sofa. He wasn’t that dirty, he’d clean up in the pool with Popsicle.

Sasha sat at the other end of the sofa and looked over at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Tobias was tongue tied and couldn’t respond. She was actually talking to him! He tried to be cool and casual, but his pale skin burned red with embarrassment. He nodded, like vanquishing his enemies and freeing their slaves was no big deal. Just another day at the office, then turned to study the artwork over the fireplace as though a painting of flowers in a vase was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Who did your tattoos?” she asked, as she took in the ink on the wild boy.

“We did them ourselves.” Tobias said proudly. He flexed his skinny arm to make the Nordic runes stand out.

They were crude, some of them were a little crooked, but Sasha complimented them anyway. She was free for the first time since the end of the world and this savage kid was part of the reason why.

“They aren’t bad. I could get my kit and clean them up some for you if you like.” she offered with a smile.

Tobias studied the ink that covered nearly every inch of her exposed skin. It was flawless. The lines clean and sharp. The colors vibrant and alive. The serpent on her forearm looked as it could strike at any time. Nothing like the crude ink he and his sister had done.

“Did you do those?” he asked.

She nodded. “Some of them, yes.” She pointed to the ones she had inked on herself with pride.

“Ok, but you’ll have to do my sister too,” he said.

“I’d be happy to. I’ll just head over to the old place and get my stuff,” she answered.

“I’ll go with you!” He jumped to his feet. “Just for security and all, since you aren’t armed.”

The older girl smiled at him and led him from the house. Tobias followed her. Admired the sway of her hips and felt mighty satisfied with his life at that moment.

She turned to catch him staring at her backside and winked. “You’re gonna need a bath first, hero. You smell like a wet bear that’s been rolling around in road kill.”

Misty tried to clean Kodiaks and Donny’s cuts and scrapes with peroxide as they waited for the girls to finish their baths and showers. They were taking forever. They sat at the dining room table and stomachs rumbled at the smells coming from the kitchen. The women needed to get to a safe place because they wouldn’t last much longer in Smiths Landing. If the undead kept coming they’d overwhelm the fences and there were already too many to kill.

“Gordon burned down our home.” Kodiak said. “He killed Murray. Our crops and livestock are all gone. We worked all year chopping wood and it burnt up with the house. There’s nothing here for us now and we don’t want to spend another winter up north. We’re going to Lakota, the walled city in Oklahoma. It’s a long way but we can make it.”

Donny nodded in agreement.

“Do you think it’s real?” Misty asked wistfully. “It sounds too good to be true.”

“It’s real.” Kodiak said. “I trust the man who told us about it.”

“I’m in.” Trish said from the kitchen. “I don’t want to stay here. We can all go together.”

Kodiak shook his head. “You have a heavy vehicle and plenty of fuel. We’ll be traveling by foot with the animals. Even if you could drive a semi-truck, I don’t know how we’d move Bert, he’s too tall.”

“But you can’t walk that far!” Misty exclaimed, slapped her hands on the table and leaned forward in her chair. “That’s halfway across the country! What would you eat? What about the zombies? It’s too dangerous! You’re just kids! My God, how old are you, fifteen? Who would take care of you?”

Kodiak stared at her. Grownups never thought kids could do anything but he kept his silence, he’d learned a thing or two from Donny. He let her think about her reaction. It would have been right a year ago. It would have been unthinkable. This wasn’t a year ago, though. She looked back and forth between the two children. Their faces were still painted and drying blood was splashed on their battered armor. They were scarred and both had fresh wounds they ignored. Her eyes filled and threatened to spill over as she really saw who they were for the first time.

Child warriors.

Savage, feral children who had just ran nonstop for thirty miles, had killed a dozen men and injured dozens more to help their friend. They commanded thousand-pound beasts and rode them into battle. Wolves and panthers obeyed them and protected them. They weren’t little kids. They might look like it but they weren’t. They were more grownup than most grownups. Her shoulders slumped and she sat back. The boy was right. They could take care of themselves.

“We can teach you a few things about avoiding the undead,” he continued “but if you stay to the backroads and take turns driving, you won’t have to stop except to refuel.”

“What about the little ones?” Misty asked. “We can take them. You have to agree, they’re too young.”

“She’s right.” Trish said from the kitchen when Kodiak hesitated. “You know she is. We’ll take care of them.”

Landon and Caleb were giggling and chasing after Mr. Ringtail. Elmo clung to his back and chittered happily until the fox ran under the coffee table and knocked him off.

They watched them play and wished they could put the whole episode behind them as easily.

“Maybe.” Kodiak said. “We’ll have to talk about it.”

The girls started trickling back down stairs. Harper was the first, her skin glistened and her hair shone after the first real bath any of them had since the world ended. She had on boys’ pajamas a size too big, but he’d never seen her more radiant. She came over and sat by Kodiak. He was suddenly self-conscious about the blood and dirt that covered his own body in front of the freshly scrubbed beauty beside him. Her hair was down and hung limply, water still dripping from the ends and she smelled like cucumbers and strawberries. She took his hand under the table and held it in her own.

Swan bounced down the stairs three at a time and she was almost unrecognizable. She immediately went to her wolves and dropped to her knees, ruffling their fur. It was comical to watch them tilt their heads from side to side as they sniffed her hair, almost as if they didn’t recognize her without a layer of dirt, grime and war paint covering her.

The rest of the girls returned from their baths and started ragging the boys on being so smelly. Analise pushed Tobias out of the way and sat down in front of Sasha when she saw her holding the tattoo gun. “Go bathe and use soap. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“I already told him that, but you know how boys are,” Sasha said with a laugh, and began the process of sharpening the lines and edges of the crude ink that covered the girl’s body. Analise didn’t flinch as the needles pierced her skin. She stuck her tongue at her brother. “Go!”

“You three with me!” Vanessa shouted at the triplets. “Bubble bath in the jacuzzi. Chop chop, right now.”

The food was ready by the time they were all cleaned up. The three women seated the children around the big table and huge bowls of spaghetti were brought out. They were grateful for what the kids had done. Each of them knew they would have died or eventually ended up in the pool if Gordon had won.

The tribe gorged themselves on the meal. Trish kept cooking until they were stuffed and made sure their companions each had a bowlful. She asked about Ziggy and Bert, she had no idea what to prepare for them. Harper and Vanessa assured her the two were just fine as long as the bug and leaf supply held out.

Eyes grew heavy and bellies were full. The adrenaline had worn off and fatigued muscles ached for rest. For the three women, it was the first night of hope they’d known in almost a year. Things were good and they were going to get better.

For the wild children, it was the first night they didn’t have to worry about Gordon anymore. In their fashion, the children drug mattresses and cushions from the bedrooms to the living room and nestled up with their animals. They weren’t too concerned about Gordon’s goons trying anything. Many of them had probably died from their wounds. The tribe hoped so, anyway. Donny and Yewan took the first watch and kept an eye on the fences. Even though this place felt safe, one of them would stand guard while the others slept. It was their way and it had kept them alive all this time.

41

Goodbye

They awakened the next morning to the smell of reconstituted powdered eggs, pancakes and warm maple syrup. Swan was the first to the table. She had last watch and was back in her armor and war paint. She felt naked without it and wanted to make sure any of Gordon’s gang hiding in the shadows knew who she was.

The others drifted in, wiped the sleep from their eyes and feasted on the breakfast Trish had prepared. Their clothes were clean, actually washed in a machine and dried with softening sheets. Otis sniffed at the twins and sneezed.

“Sorry, there wasn’t any bacon or sausage in the freezer to go with it,” she said. “There hasn’t been any since the outbreak.”

They didn’t know how lucky they were that it had all been eaten. The infected breakfast meats were why every time the residents of Smith’s Landing thought they had the virus eradicated inside the walls, another family would turn.

The day was spent showing the women defensive moves with weapons scrounged from the slaughterhouse. They couldn’t get in the gun safe, the secret combination died with Gordon. When Kodiak and Donny entered the big house, they surprised some of the older boys scavenging through the kitchen. They were ragged and unarmed, badly bandaged wounds seeped blood and their eyes grew wide when they saw the children. They backed slowly for the door and ran as soon as they cleared it.

Storage sheds, basements and closets were ransacked and a collection of shin guards and pads became improvised armor for the women. They should be able to drive straight through, only stopping to top off the fuel, but Kodiak wanted them prepared for anything that might happen on the road.

The day went by too fast and after another meal of steak and lobster from Gordy’s private stores, the group sat scattered around the living room and shared hopes of what Lakota would be like. They’d put the battle behind them, it was the past and they were focused on the future. No one would shed a tear over Gordon or his gang.

Swan volunteered for first guard watch and Kodiak was annoyed when he woke sometime in the middle of the night. She hadn’t got him up for his shift. He threw his clothes and armor on then stormed out, he was going to give her a reaming if she fell asleep. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was? There were zombies at the gate and Gordon’s men were still out there. They were beaten but they could still be dangerous. He stomped out to the end of the driveway when he didn’t spot her snoring away on the porch and glared in both directions. The clouds were heavy as they moved across the night sky, the moon was hidden and the stars were spotty.

“Looking for me?” Swan asked and a black figure stepped out of even blacker shadows, her wolves silent beside her.

“You didn’t wake me up,” he said.

“Wasn’t sleepy.” She answered curtly. “Go on back inside. I’ll let you know when I am.”

“Okay,” he said. He knew not to argue when she was in one of her moods. “But wake me up as soon as you get tired. There’s still a few of Gordon’s men hiding out.”

“Not as many as before,” she said under her breath when he was out of earshot.

She wiped the gore from her tomahawks and reached down to scratch Zero behind the ears. His muzzle was also wet with blood.

The next morning there were arguments, tears and tantrums. The triplets didn’t want to go with the women, they wanted to stay with the tribe. They finally agreed when Kodiak told them he really didn’t want them to go, the tribe could really, really use their help but what about Mr. Ringtail and the rest of the foxes? They couldn’t keep up. Their poor little paws couldn’t take it. They had to ride in the car and he needed the triplets to keep them safe.

Harper hunkered down to their level.

“The ladies are nice, but can they be trusted to take care of your foxes or Murray’s monkeys?” she asked. “They don’t even know what to feed them. What if Mr. Ringtail or Kuma Lisa run off and get lost? You have to take care of them, they need you.”

The triplets reluctantly agreed and started gathering fox food to add to the already loaded Hummer.

“I’m gonna miss those little boogers.” Tobias said. “It’ll be months before we see them again.”

“They deserve a chance at a normal life.” Kodiak replied. “They need to be with other kids.”

He didn’t need to add that their journey would be a lot more dangerous than the car ride.

The Hummer was pretty full with three women, three children, three foxes and three monkeys but they would be okay. They could be there in a few days. They went out of the back gate and left it standing wide open. The little kids waved until they were out of sight, then the tribe turned south, back towards the zoo.

42

Lakota Bound

They stood in the shade of the tree where Murray rested. It was a peaceful spot that overlooked the river and fresh flowers were laid on the cairn. They had spent the morning at the grave, reminiscing and telling stories while Donny worked with the chisels to carve a headstone. It was simple but it said a lot.

Murray Sanders

Brother

Friend

Hero

“We just wanted you to know that Gordon has been dealt with and he’ll never hurt anyone again.” Harper said. “You’d be proud of us, we saved some girls and they’re on their way to Lakota with the triplets. Elmo, China and Ernie, too. We’re going, so this is the last time we’ll be stopping by. We miss you every minute of every day and we’ll never forget you.”

Swan and her wolves were the last ones to leave the grave as the procession started the long walk to Lakota. When they faded out of sight, she pulled Gordon’s bloody scalp from the inside of her hyena cloak and dropped it next to the flowers.

“Proof,” she said. “That bastard died hard. Broken, bleeding and crying.”

She didn’t have to hurry to catch up, the bears were slow. They left the gate open for Millie, she could follow if she wanted. If not, the old rhino would be fine. Like the children, she could take care of herself.

Epilogue

Diablo sniffed at the bloody piece of hair on the stones by the river. It had his brothers’ smell on it. It also had hers, the human child with the steel claws who had taken Demonio from him. The wolf girl who had slashed his shoulder, torn his mouth and split his tongue. Pus oozed from the infection in the roof of his mouth where her tomahawk had cut him. He raised his fanged maw and cried out his barking hyena laugh. The pack of followers answered with chitters, grunts, howls and hisses.

The child would be easy to follow, her scent was strong.

Author’s Note

The Feral Children will return in The Feral Children 3: Nomads

Author’s Note from Wesley:

If you are still reading, then you’re probably mad about Murray and Sage and glad that Bert and Gordon finally resolved their differences. I hope you are as excited as I am about what comes next for our heroes. Don’t worry, we’ll be working hard on the next story very soon!

There’s a lot of miles left to travel on the Zombie Road and I’m thrilled to be here. From a last minute submission in the Long Haul Anthology, to having my characters from that story incorporated into the main storyline, writing the fan club Christmas story, having a shady Colonel named after me and finally, being asked to co-author the Feral Children, it’s been one wild ride. That brings me to the people who made it happen.

A huge heartfelt thank you to David. He’s really one of the best people on this planet and I’m better for knowing him. He truly deserves all the success he has achieved, and I wish him a whole lot more of it. I’ll never forget sitting on my back porch with him and telling him that this kid had an ostrich and this one had a giraffe. He looked at me said, “An ostrich and a giraffe? Why not, let’s go with it and see what happens.” Thank you, buddy, you’re the best.

I’d like to give a shout out to my own band of Feral Children. Wynema, Ryan, Garrett, DJ, Landon and my granddaughter, Harper. The personalities of the Feral Children come straight from them and all of the friends they’ve dragged in and out of our home over the years. I love you all!

Thank you Dennis and Tina German for showing me that family is so much more than blood. I love you guys!

Thank you to all the people behind the scenes that make these stories better. The beta readers who help smooth out the rough edges. Thank you to our very own Elvira, Alina Giuchici. She’s a tireless promoter and supporter and a talented fashion designer in her own right. Thanks to the incomparable Eric A. Shelman, seriously this guy could read the multiplication tables and keep you listening until way past bedtime.

Lastly, but most importantly, my beautiful wife, Shannon. I wouldn’t be doing this without the love and unwavering support of this real-life Wonder Woman. She wrangles a huge family of teens to toddlers, aging parents and me. Thanks baby for all you do and I’m sorry for all those nights you tried to sleep with the glare of a laptop screen in your eyes. I love you, Sunshine.

To all of you younger readers out there, pay attention to this next part. Parts of this book are violent and some of them are uncomfortable to read, much less write, but it’s make believe. No kids or animals were harmed in the writing of this book. Unfortunately, the issues the characters face are real. Mental, physical and sexual abuse are real. As long as there’s one person out there living one or all of these nightmares, that’s one too many. Please, if you are in one of these situations or know someone who is, reach out for help. Go to a teacher, coach, pastor or someone you trust. Being a victim isn’t a crime, you’ve done nothing wrong. No one should have to live this way and it saddens to me see so many young people taking their own lives because they were bullied or abused and saw no other way out. You’ll probably never get to ride on the back of a 1200-pound bear and slay zombies, but you can take inspiration from Kodiak and the tribe and take a stand.

November 21, 2019

Wesley R. Norris

Author’s Note

Authors note from Simpson:

What a ride and let’s hope the worst is over. The tribe have a long journey ahead of them but hey, after all they’ve been through, it should be a pretty easy jaunt across the country.

A leisurely stroll in the park.

That nasty old hyena will probably give up and crawl off to die somewhere. Swan and Donny are pretty handy at hunting so they shouldn’t go hungry. Besides, there are plenty of empty houses with food. They can go into them, fix a nice meal, have a good nights sleep. They might even pass a shopping mall and decide to explore. What could possibly go wrong?

We hope you enjoyed the story and will join us in the next book for the last part of the tale as they make their way to Lakota.

If you liked it, please be so kind as to leave a review. We greatly appreciate it and it helps others find the books so they can enjoy them too.

There is a David Simpson Fan Club on Facebook if you’d like to join us for all the latest information on releases and other things. If you have any questions or comments, that’s the best place for them and I’m on there everyday.

There’s also the obligatory website where everything I’ve ever published is listed, most of it still available. Davidasimpson.com

Have fun, live life and don’t get hit by a bus.

David A. Simpson

7 December, 2019

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The Feral Children 3

Savages

Book three in the Feral Children series

This is a work of fiction by

David A. Simpson

And

Wesley R. Norris

ISBN: 9798688026283

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No portion of this text may be copied or duplicated without author or publisher written permission, with the exception of use in reviews

Copyright 2020 David A. Simpson

All rights reserved

Prologue

September

12 Months After the Outbreak

The rickety livestock building stank of manure and hay. It could be described as sickly sweet and disgusting all at the same time. Flies buzzed in and out of the holes that were rusted through the metal siding. Hay rotted in the empty stalls that ran along one of the walls. Most of the bulbs in the high overhead lights had burned out and either no one cared enough to change them or didn’t think the effort was worth it. It was a place for cattle to huddle out of the weather before they were slaughtered to feed the town. The mournful lowing of cows expressing their displeasure at not being fed yet interrupted the stillness and silence.

Kodiak needed a moment to think. Time to get his mind off his own worries and deal with the imminent threat facing the tribe. Staring at Otis wasn’t helping him or Otis. There was nothing more he could do for his friend. Everything that could be done had already been tried. Dwelling on their situation just made him angrier. He tried to calm himself. It wasn’t working. This was supposed to be a haven. It was supposed to be a place far removed from the struggles of being on the road. It was supposed to be safe and secure from the undead, the Savage Ones and the malicious people that roamed the desolate countryside. Not all of the people here could be evil, but the few they met had been.

The other members of his tribe looked at him expectantly. He’d led them here; they were counting on him to lead them out. All but Swan. She didn’t like being held against her will and yearned for a fight. The events at Smith’s Landing were too fresh, too raw for her. She’d been restrained, confined, beaten and almost forced into a mockery of the marriage ceremony. Gordon had promised to shame her, break her spirit and then toss her to his gang to do with as they pleased. She’d gone feral on them, though. The tribe had helped her, had come through at the last moment but they had shown mercy to those that fled the battle. She hadn’t though, and her blades had ensured they would never hurt anyone again. She wasn’t opposed to the idea of letting them speak their whispered language of pain again. She paced restlessly along the walls, her pack of wolves tight on her heels, ready to spring into action at her command. She held a tomahawk in each hand as she looked for weakness in the metal siding, anything that would give them a way out. A spot she could lever or pry open far enough to squeeze through before unleashing steel and fury on the man who guarded them. The building was old but it had been built to hold in thousand-pound cows. It was solid and it would take a lot of noise and effort to break out. It would take time. Hack and slash without regard for the consequences was her way. The way of the wolf. Fight without fear, without remorse and without a conscience. A wolf didn’t concern itself with the opinions or lives of sheep. She was terrible and savage when she went over the edge and she was almost at that point. Getting out of the building was the least of her worries, though. She knew they could but the men with the guns and the high walls were the real danger. They couldn’t cover the ground and get past them without being cut down. She didn’t fear for herself, she feared for her tribe.

Kodiak walked away from the others. He avoided their eyes. They trusted him and he trusted them as well. They had survived from day one with only each other to rely on. They would survive this too, he resolved. He didn’t have a solution. Not yet. He mentally kicked himself for being so desperate, but there had been no other choice at the time but to come here.

He lowered himself, back to the wall, mindful of the cow manure that dotted the floor of the stock barn. The few overhead lights that still worked didn’t penetrate the darkness that shrouded him. It called to him. The corner was dark and lonely except for a few spiders waiting patiently in their webs for an unsuspecting fly. He sympathized with the fly. Snared in a web and trapped because of a bad choice. Like him and the tribe.

He dug the old, tarnished Coast Guard Zippo out of his pocket. It had been Derek’s lighter, now it was all that was left of him. The easy-going zookeeper had been the closest thing to a dad he’d had for years and he missed him. He missed the talks and life lessons shared on the banks of the Mississippi River. He missed the easy way Derek had with the animals and the way he’d always treated his mother with kindness and respect. He rubbed his fingers over the raised emblem as memories of all the tribe had endured flashed through his mind.

Flick. He watched the flame dance from the Zippo.

Snap. He closed the lid and extinguished the yellow blue fire.

Flick. He watched the shadows dance on the barn wall. Like ghosts they came and went with the flicker of the flame.

Snap.

Flick. He watched as Derek went down under the jaws of the hyenas the day the world went to hell.

Snap.

Flick. He thought about his mom using her last breath to give them a chance to survive.

Snap.

Flick. He remembered the pain of Gordon pounding his fists into his ribs and stomach while he was helpless at the mercy of the psychotic boy and the thugs that followed him.

Snap.

Flick. Bodies were shredded by the fury of the tribe. Blood stained the snow crimson as they fought Gordon’s gang at the church while the winter wind howled its fury. They would have killed them all but the screams of a burning girl drowned out the sounds of battle and snarls of animals as her flesh melted away.

Snap.

Flick. Murray waved goodbye from the porch for the last time.

Snap.

Flick. The awful sound of dirt striking the charred corpse and the nauseating stench of burnt flesh that no number of fresh flowers could hide as they laid Murray to rest on the banks of the Mississippi.

Snap.

Flick. Gordon begging and pleading like the coward he was before he fell into the pool of undead as justice was finally served.

Snap.

Flick. Otis roaring as the bullet ripped into his flesh.

Snap.

Flick. His tribe herded and caged like animals.

Snap.

He’d made a mistake coming here. He’d made a mistake listening to the smooth talk of the man who said he only wanted to help. Lies and more lies. His faith in the human species was fading. Maybe the world would be a better place when mankind was gone. Maybe whatever species came after wouldn’t be hell-bent on destroying what others built.

He heard voices outside the walls. It was the men who’d caged them. He couldn’t make out the words, just the sound of laughter. It made him angrier. He slid the old Zippo into his pocket and grasped his war hammer. He listened to the clank of the chain being removed from the door. He looked at Otis, motionless on the ground, and then tore his gaze away from his companion. The time for regret had passed. Now was a time for action.

He locked eyes with his brothers and sisters as weapons were readied. He hefted his war hammer high above his head; they nodded in agreement and raised their own weapons. He loosened his knife in its sheath so it would come out faster. When the blood spilling started, he wanted to be sure that he drew every drop that was due him.

When the townspeople lured them in with their empty promises, they hadn’t even tried to take his weapons from him or the others. They thought because the tribe was made up of kids that they were weak. They thought their guns made them superior. They thought because they were bigger, older and there were more of them they had the advantage. Others had thought that too. Others had been wrong. Others were dead.

He didn’t want to spill any more blood, but he would. He didn’t want any more ghosts following him around, but he would welcome their company if that’s what it took to protect his tribe.

The tribe spread out as sunlight started streaming in through the opening and silhouetted the two figures standing in the doorway. Animals and children melted into the shadows, ready to hack, slash and tear anyone who would do them harm. Except Otis. Otis lay where he’d fallen. His heart broke as he watched him from the corner of his eyes. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the haft of the hammer and readied himself. Rage coursed through him as he prepared himself for battle.

He tore his gaze from the fallen bear and brushed the long hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He growled low and deep as the two figures entered the barn.

1

The Road to Lakota

11 Months After the Outbreak

The plod of hooves and the tinkle of a cowbell were the only sounds on the deserted stretch of two-lane blacktop that ran through the lonely southeastern corner of Iowa. A few dried and weathered cornstalks still held out against the ravages of time. They stood crooked and bowed from the winds in the seemingly never-ending fields on both sides of the road where corn was once king. Miles and miles of the same view were behind them. Empty, desolate, and forgotten. Weeks gone from the home they had made. Weeks gone since they laid Murray in a hole on the banks of the river. Weeks gone from the wrath they had rained down on Gordon and his gang of thugs.

Power lines sagged to the ground where one storm or another had snapped off the poles. They lay across the road in places, but were more a nuisance than anything. Electricity had stopped moving through them more than a year ago and probably never would again. The dead didn’t need power. There was nothing to see except more of the same. It was miles and miles of nothing occasionally broken by an empty house and barns with flapping roofs. Things were falling apart fast with no one to make the small repairs. A corner of a roof sprung loose from a summer storm went unchecked and the wind worried at it relentlessly. Nails worked loose, tin blew free, rains poured in.

The road was desolate. The interstates were packed with cars in many places, but the back roads the tribe traveled had been ignored by the people fleeing the waves of undead. Mother Nature was slowly eroding all signs that man had once tilled the fertile soil. Prairie grass swayed in the breeze as far as the eye could see. Day by day it encroached on the roadway. Sprigs of grass clawed their way up through the cracks in the asphalt, driving them further apart. Rain washed down through the cracks and eroded the soil underneath the road bed. The painted lines down the center were so faded they could barely be seen. In a few more years the road would be lost, covered in grasses.

Farm equipment sat rusting in the fields or in barn yards. The most excitement they’d had was the zombie farmer trapped in the cab of a tractor just off the road. It had banged and keened against the glass when they passed. They stopped and watched out of curiosity. A summer spent in the oven like atmosphere of the tractor cab hadn’t been kind to the zombie. Its flesh fell off in chunks as it railed against the glass that kept it in. They’d made morbid jokes about how it must smell in there and Tobias said it was the equivalent of Crockpot Zombie. They left him in his prison and the sounds of mushy hands slapping on glass faded behind them.

Endless miles of barbed wire rusted and fence posts rotted. Tractors and combines sat in fields wasting away with harrows and plows hooked behind them that rested on flat tires and provided sanctuary for rabbits and field mice. Without man and his machines to beat it back the grass dominated the landscape like it once did when the Native Americans called this place home. Kodiak liked to imagine that someday maybe buffalo would once more roam these grasslands and tribes of nomads would follow them like they did before the land was settled, taking only what they needed to survive. That was the way it should be, order out of chaos.

Fresh meat had been scarce. They saw plenty of animals, but they were always far away, just specks on the horizon. The terrain was too open and neither Donny nor Swan knew how to hunt it. They’d honed their deadly skills in the forests surrounding Piedmont, not on the open plains. They watched hungrily as pheasant and quail flushed from the tall grass. Many times they’d seen deer or antelope dart from the grassy plains to disappear out of sight. Too far away for the deadly accuracy of Donny’s spear or an arrow from Swan’s bow. Too far away for even the wolves or panther to have a chance of catching them. It was hard to sneak up on prey that could smell and hear you coming for miles. It was impossible to spot an animal that was perfectly camouflaged in the tall grass. They did find a snake now and then but for the most part it was tough and tasteless. Still, it was meat, so they ate it when there was nothing else. Stomachs growled and children grumbled about the meager rations they had left. Backpacks and saddlebags hung flat and almost empty.

Hopes had been high when they spotted the hundreds of rail cars sitting idle on their tracks. Disappointment took its place when they discovered the cars were full of coal once destined for power plants and bug riddled grain that was fermented and rotten. Dreams of cases of canned goods and clothing that wasn’t worn and tattered from the miles and elements faded. The tribe pressed on. There was nothing behind them so they didn’t waste time worrying about what they didn’t find and refocused their efforts on what might be ahead.

They’d lived fairly good in the security of Piedmont Animal Sanctuary but those days were gone. Being burned out of their home and the murder of Murray erased any desire to try and rebuild. The ruins of the house would always be a painful reminder for all of them. The stories of Lakota drew them like a moth to the flame. The promise of hope and a chance to grow up without looking over their shoulders drew them like a magnet. Landon, Clara, and Caleb were already there thanks to the girls they had rescued from Gordon.

The tribe had loaded up with supplies from the food warehouse in Putnam but most of it was long gone. The bears, the wolves and the panther ate a lot and even with careful rationing, there wasn’t enough. They thought it would be easy to scavenge supplies on the road but it hadn’t been. Most of the farmhouses didn’t have cellars full of home canned goods. They had cupboards with a few weeks’ worth of groceries. One of the bears could eat everything in the house and still be hungry. They thought they could hunt for game but once the woodlands turned to prairie, the biggest thing they’d caught was a rabbit. Now it was a day to day struggle to keep food in their bellies.

Harpers giraffe grazed the grass on the shoulders of the road and Vanessa’s ostrich sought out seeds or insects to fill her belly. The carnivores that traveled with the tribe weren’t as lucky. There had been no fresh meat for them to feast on. They could go for days or even weeks without eating, relying on their fat stores to carry them through to the next meal, but even the mightiest of beasts had their limits and everyone was almost at theirs. The few rabbits and mice they managed to catch were just enough to leave them wanting more.

Kodiak swayed in his saddle atop Otis, the twelve-hundred-pound Grizzly bear that was his companion and most loyal friend. He was nearly asleep. He tried to shake off the tiredness, the fatigue of endless hours of travel through a deserted country where everything looked the same. He needed to be alert for signs of danger, but it was all he could do just to sit in the saddle. The tall grass that surrounded them could hold thousands of the undead or allow the Savage Ones perfect cover to attack them from downwind.

Fitful snatches of nightmares woke him sometimes in a cold sweat. More than once, images of Gordon’s zombified face pulled him from sleep as its jagged teeth lunged for him. Scenes of broken bones, shattered skulls, splayed open bellies and blood running like a river haunted him. There was always so much blood.

The weapons the tribe used were for killing up close. Sharp and pointy or blunt and heavy. They were silent and deadly. Unlike a bullet fired from a distance, you got to see the look of shock in your enemy’s eyes as you thrust your weapon into their bodies. You felt the suction of the wound on the blade when you ripped it free and smelled the coppery tang of blood in the air or tasted the spray of arterial blood on your tongue. You felt the bones collapse under the force of a war hammer or Morningstar and if you stopped to watch you saw the light fade from their eyes. It was harsh and brutal, but it was the only way to stay alive. Fight for what you have and what you love or watch it be destroyed. What their animals did was worse. Arms or legs were torn free, stomachs were ripped open and long coils of gray poured out. It was nothing like the carnage he’d seen on TV or video games. Not at all.

There was much death in their wake and it troubled him. The eternal question of why plagued him. Humans were an endangered species. Why were the last of them hell bent on destroying each other? He’d heard the stories from the traveler Bob about the towns and rebuilding. Places where there was plenty of food and security. Places of unity and cooperation. They sounded like fairy tales but was their own story any less fantastic? The stories filled him with hope and trepidation at the same time. He hadn’t seen these places with his own eyes. He hadn’t walked their streets, hadn’t seen a normal society with stores and schools and cars. All he’d seen in this new world was death and destruction. He wouldn’t believe one of those places existed until he saw it.

His conscience didn’t bother him, he’d been forced into a corner. He’d even considered giving up everything they’d built and moving away but they’d forced them into a fight. They had wanted it because they thought they couldn’t lose. He never wanted any of it to happen but there’d been no choice. They tried to live in isolation. Tried to carve something out of nothing with their meager supplies and hard work. Sweat and blisters, bug bites and sunburns, they’d pushed through it all to make their own little corner of the world. They were succeeding, doing fine and getting better until everything came to an end. It only took days to destroy what had taken a year to build.

Attacked by the Savage Ones, animals crazed from feeding on the undead and even more crazed humans it had all been trampled and burned to ash. Gordon’s final assault on their sanctuary had been the last straw. He and his gang had killed one of the tribe and torched their home. Without mercy, Gordon tortured and burned the purest soul Kodiak had ever known.

The death of Murray still weighed heavy on his heart. He’d been off gathering supplies at the warehouse with the rest of the tribe while Murray was at the mercy of that monster.

They kept to the back roads. One lane blacktop and gravel. It wasn’t the straightest line from one point to another but they wanted to avoid wandering hordes of the undead or gangs of men scavenging for supplies. They didn’t like their chances against heavily armed bands of men in their trucks and off road cars. They might shoot first and ask questions later.

The undead would follow where the scent of man was strongest. Mindless and merciless, they only existed to spread the zombie virus from infected to the uninfected. Scavenging opportunities on these forgotten roads were few and far between. This was once farmland. Before the outbreak, corn and grains covered tens of thousands of acres to feed a hungry nation. Houses on the long stretches of road were scattered and far apart. They’d attempted to get food from a few silos, but the corns and grains stored inside were rat and insect infested or rotted and fermented.

Kodiak still felt the decision to stay to all back roads was the right one, even though his growling stomach disagreed. He knew the interstates increased their chances of finding easy supplies, but also held the danger of encountering huge hordes of the undead. The tribe was in agreement, even though it added hundreds of miles to their trip. They would get to Lakota when they got there, they’d decided. Even with the longer route, they would make it before the winter snows started falling. None of them could forget the tales the mysterious stranger had told them about raiders and cannibals prowling the road.

Still, none of them had anticipated how hard the trip was going to be. They were going almost a thousand miles on foot based on the stories of an outsider they barely knew to a place that seemed too good to be true.

The state of Iowa was in a drought. Creeks that should have been filled with fish were dry rock beds and apple trees that should have been loaded down with juicy apples only held small, bitter worm-infested fruits that weren’t even suitable for the animals to eat. Tobias had tried cooking them down to make tarts. The boy had used up the last of their sugar and flour stocks to try and salvage something from nothing. Even Otis wouldn’t eat them, so they had to be terrible.

Kodiak looked over his shoulder at the cow that plodded along on a rope tied to Harper’s saddle. He contemplated butchering her for the hundredth time. She was skinny and malnourished, more bone and gristle than beef. The bones of her ribs and hips protruded sharply from her brown hide and her eyes sat sunken deep in her skull.

They’d found her wandering in a pasture that was nothing but bare dirt with a few sprigs of dead dry grass. Scattered bones littered the ground where a large herd had once grazed, back when the world was still alive. The trapped herd had overgrazed it, and then succumbed to starvation. Somehow, she’d survived when the others hadn’t and it just didn’t sit right with him to save her from certain death, only to slaughter her for the little bit of food she’d provide. Maybe they could put some weight on her, and she’d produce some milk or trade her for supplies to replenish their depleted stock. The idea of fresh milk caused his stomach to rumble in protest. It had been too long since they’d had any and he knew the rest of the tribe missed it as much as he did. I’d give anything for a big bowl of Captain Crunch and milk, he thought.

Boredom and monotony had set in on the long southwestern trek down the endless miles of blacktop. They were tired of playing I Spy and sharing their thoughts about what they were going to do first when they reached Lakota. Almost a month of travel and they still weren’t out of Iowa. It had been days since they’d passed through a town. The Welcome to Pineville, Iowa sign read population 217. It had been nothing more than a crossroads with a solitary caution light swaying in the breeze and there wasn’t a single pine tree in sight. The lone grocery store and gas station had been long looted and houses still filled with the undead curbed their desire to risks their necks for a can of chicken noodle soup, though with the way their supplies were dwindling it wouldn’t be long before they had to do something drastic.

The tink of a rock striking metal snapped Kodiak out of his lull. Tobias and Donny had been plucking rocks from the roadbed and throwing them at the road signs. He watched as the two boys raced through the tall grass into the ditch and he heard Tobias yell in excitement. He slid from the saddle strapped to Otis’ broad back and went to see what the fuss was.

Kodiak pushed his way through the gathered tribe and wiped the dust from the window of the tan Buick that sat forlornly in the ditch, its owner long since gone or turned into one of the mindless undead. The fading paint matched the grass that surrounded it perfectly. The windows were covered in a thick layer of dust. Weeds had grown up tall around it and they’d not even seen it, only the errant aim of a rock had alerted them to its presence.

The back seat was full of plastic bags. Someone had been shopping the morning of the outbreak. Their misfortune could mean a much-needed meal for the tribe. Without hesitation, Kodiak smashed the window out of the car with his war hammer. Harper stepped beside him and pulled up on the door handle. It wasn’t locked.

“Oh,” he said sheepishly.

He stepped aside to let Harper see if there was anything they could salvage from the bags. Donny wasted no time getting into the driver’s compartment to search for loot.

The smell of decay wafted out of the car from the meats, milk and vegetables which had long ago rotted. It wasn’t bad enough to keep them out though. They’d smelled worse. They’d endured the stench of corpses bloated from the sun and heat. Smelled the sickly-sweet smell of animals ripped open in battle. This was nothing compared to one of Bert’s farts.

Rummaging through the bags she found several cans of soup along with some Ramen noodles, potted meat and Vienna sausages. Canned peaches and pineapple slices. Stale crackers and boxes of macaroni way past their expiration date were handled with reverence. This was food, much needed food, and they would make do. There wouldn’t be any complaining when it was parceled out. Maybe some jokes about how awful it tasted as they devoured the stale crackers, but they wouldn’t waste any of it. Other bags yielded some toilet paper, body wash and moisturizer, which earned a fist pump from Vanessa. Toilet paper was a precious commodity and the ebony skinned girl never missed an opportunity to add to her stash.

They rooted through every inch of the car. They checked the glove box, center console and under the seats. Ignored the change in the cup holders and the cellphone still plugged into its charger. The wallet full of cash and credit cards that lay open in the passenger seat was tossed aside. Worthless stuff. Anybody willing to risk it could wear all the gold necklaces and diamond rings they wanted. You couldn’t eat them though. Anybody could have a million dollars if they wanted to now. It wasn’t good for anything anymore but maybe wiping your butt or starting a fire.

A half full disposable lighter and a cheap pocketknife were all they found that was worth keeping. Donny pocketed both items. He’d clean up the knife and put an edge on it. They’d made it a point to gather any items that might be worth trading whenever they finally encountered other people.

Nervous and excited, they chattered among themselves about what it would be like to finally meet some other survivors and trade with them. They couldn’t wait to tell an enraptured crowd their stories as they gathered around to inspect the wares they’d pilfered along the way.

Donny exited the car and popped the trunk. He smiled then bolted away in terror when he stuck his head inside. Nestled inside was a case of bottled water and four cans of Coca-Cola along with a nest full of wasps, angered at the disturbance which sent children and animal alike scattering from their fury.

Tobias swatted at the wasps with the flat of his axe and stomped them as he knocked them from the air. He was stung twice but ignored it. He reached in the trunk and grabbed a Coke and popped the top. The rest of the twelve pack had exploded from the heat and covered the trunk in dried syrup.

“Aah,” he exclaimed and belched loudly. “Still good and worth it,” he said as he eyed the swelling on his arm from the wasp’s stings.

He handed the half empty can to his sister. She turned it up and drained it. She belched loudly, and then giggled. Tobias handed out the other three cans. The rest of the tribe shared them among themselves. No one drank more than their fair share before passing them along. It had been a while since they’d had a whole soda to themselves.

The supplies went into the saddlebags on the animals and they moved on. They’d keep a sharper eye out for more vehicles hidden in the grass.

“This was a good find,” Kodiak said as he tossed the empty Coke can away. “But it’s not enough. We’ll be in Missouri tomorrow if our luck holds out.”

“Maybe the hunting will be better,” Swan muttered. “First set of woods we come across I’m getting us something more appetizing than that scrawny cow and a handful of old Saltines.”

Donny signed at her. I’ll get a kill before you do. What you want to bet on it?

Swan snorted. “Keep dreaming buddy.”

Kodiak pulled out the map he’d marked up with Misty after they’d defeated Gordon. He put his finger on their location and ran it down southward. He pointed at a junction where the road they were on crossed a state highway.

“I think it’s time we get on a bigger road, we’ll still stay away from the interstate but there should be better scavenging near a four lane. There will be more cars, houses and stores. Maybe even a big rig or two full of food.” His stomach growled at the mention of food. They nodded in agreement.

“This is another few days or so away. There are some little towns between here and there. Maybe we can find us some decent clothes before we get to a settlement. I remember Bob mentioning a walled town right here.” He put his finger on a tiny spot marked Gallatin.

“I’m not trading my armor for a dress.” Swan said. “They can like it or not. I don’t care.”

Donny thumped his spear in agreement.

“I’m not getting all fancied up for people I don’t know.” Tobias said.

His coyote pelt poncho had been worked for many hours and was soft but resilient to bites. It was easy to move in and he could pull his arms inside to protect his pale skin from the sun. They had spent a lot of time working and living in their armor and rough leather clothes. It would feel strange, not to mention not nearly as safe, to go back to jeans and t-shirts.

“I didn’t say we were going to put on our Sunday best.” Kodiak protested. “Just something a little less, you know, wild looking. Maybe some normal clothes or something.”

“Meh.” Vanessa said. “I like my skins. Too bad if they don’t.”

“You could at least put on a shirt.” Kodiak said. “You know city people won’t be used to seeing an African princess running around mostly topless.”

“Then they don’t have to look.” She said and smiled, the tribal scars on her face shining under a sheen of sweat.

“Maybe they can show us how to hunt the prairie.” Donny signed. “There must be some way to get the game. We’ve seen plenty but we can’t get close.”

“True.” Swan said. “Wish we still had Murray. One of his books would have told us.”

Her painted face turned into a snarl at the memory of what Gordon had done and her hands fell unconsciously to her tomahawks. She’d kill that bastard over and over again if she could.

They got quiet at the reminder and started adjusting their gear, checking their mounts for any saddle chaffing and mounted up. It was settled. Even if they faced trouble on the bigger roads, they could handle it. They couldn’t watch their companions slowly starve.

They were optimistic, surely the people of the plains would know how to hunt the grasslands. There had to be tricks to taking down the antelope and deer. Kodiak folded the map, tucked it away and fingered the memory bead braided into his hair. It was an oval of polished steel crafted from the melted steel of Murray’s wheelchair and smiled. Yeah, Murray would have had them eating well, knowledge gained from one of the thousands of survival books he’d downloaded.

Chatter broke out among them as they started forward again. Supposedly these fortified towns had tall walls and most even had electricity and running water. They were filled with kindhearted people who were working hard to rebuild the country. Murray had spoken long hours with Bob and he had made it sound like paradise. There would be cheeseburgers and chocolate shakes, movies and real toilets.

Sometimes they rode, sometimes they walked but they always kept moving. Kept picking them up and putting them down one step at a time. It was slow but they steadily ate up the miles, one after another. Hours later as they watched the sun drop in the western sky, the excitement of Gallatin had worn off as the day slowly dragged on. Each lost in their own thoughts, they focused on the ribbon of asphalt that seemed to stretch on forever.

They had to seek shelter for the night. Even though they’d seen nothing of the Savage Ones and very few of the undead, sleeping out in the open was a last resort. They’d done it a few times but no one rested well when they were so exposed. Houses were few and far between on the long, lonely stretch of highway but they weren’t worried. This was farm country and they all had barns or equipment sheds. They preferred those rather than the houses. They didn’t smell as bad from the mold and mildew of wet carpets or the stench of the field mice warrens. Barns were built to get wet and dry out naturally, they were open and airy.

From her perch on Bert’s tall back, Harper spied a grain silo in the distance and called it out to the tribe.

“Another mile, maybe.” She said. “I see a few outbuildings, too. We’ll make it before dark.”

“I hope the well has a hand pump.” Analise said. “I’m overdue for a shower.”

Vanessa swung up on Ziggy and urged her into a run as they darted ahead to scout it out.

2

The Prophet

Hundreds of miles away, headed in the opposite direction of the tribe, a solitary figure shuffled along like an old man although he had turned eighteen only a few months before. Sometimes he thought his name used to be Zack Scott, but he didn’t know for sure. Everything from before had become a hazy blur of muddled memories that were fuzzy at best. He remembered being with a group of friends that weren’t really his friends for a time. They had called him Skull but that wasn’t his true name either. He wasn’t that person anymore. He was someone else.

He’d been struck down by a band of wild children and reborn as something new. He called himself the Prophet now because it was the only name he could remember. The source of his downfall was also the source of his deliverance. The tribe of feral kids. They had been his enemy. He’d suffered at their hands, but he’d deserved it. He knew that now. They had hurt him but they had also shown mercy. He knew he wouldn’t have if the tables had been turned. Not back then, not when he’d been Skull, and the guilt gnawed away at him. Sometimes he didn’t know why he felt so remorseful, couldn’t remember the things he’d done to feel such shame but he knew they must be bad and he had earned what had happened. He’d had it coming.

He knew he’d fought them three times, a mystical number that held power. The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. The maiden, the mother and the crone. Life, death, rebirth. Every time he had gone to war with them, they had struck him down. Once with a war hammer, once with tomahawks and once with a spear. Every time he’d taken a blow to the head, more damage had been done. His cracked skull had healed but something inside his head hadn’t.

He didn’t know if they had names, he only remembered them as wrathful visions as they struck him down. They could have finished him but they hadn’t. The Girl Who Walks with Wolves had spared him, had turned her blades at the last second and hit him with the flats. The One Without Words had knocked him unconscious with the butt of a steel spear then kept his inky black panther from tearing his face off. Their leader, the Keeper of the Hammer, had turned his killing blow aside when he had been dazed and on his knees. He had spared him once more that day in the ratty old mobile home. The young warrior king told him he didn’t deserve mercy but he wouldn’t strike him down as he sat bound and helpless. They’d left him alive; they hadn’t ended his miserable life or turned their animals loose on him. He wasn’t worthy of their kindness but they had given it anyway. It was more than he deserved.

They’d freed him from his addictions, he couldn’t stand the smell of booze anymore. He’d done bad things and would have continued doing bad things if it hadn’t been for the kids and their animals. They’d opened his eyes to the truth of his fake friends. They didn’t care. They left him to die. The Children showed him what true love was. They would kill for each other and would never leave one of their own behind.

For days after he had lain in the mobile home that stank of vomit and death from the body just outside the door. He’d been delirious from the concussion, weak from hunger and had nowhere to go. Gordon, or his friends that weren’t really friends, never came back for him. He was completely alone. His head throbbed and pulsed with every heartbeat and he waited for death to finally claim him but then a miracle happened.

He sat on the floor in a haze, he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness and knew the end was getting close. The next time he closed his eyes, it could be the last. He’d never open them again. A single beam of moonlight came through the tattered mini blinds and he watched it move across the floor until it was full in his eyes. He looked into it and saw the girl and her wolves’ right before she struck him down. In his vision she wasn’t a vengeful, angry banshee about to sink steel into his head, she was an angel of shimmering, ethereal beauty. Peaceful and kind. She wasn’t painted for war; the blood of her enemies wasn’t splashed across her battle scarred armor. She was bathed in the pale light, it seemed to come from within her. He knew she was dead, then. That Gordon had killed her and the other children would be next. He reached out a hand, tried to touch her as the tears ran freely down his cheeks.

“Take me with you.” He whispered “Take me away from this.”

She and her wolves glowed and a beatific smile parted her lips. He bowed his head, unworthy to look at her shining face and begged for her forgiveness. He begged her not to go, not to leave him alone, and to take him with her. He knelt in abject humility, bared his soul and listened to her voice that sounded like wind whispering through the leaves or the tinkling of the wind chime outside the door. He may have listened to her for hours or it may have been seconds but angelic encounters were like that, weren’t they? The moonbeam shifted, the room darkened again and he drifted off into blackness, a whispered prayer on his lips.

When the morning sun woke him, he understood what he must do. She hadn’t come to lead him out of this world and into a better one. It was his duty, his calling, to make this one a little better. The girl who walks with wolves had washed him clean of his crimes with her glow. After a lifetime of bad decisions and poor judgment, the angel in the dust filled beam of light had shown him the way.

She was offering him a life worth living. It didn’t have to end curled in a ball on a filthy carpet. He discovered a hidden inner strength, a new purpose as he struggled to his knees.

Truly, the tribe of wild kids were the chosen ones. How else had they survived on their own? What other reason could explain their power over the beasts that stood by their sides? They were merciless, yet they were not cruel. They were strong, but helped the weak. They lived in harmony with their environment and asked nothing of any man. They were pure and clean. They were the new way, they were the ones chosen to rebuild a better world and he knew he had to save them. To get them out of Gordon’s clutches.

With a renewed heart and spirit, the Prophet had emerged from the run-down trailer and breathed in the fresh air. It had never tasted sweeter. He’d never appreciated the flowers and the trees. He’d never stopped to listen to a cricket chirp or a bird sing from a branch. He soaked up those experiences as he stood with his head tilted towards the sky and his arms outstretched. The hammering in his head stopped, a gift from the Mother of Wolves. He felt alive for the first time in as long as he could remember. It felt good, it felt right. It was their way and he couldn’t let people like Gordon stop them.

Poor Blind Mike never had the chance to see the true path and he didn’t waste time putting him in the ground. The creatures of the earth needed to eat, he wouldn’t deprive them of a meal. The Prophet shouldered the dead man’s rifle and hummed Amazing Grace as he made his way northeast. Yes, he thought, he would follow their path to Smiths Landing. He would free them from Gordon and maybe, just maybe, they would let him walk with them. Follow in their footsteps. Learn to be like them.

It took him all day to make the five mile journey to Smith’s Landing. His spirit was willing but his body was weak. Something was wrong in his head; his movements were slow and sometimes jerky. His coordination wasn’t what it used to be, sometimes he tripped over his own feet because one of his legs didn’t work as well as the other. It dragged a little and he had to concentrate to make it move right. He didn’t run into any of the undead on the county highway. The children had killed the ones they encountered and any that survived had followed their trail and joined the horde at the front gates of Smiths Landing. He was lucky, he wouldn’t have been able to defend himself very well. His thoughts tended to wander and he’d shuffle along for hours in a fugue state, not knowing where his mind had been or what he’d been thinking. A waking blackout.

He made his way to the rear gates and saw them standing wide open, the chain broken and the bars bent. He stumbled in the tall grass of the overgrown golf course but kept pushing forward to the houses where the gang lived. He didn’t know what he would say to convince Gordon to set the children free but he knew he would think of something. The Mother of Wolves would show up and tell him. Her spirit was with him, he believed it with all his heart.

The houses were quiet when he approached and the carnage started in the driveway. Bodies were strewn on the lawn, butchered and dismembered. It wasn’t the kids, it was the gang. The Prophet carefully picked his way through the shattered glass, broken furniture and splintered doors. More bodies littered the kitchen and living room and he smiled at the carnage. The children had done this. He should have known. A lowly human like Gordon couldn’t stop them, they were the chosen ones. A scraping sound caught his attention and he limped out towards the patio area, passing a member of the gang who was still pinned to the wall, his lifeless body held in place by a spear. He stood at the edge of the pool and stared down at the gore encrusted thing reaching for him and keening hungrily. It was the only one still moving, the rest had been put to rest. Two spears stuck through its chest and it had been scalped, days old blood covered its bald head and shoulders. At first he didn’t know who it was but the leather holster hanging on its side told him it was Gordon. The only one who carried a gun and he knew it was she who had left him like this. A warning to others and sign for him. She lived. She and her tribe were truly the chosen ones, protected by power greater than themselves.

He swayed at the edge of the pool, his mind going dark for a time, and listened as the thing spoke to him with its keens and rasps. When he came back to himself it was still there, still reaching for him, but he no longer understood its words. He turned and gazed on the destruction wrought on Gordon’s home, at the bloated and mangled bodies rotting in the afternoon sun and knew what he must do. She had shown him this so he would know their power, an affirmation of his vision. They were on the true path, not him or the gang he’d run with. Not Gordon who had tried to turn him from the way. He would be their voice. He would sing their praises and spread the Gospel of the Tribe far and wide to all who would hear it.

He walked through the mansion with a torch, set each room ablaze then moved on to the next house. He would level them all, erase the stain from the planet. As the fire raged through the million-dollar homes and the scent of burning flesh filled the air, it finally resembled what it had really been. Hell on Earth. He left through the back gate in search of people to tell them of the Tribe. To tell them of the chosen ones.

He adopted their manner of dress. Flowers and feathers were crudely woven into his hair. He skinned out the animals and sewed the hides together as a cloak. He had walked for most of the first day before he realized he only wore one shoe. It didn’t matter and he smiled to himself. He was above such creature comforts and discarded the other in a ditch.

He scavenged when he was hungry or ate from the flesh of the animals that refreshed his clothing. He had no idea how to tan hides, so he wore them fresh from the deer or dog or whatever animal was sacrificed. He wore them until they became too stiff, and then sought out new ones. With the late summer heat he was forced to hunt for new hides every few days. Even the maggots and flies had given up on the furs by that point, but he wasn’t disheartened. There was always game in abundance. Deer or stray dogs fashioned his cloaks, raccoons and opossums provided for his leggings and loin cloth. He paid no mind to the horrific odor they gave off, or the sores that covered his skin from the bites and stings of insects or the rot from the untanned hides.

Days later, his faith was reaffirmed when he encountered a dozen of the undead while searching for his next meal in an abandoned minivan. The undead paid him no mind, further proof in his mind that he was on the True Path. The truth was that the foul-smelling hides that covered his body masked his human scent and his shuffling gait didn’t set off the undead’s radar. In the Before, before he’d been smote down by the children and reborn, they would have torn him apart in seconds and added him to their ranks. They shuffled by him and continued their slow shamble to wherever they were headed.

Realizing they weren’t going to attack him and needing to bear witness, he climbed on to the hood of the van and threw his arms towards heaven and yelled.

“Brothers and sisters let me tell you the story of how God sent his angels in the form of children to vanquish evil from this land. They strike swift and sure but are not without mercy for a repentant soul. I stand before you as proof.”

The zombies turned and approached the car. They sniffed the air, seeking the smell of untainted flesh that would put them in a frenzy of bloodlust. They served one purpose; carry the virus from the infected to the uninfected. They couldn’t detect his human scent, only the smell of animals and rot. They milled about in confusion as he ranted from the hood of the car and implored them to follow him to truth and light. Eventually they lost interest and shuffled on in search of living flesh.

The Prophet was elated as he climbed down from the van. They hadn’t attacked him, just stood there while he testified to them. He was certain he’d gotten through to at least a couple of them. He grinned like the idiot he was as he made his way down the blacktop in search of other souls to enlighten.

As he looked for someone to share the Gospel of the Tribe with.

3

Diablo

Diablo loped along in a broken gait. He was once a magnificent specimen. Covered with thick mottled fur, massive jaws that exerted tons of pressure and weighing in at over two hundred pounds of densely packed muscle, he had elicited fear from every human who peered at him through the iron bars that kept them safe.

Now, every movement brought pain. His body was scarred from endless fighting. Some areas were scarred so badly that fur would never grow in those spots again. Chunks of muscle had been ripped from him by the sharp steel of the girl and the fangs of her pack. His tongue was thick where it didn’t heal properly from her piercing steel. The puncture from the spike of Swan’s tomahawk through the roof of his mouth impacted his nasal cavity. His nostrils were always running with mucus tinged with blood. Deep aches filled his body where glass had embedded itself in his flight through the window of the children’s den. Biting and pawing at the shards only managed to embed them deeper.

He ignored the pain. He ignored the new wounds inflicted by the huge assortment of beasts that trailed in his wake. He’d been gored by tusks from boars twice his size, savaged by the claws and teeth of wild cats, bloodied and ripped under the fangs of dogs, coyotes and a black bear that had briefly joined the pack. Every few days, one would sniff his urine, seeking weakness and the opportunity to challenge him as Alpha. Every few days a new challenger died and became food for those who followed. His powerful jaws and desire to live prevailed time after time.

He had one purpose that drove him onward. The wolf girl. The scent of his brother’s hide draped across her back ignited his primal urges. He didn’t have emotions, only impulses. He didn’t feel hate or anger, only the urge to rend her flesh and crack her bones for the marrow inside while he lay next to the skin of his brother and pack mate. The scent of Demonio had been the only thing of comfort in a life of cruelty and abuse. He whined softly as he searched his olfactory memory for the reassuring scent of his brother.

Many times, he’d padded away silently in the night to distance himself from the pack. They weren’t like him. The only other like him was gone. It didn’t matter where he wandered off to, within half a day he would hear the grunts or barks as they followed his trail. His distinctive scent and his droppings were clear signs for them to follow. The carrion birds that followed the Savage Ones for their scraps would always mark his path.

The tribe of children and their animals was easy to follow even though the breeze was at their backs. The animal waste that littered the road and the pungent smell of wolf urine on highway signs led the way. The last vestiges of their fires told where they’d camped, and it was easy to pick out their individual scents where they’d lain for the night.

Tonight, he would leave the pack for good. There would be a challenge first though. There was always a challenge for the position as Alpha. His instincts told him he was weakening. The pains that coursed through his body warned him that he was past his prime. It was only a matter of time before he was the one that filled the bellies of the others. The canine that followed too closely, the one who was laying his own stream of urine anywhere Diablo did would challenge him soon. He too would fall.

He felt the temperature dropping. Darkness would fall soon. It was time. Diablo would control the encounter, instead of waiting to be attacked when he sought a place to bed down. He had no desire to be Alpha of this strange pack. Had no desire for any of their ilk. They followed him because he found the food. Diablo tore through the stinking ones with a rapturous pleasure, killed for the sheer joy of it and left his kills behind to be devoured by the rest. That murderous nature and their overwhelming numbers gave them advantages that the smaller animals didn’t have on their own. He mated with the females when the urge took him, but nothing came of their unions. He was unique and alone in the world. He growled low in his chest and stopped his lilting gait when he felt the breath of the challenger on his backside.

Diablo turned in the road and faced his opponent. The big canine met him with a growl of its own. The dog was large, but not as large as him. The fur stood up on Diablo’s neck, drool ran from his massive jaws. He lowered his head and body to present a smaller target for the other beast. He lulled his opponent into thinking he was afraid. They began to circle one another with vicious growls and barking laughs. The dog attacked first. He darted in and seized Diablo by the throat, sensing an easy kill. Diablo let him. His neck was too thick and the fur too dense for the smaller beast to seriously hurt him. The dog’s stubby jaws lacked the size to reach something vital. With a twist of his head Diablo flung the smaller animal away. It tumbled and leapt back to its feet. Diablo lowered his body again and barked his laughing bark. The dog attacked again, feinted and went for the shoulder that troubled Diablo. The smell of dried blood and traces of infection were weakness it could exploit. Diablo darted out of reach and bit down on the dog’s side. Fangs laid the skin on the dog’s ribs open to the bone and it yelped in pain, and then attacked once more. The hot asphalt soaked up the blood offering as they circled each other. Diablo was faster and more vicious, he leapt forward at the dog, anxious to end the encounter. He’d never been a pampered pet of man like the inferior creature in front of him. Men had only hurt him and burned any sense of loyalty for their species out of him with their cruelty. He shredded the dog’s ear and opened a gash in its forehead. Blood ran into the dog’s eyes from the wound and it attacked once more. The limited visibility of blood-filled eyes caused it to snap its jaws on empty air. Diablo bowled the dog over and seized it by the throat. He shook his head back and forth until the skin gave. Muscles and veins parted. He ripped them loose and swallowed them down. Blood showered him from the severed arteries. The dog struggled, then weakened, then ceased fighting as its life blood pumped out. Diablo grabbed the dead dog by the neck and growled at the others that were creeping forward. He wouldn’t share this kill. There would be no scraps for them to fight over. He dragged the dog down into the ditch and into the culvert that ran beneath the road as the frenzied Savage Ones began to tear into the weaker members of their pack. They would feed too. Cats, raccoons and opossums fled from the jaws of the larger dogs, coyotes and feral hogs. Soon, more blood ran into cracked asphalt as those too slow or weak to prevail were rendered into gnawed bones and scattered bits of fur.

Diablo dragged the dog through the other end of the culvert into the grass, away from the others. He thrust his maw into the soft belly and devoured the choicest organs. He ripped flesh from the neck, shoulders and haunches and lapped up the blood that pooled beneath the carcass. He cracked bones and devoured marrow until he was sated. He’d seen the other animals, particularly the dogs that had once been pets of the humans rolling in dead things. It messed with their own scents and attracted stinging insects, but they still did it anyway. He lowered himself into the gore and intestines spread out over the ground and rolled. Waste and blood worked their way into his fur. He continued to roll until his fur was matted with the remains of his opponent.

He cocked his head and listened to the Savage Ones still feasting on the road above. Without a backward glance he turned and headed into the wood line. Let them follow if they could. He wouldn’t mark territory until he couldn’t hold it anymore. He sensed it was past time for him to leave if he didn’t want to feed the others. His instincts told him he wouldn’t survive too many more challengers and his genetic coding went from fight to flight. That was the way of the hyena, guile and cunning.

He ran at a painful pace. He ignored the hurts and aches of his body. He stopped to lap up water from a narrow stream then relieved himself in its flow. His deformed tongue caused more water to spill out than went down his gullet. He followed the stream and snapped his jaws at the silvery fish that seemed to glow in the moonlight as they darted through the shallows. Even full, he never missed an opportunity to gorge himself. He emerged on the opposite bank then ran through the night. The woods were thick enough to hide him from the birds. His scent was confused enough to not be followed.

His instincts told him he was free of the pack. Free to pursue the wolf girl with all his wiles and cunning. Done with the fighting to remain the apex predator among the wild dogs, coyotes, and the strange assortment of animals that followed for his scraps. The pack of animals he left behind faded from his memory. A new alpha would take over and the Savage Ones would continue their hunts.

4

Kassie

Gallatin, Missouri

Kassie and her little dog Coffee walked across the smooth tops of the storage containers that made up the wall. Stacked end to end and three high, they surrounded the small town of Gallatin, Missouri. Machine gun emplacements were mounted at intervals and bored sheriff’s deputies manned their stations, smoking or dozing to pass the time. Not much happened here. Gallatin was off the main roads and had a population of less than 2000 before the apocalypse. Its remoteness and the railroad tracks that ran through it made for an ideal settlement. It had a good water source and was far enough away from the big cities that they weren’t too concerned about massive hordes. Goods could be shipped in and out by the rail cars or semi-trucks. The huge stockyards west of the walls and the unlimited grazing opportunities allowed the town to secure its place in the new nation as a livestock provider. They raised cattle, hogs, and sheep and even had a herd of buffalo that was growing quickly. Currently it was home to three hundred and thirty-four permanent residents and a few dozen others at any given time. A steady stream of retrievers and Hell Drivers used it as a rest and resupply point between their missions into the badlands.

Kassie plopped down on the edge of the container and dangled her legs over the side, some twenty-five feet above the ground. She sipped on her hot chocolate and watched as the sky turned colors with the sunrise. It had become her morning ritual. Hot cocoa, a beautiful sunrise then three laps around the town on top of the wall. Coffee sat beside her and begged for attention. He was a scrappy little guy of undetermined origin, but she loved him regardless of his lack of pedigree. Ear buds in, she bobbed her head to the music coming from her cell phone. She wondered where the artist was now. Holed up like her, or wandering among the hordes of zombies that filled the big cities. Other than the pictures of her life before the fall, her phone wasn’t much good for anything else. None of the games she’d had on it still worked, they all needed the internet. She had a large assortment of music though. One of her friends had been gathering all the songs he could find and putting them on some computers in the rec room. Anyone was free to download whatever they wanted and the retrievers were always bringing in more when they found them. Still, she held out hope that one day she’d look down and see the little service bars that indicated a cell signal. There was a rumor that someplace called the Tower still had phones and soon the settlements would too. She couldn’t wait for that day.

She had no idea what happened to her friends and family when the outbreak hit but she liked to think that everyone in her contact list was still out there. She hoped that all of her Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram pals were safe and secure, riding out the apocalypse in comfort. Deep down she knew that probably wasn’t true but she said prayers for them anyway.

She and her mom had been one of the lucky ones that escaped the ravenous hordes. They’d been on a two week vacation, half of it primitive and the second half pampered. The first week they camped and hiked the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. The second week was supposed to be boutique bed and breakfasts and some really neat Airbnb homes. When the news erupted with stories of crazed people attacking each other in the streets and the big cities burning, she couldn’t believe it. Her mom’s first thought was that they might have to cut their vacation a little short because she would surely be needed back at the hospital if it was that bad all over.

The first half of the trip was over and they were both looking forward to a real bed, a hot shower and the swimming pool. They had just gotten back on the main road when Kassie started playing with the radio to see what kind of music the locals listened to. Instead they heard near hysterical broadcasters telling stories of the dead people climbing to their feet and chasing down other people. Looting and rioting were sweeping through the big cities. New York and Chicago were burning, and the firemen couldn’t even respond without being attacked. Bridges were being blown up to stop the tide of undead but they were everywhere. The response was too little, too late. Every town, every city in the country was under siege by the mindless undead. At first they both scoffed at the stories, zombies weren’t real but the fear and barely controlled panic in the newscasters’ voices certainly was.

They had pulled over at a little all in one gas station, restaurant and souvenir shop, still not sure if it was some elaborate prank. While she was walking the dog, her mom went inside but ran back out, told her to get in the car and lock the doors. She was pale and shaking and snapped at her to be quiet when she’d asked what was wrong. She kept dialing 911 and getting a busy signal. She’d hang up and try again, over and over then started calling other numbers. She didn’t get an answer from anyone. She’d never seen her mom afraid before and it scared her. They sat for a long time trying to call people and listening to the radio with the windows up and the doors locked. What frightened them more than anything was when one after another the stations quit transmitting or the emergency broadcast signal came on with the same message being repeated over and over. Her mom became calm after a time, considered all of their options and came to a decision.

“Kassie, Honey, we can’t go home. It’s not safe. What they are saying is true and it’s not just in the cities, it happened here, too.”

She didn’t mention the woman she saw in the bathroom that had lunged at her with snapping teeth and blackened eyes. Her throat had been completely torn out but she was still moving. Still trying to kill. Linda was an ER nurse, had been for nearly a decade, and she knew the thing was dead. There was no other explanation. No other way. In the second she saw her, she’d seen her jugular vein dangling down the front of her blouse. It was large and unmistakable and it wasn’t pumping blood. The woman was dead and had been for hours. The blood coating her was already dry and flaking off.

As they talked, they saw a man walking down the road towards them. At first they thought he was drunk, his clothes were torn and he was weaving all over. He snapped his head around when Coffee started growling and barking and zeroed in on them. He screamed and started running right at them and her mom fumbled starting the car. Coffee went crazy as the man slammed into the window and tried to bite through it, his mangled face leaving bloody streaks on the glass. Kassie screamed, Coffee went into an attack frenzy and when the Escape finally started, she floored it. The man tried to hang on, tore the plastic wind deflector off and fell under the spinning back tire. They both screamed as the SUV rocked over him and shot out of the parking lot. Her mom floored it but then just as quickly hit the brakes. Kassie and Coffee slammed into the dash and both of them yelped. Her mom took a few long and deep breaths then very calmly said that’s why you should always wear your seatbelt.

It was ridiculous. The radio said the world was falling apart, something in the store had scared her mom half to death, a crazy man had just attacked them and they had run over him and now her mom was scolding her about her seatbelt. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry or laugh. Coffee licked at the tears on her cheeks and she laughed. She had to or she’d go mad.

“Your hair is messed up.” She told her mom.

Linda’s ponytail was askew, somehow it wasn’t in the back anymore, and it was on the side of her head.

Her mom started laughing too and it took a while for them to stop.

The man they had run over was still coming, crawling along the asphalt on broken legs. He was still keening and growling, still trying to get them.

“It really is zombies?” Kassie asked as they turned in their seats and watched his slow progress.

It took a minute for her mom to answer but she agreed when she finally did.

“Honey, things are different now. We’re going to have to take care of ourselves, I don’t think there are any more towns or army or police at the moment. I think we’re on our own for a while until they get things sorted out. It might be a while before they get everything under control again. I think we need to go to a place without any other people around until things settle down. I think those creatures are everywhere. We might have to do things that were unthinkable a few hours ago. Are you okay with that?”

Kassie nodded; her eyes wide.

“I’m not going to sugar coat it, we might have to do things we don’t want to do but if we’re going to make it through this, they’re going to have to get done. We can’t half way commit, this is life and death. We have to be in all the way. You understand?”

Kassie nodded again. “All the way.” She said.

Her mom put the car in reverse, aimed for thing in the road and exploded its head in mid scream when the rear bumper slammed into it. They stopped at the gas pumps and she took her pistol case out of the console. Kassie grabbed the ammo out of the glove box and started loading the magazine as her mom rummaged around the back seat for the holster, the one she’d carried the days they’d been in the woods.

They left Coffee in the car, slipped inside quietly and went straight to the restrooms. They could hear one of them shuffling around. Someone had turned into one of those things while inside and couldn’t get out, the door had to be pulled to open. Linda had come face to face with it when she’d first entered the store and thought someone was in need of help when she heard it. She was lucky the door didn’t open the other way or she’d be dead, reanimated and would have been trapped inside just waiting for her daughter to come looking for her. Together they moved a couple of tables from the café over to stack in front of the door in case the thing inside managed to somehow bounce it open.

“We need to take as much as we can carry.” Linda said. “We’re heading back into the park, I think we can stay in one of those ranger cabins, maybe the one that was miles from anywhere.”

The place was deserted, food still on the tables, the grill still on with bacon and sausage burnt beyond recognition. There was blood on the counter and more bloody handprints on the door. A display of kachina dolls, pottery and genuine Indian jewelry had been knocked over and broken shards littered the floor. The thing in the bathroom pounded and screamed incessantly and they were both rattled, in a hurry and more than a little frightened. Everything was happening so fast. They grabbed armloads of food from the shelves and filled the backseat with canned goods and other gear. She topped off the gas, filled every extra can the store had and tied them to the roof. They rushed, nearly running back and forth and always watching for anymore of the undead to come running down the road.

The Escape wasn’t set up for serious off roading, it wasn’t a Jeep or a Land Rover but it had four-wheel drive and the tires were all terrain. It would make it up the fire roads and maintenance trails just fine.

Linda had made the tough decision that there was nothing they could do for their loved ones back home and if they tried to get back to Louisville they would most likely die on the way. She turned the SUV back into Badlands National Park and headed for the most remote part she could find. The roads were rutted and washed out in places, branches and scrub brush added a lot of new scratches to the paint but the Escape took them deep into the park, to the little ranger station they’d hiked past days before.

As they made their way through the bumpy, twisted trails, her mom told her they would be ok. They were far away from the danger. They had their camping and fishing gear, she had her pistol and knew how to use it and they had enough supplies to last for a while. Maybe in a few weeks, maybe a few months, things would settle down. The government or the army or somebody would start to fix everything. They just had to ride things out for a while. Kassie was excited and terrified all at once.

They followed the trails through the canyons and hills until they found the little cabin standing in the middle of a meadow. It was small with a couple of cots, a stretcher, other basic medical supplies and a wood stove. There was no electricity, running water or two-way radio. It was primitive and didn’t see much use but the builders had added an outhouse some thirty yards away near the tree line. It had been a few years since someone had broken an ankle and had to be carried to a clearing so the helicopter could get them. It was dusty and had a stale smell. It wasn’t much to look at it but the roof didn’t leak and the floors were solid. The door was thick and heavy and the latch was strong. The small windows had heavy shutters. Nothing would be getting inside, not even a large bear.

It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect for the two of them. It was warm and dry, far from civilization and only a short walk from a stream. They unpacked the car and mourned the loss of the world as one by one the radio stations went off the air. By the third day, there was only static when they scanned the dial.

“We’re going to have to winter here,” Her mom said as they sat in the Ford. “We need to go back to the store, clean it out, and get anything and everything we might need.”

They stripped the SUV bare, pulled out the back seats went down to the all in one Black Hills country cafe, fuel stop and last chance souvenir shop. It was the same as they’d left if except the electricity was off, they couldn’t top off the gas cans. Someone had been there, another survivor. The beer cooler looked a lot emptier than she remembered and the cigarette rack behind the counter had been stripped bare of everything except the menthols. Linda backed up to the front door and they worked fast, the thing in the bathroom was still trying to get out and whoever took the beer might come back for the rest of it. They weren’t in a panic this time though and took the time to pack the truck tightly. They took all the big cans from the restaurant, the sack of potatoes and onions and every ounce of coffee. They grabbed all of the Navajo blankets to line the walls and floor of the cabin. It wasn’t insulated and winter would be cold. They cleaned the store shelves of anything edible, which was mostly junk food, and everything else they could cram into the nooks and crannies of the Escape. They grabbed tourists’ T-shirts, cheap Indian moccasins made in china, all of the cigarette lighters and packets of aspirin. She found a toolbox in the office and it was tossed in too, along with the assortment of fishing hooks, lures and line. Kassie found a shotgun leaning behind the office door but they didn’t find any extra shells, only the four that were in it. The overloaded truck groaned its way back up the trail and almost as an afterthought, they broke off some branches and swept away their tracks when they turned onto the dirt road. The missing beer bothered Linda. There could be some unpleasant men lurking out there staying drunk and doing whatever they wanted. With no law and lots of alcohol she was worried what a group of men might do if they discovered two women on their own. She knew what people could do to each other. She’d seen some ugly things and heard uglier stories during her decade of working the emergency room.

Linda wasn’t a survivalist or a prepper, she didn’t know how to start a fire with sticks or hunt deer with a knife but she enjoyed the outdoors and was comfortable in the wilds. They couldn’t have survived being stranded in the woods with only the clothes on their backs but that wasn’t their situation at all. They had enough food for maybe six months, a roof over their heads, pure water from a mountain stream and a way to keep warm in the winter. She knew how to clean a fish, could figure out how to set snares and they had the tools they needed to survive. They were set up pretty good and she knew they’d been lucky.

They spent weeks digging a root cellar and lining it with small logs. Kassie’s blisters turned to callouses as one day blurred into the next and the nights got colder. Winter was coming and her mom said snow could be so deep they wouldn’t be able to leave the cabin, maybe for days. Through trial and error they learned to build fish traps that worked and snares that caught small game. Kassie discovered that even though it was gross at first learning how to clean them, fresh rabbit or fish seasoned with wild herbs and cooked over an open fire was way better than ravioli from a can.

After the first rushed weeks of getting everything ready, the days passed slowly. Linda gave her a crash course on what she knew about survival. She taught her the little she knew about which plants could be used for food and medicine and which ones to avoid. They ground their own spices from the herbs that they picked from the foothills. She learned to make medicinal teas and how to field dress an animal. They hiked to different areas to fish and collect plants that could season their food. The only thing they had from the store was salt, pepper and hot sauce.

They said prayers for the family and friends back home. They played cards and read books from mom’s Kindle, which they charged in the Escape. They inventoried their supplies and were content. With the fresh meat pulled from the snares or the creek, they had enough to last until spring. They fashioned warning systems with rocks, tin cans and fishing line that surrounded the approach to the cabin. Bears were a concern and they cleaned the small game on a big, flat rock next to the stream. They were careful not to leave any food scraps outside and tossed the bones in the water to be carried off by the swift current.

She and Coffee chased butterflies through the mesas and buttes and picked wildflowers to give their tiny home some color.

They gathered wood and spent hours each day with the little camp axe chopping it into pieces that would fit in the small stove inside the cabin. The pile grew and they had to go farther and farther to find good downed wood. They fashioned a travois from one of the Navajo rugs and their legs grew strong pulling the heavy loads.

They experimented with different ways of starting a fire without matches and although they finally succeeded and agreed it was good to know, it was so much easier to flick a Bic. They did laundry by hand, dried them on paracord strung between trees and mother and daughter became closer. Their grownup and child roles blurred a little and they became real friends. They never saw another person, living or dead, heard the sound of cars or saw the contrails of airplanes crossing the sky.

Linda drew up a calendar and marked the days off as they passed. September fell away to October and became November. They fell into a routine and once a week they would spend a day looking for civilization, as they started calling it. After breakfast they would fire up the Escape and scan the radio dial. They never really expected to hear anything but they both held their breath, crossed their fingers and hoped as the numbers flitted across the screen, never stopping, never locking in on a signal. Afterwards they hiked to the highest point for miles and stared through the binoculars in every direction for signs of activity. They looked for smoke from a fire, a small airplane, sounds of machinery or anything else that might show them they weren’t alone. They never saw anything.

The snows came at the end of November and stayed by mid-December. Linda pulled the battery out of the Ford, set it in a corner of the cabin and hoped there would be enough juice in it to fire the truck up when the trails were clear enough to navigate.

Winter was mostly boredom and monotony. Kassie learned how to sew and they used fishing line to make jackets and pants from T-shirts and blankets. Once the snows were knee deep, they only went out for wood or the outhouse. A storm came in January and they worried the roof might be torn off in its fury but in the morning, the world was a calm, white wonderland. Cabin fever set in and they made snowshoes then learned to walk in them, covering miles of territory to check their traps and snares. They became lean and hard; all excess fat was stripped away.

5

Leaving the Badlands

Spring chased away the snows and the black hills came alive with birdsong and flowers. Fish became plentiful and their snares were useful again. By the end of March, the snow melt was gone, the trail was dry enough to maneuver and they were both eager to get off the mountain, to travel a little farther and see if any of the towns were showing signs of life, if there were any other survivors. With a prayer on their lips, Linda connected the battery and was rewarded with the buzzes and dings of a car coming back to life. She cranked it and although it turned over slowly, the engine fired and settled into a steady idle.

They whooped and did a little dance but stopped in mid celebration when the scanning radio locked onto a signal and music blasted out of the speakers. Their celebratory cheers were even louder and both dove into the car to listen raptly when a man came on, gave a little news about a shipment of medicines expected to be in later that day and played another song.

They listened for hours before the next DJ came on and mentioned they were broadcasting from Lakota Oklahoma. Over the next couple of days they learned there were other fortified settlements, other survivors and as the country thawed out they were starting to rebuild. There were warnings to avoid the big towns and cities, they were still overrun with the undead. There were call in shows, music shows, how-to hours and the town sounded wonderful. They had electricity and running water. All were welcome and there was still plenty of housing available inside the walls. They were eager to go and started planning the journey.

Using their maps, Linda charted a course for Lakota that avoided any towns and stayed on the back roads. It was a meandering route but it should keep them safe. Her only concern was getting fuel, she didn’t have enough to make it, even with the extra cans. She knew the principles of siphoning gas even though she’d never done it. With a piece of garden hose from an empty house, she was sure she could figure it out. Somebody called Scratch played the most awful music but he mentioned that the zombies would chase you forever so be careful every time you stopped. Even with that good advice, Kassie still wasn’t sure if it was worth listening to his show. All the music sounded the same, like some guy screaming into the microphone while the band made a lot of terrible racket.

They made it around Omaha and into Missouri when the SUV started bucking and running rough then finally died. It wouldn’t start back up no matter what she did and within a few minutes of cranking, the battery died too. All they could figure is that they must have gotten some bad gas.

“It’s not the end of the world.” Mom said. “We’ve got two good feet and maybe we’ll find another car. Maybe the next farmhouse we come to has a pickup truck with the keys in it. We’re out in the country, people don’t lock things up like they do in the city.”

“We could always drive a tractor.” Kassie said. “Do those take keys?”

As they were sorting through their gear, trying to determine what the most important things to take were in case they couldn’t get back to the truck, they saw a stumbling group of people in the distance from the way they’d come. They remembered what Scratch said, some of the farms they’d passed had people still wandering around. They were far off and not moving very fast but they were coming. Like a slow-moving locomotive, they couldn’t be stopped and their arrival was inevitable.

They crammed their packs with whatever was at hand, grabbed the guns and started running. There was no place to hide, tens of thousands of acres of crop land surrounded them in every direction. They slowed their pace to a jog when they lost sight of them but kept moving. They didn’t know if the things would stop at the car or keep shuffling after them. Did they follow the sound of the car or the smell of the people? The land was flat, they could see all the way to the horizon on the straight and narrow roads. Using the binoculars, they watched in dismay from a mile distant as the horde only stopped briefly at the car before continuing the chase. There were a lot of them, they’d probably been picking up followers for a long time.

“We have to keep moving.” Linda said. “They’re slow. If we come to a stream, we’ll go down it. Surely, they can’t track us through water, even bloodhounds can’t do that.”

They jogged for a long time, it felt like hours and they stopped twice to lighten their loads. They got rid of extra clothes and tools the first time. After the second stop and the undead still seemed to be gaining, they ditched everything except the clothes on their backs and the guns. They were at a cross roads, they had run for miles and still no river in sight. Both of them were panting and sweating in their Navajo blanket jackets but didn’t want to toss them. It still got cold at night and they were thick enough to stop a bite if things went really bad and they had to fight hand to hand.

As they got their breath and drank down a can of peaches, they heard a motor far off in the distance. They waited, not wanting to leave the intersection, the machine was heading right for them. It didn’t even occur to Linda that they might be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. She didn’t think it might be bad men coming down the road. They didn’t have much choice, they were slowing and the horde was steadily gaining. There wasn’t a river anywhere to be seen and the vehicle bearing down on them was their only hope.

It was a salvage party from a little walled settlement called Gallatin. They were good men and quickly made room for the pair in their overloaded pickup truck. The mayor of the town greeted them warmly and when he found out she was a nurse, he immediately asked her to stay.

“We can help you get to Lakota,” he promised. “We’ll send one of our trucks out to tow yours here but can you help us out for a little while? A few weeks, maybe? We could really use someone of your skills, all we have now is an EMT. He knows a little but you know as well as I do, their job was to stabilize a patient just long enough to get them to somebody like you. Please say you’ll stay with us for a spell, at least long enough to get him trained up some.”

The mayor gave them a nice house and once she saw the dismal state of the doctor’s office, she rolled up her sleeves and got busy. Babies were sick, broken bones had healed badly and the EMT didn’t have any idea what kind of medicine to prescribe. It was a ranching town and there was a steady stream of minor injuries and sprains and stomped feet to attend to. An old retired history teacher had dusted out a few of the rooms at the courthouse and held classes for the dozen or so kids in town. A few weeks turned into a few months and they forgot about going to Lakota. Her mom was needed here and had become an important member of the community. It wasn’t so bad. Probably not as nice as the capital city but it was better than living rough in the cabin. At least they had electricity and there were people to talk to.

Gallatin seemed like a nice place at first but it had a dark side that they slowly found out about. Before the fall, her mom never would have shared anything she knew with her, she was just a kid. Their months in isolation, all the hard work and closeness had changed that. What mom said was still law but they were more than mother and daughter now. They were survivors and best friends. Lately her mom had told her not to wander by herself so much and to stay away from the men that traveled with the mayor.

“And I want you back inside the house with the doors locked before dark, you understand?” she’d said in her mom voice.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Kassie asked

“I’m not sure” Linda had answered. “But something is. People won’t talk to me, I’m still an outsider but everything seems to be changing. The Mayor is new, they say he took over only a few weeks before we arrived. The other mayor, the one that built this town and saved most of the people, had an accident and Mr. Moretz stepped in. I’m getting a whole Macon County line kind of vibe.”

“A what?” Kassie asked.

“Nothing, Honey. An old movie about a bad cop. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Times have changed, things aren’t the way they once were. The sheriff and his deputies aren’t afraid to use their clubs if one of the cowboys gets drunk and rowdy. They would have been fired for that kind of behavior before. Maybe even face a little jail time. They broke Bobby McClauson’s jaw for mouthing off to them. I don’t think they should be so hard on people if they aren’t hurting anyone and Bobby was just being Bobby. Rip roaring drunk on a Friday night after a week of being outside the walls tending the cattle. He was just blowing off steam.”

Kassie shrugged off her mom’s concerns but promised to be home before dark. Everyone was nice to her but when she considered it, maybe a little too nice. If she didn’t know better, she might think the sheriff had been flirting with her the last time she passed him and his men hanging out in front of the police station. She hadn’t thought much of it but laying in her bed and going back over the encounter, he had seemed a little too touchy, a little too complimentary on how pretty she was getting to be, telling her she was all grown up. He couldn’t have been flirting, though. Gross. She shivered at the thought of it. He was just being nice; he was old enough to be her dad.

She sipped on her hot chocolate, drummed her feet on the wall and figured she’d better get moving if she wanted to finish her lap around the perimeter before school started. Mrs. Daughtery was old and grumpy and she was quick to hand out extra assignments if you were late. The wall was nearly three miles long and it might have been easier on her feet to jog the dirt path that circled the inside of it but there was no view down there. Just ugly metal walls. Up here, she could watch the world change from gray to vibrant. She could hear the birds sing when she passed the wooded areas, the cows lowing when she passed the stockyards and smell the pigs and rot when she jogged past them. They were penned near the garbage pit and if the wind was blowing the wrong way, the stench could be strong on top of the wall. She usually increased her pace a little during that part of the run. She wanted to keep in shape, she felt like she was getting fat and lazy inside the walls. After a winter of roughing it and depending on themselves, city living was making her soft.

She heard a burst of gunfire somewhere to the north and she didn’t think much of it. Gunfire wasn’t uncommon to hear. She’d flinched the first few times but now it only made her curious. Salvage crews or hunting parties were always going out and when the undead chased them down the road the deputies gunned them down from the top of the walls. The echo of the shots died away, they were too far away to be from the guards, and she heard a distant roar unlike anything she’d ever heard. Coffee’s ears perked up he started barking a warning. A cold shiver ran down her back.

6

Tribe

Northern Missouri

They crossed into Missouri without fanfare. Their bellies were full, and their saddlebags stuffed with supplies. Every town they passed through was a dead and silent. Bones and corpses littered the streets where someone had cleaned out the remaining zombies. They didn’t find stores filled with goods, the people that killed the zombies had beaten them to it, but they scrounged enough from the houses to last for days if they were careful. They were getting close, another day, maybe two at the most would put them in Gallatin. They were sure the townspeople were the ones killing off the undead and gathering all the supplies.

As darkness fell, they came across a farm on the edge of a large parcel of undeveloped forested land along a river. Swan and Donny both disappeared into it with promises of fresh meat. They knew how to hunt the woodlands. They managed to bring in four deer during the night. Each was certain they’d outdone the other and they argued over who was the most skilled. Donny’s fingers flew in the pidgin sign language he used while Swan shook her head in amused disagreement. Sure, they’d killed two deer each but one of Swan’s was bigger than either of Donny’s.

“You just don’t want to admit I’m better.” She said.

Size doesn’t matter, you can’t eat antlers. Donny signed.

The deer were swiftly processed by the eager kids. Most of the meat went to the carnivores. A shoulder or haunch went to the panther and four wolves while the rest of the deer were divided amongst the three bears. After a series of warning growls, the hungry animals dragged their meals away from the rest to feast.

Tobias and Analise had the tenderloins and back straps frying in a skillet over a campfire. Sliced, floured, salted and dropped in hot grease, they gave off an amazing smell. Another pot filled with potatoes boiled away next to it. Canned fruit sat divided up in bowls on an old wire spool that Kodiak had found near a barn. They’d even managed to find some snack size packs of Jell-O and a couple of candy bars. It was going to be the best meal they’d eaten since leaving Piedmont and anticipation was high.

Bert was happy to have trees again where he could graze at his discretion, while Ziggy worked her way through a patch of sunflowers, plucking any seeds and bugs from the dead stalks that caught her eye.

Vanessa was exploring the empty house they’d sheltered in. She beamed at the others and held up two rolls of toilet paper. One of her bags was stuffed full with it but she collected it at every opportunity.

While they were waiting for breakfast, Kodiak and Harper sat with their backs against a tree sipping water from their canteens.

“What do you think it will be like?” She asked.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Bob said most of the towns were really nice. Electricity and everything. We’ll see. We should be there in a few hours if I’m reading the map right. I hope they have pizza and ice cream.”

“You think they’ll give us some?” she asked “We don’t have any money and if we did, I doubt if they still use it.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Kodiak said. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe we can work a little, cut some firewood or something.”

“Or maybe do an impromptu circus act.” She said and sat up, excited. “Otis still knows some tricks from his Vegas days doesn’t he? And Ziggy does the laser pointer thing and I bet nobody’s seen anything like the twins riding around on polar bears. This could be fun!”

Kodiak rubbed his chin and smiled.

“You might be on to something.” He said. “We’ll have to talk to the others, see what they think.”

Harper pointed at Otis and giggled. “He’ll have to get over his shyness, I’ve never seen an animal go so far away to go to the bathroom.”

Otis had wandered to the top of a hill and was doing his business. The big bear didn’t like an audience when nature called. His arched back was silhouetted against the morning sky.

Kodiak couldn’t help but laugh. “Believe me, he’s doing us all a big favor by getting far away before he does that.”

“Yeah, thank goodness.” Analise said. “C’mon, foods ready.”

Harper and Kodiak stood and started towards the makeshift table when the sound of gunfire shattered the morning’s calm. Otis roared and slumped to the ground as the children stood frozen to the spot for a second.

“NO!’ Kodiak screamed and sprinted up the rise where his friend had fallen.

7

Gunshot

The strips of meat still frying in the pan were forgotten as children scrambled for weapons. Kodiak tore his way up the hill, war hammer still in his fist. The bear was on his side and moaning. He heard the rumble of an engine getting closer and turned it up to eleven. He ran faster and harder than he ever had in his life. He heard the slamming of doors and the excited chatter from men. The rest of the tribe wasn’t far behind, he heard the twins jump on their polar bears and the ground shook as they thundered up behind him. He reached Otis and dropped to his knees, skidding to a stop beside his friend.

“Drop the guns you bastard sons of bitches!” Swan yelled. She held her bow at full draw on someone Kodiak couldn’t see yet. She was backed up by a chorus of growling, snarling wolves, crouched low, fangs bared, ready to attack.

Tobias and Analise crested the rise in full battle rattle astride magnificent thousand-pound white beasts, saw bladed axes in their hands and murder on their faces. They reined the bears and Popsicle roared a threat at the intruders, his neck extended and long sharp fangs showing. The wound on Otis’s shoulder was bad, it poured blood but there wasn’t any frothing from his nostrils or mouth. It had hit high and wide if they were aiming for his heart. Kodiak raged, his skin burned hot and fury threatened to consume him as he stared at the three dumfounded men standing rooted to the spot some twenty yards away. They didn’t know where to look first, they thought they had gotten lucky and were going to have bear steak for dinner. Things had changed quickly. Now there was a savage looking Indian girl, her face painted for war, ready to put an arrow into one of them. She had a pack of wolves by her side, ready to pounce. On the other side of them a samurai had a spear cocked and an inky black panther curled his lips, showed them long, white fangs. Something was circling around behind them in the woods and they only caught glimpses but it looked like an African warrior riding an ostrich, machetes in her hands and ready to charge. On top of the hill, where the giant grizzly had fallen, were two albino children with long white hair with Gaelic runes tattooed on their skin. They were tiny astride the great polar bears they were on. The boy who had knelt over the bear stood and they took a step back. A little closer to the safety of their truck. He wore battle scared armor and had feathers and beads in his hair. His face was terrible to behold, its anger pure and undiluted. He tightened his grip on a bloody war hammer and started down the hill towards them.

The men didn’t think to raise their guns, they knew the animals would tear them apart if they opened fire.

Another girl, no older than fourteen of fifteen placed a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder. She looked just as fierce with her roughly tanned leather cuirass and bracers but her face didn’t hold the violence his did. She saw how it had been a mistake and no more blood needed to be spilled.

“I, I, I’m sorry.” The man stuttered. “We didn’t know. I thought he was wild.”

Kodiak couldn’t speak, he didn’t trust any words that may come out of his mouth. He wanted to kill them, crush their skulls and grind their bones but Harper’s hand stayed his rage. Helped him see how it could have been an accident. He took a deep, calming breath and lowered his hammer. The tribe followed suit and calming hands went down to animals to soothe them.

“We’ve heard about you’uns.” The man said. “You’re them wild kids that tamed the animals.”

“I didn’t believe it was true, I really didn’t. I thought them retrievers was telling tall tales.” Another man clutching an AR15 said.

Their leader slowly slid his rifle over his shoulder and let it rest on the sling then raised his hands.

“I’m real sorry.” He said again. “We didn’t mean no harm. How bad is he? We got a pretty good doc in town, maybe she can patch him up.”

“Kodiak.” Harper said, drawing his attention back to Otis. “He’s in pain but it’s not going to kill him. Looks like it blew up instead of penetrating.” She said as the big bear chuffed and tried to lick the wound.

“That sounds about right.” The man said. “I told Graham that was the wrong kind of gun, it wasn’t big enough to take down a grizzly. I was going to finish him off with…”

He broke off, realized what he was going to say and cleared his throat.

“Um, look, my name is Denny. This here is Dave Small and that there is Graham Rintoul. We were on a scavenge run up to Jamesport. Doc needs some meds that are probably in the pharmacy. We saw the bear silhouetted against the sky line and um, you know, thought we’d um…”

He broke off again at their glares.

“Um, you kids have names? Where you headed to? We mean you no harm. Think your friend might lower the bow?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice.

Swan should have probably looked chagrined but didn’t. She hadn’t realized she’d raised it, and nocked an arrow when the man started talking about killing Otis. With a curl of her lip, she released the tension and lowered it but didn’t remove the arrow. The men had no doubt she could raise, pull, aim and loose in about a nanosecond.

“Gallatin.” Kodiak said. “We heard it was a fortified town, a safe place to stop.”

“It is, it is.” Wilson assured him. “Um, look, it’s only a few miles away. Really, our doc is pretty good. She’s treated some really bad wounds. Wally James managed to get himself gored by a pissed off bull last month, pardon my French ladies, and she fixed him up right as rain. You think you can get that big fella in the back of my truck? I’ll take him there.”

“I think we should.” Harper said softly. “The bullet came apart into little pieces. I can feel fragments under his skin but they’re in pretty deep. Without something to numb the area, I won’t be able to get them out. It’ll hurt him too much, he won’t allow it. His shoulder doesn’t feel broken. I can pack the wound with cloth and pour honey on it to protect it and slow the bleeding. Pine sap would be better, but we don’t have any.”

Kodiak knew the bits of lead had to come out otherwise infection would set in. Otis might be able to absorb them over time but they would hurt him, possibly even kill him.

“Yeah.” He said. “I can get him in. Can you back up close?”

“You guys want to stay here or follow us in?” Kodiak asked the tribe when the men hurried off to get the truck.

“We’re not letting you go by yourself.” Harper said and the rest of them chorused agreement.

When they saw what the men were driving, they all exchanged glances. It was an old ice cream truck complete with a side window and rolled up awning over it. Stickers of various ice pops and frozen treats were still visible under the layers of grime and the armor.

“It’s more comfortable than a car.” Wilson said. “If we have to stay out overnight. We don’t go out much but when we do, it’s usually for medicines or fragile stuff that can’t get wet. I was on my route and got stuck in Gallatin when all this happened.”

The kids just looked at him.

“An ice cream truck?” Tobias asked. “Really?”

“Well, it’s diesel and gets good gas mileage.” Wilson said, not sure what to say.

“It’ll go just about anywhere.” Dave volunteered. “And it’s got a lot of storage area.”

“Got any ice cream left?” Analise asked.

“Uh, no, sorry.” Wilson said. “But we’ve got some Cokes in the cooler.”

By the time Otis lumbered into the back of the truck, sagging its springs considerably, the tribe had broken camp, were packed up and ready to go.

“Drive slow.” Kodiak told the man. “They’ll follow.”

8

Welcome to Gallatin

“Tell those idiots to point their guns away.” Kodiak heard the man yell over the CB. “These are them wild kids we heard about. They’re friendlies. We’re bringing in a wounded bear, somebody get the Doc. We need her to look at him.”

There was some hesitation but the men on top of the wall pointed their machine guns skyward then came closer to the edge to watch the strange procession. The American flag hung on a pole and another one they didn’t recognize flew right beneath it. The town was enclosed by a wall of shipping containers that circled it completely. There were only two entrances, one on either end of town. They were set up similar to a castle with double gates. Once they pulled inside the sally port, the containers behind them slid into place as they waited for the ones in front to open. If someone came in hot with a horde of zombies hanging all over their truck, they could be safely picked off one by one in the enclosed area.

Time ticked by and no one said anything, simply watched them from above. The other gate didn’t open.

The animals didn’t like the confined space and were getting antsy. Popsicle growled his disapproval and reared up to sniff at a little dog that squirmed in the arms of a girl. She was standing next to one of the men with the guns. They felt the metal container shudder a little as his paws came to rest and he stretched his neck. The man jumped back, the bear was only a dozen feet below him. He could imagine the wild looking kid with the axe running up his neck and leaping to the top. Tobias leaned forward, stroked Popsicles neck and urged him to calm down. He winked at the girl and sat a little straighter in the saddle. She was about his age and kind of cute.

“What’s taking so long?” Denny finally yelled up to the men staring down at them. “Open the damn gate!”

“They need to get checked for bites!” the man yelled back at them. “But nobody wants to go in there.”

“Let us back out, then.” Swan yelled and pounded on the wall they’d just come through. “We’ll wait outside.”

“Hold your britches on, Missy.” One of the guards said. “The mayor said he’d give you an exemption, he’s on his way.”

Swan snarled at him and dropped her hands to her tomahawks. She could put one dead center of his forehead if she wanted.

“Let me out.” Swan said, her voice full of menace and drew them from their holsters.

The other children followed her lead, weapons were unsheathed, and spears were readied but not aimed. Not yet. Guns came up on top of the wall.

“Now, now, everybody calm down.” A man in a dapper black suit said as he walked up and peered over at them. “Lower your weapons, boys.”

They did immediately.

“Sorry it’s taking so long.” The man said smoothly. “My name is Mayor Moretz and I’m the Mayor here.

He smiled a toothy grin at them, amused at his own joke.

“We had to find a place for all of you. A safe place for your animals and to be frank, for us, too. We have a rule, we always check everyone for zombie bites. I’m sure you can appreciate that your situation is a little different.”

“Understood.” Kodiak said. “But our animals aren’t used to being caged. Us either. It’s making everyone nervous. If you’ll open the gate, they’ll wait outside.”

“No need for all that.” He said. “We have a place for you, we’re just tidying it up a bit. Making it presentable for our honored guests. It’s near the back side of town, it should be ready by the time you get there. If you’ll just follow the truck, Denny will have you there in a jiffy.”

He adjusted his smile and bolo tie, a sterling silver piece with turquoise inlay.

“What about their weapons?” One of the men asked. “No weapons allowed.”

“No guns allowed.” The mayor corrected. “The children have spears and knives. I’m sure they’re no threat to you boys now open the gate, let’s get them comfortable.”

“Denny, lead them around the perimeter road over to the stockyard.” He shouted down. “One of my boys will be there to show you where they’ll be staying.”

Denny gave him a thumbs up and the gate started to slowly open.

“Now, I hate to say this, but I feel it is my duty. Please stay right behind the truck and don’t wander off into town. I have the safety of my citizens to worry about. I’m sure you understand. It’s just until we get you checked out, then you’ll be free to go about your business.”

“I’ll wait outside.” Swan yelled up at him from her position at the entry gate.

The mayor turned away and disappeared from sight. Annoyed, she holstered her tomahawks and followed the slow-moving group as they made their way down the dirt road that hugged the wall. She heard the men above keeping pace, their footfalls loud on the steel of the containers, their guns ready to shoot anyone that strayed off the path.

The mayor signaled for three of the men that rarely left his side to follow the procession and make sure they were secured. He and his bodyguard climbed back down to a waiting car.

“We need to keep this quiet.” He said as soon as they were inside. “You were right, Jimmy. Those animals will add quite a few pieces of gold to our coffers. I called on the ham, there are a couple of collectors in the Tower looking for some exotic hides. We might even get a bidding war going.”

The bearded man nodded, he’d seen the cards requesting them pinned up in the retrievers bar in the Tower back when he’d been out hustling. He’d fallen in with Moretz, a local politician who needed some trusted men to do his dirty work, and they’d taken over the little town. It was a lot easier and safer life than running the wilds looking for trinkets for the rich folk. He recruited the other three, men he’d known back when he rode with Casey and his raiders. They’d seen the writing on the wall, they knew that outfit was a little too wild and got out while the getting was good. Now all he had to do was an occasional odd job for the mayor and he lived comfortably behind the walls.

“I wish those fools hadn’t brought them here, it would have been easier if nobody knew about them but no matter.” The mayor continued. “We need to get the word out that they’re contagious. I’ll have the doc check them out and as soon as that bear can walk, we’ll get rid of them.”

“Think she’ll play ball?” Jimmy asked. “She’s one of them do-gooders.”

“She will if she knows what’s best for her and her daughter.” Moretz answered. “You see Jimmy, power doesn’t have to be brandished like a club. Sometimes subtlety, just the hint of what may happen, is all you need. She’s a mother, and mothers will do anything to protect their children. She’ll do as she’s told.”

I don’t like this. Donny signed and Swan agreed. They didn’t feel like honored guests, they felt more like prisoners.

We get Otis stitched up and get out of here as fast as we can. She flashed back at him. Kodiak is distracted, keep an eye out.

He nodded and slowed his pace, put a little distance between them and watched the buildings for anyone else pointing guns. It wasn’t being paranoid if they really were out to get you. The towns people that saw them seemed nice enough. None of them were armed, they were curious but kept their distance. Sound carried in the silence and above the clump of booted footfalls on the metal two stories above them, they could hear snatches of conversation from the men with the guns. The mayors’ deputies. Swan padded softly with her wolves and her keen ears caught phrases like they look like a bunch of savages, probably too wild to be in civilized company and they probably smell as bad as the animals and a lewd comment that the others laughed at. I’d like to tame that one leading the giraffe.

Harper heard some of the remarks, too. The men weren’t exactly keeping their voices down. It was hard to believe they’d been so excited about reaching civilization again. They had believed everything would be great, the town would welcome them with open arms and maybe even fuss over them a little. She’d imagined the ladies wanting to clean them up and smother them with love, the poor things. They’d been talking about eating pizza and playing video games, watching a movie and having an ice cream, maybe putting on a circus act that everyone could enjoy. Now they were trudging towards some animal holding pens. It might still be all right. The mayor was just being careful and he couldn’t help it if his men were a little rough around the edges. They were probably good guys and would be embarrassed if they knew they could be heard.

The girl and the little dog followed the procession but she kept her distance from the men. In her experience, they weren’t very nice. One of them had even spat tobacco juice on Coffee once and they’d all laughed.

It was nearly a mile until they got to the stockyard that was far removed from the town. Swan tried to tamp down her anger and annoyance. She wasn’t so sure she liked civilization. Things weren’t so complicated in the wild. You hunted your food, you ran with your pack, you killed the undead. Nobody stared at your backside for long moments. Nobody wrinkled their nose at the way you looked. She still had unfinished business back in Iowa, she still owed a hunchback hyena a little payback. Her duty was to the tribe but in the back of her mind she knew at some point she would go looking for him even if she had to do it alone. She actually preferred it that way. She and the pack could move swiftly without anyone slowing them down or getting in the way. Nobody to take care of or care about. She would see them safely to Lakota, but after that she would do what she had to in order to settle the score once and for all with the beast.

Mayor Moretz waved them into a large metal barn. Harper tugged Bert’s bridle low so he could get through the door but once inside it was plenty tall enough for him to stand erect.

“This is only temporary.” The Mayor said in apology, his toothy grin white under the black mustache.

The children looked around the open barn. A half hour ago, it had been filled with cattle and they had left cow pies all over. Kodiak urged Otis out of the old ice cream truck and Moretz waved it away.

“The doctor is on the way, try to make yourselves comfortable. Once she’s fixed up your big friend and everyone’s been examined, we’ll rustle you up some hot food.”

He followed the truck out, asked loudly what was taking the doc so long to get there and the doors slid closed behind him.

“What a dump.” Tobias said as he gazed around the interior. It was barely fit for animals, much less a wounded one. He slid off his polar bear and landed in a wet pile of freshly minted cow dung. He cursed and wiped his boots off on a clump of hay as Swan laughed and Donny’s shoulders shook in quiet mirth.

“Keep it up.” He said humorlessly. “I’ll save some of this and add it to your dinner.”

Kodiak found a relatively clean corner and guided Otis into it and got him to lay down. Harper pulled an apple out of her satchel and sliced a piece off for him. It wasn’t spam but he ate it anyway and let them scratch his ears and rub his belly.

Bert sniffed at the motionless fans mounted in the ceiling and licked at it. Flies buzzed lazily around as Swan looked into the stalls, maybe there was a clean one with fresh hay. Something felt off to her. Moretz was a little too smooth despite his smile and good old boy charm. He reminded her a little of how Gordon had fooled everyone in the beginning. Except me she thought. I never trusted the bastard.

The others stood looking around at the cobwebs and burned out lights. It was hot and there wasn’t much air circulating. The big fans along the roof sat idle and rusted. Other than room for all of the animals it had nothing going for it.

“It’s not the Hilton, that’s for sure.” Vanessa said as she pulled the saddle off Ziggy.

Swan spun when she heard the sounds of a chain going through the handles of the sliding doors. She ran back to it and tried to yank it open. It slid an inch then stopped.

She turned to run to the other end but Donny was already sprinting towards it. He jerked the handle but it didn’t budge. The windows were high on the walls and most of them were broken but all of them had wire mesh covering them. They were in a giant cage.

Kassie sat on top of the wall, feet dangling, idly scratching Coffee behind the ears. She didn’t follow the men down the ladder, they would have run her off if they noticed her. She wondered why they put them in the dirty old cow barn. There were lots nicer places they could stay. She wondered why they locked them in, they didn’t even check them for bites. It didn’t seem fair. Her mom would be here soon, though. She’d straighten everything out. She hoped she could go inside and meet them, maybe they would let her pet one of the bears, and they were so huge.

Mayor Moretz and his men stopped at the foot of the ladder and she heard them talking. She knew it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop but it wasn’t her fault they didn’t look up and see her there. She was just minding her own business.

“Nobody comes in or out. You hear me?” Moretz ordered one of his men and pointed him back to stand guard duty at the barn. “That’s a fortune in exotic animals in there. Now that I’ve seen them, I’ll let those people in the Tower know what we have. That giraffe is priceless all on its own and so are those polar bears. They’ll look good once they get stuffed and posed.”

He sent two of the men off to guard both entrances and turned to the other who had a foot on the ladder, ready to climb back up to keep watch from above.

“Keep watch from above.” He told him. “They might try to climb out a window or something. We’re headed over to get the doc. I’ll send her over to see if she can do anything for the bear, get it patched up enough to walk out of here. We’ll get rid of them tonight, even if we gotta haul it out in a truck. Meanwhile we’ve got to keep up appearances. Too many people saw us bring them in, they’ll start talking. Once the doc gets finished, we’ll spread the word they’re infected with something, something real contagious, and we’ll send them on their way. They’ll be easy to track, we’ll give them a few hours head start then pick them off from a safe distance.”

“You got it boss.” The man said “but what about them kids?”

“Dead men tell no tales.” Moretz said “We can’t let them go blabbing. Nobody will miss them so take care of it.”

“So you don’t mind if we have a go at them girls?”

“Consider it a little bonus for your dedicated work. Just make sure nobody finds the bodies.” Moretz said. “C’mon, Jimmy. The sooner we get the doc over here, the sooner we can get rid of them.”

“That’s cold, boss.” He man said with a laugh and slung his rifle to climb the ladder.

“I wasn’t always the fine upstanding mayor you see before you.” Moretz said with a smug smile and walked towards the car.

Kassie rolled quietly from the edge and hurried away from the man puffing his way up the ladder, her moccasins silent on the metal. She couldn’t hardly believe what she’d overheard. She had to warn the kids. She had to tell her mom.

9

The Island

The man’s beard was getting long as he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t need to look good for anyone, he was by himself, but this was the first time he’d seen his image in a long time. He tried to avoid it, after all, he was a killer. His face was gaunt, too. He used to be beefy.

Portly.

Hell, who was he trying to fool? He’d been a fatso. Amazing what the end of the world could do for your figure. He hadn’t seen anyone in months and people out in the wild weren’t the kind of people you wanted to meet anyway. Everyone in the country had made it to one of the walled cities as far as he knew. The only ones left outside were usually the type of people you didn’t want to meet. They were either retrievers or bounty hunters looking to collect a reward or remnants of Casey’s gang looking for somebody to terrorize.

Steven had lived behind the walls right after the world went mad. He’d made it to an enclave up in North Dakota called the Island. It was secure and safe and he was glad to be there. He’d lost his whole family and had nearly been torn apart himself when he arrived. His truck was almost out of gas, a horde was chasing him up the causeway and he would have been killed if they hadn’t opened the gates. It was okay in the beginning but as time went by, the government got stronger and more intrusive and for him, things got worse. He couldn’t seem to catch a break. He couldn’t get a good job and the more he complained the worse it got. The party officials became downright tyrannical but everyone accepted it because they were safe. He’d become a recluse surrounded by unfriendly people. He had worked at a coal fired power plant before the fall but they had assigned him a job as fish processor. He worked eight hours a day gutting, beheading and scaling fish. He couldn’t quit, it wasn’t allowed. They would throw him out. He couldn’t get a different job, this was the one he was assigned. He told his superiors he could be better utilized at the power plant. He had experience, even if it wasn’t hydroelectric. They didn’t listen, the bureaucracy was a nightmare and no matter how many transfer forms he filled out they were always denied. They provided a house and safety and in return you had to do what they said. He hated it.

He tried, he really had, but he wasn’t very good and he kept getting his pay docked, his rations shorted and his living quarters were downsized to a shipping container. He was fifty years old, wasn’t as fast as the younger workers and had a hard time controlling his mouth. He went from fish processor to janitor and then to night shift muckraker cleaning up the piles of fish guts and hosing down the blood. If there was a worse job on the island, he wasn’t aware of it. The council’s overseer who was in charge of the fishing industry was a severe young woman who thought nothing of stepping on her underlings to climb in position. Steven had a hard time taking orders from a clueless party official who loved her power and was eager to show how efficient she was to her superiors. She caught him taking an unauthorized break the night his life went from bad to worse.

“I’m all caught up!” He’d argued. “There’s nothing left to clean, no guts to shovel up, no blood to hose down. I’m ahead of schedule!”

“Then polish the floor. Make it shine, make it pristine for day shift.” She said coldly. “It sets a bad example for the workers not to work.”

“I’ll mop it when there’s something to be mopped.” He said and sat back down in defiance.

“Fine.” She said and pulled out her ever-present clipboard. “You’re being reassigned to hull scrubber, effective immediately. Report to commissar Sanders.”

“I can’t.” he said. “I can’t swim.”

“This is not our concern.” She said. “Report for duty or suffer the consequences.”

“No. What are you going to do, cut my rations again? I’m not going in the water.” Steven said, the old fears slamming into him as if it were forty years ago and he was drowning in the lake again. “I have aquaphobia, I get panicky if I’m in water over my knees. I’d be useless.”

“This is not our concern.” She repeated, her pleasure obvious even though she tried to hide it behind the stern face the party officials wore. “You will do as I say. Report immediately or you will be exiled.”

“Fine.” he’d said. “I quit. I’m out of here. I’m going to Lakota.”

“You can’t quit. You’re fired.” She said with satisfaction and started scribbling notes. “We don’t need your kind.”

She spoke into the walkie talkie, requested guards to escort him off the island.

“No need.” He said and kicked over the bucket of fish slop. “I’ll get in my truck and go. Goodbye and good riddance to all of you controlling bastards.”

It splashed all over her shoes and pants of her crisp black uniform.

“Your truck and all of your possessions belong to the people of the island.” She said with barely contained fury. “They were forfeit when you joined our society.”

“We’ll see about that.” Steven said and headed for the door.

She blocked his exit and spoke quickly into the microphone.

“Subject is aggressive and attempting to flee.” She actually smiled when she added “and he has assaulted me.”

Steven paled at that and started to protest. Attacking a member of the party was punishable by death. They had a cage on a chain they put you in and then dropped it in the lake. It stayed there, twenty feet under water, until it was needed again. He’d seen it happen a few weeks ago. He’d be forced into it next to the bloated, rotten half eaten man who’d been caught stealing. The crabs would be clinging to it, biting off tiny chunks of flesh and feasting on the meat. They’d swim over to him as soon as the cage plunged back in the water. It was a horrible way to die.

He should have left six months ago. He should have figured out some way to steal some gas and get out of the gates. Now it was too late, the vindictive woman was going to have him killed.

He panicked and shoved her out of the way, he couldn’t let them put him in the cage and he knew they would. He wasn’t a productive citizen and she would swear he’d attacked her, that he had laid hands on a party official. She slipped on the bloody mess from the bucket and he ran past her out of the warehouse. He heard the sirens and saw the flashing blue of the judicial police and knew it was too late. There were only two roads on and off the island, both guarded and heavily fortified. They would hunt him down, hold a farce of a trial in the morning and he’d be publicly executed tomorrow afternoon. The Island believed in swift justice and severe penalties. He sprinted for the docks, he had to find something, anything that wasn’t chained down. He had to get to the mainland miles away and unseen in the darkness. He couldn’t paddle it in a canoe or raft, there wasn’t time. Sunrise was only an hour away, they’d find him.

The fishing trawler that went out every morning just before dawn was idling at the dock as men yelled back and forth, secured gear and got ready for a long day out on the lake. Steven swallowed his fears, calmed his nerves and hurried out towards them as the gangway was being pulled in.

“Wait, I’m supposed to be on there!” he yelled and waved his arm.

“And who are you?” one of the crew asked as he ran across the walkway.

“Steven Overturf.” He said. “I was told to report for duty.”

“We already have a full crew.” The man said. “I didn’t hear about this, where’s your paperwork? We need to see the Captain.”

“Fine by me.” Steve said and turned to leave. “I’m just doing what I was told. One of the commissars told me to get on the boat to get trained. I’ll tell her you wouldn’t let me on. Just wait here, I’ll try to find her so she can tell you herself.”

“Hold on.” The man said and scratched his beard. “I guess we can figure this out later, we’ve got to go or we won’t make our quota for the day.”

He didn’t want any trouble from the government, they left the fishermen alone for the most part.

They backed slowly out of the dock and were powering towards deep water before the police arrived to find the body of the overseer cooling in a pile of fish heads, scales and entrails. She’d slipped in the mess when she’d been shoved aside. Her feet flew out from under her and the back of her head had caught the corner of a steel table.

It was hours later when the Captain got a call on the radio to be on the lookout for any unauthorized craft headed for the mainland, a killer was on the loose. Steven knew his time was up and grabbed the flare gun.

“It’ll kill you just as dead as a bullet if it hits you point blank.” He warned and forced them to take him ashore.

He’d been on the run ever since, hiding out in rural areas and keeping on the move. He’d always been a paranoid man, even diagnosed with mild schizophrenia by some quack. He wasn’t crazy though. People really were out to get him and hold him back. At his old job in the power plant he was constantly bypassed for promotions. He was in the same position he’d started out doing fresh out of college. The same thing had happened at the Island. They were all out to get him, that’s why he kept being demoted. He knew they would hunt him, he wouldn’t be safe in any town. He was sure the Island had sent out a description and his wanted poster was hanging in every guard shack at every gate in every fortified settlement.

10

Diablo

Diablo approached the smoldering ash of the campfire. Every sense on high alert for danger. He’d smelled the smoke when he was still miles away and followed the scent. Sensing no threat, he gobbled down the strips of venison and lapped up the still warm grease from the skillet. He sniffed at the potatoes and fruit. They held no interest for him. He sniffed where each of them had sat. He inspected the spots where they’d relieved themselves behind trees until he found her scent. He growled as he inhaled. He could smell a trace of Demonio on the bark of the tree where her cloaked back had rested. Nose to the ground he followed her scent up the hilltop where it was mingled in with new scents. He didn’t recognize these. They smelled of men, tobacco and diesel fuel. He sniffed the blood on the ground where Otis had bled and lapped at its stickiness. He circled the mashed down grass where the trucks had parked and hunted for their trail. It seemed to end here. The diesel smell still clung faintly to the brush and grass so he followed it. He wouldn’t allow another predator to take his prey and set out a loping gait to see where it led.

The trail led him to a road and then to Gallatin. He stayed in the trees, camouflaged and invisible to those who watched from the walls. Many scents came from the lair. Humans, garbage, the smell of cows and cooked food mingled in with exhaust fumes and other odors he couldn’t identify. It was noisy too. Voices of many people and machines. He shied from the sound, they reminded him of his time behind bars and he wouldn’t go back into another cage.

He followed the tree line around the town until the smell of decay and carrion was strong in his nose. He slinked his way through the trees and brush until he reached a large pit far beyond the walls. Flies buzzed and whirled around the hole. High above, carrion birds circled in slow, lazy spirals.

Inside the pit, animal carcasses were mixed in among the decaying corpses of the undead. Some still twitched, their ravaged bodies too mangled to propel themselves out of the hole. His stomach grumbled at the intoxicating smells. He lowered his body to a crouch and inched forward, wary of a trap. He smelled nothing living but man and anything made by man made him cautious.

Invisible in the grass, he inched forward to the edge of the pit. The smell of the pigs was strong in the pit but none were feeding in it at the moment. The men only let them in at night so the towns’ people couldn’t see. He eased over the edge, ignored the flies that buzzed his eyes and feasted on his wounds, grabbed the small corpse of a zombie child and drug it back to the woods.

He settled down and began stripping the corpse or rancid meat. He would wait. He would watch. The wolf girl would hunt. It was her nature. The walls that kept him out wouldn’t keep her in. He had no concept of time or schedules, just the genetic memory of his kind. Patience and cunning would put her in his jaws. He had plenty of food. He could smell water on the breeze. He needed nothing more. Sooner or later, she would hunt and he would be ready.

11

Kassie

Kassie tucked her dog under one arm and hurried down the next ladder some quarter mile away then cut through the middle of town to get back home. She burst through the door and was yelling for her mom when she drew up short. The mayor and his man were already there, talking to Linda in the kitchen.

“What is it honey?” her mom asked a little alarmed, the coffee pot stopped in mid pour.

Kassie slid to a stop and was at a loss for words.

“Oh, I bet she’s excited about the animals that came in this morning, aren’t you?” The mayor said smoothly and gave his cup a little shake so she would finish pouring. “I was just telling your mother she needs to give them a check up and see what she can do about one of them that’s injured. I saw you at the front gate but you need to stay away from them, you hear? They need to be quarantined, who knows what kind of diseases they’re carrying.”

“The poor things.” He added as an afterthought.

Kassie stood rooted to the floor and all eyes were on her. Linda knew something else was bothering her, spending six months confined in a tiny little cabin had attuned them to each other, she could read her daughter like an open book.

“You can tell me all about it later, you need to get ready for school.” Her mom said and gave her that look, the one with the narrowed eyes and the set to her lips that meant and don’t give me any backtalk. “Hurry up, off you go.”

Five minutes later, as soon as she heard the door close, she rushed back down the stairs. It only took her a minute to tell what she’d overheard and Linda’s face went from angry to thunderous.

“I knew that oily snake was up to something.” She said with contempt. “He actually had the gall to threaten me when I told him what he was asking me to do just wasn’t right. He was subtle, or at least he thought he was, but he made it clear that his men controlled the gates and the supplies and the food. Nobody gets in or out without his say so.”

“You mean like we’re in jail?” Kassie asked.

“Yeah, something like that. A big, open one but if you can’t come and go as you please, it might as well be.” She fumed.

In an indirect, ham-fisted way, the mayor had let her know she would do what she was told and she wouldn’t be leaving. He thought he was being sly when he asked after her daughter. When he brought Kassie into the conversation. It clicked for her then. Instantly and clearly and she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. He was sitting at her table, drinking her coffee and smiling like they were old friends. He had just threatened them and took it for granted she would play along because she had no choice. The goon with the gun had casually dropped his hand to it as he lit a cigarette, the one she’d said she’d preferred he didn’t when he asked if she minded. The angry retort on the edge of her tongue was swallowed and she knew this wasn’t a fight she could win, not here in her kitchen. She smiled and said of course, Mr. Moretz. If you think that’s best for the town.

“He said the kids weren’t going to be allowed out and I was to report that they had a disease. Like measles or something worse, something really bad he said. I was wondering why he didn’t want them mingling in town. He’s going to say they’re contagious and everyone will be glad when they’re gone.”

“That makes sense.” Kassie said as she watched her mom pace the kitchen. “If they’re never heard from again, everyone will think they died out there.”

“That’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.” Linda said then stopped her pacing, stared out the window over the sink.

They had a pretty good life here in Gallatin. They had a strong wall to keep out the undead, a roof over their heads and plenty of food to eat. She had meaningful work and Kassie was growing up in a safe place with school and kids her own age to play with. Things were changing, though. She’d never really stopped to consider how different life was now compared to a few months ago when they first arrived. Like everyone else, she rolled with the changes. It was a new world, the old one was dead. Things were done differently. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized everything had been incrementally getting worse. The new mayor had replaced all the old towns’ guards with his own men. They were outsiders, retrievers and nomads, some of them looked like they may have been bandits or raiders. Little by little they had taken over and even though people complained, they complied. He didn’t make big changes all at once, he made small ones that seemed reasonable. He’d locked up the hi-powered ham radio that could talk to most of the settlements. Somebody might be in league with the Raiders he’d said. They might give away our weaknesses, you don’t want those cannibals attacking us, do you? He had reasoned.

He’d taken away everyone’s guns and kept them in the courthouse basement for safe keeping. You don’t need them inside the walls. We don’t want any of our children getting ahold of one, do we? He’d done away with restocking the store shelves, now they had community meals. A lot less waste that way he’d declared. She was one of the few who was allowed to have food because she kept odd hours with her medical duties. He was trying to get rid of money but people were complaining about that more than they had about turning in their guns. Everyone worked and everyone got free housing, food and medical care he’d argued. We can do away with it among ourselves, the town will provide.

She’d treated quite a few truck drivers and retrievers, it seemed like they were always getting themselves banged up. Even they had commented on the changes and they hadn’t been complimentary. Those men and women went to all the settlements, the good and the bad, the old and the new. They delivered goods and spent time in the different towns. From the wild and barely tamed to the ones that were as normal as any place before the fall. If the subject of Gallatin came up, they all said it was getting worse.

“It’s that new mayor y’all elected. He’s running the place into the ground.” was the general consensus.

Except the town hadn’t elected him. He’d been an advisor and when the previous mayor died in the accident, he’d stepped in and taken over.

Linda made up her mind, turned to face her daughter.

“This could get risky.” She said. “I want to help those kids; I can’t stand by and do nothing anymore. If I do, we’re in this together. We’re going to have to leave, it won’t be safe for us here. Are you okay with that?”

This wasn’t a mother daughter conversation. This was two friends, two survivors considering doing something that might be dangerous. This was all or nothing. If Moretz could wipe out a tribe of kids just for their animals pelts he would have no problem doing the same to them and Linda wanted out before it got worse.

“I’m in.” Kassie said. “All the way.”

“All the way.” Linda agreed.

12

Whiskey and Rye

The tall man in the cowboy boots tossed back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and pushed the plate away. The steak and egg breakfast had hit the spot. He’d come in late last night, got a room upstairs and had been catching up on some much-needed sleep. The Dead Mule Tavern was busier than he expected this early in the morning, it was shift change for the guards. He could usually count on Ed, the bartender, to provide him with a lead on a job but lately it seemed like nobody in Gallatin wanted to pay in gold. Everybody wanted to barter and he traveled light. He didn’t have any use for somebody else’s junk.

The bar was abuzz with the news of a group of strange children and a bunch of zoo animals that were being held in the stockyards. He’d heard the stories on Radio Lakota but like everyone else with half a brain he’d dismissed them as tall tales. At first they had seemed credible; a group of kids had saved some women somewhere up in Minnesota. But then the ladies started saying the children rode around on bears and had panthers and wolves that obeyed their every command. Rubbish. Afterwards that buffoon Bastille had every retriever or half-crazy wanderer he could drag away from the pub that claimed to have seen them on his show. Most of them sounded like they were three sheets to the wind and their stories sounded like something you would hear from a drunk bellowing at the end of the bar. Some claimed they had a herd of elephants pulling a caravan of looted gold from Fort Knox. Two Shot Tim, who got his name from what he always ordered when drinking, not any particular gun skill he had, said he saw a girl riding a giraffe. It was ridiculous, same as the stories of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. The people ate it up, though. The CB and the phones were always clogged with people calling in whenever he had someone on that claimed to have seen them.

Gallatin was a stopover for him, a place with a high wall, a well-stocked tavern and a comfortable bed. He’d been out in the wild for weeks and had just finished up a retrieval for a customer. This one had been rough. It had taken forever and the deaders kept showing up. A kid named Carl down in Lakota needed some very specific parts for some old train cars he was restoring. He had given him a list, it even had pictures of the items. He wanted to offer customers safe and comfortable day trips in armored antique dining cars. There seemed to be a demand for it, people wanted to get out from behind the walls for a little while, they just didn’t want to risk being eaten by zombies. The kid had come up with a way to separate them from their gold, good for him. He contemplated a train robbery, a grand one like the wild, wild west just for the thrill of it but he didn’t figure the boy kept the gold on the train.

His Jeep was loaded down with all manner of fancy chrome fittings, unique hand carved fixtures and little tiffany lamps he’d gotten from the railroad museum in Sioux City. He’d managed to not break any of the antiques, not get bitten and was finally headed south to collect his pay. If he would have known it would be so much trouble, he would have charged double. Another night dozing in the driver’s seat held little appeal, he was getting too old for that nonsense. The sleeping area in his rig was chock full of parts and he didn’t sleep very well in some abandoned house. His dog may or may not give him enough warning if a horde of deaders came stumbling by. Gallatin was a little out of his way but a real bed, real food and the security of the high walls made the trip worth it.

He’d been here a lot and used to get some decent retrievals. It was a typical midwestern walled city, they all had their own personalities and this one had a reputation of being a little rough. Decent people but a bar brawl on Saturday night was more common than a Sunday social after church. It seemed a lot more laid back this time, though. When he pulled in last night, the town had already rolled up the sidewalks, there wasn’t anyone around like there usually was. It was a cattle town that had survived the winter and the people were working together to build something from the ashes. The town had a real shot at becoming something. They had expanded their offerings to include sheep, hogs and a little buffalo to compete with Tombstone, the other cow town out west. Some of them had been trying to get the shuttered textile mill back up and running, they saw a need for clothes in the future. The supplies from Wal-Mart wouldn’t last forever.

The town had changed since the new mayor took over. It was hard to put his finger on what was different, exactly, but everyone seemed beaten down. Like they’d given up and were just going through the motions. They were surviving, not thriving.

None of my business he thought and laid a piece of Lakota gold on the bar. He signaled the bartender for a refill. The newly minted coin would pay for his room, breakfast, keep his glass full and would still leave a nice tip.

“One for the road.” He said. “I’m going to check out those kids with my own two eyes then with a little luck I’ll get to Lakota before Pretty Boy Floyd’s shuts down the kitchen. I’ll get some real food then, not this slop. Miss Pam makes the best Shepard’s Pie in any of the settlements.”

Ed grunted and made the gold disappear.

“You cleaned your plate though, didn’t you? Surprised you didn’t lick it clean like that flea-bitten mutt of yours does.”

Rye’s insults didn’t bother him, they’d been friends for six months, a long time in this new world. He only cooked steak or pork chops. If it couldn’t be made on the grill, he didn’t serve it and if you didn’t like it you could go somewhere else.

“Reckon we’ll hear you making a fool of yourself on the radio tonight, then.” The bartender said. “If ol’ Bastille finds out you seen them for reals, up close and personal, he’ll be blasting it out all over the territories.”

“Not unless he’s got a bottle of Angels Envy Rye hidden away.” The cowboy said and knocked back the two fingers of amber liquid in his glass.

He made a face.

“Lord, I think paint thinner is better than the rotgut you pass off as whiskey.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, smiled at the finger Ed was giving him and stood.

“Where they keeping those kids, anyway?” he asked.

“That ain’t none of your business, buddy.” One of the guards said then took a pull on his beer. “The mayor said they was in quarantine. That means you can’t go gawping at them. It’d be best for you to hurry your ass up and get on down the road.”

“He ain’t the mayor of me, boy.” Rye said “And it’d be best if you minded your business before you lose a few teeth.”

The man pushed away from the bar in anger, dropped his hand to his gun but Rye’s was already there and he had a small smile on his lips.

The guard’s eyes showed surprise. Nobody was supposed to be armed, just them, just the mayor’s security force.

And retrievers, he remembered a little too late, his mind dulled by a long night walking the wall and the half dozen beers he’d slammed down. None of those hard heads would give up their guns and the mayor had said it was okay. Some of the things they brought in were critical and besides, they paid in gold. He’d had to make an exception for them otherwise they wouldn’t deliver.

The bartender watched keenly. He knew what was coming and didn’t relish the thought of his place being splattered with blood when the retriever unleashed hell. He pulled the double barrel shotgun he kept handy and laid it down heavily on the bar to grab their attention then cocked both hammers to make sure he kept it. The metal on metal click was loud in the sudden hush. Everybody stared at the coach gun. Rye stared at the man, watched his hands for a flicker of movement.

“Now fellas,” Ed said almost conversationally. “That gentleman in the cowboy hat goes by the name of Rye. He’s got something of a reputation and if you are gonna dust up with him, I’d prefer you do it outside. Blood is mighty hard to get out of my hard wood floors.”

At the mention of Rye’s name, the loudmouth turned to look at him. He didn’t look like much. A tall man with a weathered face. He was lanky and he knew him and his buddies could take him, put an ass whooping on him, but he wasn’t so sure about his chances if guns came out of holsters. Yeah, they’d probably shoot him down but it would be after the cowboy had put a few new bullet holes in his gut. He’d heard of him, heard about some of the things he’d done. Rumor had it that he’d walked into a Raiders camp and killed them all. Twenty of Casey’s toughest.

Probably a load of crap.

There had probably only been one or two.

The captives he’d freed were probably lying.

Probably.

He noticed some of his buddies that had stood up when the argument began were easing out of the line of fire and he started to feel very alone.

“Ain’t worth my time.” He finally said and grabbed his beer off the counter then sauntered over to the pool table. Cool and casual. He wasn’t afraid, not at all.

Rye winked at the barman and strolled out to the sidewalk. If they were keeping the kids in the stockyards, he’d find them easy enough.

13

Swan

Swan had walked every inch of the walls looking for a way out. She’d checked and rechecked both doors but they were chained shut. There wasn’t a weakness she could find. Not yet anyway. She looked up at the windows. She could climb up on Bert and pry the wire loose but it was a long drop on the other side. Besides, the guy with the gun would hear it.

She was nervous and on edge. She could feel the walls starting to close in. She hadn’t talked about what happened to her at Smith’s Landing. She’d never confided to any of the tribe how it had felt to be all alone in the midst of their enemies and knowing you were going to die. She blocked it out when the memories tried to resurface. She was a survivor. She was a killer of men. She’d gotten out of that and she’d get out of this. Gallatin wasn’t nearly as bad as Smith’s Landing. At least they weren’t trying to kill them here, just keep them in a prison. The rational part of her could understand their reasoning but the animal in her wanted out, couldn’t stand being penned in. Her gentle nature from before the outbreak had been pushed aside and replaced with a warrior’s spirit. All of them had become something they weren’t a year ago, all of them had learned to be savage.

She finally stopped pacing, settled into a clean spot and started sharpening her blades, her wolves gathered around her. She watched Kodiak as he brooded by Otis. He was hurting. Blaming himself for their situation. She loved him, but she wasn’t happy with him. He should be taking charge, channeling his rage, not accepting their fate. He was pensive and staring at the lighter he always carried. Much like his bear, he was slow to anger. He wanted to think things through. He wasn’t rash like her. Her first impulse was to lash out with words or weapons and she was deadly with both. Kill first, kill some more then go back and make sure they were all killed. Sometimes that was a good thing, other times it wasn’t. She knew her hot head had caused trouble for the tribe more than once and forced herself to calm. To coil her rage like a spring and unleash it when the time was right.

She didn’t blame him for the predicament they were in, that wouldn’t be fair. Getting to one of the towns had been a common goal they all shared. Worry for Otis had overridden their normal caution and any of the tribe would have made the same decision if it was one of their animals. She whispered a thanks to Mother Earth that it hadn’t been one of her wolves. She would have lost it and killed all three of the men and then set fire to this whole town. If this is what the civilized survivors were like, she had no use for them or their so-called safe towns. It seemed to her that there more evil people than good ones left.

She heard voices coming closer and jumped to her feet. The rest of the tribe had heard them to and snatched up weapons. It was instinct, they weren’t sure if they were in a hostile environment but they didn’t like the way they’d been treated so far and didn’t trust anyone. Calming hands soothed animals but they were tense. Ready. She threw hand signs, told them she’d take point and moved to the open to draw the attention to herself.

Children and animals melted into the dark corners and readied their weapons.

She listened to the sound of forced laughter. It sounded like a woman. Was everyone they met a fake? The door creaked open. Sunlight streamed in through the doors. She kept her tomahawks sheathed but they were ready, her fingers rolled slowly across the heads.

14

Tribe

Kassie froze as they slid open the door and a band of bright light lit up a wild girl surrounded by wolves. She saw the furtive motion of other shapes in the shadows. She felt a shiver. They moved like wraiths.

“Hello.” Linda said. “I’m the doctor here, I understand we have an injured animal?”

“We have a bear that’s been shot by one of your men.” Swan answered, her voice harsh. “They tried to kill him.”

She stood her ground, anger coursing through her and stared at the clean woman in the white scrubs with her perfectly combed hair.

“Um, hi. My name is Kassie,” Kassie said and stepped forward. She could feel the rage radiating from the wolf girl. “This is my mom, Linda. She’s really good, she can help.”

Her eyes went to where Otis lay. “Is it bad?”

“Bad enough.” Swan said but Harper put away her morning star and hurried forward.

“He got hit with a rifle round but it fragmented, there are a lot of pieces in his shoulder, they’re deep.” She said.

“Show me.” Linda said and followed the blonde girl over to the softly grunting grizzly.

She let the big bear smell her then spoke with him for a few minutes before she opened her bag and took out a bottle of hand sanitizer. Otis seemed to know she was there to help and licked the hand that caressed him behind the ears.

The others moved silently out of the shadows, came closer to watch.

“What’s your names?” she asked as she sterilized her hands and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

They introduced themselves and she committed them to memory.

“Hold this light.” Linda said and handed it to Harper. She was no nonsense now that the niceties were over. She had a job to do.

“Stay near his head.” She told Kodiak. “Try to keep him calm.”

Kassie felt no fear as she gazed at the bear, only a sense of awe. He was beautiful. His fur was a rich dark brown with silver tips along his spine. His ears and muzzle were scarred from battle. He was terrifying and majestic. She loved him at first sight. Her eyes roved over his body. He was as big as a small car. She’d never seen an animal as large as Otis this close up. His claws looked longed enough to take a head right off the shoulders. His teeth were like steak knives jutting from his jaws. Her heart broke at the sight of the blood splashed against his fur and the sounds of his pitiful moaning.

“Ok, Otis, it’s nasty looking, but I don’t think it’s going to keep a big fellow like you down for long.” Linda said.

She talked to him like he was a person and her gentle bedside manner wasn’t lost on Kodiak. “I’ve got to irrigate it and wash some of the blood off it. It’s going to sting a little.”

Otis chuffed and flinched as she continued her examination.

“What is this?” She asked as she looked at the sticky substance coating the wound.

“Honey.” Harper told her. “We didn’t have any pinesap and moss to make a poultice, so we used what we had.”

“Good thinking. Honey has a lot of healing properties.” She said.

She looked up at the children gathered around her and noticed their scars and stitched up wounds and her heart ached. What kind of hell had they been through? What kind of life had they been living this past year? How had they managed to stay together and stay safe? They had survived the zombies, the winter and who knew what else and now some jumped up mayor was going to gun them down because they didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be missed and he could make a little gold from their animals’ hides. How far had they traveled to find a safe haven? To find grownups, people they could trust?

“Kassie, Honey. Why don’t you explain to them what you overheard? Do it over there, I don’t need any distractions here, okay?”

“I need you with me.” She told Harper. “You’re the medic in your group?”

“I guess so.” Harper said, unsure. “Murray usually told me what to do, though.”

“Which one is he?” she asked and looked over to the backs of the children Kassie was leading away.

“He’s not with us anymore.” Harper said and her face saddened.

“Oh.” Linda said and couldn’t fathom how hard it must have been for them on their own.

“Okay.” She continued. “Are you okay to be my assistant? I’m going to need help with this. I’ve got to debride it first so I can see how extensive the damage is.”

Harper nodded and cleaned her hands with the antiseptic.

“He’s not going to like this part. Keep him calm and still.” She told Kodiak.

“Hand me that probe.” She told Harper and pointed to the one she wanted

Kodiak nodded and rubbed Otis between his ears. As soon as the metal touched his damaged flesh, he growled and tried to stand up. Linda paused. Kodiak pressed against Otis, soothed him until he was back down then whispered softly to the bear to calm him. Linda breathed out slowly, still not believing what she was doing. A thousand-pound bear was being hurt, poked and prodded, but lay still because a little boy wanted him to. She’d never heard of such a bond, not even with well-loved dogs.

Kassie led them to the other end of the barn, away from the door and any ears that might overhear. Her eyes darted between them. The black girl with the ostrich seemed to be the friendliest, or at least a little less hostile than the others. She smiled at her. She looked like a warrior princess, scarred and fierce with her machetes, mohawk and beads. They didn’t clatter around, though. Like the others, she moved like a ghost, silent and light-footed. She held a spear loosely in one hand while she calmed the giant bird with the other. The ostrich’s neck bobbed constantly, assessing the danger. The thick muscles in her legs were tensed, ready to fight or run. Softball sized eyes looked back at Kassie. She was amazing.

She took a sideways glance at the Indian girl with the wolves. She was savage looking. Her eyes were hard and she wore a scowl. A hyena skin was draped over her shoulders and she wore combat boots. Her pants were black military fatigues: loose, comfortable and well worn. Her top was made of soft leather, hand stitched and was reinforced and padded in places. Her armor was plastic and leather her face was painted to resemble the wolves at her side. Her long black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with feathers, pieces of antler and other trinkets woven into it. The blades of the tomahawks at her waist were well oiled and looked like they were razor sharp. Her high cheekbones and brown eyes hinted at beauty under the war paint and the wolves surrounded her protectively.

The boy with her mom that was whispering to his bear was tall. He had a scar over one eye that started at his hairline and ended at his cheek. His arms and neck were scarred. He was long and lean with muscles like bands of steel. His brown hair was long, it hung almost to his shoulders. Like the others, he had mementos braided into it and wore armor made of sports pads or thick leather.

She stopped when they reached the twins and the polar bears. The boy flashed her a peace sign and bobbed his head. His hair was so blonde it was almost white, just like his sister. They were tall and lean and reminded her of the elven people from the Lord of the Rings movies. His hair was as long as his sister’s and had a braid that wrapped around his head and pulled it back from his eyes. They were both covered in tattoos. Some kind of symbols that she didn’t recognize. Wicked looking axes made from saw blades and with wooden handles were in their hands. Long bladed knives hung from their waists. Their skin was so pale that they probably couldn’t tan from being outside; instead they were both showing signs of sunburns. Their massive bears hovered protectively by the strange pair of children.

Harper, the girl helping her mom, was wearing a rough leather top that looked like it had seen some hard usage. Most of her armor was made of dark brown leather that was thick and tough. The chest piece was molded to allow room for her breasts and there was a bird with spread wings painted across the front. It was almost like something Joan of Arc would have worn if her armor wasn’t metal. It was obvious her and Kodiak shared a love for one another. She was petite and beautiful. Her wheat colored hair hung in natural curls. Tiny braids were interwoven through it and like the others held an assortment of treasures.

Lastly, she looked at the Asian boy as he joined the circle. He too carried a spear as well as machetes that crossed his back and protruded over his shoulders. Knives were strapped to his all black armor, most of it hand made of thick leather strips sewn in an overlapping pattern. He moved easily in it and he reminded her of a Samurai from one of those old Kung Fu movies. His hair was long, held back by a cord around his forehead. Like the others, he was scarred and lean. His face was kind, his eyes gentle but she saw strength, loyalty and determination in them. The black cat stood by his side, nearly invisible in the shadows, except for the yellow of her eyes and the swish of her tail. The boy and his companion exuded danger and menace. They weren’t the kind of enemy you would want to meet in the dark.

Kassie lowered her voice, they leaned in close and she told them everything she’d overheard. She told them that they were going to help them, they just didn’t know how yet and she told them they weren’t from Gallatin. They were only here by mistake.

“We lived by ourselves in the woods up in the badlands all winter.” She said. “We heard about Lakota on the radio, that’s where we were headed but wound up here.”

“I didn’t take you for one of the townspeople.” Tobias said. “You look a little wild.”

“You want to quit flirting with the new girl and concentrate on what she said?” Swan asked and Tobias reddened. “In case you missed it, they’re going to shoot you, skin the animals and rape us girls.”

“No, they’re not.” He replied. “Nobody would want you, you’re too mean.”

Analise elbowed him and Swan growled.

“Fine.” He said. “When Kassie and her mom go to leave, we’ll bust out of here, open the gate and ride out of town. No problem.”

As they started arguing about how dumb his plan was, they didn’t notice the tall man wearing a cowboy hat as he sauntered in and walked over to the wounded bear.

15

The Barn

“I need him to be still.” Linda said as she sat back, her gentle probing finished. “I have to get the fragments out. It would be better if he was sedated but I don’t have anything strong enough. Everything I have is for humans and I don’t want to risk giving him something that might hurt his organs. I can try a local anesthetic but that means multiple injections in and around the wound and if he’s in that much pain, I’ll never be able to work on him if he decides he’s had enough.”

“How about some Ketamine?” the cowboy asked. “That ought to keep him still and give him some sweet dreams of large lady bears.”

Everyone turned at the new, laconic voice.

“Who are you?” Linda asked

“Someone who can’t mind his own business. Name’s Rye, Ma’am.” He said and tipped his hat.

“How come they let you in here wearing that gun? You buddies with those guys?” Tobias demanded as he strode over. “Why would you want to help? We know what you’re planning!”

Swan, Vanessa and Analise all elbowed him and he grunted with the pain. Swan didn’t hold back, she went for a kidney.

“You’re an idiot.” She hissed. “Now they know we know.”

“I’m not planning anything. I mean you no harm.” Rye said. “That guard’s not a friend, he’s a card cheat and he owed me thirty pieces of silver. He’s not much good at drinking and playing cards and I thought it was time to collect. He didn’t have the coin so we did a little trading. Thirty silver for thirty minutes. I wanted to meet you all, you’re famous. And besides, I don’t give up my guns for anybody.”

“How come everyone who starts out telling us they mean no harm ends up trying to harm us?” Vanessa asked.

“Lot of truth in that question, kid. Most people will tell you whatever you want to hear to get what they want from you. I suspect you guys have seen more than your share of that.” Rye replied.

“How come he owed you money then?” Tobias growled. “You said he was a card cheat, why didn’t he win?”

“I’m better at it.” Rye said with easy confidence and an easy smile.

“I remember you.” Linda interrupted. “You’re a retriever. You brought in a couple of half-starved farmers a while back that had gotten themselves surrounded by a horde. Ketamine would be great if you have some.”

“You got it.” Rye said. “I usually keep some in my Jeep, you never know when it will come in handy. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later he returned with the horse tranquilizers and a can of dog food. Kodiak buried the pills in the Alpo and fed it to Otis. Within minutes, he was snoring deeply.

“Ok, let’s do this.” Linda pulled on fresh gloves and grabbed her brush.

She cleaned out the dirt and honey that packed the wound then scraped away the fur and dead flesh that could cause infection.

It was a nasty wound. Gangrene could have killed the bear if left untreated. At the least, it would have maimed him and bothered him for the rest of his life. She irrigated the wound with peroxide and watched it fizz and bubbled as it attacked the infection. She kept pouring until it ran clear. Harper handed her a pair of forceps and she fished out the fragments of the bullet that had exploded in the muscle. She probed aggressively with her fingertips to find every last sliver.

Harper held the light and mopped the sweat from the lady’s brow with a cloth. She watched and learned, asked questions and listened as the nurse walked her through everything she was doing. Finally, Linda let out a sigh and leaned back. She stripped out of her bloodied gloves and took a long drink from a bottle of water. Her apprehension was gone and she was in her element once again. Helping those who couldn’t help themselves. She felt good about the procedure and was sure she’d gotten all of the bullet fragments. Harper was ready with the sutures and she guided her through the process, showed her how to sew the torn flesh back together.

Kodiak watched unblinking. It seemed like it was going well. The lady worked quickly and efficiently. She was thorough. He’d watched her intense concentration as she dug out each fragment and laid them in a tray. Almost like a puzzle, she’d placed them in the pan until she was satisfied she’d gotten them all. He thought about his mom as he watched. She had that same no-nonsense attitude when she’d tended to a wounded animal. He wished he’d have shown more interest in medical care, but he’d always thought he had all the time in the world to learn those things. The wound still bled freely but the nurse reassured him it was going to be okay as Harper stitched up the damage.

“Looks better than mine.” He said when she was finished and indicated a rough scar on his arm. He wasn’t sure what had caused it. Might have been a coyote, maybe a boar? Could have been a raccoon for all he knew. There hadn’t been much time for thought in the battle against the savage ones. It was panic and chaos and trying to stay on your feet. If you went down, you would have been shredded.

Linda stood and stretched. “I removed all of the bullet fragments. He was lucky, it didn’t hit anything vital. No broken bones. The inside stitches will dissolve on their own, but you’ll need to take the outer ones out in a week or so. He’ll be sore but if you don’t let him overdo it, he’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. He’ll be able to walk, but don’t let him run. If he wants to rest, then let him.”

Harper laughed. “You have no idea how lazy that bear is. If he heard that, we’d have to carry him the rest of the way to Lakota.”

Kodiak was nearly overcome with emotion as he watched the softly snoring bear.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Linda nodded then in her no-nonsense nurse’s voice she called out to the rest of them.

“I want to examine all of you.” She said, “Make a line and shed some of that armor.”

They were circled around Rye and from the gathering thunder on his face, she could tell Kassie had shared what she’d overheard. They could fill in Harper and Kodiak as she examined them and maybe they could come up with a plan.

Linda fussed over all of them. She told Tobias he needed to do a better job at brushing his teeth, told Kodiak he needed to do stretching exercises or he would lose some mobility in his arm but overall she was impressed and pleased at how well they’d taken care of themselves. Rye reassured them that Lakota was a good place and they shouldn’t abandon their plans to go there.

“How are we going to get there if they plan on cutting us down as soon as we’re away from town?” Kodiak asked. “They’ve got us penned in by men with guns on the walls. If we try to force our way out, they’ll shoot us down and claim we had rabies or something.”

“Donny and I can get out at night.” Swan said. “We’ll dig under this barn tin, sneak up to the top of the wall and kill all the guards. We dump their bodies outside; they won’t even be missed until morning. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Donny thumped his spear in agreement.

“NO!” Linda said. “You can’t do that. You can’t just go around killing people. There are laws.”

“But they want to kill us!” Kodiak exclaimed. “We’re just getting to them before they do.”

“They’re not all bad men.” Rye said. “Some of them have families and the guards are just doing their jobs. Most of them don’t have any idea what the mayor is planning. We need a stealthy way out. Once you’re away from the town then it’s anything goes if they come after you but you can’t go around slicing throats inside the walls. You’d have bounties on your heads.”

“We could blow up the wall and get out then.” Tobias said. “You got any dynamite?”

Rye shook his head and hid a grin. These kids had spunk. “I said stealthy. You know, quiet like. No explosions.”

“Time’s up, Rye!” a shout came from the front of the barn. “You’ve had your thirty minutes, let’s go.”

“Coming, Slim, just let me say goodbye. I think I’ve taken a shine to this wolf girl.” He shouted back.

There was laughter from the door but the man didn’t dare come inside. The wolves scared him.

When Rye turned back there were looks of shock and surprise on Linda and Kassie’s faces. The children had raw rage on theirs. Weapons were out of sheaths and the animals didn’t look friendly anymore. He hadn’t even heard the whisper of steel on leather, those kids moved like shadows.

“Hold on.” He said. “I had an idea, that’s all. Hear me out.”

They didn’t lower their weapons as he slowly pulled a flask of whiskey from his vest and another horse tranquilizer from a pocket.

“I think I’ll join their gang.” He said and when the weapons still didn’t lower, he repeated what he said before.

“Stealth.” He said. “Not brute force. How much do you think, Doctor? I don’t want them knocked out, just loopy.”

He unscrewed the cap and started breaking off pieces of the pill to let them dissolve in the amber liquid.

“What good will that do?” Kodiak asked. “They’ll sober up and come after us.”

“Not if they’ve been tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail.” Rye said. “Do you trust me?”

“No.” Swan said.

“Yes.” Linda answered.

“I know him.” She continued, addressing the tribe. “We’re not best friends or anything but he has a reputation, he’s risked his life to help strangers. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. He’s one of the good guys, Kodiak. I’ll stake my life on it.”

Kassie nodded. She knew the farmers he’d saved, it was all they talked about for weeks. He’d come in guns a blazing and had cleared out nearly a hundred of the undead by himself and led the rest of them away when he ran out of bullets.

“You, too, Doc.” The man yelled again. “Enough chit chat, let’s go.”

“Can I borrow your phone?” Rye asked Kassie as they headed for the door.

“I like him.” Vanessa admitted. “He seems like someone who doesn’t take no crap off anybody.”

“Yeah, like me.” Tobias said.

Swan snorted and Donny rolled his eyes. They all flinched inwardly when the guard slammed the door shut behind the cowboy, the doctor and her daughter.

16

Job Interview

Rye swatted Linda across the butt as she hurried away from the barn and laughed when she shot him a dirty look.

“Slim” he said as he pulled out the bottle “I envy you. You’ve got yourself a sweet little setup here. How do I get a little bit of this action?”

The man took the proffered whiskey eagerly. Guard duty was tiresome and boring and he hadn’t had time to grab himself a little nip of his own.

They passed the time and it wasn’t long before he had the two others sitting around a table in the shade playing a little five card. They were still guarding, they could see the front door and the back one was chained. The brats weren’t going anywhere. Slim was the only one he knew personally but he’d seen the others around back when they were retrievers. Back before they became the Mayor’s men. If he remembered right, they hadn’t been very good at it. They weren’t very successful at any of the big gold gigs and took the easy ones that didn’t pay very much. Rye was careful not to swallow any when it was passed to him and when the first flask was empty, they started on the second. He brought up the subject again of coming off the road.

“You boys know how dangerous it is out there.” He said. “I’m tired of risking my life for those rich bastards. They don’t even care if we get killed, am I right? They’ll just send someone else out to get whatever it is they’re looking for. I want a job working you boys. Is the Mayor hiring?”

The special K was doing its job. They couldn’t remember whose turn it was or who had bet what. The talk was light and tongues were loose. Rye started off by asking them if they could keep a secret. Three inebriated heads nodded and leaned in closer.

“I ever tell you about that Indian squaw I come across up in Kansas?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper, his hat askew on his head. “Her and her man had a place in a warehouse. Pretty good setup. He was out scavenging when I found her. She put up a good fight, but I like to play rough.”

He laughed and they leaned in closer, wanting to hear the details. The lie left a bad taste in his mouth but they ate it up as he told about two days of “fun” he had with the woman.

“Her old man came home when I was giving her the old in and out. Had to put a couple of bullets in him, he wasn’t the sharing type.”

They guffawed and started sharing stories of their own, like how they’d gotten rid of the old mayor and the sheriff in a tragic cattle stampede. That little “accident” was what paved the way to their life of leisure here in Gallatin.

Rye passed the bottle around again and asked about the kids in the barn.

“Oh we got plans for them.” Slim said. “They’ll be leaving tonight, never to be seen again.”

“That’s right.” Beardy guy said. “Those animals hides are gonna bring us a whole bunch of money and those kids will be feeding the fishes.”

“After we have us a little fun with those girls.” The third man said with a wicked grin. “Me and blondie and the black girl and that albino twin are gonna have us a date tonight.”

“Don’t be getting all greedy.” Beardy complained. “I want some, too.”

“I want me a piece of that wolf girl.” Rye said, his smile predatory under his mustache. “I got a thing for Indians. You think the Mayor would hire me on?”

“Probably would.” A bearded man slurred. “We could use another man that’s good with a gun and ain’t afraid to use it. Can’t trust these townies with anything more than walking the wall.”

“What do you think, Slim. Will you vouch for him?” he asked but Slim was face down on the table in a puddle of drool.

The third man narrowed his eyes and tried to focus them. Something wasn’t right. They’d only had two small bottles of whiskey, nobody should be feeling so loopy. It was barely enough to give them all a good buzz, let alone have one of them passed out. He picked up the nearly empty bottle and gave it a shake, saw the residue of powder in the bottom and dropped his hand to his gun. Rye hooked his chair with his boot and pulled, tipped him over backward and swung a hard left at the bearded man’s surprised face. There was a solid thwock as he cracked his jaw and the man went stiff before his eyes rolled up and he toppled out of his chair. Rye put a pointy toed cowboy boot to the man struggling to free his pistol and sent it flying. He reached for his AR-15 but Rye had already snatched it up.

“Say goodnight, dirtbag.” He said and slammed it against his forehead

17

Ice Cream

The tribe tensed when they heard the rattle of the chain being pulled from the doors but relaxed again when Rye stuck his head through.

“Hey, give me a hand.” He said and they hurried forward to drag the three unconscious men through the door.

“Got any rope we can tie ‘em up with?” Rye asked, sweating from the exertion of dragging the fattest one.

“Don’t need any.” Swan said.

“Look, I know you kids are tough but they’re grown men and…”

“Guard.” Swan said and instantly her pack of wolves stopped being inquisitive about the bodies and low growls came from their throats. They paced around the inert forms, watching for any movement, any signs of aggression, any little reason for them to rip into the soft flesh and bone.

“Uh. Okay.” Rye said. “Point taken.”

“Now what?” Kodiak asked. “This is your plan? How are we going to get through the gate, they still have machine guns. They still have the height advantage.”

“Yeah. We’re worse off now than before.” Swan said. “They’ll figure out they’re missing three guards pretty quick. I thought you said stealth. I could have gone out and konked some drunks over the head.”

“Not just any guards and not just any konking.” Rye said and pulled out Kassie’s phone. “Have a listen to this, I recorded our whole conversation. See if you can edit it some, just leave in the really nasty stuff they admitted to and play it on a loop.”

Tobias grabbed it and started to do as he asked.

“Cut all that stuff I said out.” Rye called after him. “None of it’s true, I was just talking crap.”

“Great.” Swan said. “Now all we have to do is walk around with an ear bud and ask everybody to listen. Good plan.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Rye sighed.

“Do you trust me?” he asked again.

“No.” Swan said.

“Yes.” answered Kodiak.

“What do we do with them?” Harper asked, indicating the three unconscious men.

“Hope they wake up and try something.” Swan said and fingered her tomahawks.

“Just keep them here, all will be revealed but I’ve gotta hurry. I’ve got to stay ahead of the Mayor. Right now we have the element of surprise but this whole plan can blow up in our face.”

Rye gave Kodiak a nod, winked at Swan and hurried towards the door.

“I’m going to run the chain back through the handles but it’s not locked. You can get out if you want but I’d stay inside if I were you. Give me another hour to put the rest of the plan in motion.” He called over his shoulder then was gone.

True to his word, about an hour later they heard the quiet rumble of a truck pull up and Rye slid the barn doors wide open.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked

Linda and Kassie were there with Denny and his ice cream truck.

“Can the bear walk or does he need a ride?” he asked

“He can walk.” Kodiak answered. “He’s limping a little but he’s good.”

“We just going to waltz to the front gate and tell them to open it?” Swan turned to Rye. “That’s your big plan?”

“You can waltz if you want to.” Rye answered with a smile “but it’d be cooler if you didn’t.”

“You have my phone?” Kassie asked “Did you get it edited down to a loop?”

“Yeah.” Tobias said and handed it over. “Good playlist, I like your music.”

“Thanks.” She said and for some reason she felt a little heat creep to her cheeks as she handed it to her mom. “I can get you another one, I have a bunch with even better songs.”

“You kids gather your gear.” Rye said. “We’re leaving.”

Linda found a quiet corner, recorded her message and handed it to Denny as packs were stowed, saddles were strapped on and Rye dumped a bucket of water over the three men.

They spluttered awake and he wasted no time tying their hands and looping nooses around their necks. He ignored their complaints, attached the three ropes to the bumper of the van and signaled Denny they were ready. He took off at a slow and steady pace with the ice cream music blasting its merry tune as he made his way towards the center of town. Kodiak led his band of warriors with Otis at his side, his Warhammer held in his fists. Donny and Swan followed, the wolves and the panther padding softly beside them. Harper rode high on Bert, her blonde curls blowing in the breeze as Vanessa sat tall and proud astride her war bird. The twins brought up the rear astride their massive polar bears, battle axes in their hands, pale hair fluttering.

The people along the way stopped what they were doing and followed the slow parade. Once they reached main street, Denny turned on the recordings and heard their doctor tell them what she’d been ordered to do by the Mayor. They gasped when the voices of the drunken men started bragging about killing the old mayor and the sheriff. Every window had faces in it and every hand stopped its work as the crowds grew. They listened in horror at what had been planned for the children as the truck made its way to the center of town and the courthouse. The Mayor heard and ran to put a stop to it but the words were too damning and when they started repeating, empty hands of the townspeople were filled with whatever was at hand.

Rocks, shovels and hammers. Butcher knives, pitchforks and baseball bats.

They watched the quiet procession, the battle-scarred children riding majestic animals as tame as kittens, and their hearts went cold with rage as they heard the words repeated over the loudspeakers. Rye cut the three men loose in front of the courthouse and motioned for Denny to continue on towards the front gate. Most of the men stayed behind, looked up to the windows of the mayor’s office and made their way inside the building. They sent their women and kids to the gates to see the tribe of wild children off. A great wrong had been done in their town, a wrong they had let happen. It was time to set things right and it wasn’t anything they wanted their families to witness.

Denny stopped the ice cream truck a mile out of town at the first crossroads. They could see for a long way in all directions and there wasn’t a zombie in sight. He passed out some bags of food he’d thrown together for them and watched them pack it carefully away.

“I’ve got something for you.” He said and pulled out a bucket of homemade ice cream. He had cones and sprinkles and chocolate syrup to pour over them and the kids lined up at the window like kids had for generations. He put on his ice cream man hat, turned the jaunty music down low and his eyes shone, basking in their simple joy. Once the animals discovered the sweet, sticky goodness he knew he was going to use up the whole gallon.

“You still headed to Lakota?” Rye asked Kodiak as the boy watched over his people.

“We have to.” He replied. “I made a promise, three of our tribe are already there.”

“It’s a good place.” Rye said. “A lot of real good people there.”

Kassie grabbed her phone out of the truck and took it over to Tobias who was tussling with Popsicle over a handful of ice cream.

“Here you go.” She said shyly. “You can have it if you want.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” He said and wiped his hands on his pants. “Which song is your favorite?”

Within minutes they each had a bud in their ears, heads together and were smiling broadly.

The wolf pups were wound up on sugar and when they realized there was no more of the treat to be had they started chasing each other around a field as Swan watched over them.

“They look so much like children.” Linda said “But I know they’re not. Not anymore.”

“Maybe when they get to Lakota they can unwind, be kids again.” Rye said. “Maybe the scars don’t go too deep.”

“We can only hope.” She said then added “That slap on my ass was just for show, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Rye said quickly. “I’d never want to smack your backside, I found it quite distasteful and difficult to do.”

He was pretty sure that was the right answer.

“Hmmm.” She said and walked off. “Too bad.”

Rye groaned as he watched her give her bottom a little extra shake. He blew that chance.

“Hey, Wolf Girl.” he hollered over to Swan “Trust me now?”

She made a face and waggled her hand back and forth. “A little. Maybe.” She said.

“Donny.” Kodiak said over the hubbub and when the boy looked his way, he flashed some hand signs at him. The boy nodded, waved at Rye and Linda and started a slow jog down the road.

The rest of the tribe saw that it was time to go and like a well-oiled machine everyone mounted up, found their places in the procession and were waving goodbyes and shouting thank you’s.

Everyone except Tobias, he was still head to head with Kassie, lost in the music.

Vanessa gigged Ziggy, got low in the saddle and rode by them at full speed. She let an acorn fly and it bounced off Tobias’ head.

“HEY!” he yelled and realized everyone was ready to go and waiting on him.

“What? A guy can’t listen to music with a pretty girl?” he demanded then turned red when he realized what he’s said.

“You’re having turnips for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next month!” he said in exasperation as he tried to disentangle himself. They’d been twining their hair together in a little braid.

“Better than your cheese.” Swan said as she jogged by, her wolves bounding along beside her.

“Come on lover boy.” His sister said as she rode past on Daisy. “Kiss her goodbye and let’s go.”

“You guys suck!” he yelled after them, his face as red as a tomato.

“Wait.” Kassie said softly and pulled out her knife.

She cut the braid close to her scalp and they came apart. “You can keep it if you want, you know, so you don’t forget me.”

“I won’t ever forget.” Tobias whispered as he turned away. He didn’t want her to see his embarrassed face.

He took the knife and cut out a small braid with a polished bone in it. “This is from the first fish I caught, from my first net. I knew we wouldn’t starve when I caught it, it meant life.”

She took it and no one was watching so she stood on her toes and kissed him. On the mouth. Then ran back to the ice cream truck and her ride back to town.

“Thanks again.” Kodiak told the three adults. “I won’t forget what you did for us.”

He turned and walked after his tribe, Otis beside him as Harper circled around to keep watch on their rear.

“That boy is the King of the Wild.” Denny said, still in awe of the easy way the children handled the creatures.

18

The Road

The tribe traveled throughout the night. Whenever Kodiak asked if they wanted to call it, to find a house and get some sleep, they elected to keep going.

“Just a few more miles.” was the general consensus whenever they stopped to rest. They trusted Rye but who knew if the Mayor had friends that might seek a little revenge. Best to put some distance between them. It was slow going with Otis favoring his foreleg. The bear groaned and moaned when he realized it elicited sympathy from Kodiak or a treat from one of the girls. The big bear played it for all it was worth.

Kodiak walked beside him. “It’s really just a flesh wound you big baby.”

He was thankful and relieved. Thankful for the people who helped him and the tribe. He’d begun to fear that the trip was a mistake. Feared that everyone they would meet was like Gordon or Moretz. It was a relief to know that there were still good people out there like Kassie, Linda and Rye. He thought about Bob, wondered where he was and what he was doing and if they would ever cross paths again.

Tobias was still going on about Rye.

“Did you see his ride when we were heading for the gates? That thing was a beast. Maybe I’ll get me one of those someday.”

Swan snorted. “Hope you can drive better than you cook.”

He shot her a dirty look. She never complained when she was stuffing her face with his culinary creations. Except for the cheese. They all hated his cheese.

“Oh yeah?” He shot back. “Must not be too bad since you are getting fat.”

Swan bared her teeth at his bad joke. None of them had an ounce of fat to spare on their lean bodies. “Keep talking blondie.”

Donny and Yewan were somewhere ahead of the rest of the tribe. He was scouting for a place to hole up so they could rest. Somewhere off the main road that wouldn’t be too obvious.

Ziggy and Vanessa came trotting over to Kodiak and Harper.

“Donny left some sign up ahead. We’ll need to get off about a half mile further. Single brick mailbox by a dirt road.” She said.

“Thanks.” Kodiak nodded.

“I’m gonna let Ziggy run.” She said as the bird danced from side to side. She moved effortlessly on her back in rhythm with the huge bird. “I’ll check our back trail for a couple of miles and make sure no one is following us.”

“Be careful. Take no chances.” Kodiak said.

She raised her spear in acknowledgement and nudged Ziggy with her knees. They were gone in a flash.

Kodiak called out to Tobias and Analise. “Cold camp. No fire. Sun will be up soon, and we all need some rest. Let’s see what you can whip up with what they gave us.”

The twins nodded. The saddlebags were nearly full with dried meat and canned goods.

Swan had kept a sharp eye out for any signs of game trails beside the road, but the wolves hadn’t scented anything that was fresh enough for pursuit.

They followed the signs that Donny had left to a two-story house a couple of miles down a dirt road that was slowly being overcome by nature. They made sure to remove the crossed sticks marking the way when they came to them. No need to be obvious if anyone happened to come along.

When they reached the house, Donny lay in an old porch swing with one leg on the floor pushing himself back and forth. Yewan was curled up by his side.

Harper and Vanessa turned Bert and Ziggy out in the fenced in backyard. There was a plastic kiddy pool full of rainwater, a couple of sad looking dog houses and the grass was thick and tall. Ziggy wasted no time seeking out bugs while Bert surveyed the trees for tasty leaves.

When they gathered around to eat, they realized they didn’t have many utensils left. Everything had been unpacked when Otis got shot and they didn’t have a can opener, any pots and pans and only a few of them had an extra spoon in their pack. When they went inside to raid the kitchen they discovered they only had one flashlight and the batteries were weak. Instead of wasting the last of their light rummaging through drawers Donny pried up a few bricks from the walkway. They rubbed the cans back and forth until the lids were worn down enough to pop off with a knife. They ate quietly and watched the first hints of gray lighten the eastern sky. They were tired from the long night and looked forward to catching up on sleep.

“This place stinks.” Tobias said and opened a few of the sticky windows. “Smells like some old cat lady lived here.”

Harper took first watch, she’d ridden most of the night and had even gotten a little sleep dozing in the saddle. The others dragged couch cushions and mattresses into the living room and settled in. It was how they’d spent every night in Piedmont house and the closeness of the tribe always brought comfort and peace.

When she woke Kodiak for his guard shift, he walked out on the porch to watch the storm clouds gathering. From the size of the thunderheads forming in the west, it looked like it might be a big one. Otis could use a break and the house seemed solid enough even if it was pretty dirty. He scratched idly at his head, it itched. Maybe he’d collect some water and wash his hair, there would be shampoo inside. It looked like they’d be camping out for another night, nobody liked traveling in the rain where your gear got soaking wet and chafed.

19

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers

“Would you look at that?” Tobias whispered to his twin sister. “Ripe for the picking. I bet there’s all kind of stuff in there just waiting to be plundered. Gonna grab me a brand-new Xbox for sure.”

“What are you gonna do with that? Popsicle got a power plug in his butt you haven’t mentioned?” She snapped.

“No but that big mouth of yours could power a town.” He snapped back. “We’ll be in Lakota soon, they have power.”

“Right. I almost forgot. I’m sure he won’t mind carrying around another fifty pounds of useless junk for the next hundred miles.” She sniped right back.

“Quiet, you two.” Swan hissed.

Tobias flipped her off then turned his back to his sister. He hated it when she was right.

Everybody was in a foul mood. The house had been infested with fleas and lice and every other type of burrowing and biting chigger and crab. By the time they realized what they were everyone was itching and scratching and ate up with the annoying little bugs. They left the farmstead and trudged for miles in the drizzle towards the next town, a pharmacy and some relief. They were on the outskirts of an old town with a new industrial district that had been built on what had been farmland a few years ago. They were in a grove of trees across from a strip mall with a Walmart and watched for any signs of movement. The drizzle was constant, it hadn’t let up since they started walking hours ago. Big, fat drops dripped down from the trees and ran down their necks. Their clothes were soaked and they were surprised the little biting insects hadn’t drowned.

“I just remembered an ancient Indian secret of how you can get rid of those crabs, Tobias.” Swan said as he squirmed in his clothes.

“Don’t keep us waiting, Pocahontas.” He said. “How?”

“You have to shave off half your hair down there.” She answered. “Then you set the other half on fire. When the crabs jump across to the shaved part, you stab them with an icepick.”

The others snorted laughter and Analise told him she had one he could borrow.

“You first.” He said. “I’ll help. But let’s start on your head so as I can stab you in the face.”

“Quiet!” Kodiak said again as Donny darted across the road and slid in beside them.

Front of the store is all clear he signed. Doors are broken but nothing inside.

“You’re up, Vanessa.”

The dark girl nodded, pulled down her goggles, swung onto Ziggy, tucked in low and raced around to the back of the buildings. The ostrich flew across the asphalt and at the speeds they were traveling they circled the entire strip mall in a few minutes. She pulled up in front of the store and raised her spear. All clear.

“Okay.” Kodiak told the tribe. “We know what to do. Let’s get in, get the stuff and get out fast. I don’t like being this close to a big town.”

“You worry too much.” Tobias grumbled and scratched at his privates. Then under his arms. Then at his head. They were driving him nuts. “Everybody knows their job, we’ve gone over it a thousand times.”

They slipped across the road and splashed through the mostly empty parking lot to the front of the store. There had been a fight of some kind a long time ago, the glass doors were broken and shopping carts were tumbled. A car was buried in the Game Stop and many others had open doors. While Harper loosely tied Bert’s reins to a rack of potted plants at the far end of the store, the rest of them ducked inside. After hours of walking in the rain they welcomed the roof overhead as they pushed dripping hair out of their eyes and resettled their gear.

Swan volunteered to be the look out and held her wolves in the lobby as the rest of them disappeared into the gloomy interior. She positioned herself by a Redbox filled with DVD’s and a soda machine. It was good to be out of the weather and her wolves shook themselves vigorously, spraying everything. From there she had a good view of the parking lot and the road. The tribe was alert but not too concerned about the undead. Donny had been inside, had made some noise, and nothing came running out after him. There were smells in the air but they were old. Rotted meat and spoiled vegetables from a year ago, nothing like the stench of rotting corpses.

Skylights let in enough light to see even with the heavy gray clouds and never-ending rain drizzling down. Everyone knew their assignments and fanned out to grab the things they needed. Medicine was the priority and Harper made a beeline for the pharmacy. She was going to fill her satchel with every kind of bug killing shampoos and soaps they had. Daisy followed Analise back to the rear of the store and the shoe department. She needed a new pair of boots, her Doc Martens were nearly worn through. The big polar bear detoured at the cereal aisle. She smelled the Cap’n Crunch from a mouse nibbled box and Analise let her go. She didn’t need help finding the right size shoes.

A few hundred yards down a side street behind the Wal-Mart was a cluster of warehouses and small industrial buildings. One of the buildings was still full of milling people. Before the end of the world the company was a parts supplier for a defense contractor. Their production line made injection molded plastic widgets that were packaged, boxed and shipped to another little industrial building where they were assembled with other parts then were sent on to somewhere else. Nearly one hundred people had been at the company’s sixth anniversary employee breakfast early one September morning. Attendance wasn’t mandatory but bonus checks were being passed out so no one wanted to miss it. The production floor had been filled with plastic tables, a catered buffet was brought in and the CEO was making jokes and passing out their annual bonuses. Spirits were high, the checks were generous this year and the food wasn’t bad either. Everyone was having a good time until Tony the Janitor started attacking people and ripping chunks of flesh out of them with his bare teeth. Miss Candace Wilson was a vegetarian and steered clear of the bacon and sausage on the buffet. She was near the entrance and ran when the chaos started. She barely made it out of the front doors before her coworkers slammed against them, teeth gnashing at the glass and bloody hands smearing gore. She watched in horror, too petrified to scream until the barista from the coffee shop near the Wal-Mart slammed into her and tore out her throat.

The horde had railed against the doors in their effort to get out and spread the infection that coursed through them. They had almost succeeded by the time the people of the town were either turned or had fled. With nothing to draw their attention they stopped their ceaseless struggle to escape and stood swaying side to side or wandered aimlessly around the plant. Patient and single minded they waited. Months later a winter storm toppled the shady oak through the side of the building. They could easily climb across the branches and over the tumbled blocks but none bothered. There was no need. There was nothing outside that interested them just like there was nothing inside. More time passed. More storms came and went as they milled around, their heads completely empty.

One of the creatures lifted his nose as he shuffled past the broken wall. He still wore his steel toed work boots, his bonus check tucked into his back pocket. The once yellow safety vest was stained dark brown from the hole in his chest where the secretary had torn a chunk from him. There was a new scent carried on the breeze. The smell of fresh, untainted blood. The living were near. It had been long since he’d sensed the uninfected but time had no meaning for him or the others. Without the elements and scavengers taking their tolls, the group was still day one fresh and they hungered. Most had been denied the opportunity to spread their deadly infection.

He let out a keening cry that was echoed by the rest and scrambled over the tumbled wall, forced his way through the opening. Damaged flesh and broken bones didn’t matter, only spreading the virus did. He tore at the blocks, shoved through the branches and spilled out onto the ground. He jumped to his feet day one fresh and ran for the scent of the living. A hundred others followed him and like a relentless line of predators they made a beeline for the front of the Walmart.

Her wolves alerted moments before Swan heard the keening cries and wails. She slipped outside to get a better view and heard the sounds of work boots and bare feet slapping against the wet asphalt. It came from the far end of the building so she sprinted down to see what they were up against. They were coming up a side street they hadn’t investigated. They didn’t think there was any need, it was only a bunch of warehouses. There weren’t any houses, nobody had lived there. There were a lot of them running right for her and it was too late to hide, the horde knew where they were. There were far too many for her and the wolves to take out. She whistled the pack to her and raced for the Wal-Mart.

“We’ve got company!” She yelled as soon as she was inside. “They’re fast, we can’t fight them!”

Swan cursed the undead under her breath and started shoving rows of shopping carts in front of the shattered doorway. She had really wanted a chance to do a little shopping, to get some dry clothes. She needed new arrows and maybe they had some freeze-dried ice cream in the camping section. What they’d had a few days ago had reawakened her appetite for it. The carts wouldn’t slow those things down for long but it would buy them some time for everyone to get down to the lawn and garden part of the store. Kodiak’s meticulous, relentless planning was finally paying off. Everybody knew where to go if there was an emergency. She was pretty sure this qualified. She watched as they drew closer, picked out the fastest runner and nocked an arrow. She let it fly at the leader of the pack who was outdistancing the rest. It struck true at the base of the creature’s nose and it tumbled to the ground and caused more to trip and plow into the blacktop. She yelled the tribe’s battle cry and found her second target, an old woman in a dress. She was mad eyed and screeching, hands out stretched and hungry. Swan thought she was pretty fast for an old lady before she dropped her with a well-placed broadhead through her cheek. More stumbled and fell as they tripped over the tumbling body and she sent two more to their permanent death before she retreated into the store. She hadn’t seen the end of the line at the far end of the building, she had no idea how many there were still coming but she knew they’d be fine. They’d get them all inside the store then run out the other entrance. They’d gone over it a hundred times as they war gamed different scenarios. As long as nobody panicked, they’d be just fine and the tribe was beyond panicking at the sight of a bunch of zombies. She’d have to rub it in tonight, she officially had more in the wild battle kills than Donny now.

The undead crashed into the barrier of shopping carts and shoved them aside. Swan saw it and swore louder. That wasn’t supposed to happen, they were supposed to jam up against them and have to crawl over the top. With so many packed so tight together, it was supposed to be like crabs trying to climb out of a bucket, the others would pull them back down.

“They’re in!” she yelled, her voice going up an octave. “They’re in!”

She wasn’t panicking, she was still cool, but she was a whole lot more concerned than she had been a few seconds ago. Maybe she should have been running for the safety of the lawn and garden section instead of racking up battle kills. The horde poured into the store. The scent of the uninfected was strong in the building and they raced hungrily to be the first to attack.

Tobias was in the hardware section looking at the paracord when he heard Swan’s war cry. His head snapped around but he didn’t drop everything and run, they needed the paracord to fix some of their armor and saddles. The homemade gear wasn’t holding up very well with the hard use of everyday road travel. Tobias shoved the rope into Popsicle’s saddlebag, swung up in the saddle and unsheathed his battle axe.

“Hey!” He shouted when he saw Swan racing for the outdoor section. “How many?”

“Couple hundred. Too many to fight.” She replied. “We need to get the hell out of here, the shopping carts didn’t even slow them down!”

Tobias nodded at her and put his heels to Popsicles ribs with a yell. “The others are at the other end of the store, get the gate ready, I’ll slow them down!”

She and her wolves didn’t break stride as Tobias screamed something in Norse and gigged Popsicle into the aisle as she ran by. He raised his axe high and charged straight for the mass of keening rotting things gnashing their teeth and ready to eat.

The giant polar bear had been careful plodding down the aisles when they came in. He hadn’t knocked anything off the shelves or blundered into any of the end cap displays. The boy scolded him and was displeased if he bumped into things when they were inside. But that was only when the stinking things weren’t around. Now the boy urged him into chaos, to smash, rend and destroy. To kill the dead and break things. Popsicle complied and barreled down the aisle scattering goods from the shelves and pulverizing bodies as a thousand pounds of pissed off bear drove them down. Hungry hands reaching for the boy high in the saddle were crushed, bodies exploded in great splashes of blackened, rotting organs that sprayed for yards in all directions.

“Cleanup on Aisle 3!” Tobias laughed as boxes of spaghetti noodles and Hamburger Helper spilled to the floor and mixed with the glop of zombie guts.

A glance over his shoulder showed him that Swan wasn’t being chased, his bellowing and battle cries had diverted the attack to him. A pair of women came out of the frozen food section and launched themselves at the boy. He swung his battle axe backhanded, split the skull of one and knocked the other aside. It found a grip on the saddlebag and ignored the rhythmic movements of the bears rear haunches as it screamed and climbed for the boy only a few feet away. It hungered for the fresh, pure blood and the still beating heart pumping it through his veins. Popsicle’s feet scrabbled for traction on the tile floor as he tried to make a hard turn and chase down more of the stinking creatures. The thing lost its grip but still held on with one hand and tried to pull itself back up. Tobias sliced the axe through the mottled flesh and it went sprawling into a rack of Halloween candies, black blood oozing from the severed arm.

“See ya later, Stumpy!” he yelled, laughed like a loon and twirled the saw bladed axe over his head.

He let out a savage yell as they tore down the next aisle, the sounds of shattering glass behind him as the horde gave chase. They jostled to be first to the uninfected flesh. Jellies, jams and syrups erupted as they hit the floor causing some of them to slip and fall, only to be trampled underfoot by those following.

“Attention, Wal-Mart shoppers!” He roared as the thrill of battle surged through his Viking blood. “Be sure to check out our scratch and dent sale in the canned goods section!”

Tobias saw a flash of black to his right. It was Yewan racing down the top shelf of the aisle beside him. To his left he saw Donny. The silent boy thrust his long spear down through the tops of the skulls of the undead that were dogging Tobias’s heels. Zombies had spread out in the chase and came at him from both directions. The polar bear plowed through them without slowing and Tobias reined him in when there were no more undead in front of them. Popsicle spun, sent an endcap tumbling and Donny threw signs at Tobias and pointed across the store. More were coming, lots more. Some were leaping from the tops of the shelves from one aisle to another. It was time to go before they were boxed in, it only took one lucky jumper to pull him down. Donny pointed towards the lawn and garden section where the rest of the tribe were waiting to slam the steel security gate.

“I know! I know!” Tobias yelled back. “Go! I’m right behind you!”

The crashing of shelves and toasters and pots and pans was nearly lost in the cacophony of screams from the hungry undead. Donny and Yewan sprang down and sprinted for the safety of the outdoor section and Tobias saw the rest of the tribe yelling at him to hurry as his bear rose up on his hind legs, roared and took swipes at the broken undead that were close. He leaned forward to get him to drop on all fours then gigged Popsicle down another aisle, one without smashed and broken glass.

20

Watcher

Steven stared out of the mirrored windows of the manager’s office overlooking the floor and watched in fascination as heavily armored children and animals ran for the lawn and garden department and pulled down the gate. They were the ones he’d heard about on Radio Lakota. He was amazed at how well-trained the animals were as a white-haired boy charged through the store running down the undead, controlling the polar bear with his knees.

He’d been camped out in the Walmart for a few weeks and had been eating well, listening to a wind-up radio at night and playing board games against himself. It was a good hideout. He left the front of the store undisturbed except for whatever he took off the shelves. No one would suspect he was hiding out in the back if they came looking. Now all hell had broken loose and a horde of the undead was rampaging through the store, screaming their awful screams. The zoms chased after the kids but they were safe behind the gate. That left him a clear path out the back door and he’d best beat feet now while the undead were busy. He didn’t want to get trapped or be seen by the kids. If they told anyone, he’d have half the bounty hunters in the territories combing the area looking for him. He’d never heard his name on Bastille’s crime report but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe they were keeping the manhunt for him quiet, didn’t want to spook him. He was sure he’d been reported as a cold-blooded killer who had brutally murdered a young girl and hijacked a boat. There was probably a big reward. Who knows, maybe the kids would kill him for the bounty. It looked like they could use the money, they were a sopping wet bedraggled looking bunch.

He heard a shout directly below him and leaned against to glass to look down.

Analise ran through the sporting goods, through the hardware and paint. She heard the frantic cries of the tribe as they urged her brother and Donny to hurry. She had taken a few minutes to grab a towel to dry off and had been shoe shopping and barefoot when the horde broke through the carts. She could get to the lawn and garden by cutting across the back of the store, she had a few minutes and she wasn’t going to go without boots. She hurried but it took her a bit to find the right size. She heard the roaring and commotion, heard her idiot brother screaming battle cries that they pretended were ancient Viking curses but had no idea what the words meant. They could have been calling for a tax audit on purple dresses with extra pickles for all they knew. They didn’t even know if they were pronouncing the words right but that was okay. Her idiot brother was buying them time and what he lacked in brains, he made up for in bravery. She heard her own name, urging her to get to the lawn and garden section.

“I’m coming!” She yelled back and hoped Daisy was already with them. She shouldn’t have let her wander off.

Her voice was lost in the keening of the zombies and the roars of the bears. She hugged the outside wall, ran past the car batteries and mailboxes and pulled up short as she turned the last corner to dash through the paint section. The undead were leaping from aisle to aisle on the tops of the shelves scattering boxes and cartons of goods. They spotted her and screamed. She froze, she’d never seen anything like it, had forgotten how fast and vicious they could be when they were fresh. A dozen dead, black eyes locked in on her and leapt as one.

She ran.

They were fast, unbelievably fast and she was cut off from the rest of her tribe. They were right on her back, they were reaching for her and panic started to grip her. She knocked over an endcap filled with jugs of liquid car wax and heard them stumble and fall behind her but the others jumped the tumbling bodies and kept coming, never tiring, single minded in their desire to tear into her uninfected flesh. She angled towards the back of the store, grabbed a 4-way lug wrench from a shelf, and sprinted past the shoes and through the electronics department towards the double swinging doors into the warehouse area. There was a door somewhere in the darkness of the warehouse area. It would be near the docks and have a sign on it saying emergency exit only, do not open, alarm will sound. She just had to reach it before the zombies reached her.

Donny threw himself into a slide and slid beneath the rapidly closing security gate. Tobias was laughing, still pumped with adrenaline from the fight and chase as he ducked low in the saddle to clear the gate then rolled to the ground as soon as he was clear. Kodiak and Harper slammed the heavy steel closed seconds before the undead slammed into it at a full run.

“That was badass! Did you guys see me?” He laughed.

“More like dumbass.” Swan said but she had to admit, it had been kind of impressive watching the battle from a safe distance.

She slapped her tomahawks against the railing to make noise and joined the others in yelling and drawing the rest of the undead towards them. Vanessa was already spying around the corner of the building, checking for any undead stragglers still making their way through the front door.

“It’s clear.” She hollered to them over the roar of the horde.

“Okay, let’s go.” Kodiak said. “Swan, you and Donny first. Get out of sight and we’ll be right behind you as soon as we get Bert. Vanessa, you know what to do if any of them spot us.”

Vanessa nodded and raised her spear. She and Ziggy could run circles around them, even if they were faster than any they’d encountered. They’d lead them off.

“I’m not through with these clowns.” Tobias said as he taunted the undead. “Hey sis, grab my machete and let me spike a few of these things. I’m not done shopping yet.”

“Doesn’t count as battle kills.” Swan said as she gathered her wolves and started for the back entrance.

There was no response. He spun and looked for Analise.

“Where’s my sister?” He asked.

Everyone stopped their preparations and looked at Daisy who was looking back at them. She was sniffing the air. She was looking for her cub, too.

“Where’s my sister?” Tobias roared.

“She didn’t make it.” Kodiak answered. “She was on the far side of the store, in the shoe department. We need to get out of here, she must have went out the back door in the warehouse.”

“We’ll find her.” Harper said. “She’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”

Tobias slammed his axe into the shelves full of yard gnomes and raged. “Open the gate!”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Swan said. “We can’t go through them. There’s too many. We’ll check the back exit.”

“What if she’s not there?” Tobias yelled. “What if she’s somewhere inside?”

His mind wasn’t working right, he couldn’t think. He’d never been without her and didn’t know what he would do if she was gone.

If she was bit.

If she was at the back of the horde with blackened eyes and screaming for his blood.

“If she’s not there, Vanessa and Ziggy will draw them off through the front and we’ll check every inch of this store. We’ll find her brother. I swear it.” Kodiak said through gritted teeth. “She’s too smart to get bit, you know this.”

“That’s right.” Harper said. “She’s found a spot to hide or she’s made it outside. We’re wasting time. Time she doesn’t have. We’ve gotta move.”

“Then let’s go.” Tobias said, sprung up into his saddle and headed for the exit doors.

21

Analise

Analise slammed against the double doors to the warehouse part of the store and bounced off of them. They were blocked from the other side. She caught her balance and swung wildly with the lug wrench, implanted it in the head of a man in coveralls. He went down but others were right behind him. More were coming straight down the aisle at her, and a few more from the other side. They were following the keens of the undead who had cornered their prey and were about to eat. Analise drew her machetes, threw her back against the doors and didn’t think about the odds. They were coming and she was ready. The first of the undead launched himself, black eyes wide, arms reaching, mouth hungry. She swung both blades with all the force she could muster and split his head into three pieces. She stepped aside and let his momentum splash their contents all over the wall. Two women dove for her, slammed her hard and forced the air from her chest. Yellowing teeth snapped at her face but found leather from her bracers. She slammed the heavy handle of the machete against the side of her head and felt the other one trying to burrow into her belly. Her boiled leather cuirass stopped the teeth but jagged fingernails raked at the binding and searched for skin. Another man jumped from the top of the shelves, mouth wide and screaming and suddenly she found herself falling backward. The doors flew open and she landed on her back. A man was there and swinging a thick bicycle chain. Analise fought to keep the undead away from her face, her most vulnerable spot. The rest of her was protected with leather unless they got lucky and tore into weak spots at the joints. The man roared and the chain ripped into the undead flesh. Bones broke and chunks of heads disintegrated into a black and yellow bloody mist. More were coming, they heard the desperate sounds of battle over the shrieking and keening at the gate.

“Go!” the man yelled and tore the thing biting at her leg off and shoved it away. “GO!”

Analise rolled to her knees and scrambled into the darkness. She’d lost her machetes in the melee.

“Follow me!” The man shouted and grabbed her hand, pulled her into the black of the warehouse. They undead came screaming after them but he dodged through obstacles and jerked her through ropes strung between shelves.

“Careful.” He whispered after they’d made a few lefts and rights down different rows. “You have to follow the path, I set booby traps.”

The rain beat down on the tin roof drowning out their quiet sounds. Behind them they heard the snarls and cries of the undead, the crashing and clattering of things being pulled off shelves by trip wires. Heavy things from the sounds of it. Dumbbells and microwaves. They climbed up two levels at a dead-end aisle, over to the next and dropped down. Her eyes were adjusting to the blackness and she could make out shapes.

“Thanks, mister.” Analise whispered. “I’m glad you were there, I thought I was a goner.”

Steven didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure why he risked everything to help a stranger. He could have been killed. He led her deeper through the maze and towards the back door. Now he’d have to run again. If she told anyone about him, they’d come hunting. From the office he’d seen her running for the rear exit and acted immediately. He didn’t think. He tore out the door and flew down the metal staircase, his feet barely touching the steps. He had pushed a riding lawnmower against the doors to jam them closed since the front of the store was wide open. He didn’t want any uninvited guests wandering around while he was sleeping on the managers’ couch. She wouldn’t be able to get through. She’d be torn apart. He didn’t know how he moved so fast, acted so quickly or tossed the mower aside like it weighed nothing. He had caused the death of one girl; he wasn’t going to be the reason another was killed. He tore open the doors as he reached for his gun but grabbed an empty holster. It was on the desk upstairs; he’d been cleaning it when he’d heard the kids come in. Somehow he’d got her out and hadn’t gotten bit. At least he didn’t think he had, he’d have to check. Everything happened so fast.

“Are you bit?” he asked, suddenly concerned about her turning.

“No, I don’t think so. My armor is thick.”

“Okay.” He said. “A few more turns and we’ll be at the back door.”

“What about you?” she asked. “You okay.”

The man wasn’t wearing any kind of armor, just a plain red T-shirt.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He said a little moodily.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off he asked himself again why he’d risked everything for a stranger. It wasn’t like him to act like a hero. Maybe the scales were even now, maybe he couldn’t stop running but at least his conscience would ease a little.

“When you go out, take a left.” He said. “Your friends are down at the end, by the garden center.”

“What about you?” Analise asked forcing her nerves to calm.

She was breathing hard but the panic was subsiding. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins but she was already relaxing. She pulled her backup dagger from its sheath and felt a little better with the weapon in her hand.

During training Donny had told them something he’d read from a great Sensei. Those who are skilled in combat do not become angered. Those who are skilled at winning do not become afraid. It was hard advice to follow, to swallow all fear.

Steven took a minute to listen at the door before replying but it was difficult to hear anything over the pounding rain.

“I’m going to get my gear.” He finally said. “They’ll never make it through the maze before I get back upstairs. Go on, get out of here.”

“Thanks again, mister.” She said as she pushed open the door leading to the alley that ran behind the store.

Dumpsters, unused shelving units and ratty smoke break chairs lined the back walls of the various businesses. The other side was heavily wooded and bales of cardboard from the compactor were stacked along the curb waiting to be picked up and hauled off to the recycling center.

A waterlogged undead thing turned at the sound of her voice and jumped the twenty feet between them in two leaps. Analise saw it and reacted but not fast enough. She tried to slam the door closed again but lost her grip on the rain slicked handle. The thing shrieked and crashed into the edge of it in the middle of a leap. She thought she heard a collar bone break but it didn’t slow, it sprang at her as she backpedaled into the store. The bearded man ran back to help but she plunged her dagger into the top of its forehead when the thing jumped for her neck. He reached for the door but its legs blocked the opening and others were sprinting down the rain-soaked alley straight for them. He panicked and started slamming the door against the twitching legs as Analise tried to drag it out of the way. There were keens and crashes behind him as a shelf toppled and he heard the hunger cry of the zombies coming fast. They had bypassed his maze, had plowed right through it.

“We’ve got to get out!” Analise yelled over the din of screams, booming thunder and the torrential downpour pounding on the roof.

Steven glanced over his shoulder, saw the horde tearing though the tumbled boxes and shelves and shoved the door wide open. He’d take his chances with the two or three in the alley.

The door slammed open, bounced off its hinges and into the undead as they started streaming out. They ran, him towards his truck hidden behind one of the industrial buildings, her toward her tribe. They weren’t thinking, the panic was back and in full force. Most of them were coming after her. She couldn’t outrun them, they were too fast. She couldn’t outsmart them, there was nothing clever she could do in the alley. She couldn’t hide, they were only a few feet behind her. She pumped her arms, ran as hard as she could and looked for a ladder up to the roof. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could swing up and out of their reach but she didn’t see one. The rain was coming down harder and she heard the rush of running water through the woods behind the soaking bales of cardboard. She darted up a bale, jumped higher to the next and hoped it would slow them down. One grabbed her backpack and she let it slip from her shoulders. She could smell its rancid stench, hear its clacking teeth as it bit at her. The horde only fought over the pack for a few seconds but that was long enough. She jumped from the top bale, nearly twelve-foot-high, and into the woods. She landed hard and her ankle bent wrong. The tightly buckled boots were the only thing that saved it from breaking.

She bit back the cry of pain, let herself fall and rolled to her feet. It hurt but she didn’t let it slow her. She dove into the woods, slapped wet branches out of her face and tried to make a big arc towards the end of the strip mall. Back to the where they would be making their escape. Back to the tribe. Together they would get away and if they had to kill them all one by one so they could get back inside to get Daisy, they’d do it. Together they were strong.

The undead were coming fast, if they broke bones diving off the top of the bales it didn’t seem to slow them down. They reached for her, she didn’t have time to plan anything, any slick moves, and she ran for her life. She ran to stay away from their grasping fingers. She pushed herself harder, ignored the stabbing pain every time her right foot hit the soggy ground. The branches clawed at her wildly flowing hair and the grunts and cries of the undead seemed to surround her. She dodged the trees, ducked under low branches and poured every last ounce of strength she had into a final sprint. She could see a river, swollen and muddy just ahead and knew it was the only way out. Something stinking, cold and slimy grabbed at her arm and she swung the dagger at it. The rain poured off the undead face as she plunged the blade into its eye. It quivered and let go but another slammed into her, drove her into the muddy ground. She was so close, only yards away from the safety of the water and she tried to roll towards it while fighting off the thing gnashing at her. Another one piled on then was just as quickly torn away. The bearded man was back and ripping them off her with his bare, bloody hands. He kicked at one with its filthy mouth clamped on her arm. She heard the jaw bone break and one of its eyes popped from the impact as the side of its head caved in. He snatched her to her feet and pointed at the water. Thunder boomed and lightning danced across the sky. Another one was coming, dragging itself through the underbrush, its broken legs useless. Its black eyes never left her as it crawled through the mud. They heard more, heard their screams of hunger and she grabbed his hand to pull him to the water.

“I can’t swim!” he yelled over the driving rain.

“I can!” she yelled back and kept pulling. “I’ll help you!”

He shook his head and pointed to a wound in his shoulder that was pouring blood. The rain washed it away so fast she hadn’t noticed it against the red of his t-shirt.

“I only came back to make sure you got away.” He shouted over the thunder. “Tell them it was an accident! Tell them I was a good man and tell them I’m sorry.”

“Tell who? I don’t know your name!” Analise yelled as he pushed her towards the river. “What’s your name?”

If he said, she didn’t hear. He shoved her hard then turned to kill as many of the undead as he could before they ripped him apart.

She plunged into a raging current that threatened to overflow its banks and went deep. She swam for the surface as the force of the flooded river gripped her and whisked her downstream. She fought for air and kept getting shoved below the choppy surface. Branches and logs slammed into her, pummeled her from every direction.

Analise was a strong swimmer but the current was relentless and her new boots were dragging her down. She tried to find bottom and kick off towards shore but there was nothing but turmoil and watery chaos. Something snagged in her hair and pulled her downstream. She didn’t know if it was a grasping hand or an errant tree branch and fought it, tried to bash it with her fists. Something hit her in the head and she saw stars, gasped and sucked half a lungful of water. The coughing came and she fought for the surface. She was going to suck in more water, she had no choice, and she was out of air.

She broke the surface and instantly felt a stabbing pain in her shoulder as a sharp branch on a massive log impaled her. She couldn’t even cry out from the gash in her skin, she was coughing too hard, trying to clear the water from her lungs. She pushed away from the branch that stabbed her, wrapped her arms around the log and held on. The rains came down harder and she didn’t have a survival plan. She didn’t think about getting back to the tribe or the ache in her arm or the throbbing of her ankle. Her chest hurt from coughing so hard her vision turned black and she was so tired. The shore looked miles away and she didn’t have the strength to swim to it. She held on, tried to keep her head above water and rode the log down the raging river.

22

Tobias

Tobias stared at the river in front of them. The current was chaotic and was filled with branches, garbage and colorful plastic toys snatched from backyards. He watched as it dashed against the submerged rocks and threw up froths of white spray.

“It’s too swift, Tobias. Don’t do it.” Vanessa cautioned as Ziggy danced around, ever watchful for more of the stinking creatures. It was almost full dark now, a dangerous time to be outside.

The pale boy ignored her. Daisy let out a sorrowful moan. Her cub was missing and there was no more scent to follow. It ended at the banks of the muddy river.

They had checked the alley first but there was no sign of her so they spent the next hour clearing the store. Tobias and Harper went back inside to kill as many as they could through the steel gate while Vanessa and Kodiak quietly set up kill boxes with shopping carts. They split the attention of the horde and slowly whittled down their numbers while Donny started searching the store. He didn’t find her and the rest of them looked for her in the crowd of undead as they killed their way through them. The work was exhausting, it was worse than chopping wood because the wood didn’t fight back and try to kill you. They checked the bodies again but there wasn’t a white-haired girl with pale blue eyes and tattoo covered skin. With flashlights they double checked the chaos in the warehouse. They found her machetes at the entrance and zombies they hadn’t killed. The storage area was in shambles. The undead had torn through it, knocked over shelves and the back door was standing open. They found more undead and knew she’d lived to make it this far. Daisy caught the smell of her backpack and they found it in the mud behind a stack of cardboard bales.

The tribe called her name and spread out to search for any signs of her. She might have climbed a tree. She might be safe and sound but surrounded. The zombies that had chased her through the store and into the woods came screaming for them. Tobias was still in a rage, slid off the back of Popsicle and met them head on. He needed to kill, to spend his fury, to destroy the things that had taken his sister. There were only a handful of them and he dove in, drove his axe in to faces with powerful double-handed swings. The polar bear fought beside him but it was over almost before it started. The rains had tapered off for a while but they were starting up again, streaking the gore and blood that splashed the pale boy’s armor.

They followed the back trail and came to the edge of the river, already well over its banks and steadily rising. Another undead thing hissed and dragged its way towards them. It hadn’t been dead for long, the skin was barely mottled but it had been chewed up by a horde. It was wearing the tattered remains of a red shirt and its intestines were caught on a tree root. Most of its legs had been chewed away and it struggled towards them on gnawed arms. Its black eyes shone in its bearded face as it bit the air, hungering for their fresh blood. Donny plunged a spear through its head and joined the others at the edge of the river.

“She went in here.” Tobias said. “She hasn’t been bit; she was still trying to get away from them. She’s a good swimmer, she’s ok, but she may be on the other side.”

“We’ll find her.” Swan said. “She’s probably downstream a little way.”

“I’ll search the other shoreline.” Tobias said and swung up into the saddle.

Before anyone could try to dissuade him, he gigged Popsicle into the river. Daisy followed. The current grabbed the big bears and pushed them down stream. They were powerful swimmers though and quickly crossed over. Tobias held onto the saddle horn and kicked debris away as the bears’ big webbed feet propelled them across. His face was set in stone and streaked with gore that the rain was slowly washing away. He had to find her.

Once Popsicle clawed his way up the muddy bank, he turned downriver and waited for the bears to scent her. They found nothing. Undaunted he began picking his way through the greenery and disappeared from sight. He was certain he would be able to feel it if their connection had been severed. She was out there somewhere. Maybe hurt, maybe injured, but still alive. He knew it.

“Harper, Vanessa, you want to hurry downstream a few miles, find us a place to hole up that’s on the water. We’ll be down as fast as we can but you’ll make good time on the roads.” Kodiak said.

“Bert and Ziggy won’t bet much use in this thick stuff anyway.” Harper answered and started leading the giraffe out of the woods. “We’ll find someplace dry and gather up some towels and blankets. She might be hurt.”

Swan wiped the rain out of her eyes and let the wolves smell Analise’s abandoned backpack.

“Hunt.” She urged them. The wolves began scouring the ground for a trace of the girl.

Donny was desperate. His emotions were all over the place. He cared for Analise deeply and he knew she had feelings for him too. He had to find her no matter what.

Donny signed to them. “Yewan and I are faster on our own. We’ll go ahead a few miles and work our way back.”

“Go”. Kodiak agreed. He was worried for Analise. The river raged uncontrollably and had already risen a few inches during the time they’d been at its banks. It was full dark, the cloud cover was thick and the storm seemed to be gathering strength. He hoped they found her soon.

They searched for hours along both shorelines deep into the night but were unable to find a scent. Their flashlights danced but visibility was only a few feet.

Analise was gone.

She had vanished.

The tribe met Tobias six miles downstream at a bridge. The water was still rising and already lapping at the bottom of the wooden structure. Lightning crackled across the sky and the tribe was drenched to the skin from the rain that blew in hard.

“I can’t find her.” Tobias moaned.

“Zero never picked up her scent.” Swan said. “Maybe she didn’t go in the water after all. Maybe she found another way.”

Lightning hit a tree a few hundred yards away from where they were gathered. Animal and child alike flinched as it exploded and caught fire.

“We have to get away from these trees and this water. It’s a magnet for the lightning.” Kodiak yelled into the wind. “The girls found a house nearby. This is useless, we’ll start looking again at first light!”

“I’m not giving up.” Tobias screamed back, the wind whipping his hair. “I must have missed her, she’s gotta be somewhere!”

“You won’t find her if you get fried by lightning. We’ll look again in the morning. Come brother, Analise wouldn’t want us to be out here.” Kodiak pleaded.

“No.” Tobias turned his back and climbed on Popsicle. “You guys get safe. I’ll find her and join you.”

The boy and the polar bears disappeared into the darkness.

“He’s a stubborn fool. Analise is no dummy. If she’s not drowned then she’s safe and dry somewhere. We’re not doing her or any of us any good staying out here in this rain. There’s no trail, no scent, I want to find her as much as anyone, but we could walk right past her in the dark and not even realize it.” Swan yelled over the wind and rain.

Donny disagreed, shook his head and tapped his ring. Yewan followed and they disappeared from sight. He was soaked and chilled to the bone, but he wasn’t ready to give up.

Kodiak swung into the saddle and looked at Swan. “One more hour. After that, we’ll hole up and start again in the morning.”

Harper and Vanessa joined them and went back up river as he urged Otis downstream. He didn’t know what else to do. Swan was right, but so was Tobias. He dreaded what would come if she wasn’t found. It would tear Tobias apart. Swan pulled one of Analise’s shirts from her pack and let the wolves smell it again.

“Find her,” She whispered. “Please."

23

Tribe

One more hour turned into the rest of the night. They slowly picked their way up and down the overflowing riverbanks. Swan urged the wolves to push through the underbrush closest to the water. Their low, sleek bodies glided through the thickets with ease. Each wolf had the scent strong in his or her nose, but there was nothing to find.

Tobias fared no better on the other side of the river. His hair hung limp and exhaustion threatened to topple him from the saddle. For hours he had gotten excited over every piece of trash caught in the branches, every plastic bag snagged on a root, it might be a sign from her but it never was. It was just garbage. He was spent and felt hollow and worst of all he was starting to doubt she’d survived.

The lightning had stopped before dawn, but the clouds were still heavy and gray. They continued to sprinkle rain with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

He’d pushed hard, desperate to reunite with his twin but he was starting to give up hope. He’d been born five minutes sooner than her and that was the only time in his short life that he’d lived without her. Common sense told him that if she’d made it this far, she would have walked or crawled out of the muddy water. The river wound through a residential area of waterfront homes and became wide and lazy a half mile below the bridge. It was high up in yards, flooding basements and storage sheds and the hunt became easier without the thick brush to fight through. He was at least six or seven miles from where she’d gone in the water when he came to another bridge.

He guided the bears to the middle, dismounted and watched the water roll by below him. Donny appeared from behind a fence and joined him. He held up a hand and signed, nothing. I found nothing.

Swan and Kodiak came out of the mist a few minutes later, their boots squishing through muddy grass. Tobias noted the exaggerated limp of Otis. The night had been hard on the wounded bear.

“I don’t know what to do.” Tobias said when they met in the middle. “I haven’t found anything. Not a shred of clothing, not a whiff of her.”

Kodiak set his jaw. His fears were being realized. He knew that if he didn’t proceed carefully, he’d lose another member of the tribe.

“Tobias,” Kodiak said.

Tobias gripped his battle axe tightly. “Don’t. Don’t you say it.”

“The others have no idea where we are. We need to go back, they may have found something. Analise could be with them for all we know. If she did go in the water, she’s not here now.” Kodiak met the steely gaze of his brother.

He didn’t mention the possibility of her caught in a tree root, trapped beneath the surface. Or maybe she’d been bit and was wandering aimlessly through the woods. Or maybe the current had carried her body farther downstream and she was floating face down in someone’s yard, gently bobbing against a swing set. He didn’t need to.

“He’s right.” Swan said. “She could be with Harper and Vanessa. Look, my wolves are better at tracking than those bears. I’ll work that side of the river back to the bridge. Maybe you missed her in the dark. If she’s out there we will find her.”

“And if we don’t?” Tobias roared back. “We just gonna leave her for the scavengers?”

“No.” Kodiak replied. “We search back up the river, all the way to the Walmart. We checked every house, we rattled every bush, and we looked up in the trees. You and Donny take this side. Swan and I will work the other. If we don’t find her, then she’s not going to be found. If she’s not with the others, we press on. If she’s out there, she knows where to go. We all do. We planned for this. We all knew something could happen and we could be separated. We’ll take it slow; give her time to catch up. She knows the route by heart. She’s smart and resourceful, she’ll make it, but she’ll never find us if we aren’t where we are supposed to be. It’s all we can do right now.”

“If we can’t find her, we have to be where she can find us.” Swan said.

“What if she’s dead?” Tobias’ asked as his shoulders slumped and the fire went out of his eyes. “What if she’s gone?”

Swan moved to Tobias and placed a hand on his arm. “We can’t think like that.” She whispered.

Kodiak shook his head. “She made it to the water, she’s out there somewhere. She probably got out and is cozy and warm in one of these houses. The rain washed away her scent so we walked right past her. I’m sure she’s fine, probably making herself some herbal tea and she’ll call us all dummies for spending the night out in the rain.”

Tobias gave him a sad half smile and nodded.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind if she is.”

He pulled his hair back, straightened his shoulders and led the polar bears across the bridge. He didn’t really believe it, not deep inside, but he had to hope. He had to try to believe it.

24

Analise

Analise opened her eyes slowly. She was being carried by someone she didn’t know. She heard him humming a tune she didn’t recognize. Panic seized her, her first instinct was to fight and run, but she was so tired, her leg was throbbing, her head hurt, her shoulder ached and his calming voice didn’t seem threatening at all. She was soaking wet, freezing cold and didn’t have the strength of a kitten. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

Sometime later, she slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was laying on something soft and a warm blanket covered her. A bed. A real bed. She didn’t want to give away the fact she was awake just yet and inventoried her body. She felt the bandages wrapping her shoulder and ankle. She hurt all over, even her lungs felt like she’d swallowed fish hooks but she could fight through that. It seemed that some kind of pain was a constant in her world. She could ignore it. She flexed her ankle a little. The pain made her catch her breath. She hoped it wasn’t broken because she might need to run or fight. She wondered where she was and about the tribe, how far away they were. She thought about the nameless man that had saved her life and wondered who he was. She kept her eyes closed and strained her ears.

She heard the creak, creak of a rocking chair and the sound of humming. She cracked her eyelids and tilted her head slightly. She tried to give the appearance she was still asleep but restless.

The humming stopped. “Honey, I think our guest is awake.”

“Be right there,” a woman’s voice answered.

“It’s ok. You’re safe here.” A man said gently. “Would you like some food or something to drink? We have some pretty good rabbit stew and real lemonade I made myself.”

She lay still, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t wearing her armor, she had nothing at hand to use as a weapon and it felt like she was wearing loose fitting pajamas. Injured and weaponless, she considered her options.

“Boo!” a voice said inches from her face.

She startled and her eyes flew open. Laughter filled the air and she saw a teenaged girl looking down at her.

“Dad, she smells funny and it looks like someone drew all over her with a magic marker. Can I draw on her too?”

The man chuckled. “That’s enough baby. Give her some room. She’s had enough excitement for one day.”

The girl backed away and Analise studied her. She was pretty in a no-frills kind of way. Her eyes were large and kind. Her smile was filled with the innocence of a small child despite the fact she was older than Analise.

“Hi.” Analise said.

The girl squealed in delight and ran behind the man in the rocking chair. She peeked over his shoulder at Analise.

She swallowed a groan, pushed herself into a sitting position and studied the man and the autistic girl as a woman walked in the room with a glass of lemonade. He was a big man. Tall and broad at the shoulders. He had a gray beard and most of his hair was gray too. He wore black rimmed eyeglasses that had tape around the middle. The kind her dad used to call BC glasses, whatever that meant. He wore cargo shorts, sandals and a t-shirt from a band she’d never heard of.

The girl grinned at him from behind his shoulder and gave her a little wave. Analise returned it. The woman with the glass smiled at her. She was blonde and pretty with a sassy look about her that Analise instantly warmed to.

She tensed when the man stood from the rocking chair and stepped towards her. He held out his hand.

“I’m Tony Spivey, but you can just call me Spivey. That silly creature there is my daughter Sara and that beautiful lady there is my wife Laurie.” He said.

She shook and his massive fist swallowed her tiny hand.

“Analise.” She croaked and felt the rawness in her throat. Hacking up so much dirty river water had left it sore and tender.

“We’re glad to meet you Analise. It’s good to see you awake, you had us worried for a while.” He said.

“How long was I out?” She rasped.

“Before I fished you out of the water? I don’t know, but you’ve been here for two days.”

“Two days!” She threw the covers off, winced at the pain and went to stand.

She had to get back to the tribe, they might still be waiting in a safe spot near the Walmart. Tobias would be freaking out by now. The Spivey’s didn’t try to stop her as she stood but the big man moved across the room in a flash when her ankle buckled. He caught her by her good arm and helped her sit down. A wave of dizziness washed over her and the pain from her injured leg was excruciating.

“Easy there.” Laurie said. “Your ankle is swollen twice the size it should be, you’ve got bruises over every square inch of your body and a big hole in your shoulder. It took thirteen stitches to close the wound and you have a knot on the back of your head the size of a goose egg. Here, have a sip.”

Analise took the glass and drank. At least her throat felt better with the cool lemonade coating it.

Sara came over and sat beside her and stroked her hair, careful to avoid the knot on the back of her head.

Spivey watched the girl with a mixture of fascination and sympathy. She was too young to be tattooed all over but there she was. The old scars that covered her arms told a story of pain and suffering. Was she a slave to one of the roving bands of marauders? He felt his anger rise at the thought of what heartless men were capable of when it came to pretty young girls. She couldn’t be more than fourteen at the most. Too young to bear the multitude of scars that covered her tiny frame.

“Where are you from?” He asked her.

“Iowa.” She said and tears welled in her eyes, threatened to spill over. “My tribe and I are going to Lakota. We had to leave, there was a fire, and we lost everything where we were staying. I have to find them. My brother and the others are probably going nuts. They probably think I’m dead.”

Laurie sat beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Your tribe?”

Analise blinked her glacier blue eyes rapidly and savage pride took the place of the tears. She told them a little of their story, leaving out the whole episode with Gordon and Smiths Landing. She let them think the fire had been an accident, some things were best left unsaid.

Laurie shooed Tony out of the room as she and Sara removed the bandages to check her wounds. The swelling in her ankle was going down, nothing appeared to be broken, and the gash in her shoulder wasn’t showing any signs of infection.

“You do good work.” Analise said, admiring the straight, even stitches. It might not leave much of a scar. When she smelled the dinner that was simmering on the stove, she realized how hungry she was and determined that maybe she had time to eat, that she didn’t have to leave right that minute.

Dinner was a languid affair with lots of talk, second helpings of food, and the Spivey’s had plenty of news to share. They had a radio and listened to Radio Lakota when the signal was good. She told her tale of survival and how a group of ragtag kids had beat the odds. It was the most incredible thing they’d ever heard and Spivey shook his head when she finished.

“Wow.” He leaned back in his chair. “All this time I thought the wild children riding around on animals was just another tall tale.”

She was a little confused, she didn’t know how so many people knew about them or had stories to tell. Bob was the only one they’d had any interactions with until they’d gone to Gallatin. She was pretty sure none of Gordon’s gang were spreading stories. She was pretty sure none of them were still alive after Swan had been up all night on guard duty and her armor had fresh blood on it in the morning.

“That’s it exactly.” Spivey said. “They’re telling tall tales. If a retriever can get on the radio with Bastille, it ups his street cred. The more famous they are, the more they can charge for the work they do so they tell the stories of the untamed children. It’s good radio, even if anybody with a brain doesn’t believe half the stories they tell.”

“Where are we?” Analise asked. “How far are we from that Walmart?”

“That would be Norton. It’s about ten miles away. Nothing there anymore but a few undead that didn’t get swept up into a roving horde.” Spivey told her.

“There’s a lot more there now.” She said. “They were fast, crazy fast. We had a plan, Kodiak always has a plan he makes us memorize. I’m the only one who didn’t make it to the lawn and garden section. They all went out the side entrance once the zombies were all jammed up inside.”

“They might still be there, I can catch up to them.” She continued. “That’s where we were when we got separated. I went out the back of the store when we got overrun and jumped in the river to get away.”

“I’ve got to get back before they take off, if they haven’t already.” She said and stood. “Thanks for everything but I need to find them.”

“You won’t be going far on that leg until it heals.” Laurie said and shook her head.

“Please, I have to find them. They might still be there but if they’re not, I know which way they are headed. Do you have a car? Can you help me?”

Spivey leaned forward and looked at her. “Yes, I can help you, but you have to trust us. You need to rest up some, you’ve been comatose for days. It’s almost dark and I don’t travel at night. In the morning, we’ll do everything we can to find your friends.”

“I need to go now. They’ve got to be worried sick and if they leave, they don’t always follow the roads. We might not find them. I’m not afraid of the dark. Doesn’t your car have lights?” She implored.

He smiled. “Trust me, I can find them whether they’re on the roads or cutting through the woods and no, I don’t have a car. I have something better. Take it easy tonight and I’ll show you in the morning.”

25

Swan

While Analise was having a home cooked meal miles away, the tribe was making camp in a farmhouse down an unnamed dirt road. The mood was heavy, Tobias didn’t cook and they ate right out of the cans. Harper made the heartbroken boy use the medicinal shampoo to kill the lice. He said he deserved the pain, the aggravation and annoyance of the little vampires. His last words to her had been mean, he’d said he wanted to stab her in the face with an icepick. The rest of the tribe wasn’t having it, though.

“If we get rid of them and you don’t, you’ll re-infect all of us.” She said. “And besides, if she catches up, you don’t want to give them back to her do you?”

He’d sighed and used the soaps, medicine and shampoo but not because he thought she’d be coming back. They’d given up hope of seeing her again although they pretended they hadn’t. Donny left markers, signs pointing her down the roads they traveled and Tobias had spray painted her name on the asphalt every few miles with arrows to mark the way. The tribe moved slowly, barely covering twenty miles a day before seeking a place to rest. They said it was for Otis, he shouldn’t be pushed so hard but the truth was they were all weary. The lure of Lakota wasn’t what it once was and they were in no hurry to get there. Tobias sat on the roof of the old two-story house, hair wet from the shampoo and stared back the way they’d come.

Swan couldn’t stand the melancholy mood and was chasing supper for the animals. She needed something to take her mind off Analise. She ran through the woods trailing her pack. They’d caught the fresh scent of deer and she’d given them leave to run it down. They were far ahead, easily outdistancing her but she’d catch up. She always did. She kept a steady pace, bow slung over her back, her boots nearly as silent as her wolves’ paws. She instinctively avoided fallen branches and the rains over the last few days had left the leaves damp. They didn’t crunch and crackle with each footfall. She ducked under a tree limb and continued her pursuit, following their trail of disturbed leaves or occasional tuft of fur in a briar. The deer droppings she’d found a quarter mile back were still hot. They were closing in for the kill, the animal wasn’t too far ahead. She could call them back with just a whistle but that would mean no fresh meat tonight and she didn’t even consider it. She let them chase the deer, let them be the mighty hunters that they were while she played catch up.

A blur of motion on her flank snapped her attention to the beast coming for her. Terror, then rage filled her as Diablo lunged out of a thicket and ran straight at her. He barked his laughing bark and launched himself. He caught her by surprise and she didn’t have time to whistle for the pack or bring around her bow. He slammed into her, tumbled her over backward and opened his maw wide. She shoved his muzzle aside as he tried to clamp his oversized jaws down on her face. He snapped and snarled, spittle flew and she could smell the gangrenous pus oozing from the roof of his mouth. She tried to yell but he’d slammed her in the ribs, most of the air had been knocked out of her. The bow dug into her back as he snapped and attacked again, his heavy feet stomping her and clawing at her armor. He lunged for her face again, his jaws wide, large enough to cover her whole head. She threw up a protective arm, tried to roll out from under him but couldn’t move.

His strong jaws clamped down on the plastic guard protecting her forearm. It kept the canines from piercing her skin, but the powerful force of those massive jaws was like a hydraulic press and she felt the bone snap in her arm. She cried out in anguish and fury as he ragged her arm back and forth. She was at his mercy, she couldn’t shove him off and the grinding jaws would tear her hand completely off. She’d seen what they did to Derek on the first day of the outbreak. They had ripped him apart. She ignored the pain and reached for her tomahawk with her free hand. He shook his head and dragged backwards towards the dense thicket he’d sprang from. She wouldn’t be able to move in there, he’d rip her to shreds. Desperate, she swung her blade. There wasn’t much power behind it, but the keen edge sliced through fur and skin and bounced off his skull.

He growled, shook it off and kept dragging her to his lair. It felt as if her arm was being torn from the socket. She screamed in agony and rage, swung the tomahawk again and again and tried to wrest her arm out of his mouth. Blood splashed down from the gashes, hot and bitter as it covered her face. She was hurting him, he no longer savagely attacked, he tried to back off and come at her in a different way. He let go of her useless arm and snapped at her neck to rip her head off. She swung wildly at his drooling, blood drenched muzzle and drove the spike into his eye. She smiled through bloody teeth when he howled in surprise and pain. The gooey fluid from his eye mixed with blood raining down on her but she spit and kept swinging. Diablo snapped at the steel that was hurting him and bit down on the fist holding the tomahawk. Fangs sunk deep into flesh but the steel cut him and stopped biting down before he could chew her hand off. In only a second, the battle had turned. She was no longer driving him off, Swan was losing. She was on her back with a beast the size of a small bear ripping into her. It wouldn’t back off, it wouldn’t quit and her kicks were useless. They had no effect on him. Her own blood joined the hunchbacks pouring down on her. The world started going dark as she struggled to draw breath as the thing kept stomping on her, raking his claws across her flesh and armor. She drove a knee into his underbelly. The hyena ignored it, kept a grip on her hand and started dragging her towards the thicket again. He was winning, the fight was going out of the human. He felt her weakening and tugged harder to get her into the dense undergrowth where he could eat her at his leisure. This moment had been coming for a long time and the taste of her blood in his mouth heightened his savagery. Even the pain from his ruptured eyeball wasn’t enough to make him lose his grip. It would be over in moments and he’d feast on her corpse while the hot blood still flowed through it.

The black was clouding the edges of her vision. This fight was almost over, she felt consciousness slipping away from her as he tugged her out of the clearing. She heard them before she saw the flashes of black, gray and silver seemingly glide across the ground. Their panting breath, the whisper of paws on damp leaves, the guttural growls as they leaped. Time slowed as the darkness gathered around her and the hyena looked up at the new threat. She saw them as they cleared the trees, powerful legs leaping and covering the distance in a slow-motion eternity, graceful in flight, teeth bared and murder in their eyes. Zero remembered the beast, the hulking monstrosity that had taken his mate. The mottled hunchback creature with the distinctive smell that was hurting the pack mother. He slammed into the hyena, easily twice his size and then time sped up again. Swan rolled away, snatched up her tomahawk and ignored the punctures pouring blood. The pack tore into the beast from every angle, brutal and lightning quick they dove in and out, avoided his snapping jaws and savaged him relentlessly.

They attacked with a fury and ripped chunks of flesh from the hyena. It swirled and snapped but his jaws closed on empty air. Zero sprung and grabbed the beast by the throat and tore out a chunk of skin and fur. Blood sprayed across his muzzle and Meadow leapt in and tore the windpipe and veins out. They knew how to kill, how to bring down prey. Zero spit out the chunk of flesh and watched as his cubs snapped and snarled and tore in to the beast again. Swan was ready to finish him off, prepared to sink steel between his eyes but she didn’t have to. Her pack left him lifeless and lying in a puddle of spreading blood.

She got unsteadily to her feet, held her broken arm close to her chest and winced through the pain of every step. Night was coming. She had to get back to the tribe. To her friends. To her family.

26

Tribe

Tobias spotted her from his perch on the roof and ran to meet her. He knew from a half mile off something was wrong. They stumbled through the door of the house and he yelled for Harper. Swan was battered and bloodied and almost out on her feet. They eased her into a chair and Vanessa draped a blanket over her shoulders. She was shivering and cold from loss of blood.

Kodiak and the boys stood back to give them room as the wolves whined and stayed underfoot. Harper had to push them aside so she could assess the damage.

“Diablo.” Swan said. “It’s over. We killed him.”

“Her arm is busted.” Tobias said “it looks bad.”

When he met her at the edge of the woods, he had wrapped the holes in her wrist with his shirt. He was afraid to pull off the shredded armor on her other arm, it looked like it was helping to hold the bloody arm in place.

Vanessa cut Swan’s mangled armguard away and they could see the punctures and bruising. The skin was torn from the hyena’s teeth, it had bit through the plastic, but the guard had distributed the pressure. Instead of sawing in, snapping the bone and ripping her arm off he’d only managed to break it. Harper probed at the wound. Swan winced and hissed through her teeth.

“It’s definitely broken. I’m gonna have to set it back in place before the swelling sets in. Donny, find me something to splint it with. Some flat boards. Kodiak get some t-shirts from that bedroom and tear them into strips. Vanessa, bring me my saddlebag. I have peroxide and painkillers in it.” Harper said.

The boys scattered to look for the necessary items, while Vanessa grabbed the satchel that had just been refilled from the botched Walmart raid.

Swan sat at the table, erect and proud, and kept her face a mask. She wouldn’t wince. She wouldn’t cry out. Her pupils were pinpoints from the pain rolling through her body in waves but her breathing was controlled.

Pull air slowly in and push the pain out. One breath at a time. Breathe in life, exhale the hurt.

She smiled a bloody smile at Harper. “You should have seen it. It was a glorious fight. We killed that humpback bastard, we killed him hard. Lucy can rest in peace now.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and left clean lines that cut through the war paint and blood but she didn’t cry out when Harper set the bone in place. She splinted it as gently as she could then turned her attention to the other rips and tears and slashes from the hyena’s claws and teeth. Her armor had saved her from the worst of it, nearly every piece had deep gouges.

Harper ran the boys out and they stripped her to sponge away the grime and crusted blood. Tobias brought a nightgown down from upstairs and by the time she was cleaned and bandaged the Vicodin had kicked in. She was feeling no pain as they moved her to the couch and within minutes she had drifted off.

Kodiak’s heart ached as he stared at her. The road was slowly devouring them. Otis, then Analise, now Swan. Tobias had seemed to come around while he was helping Swan but he was a wreck. His eyes were empty and hollow and he’d gone back up to the roof to keep watch. Donny was heartbroken. He’d seen the looks between the pale beauty and the silent boy when they thought no one was looking. He spent more time looking behind than forward. He knew the boy was a whisper away from turning around to search for her. It was best to know, to bury a body, then it was to not know, to think you may have abandoned her. Part of him wanted to turn back, too. Maybe they had missed her, maybe they should have searched farther away from the river. Maybe they should have broken into every house, not just the ones closest to the water. Maybe she was curled up in a crawlspace, hungry, hurt and alone.

Or maybe she was hunting humans, mindless and a different kind of hungry.

He stared at Harper while she inventoried and repacked her medical bag. He felt the lump in his throat at the thought of anything happening to her. It would kill him. They were getting close to Lakota, close to safety. Close to their new home and he couldn’t lose any more of his people. He had to be more careful, take more precautions but wasn’t sure what he could do differently.

He realized they were alone, everyone was taking splash baths with the lice soap or tending to their animals. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against hers. She smelled like blood and lavender. Sweat and leather. Old fear and new worry.

“I think I’d die if anything happened to you.” He whispered. “I don’t know if I could go on.”

She turned into his embrace, placed her head against his armored chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They held each other silently for a while, a thick layer of plastic and leather between them.

“I’ll be so glad when we get to Lakota.” She said “We won’t have to wear this stuff anymore.”

“Soon.” He said. ‘We’re getting close.”

“You should check on Tobias.” She said “Make sure he’s not planning anything crazy. I’m worried about him.”

He kissed the top of her head then headed for the stairs. He scaled the balcony and sat on the roof beside the pale boy and they sat in silence for a time as the moon rose in the starry sky.

“She’s out there.” Tobias said. “I feel it. I can’t explain it, but I know it’s true. She’s not dead. I don’t know the word for it, but it’s like we have a connection.”

Kodiak nodded. “I’ve always heard that about twins.”

“I was a jerk to her.” Tobias whispered. “I didn’t mean it. She was just being so bitchy, and I lost my cool.”

“Do you want to turn back?” Kodiak asked. “We will. We can spread out the search, look farther away from the river.”

Tobias stared into the darkness for a long time and Kodiak thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“No,” he finally said. “She’s not there. We looked everywhere. Daisy would have scented her if she was anywhere close. She either went down river a lot farther than we looked or she got bit and didn’t smell like herself anymore.”

He said it flatly, almost without emotion. He’d been considering the possibility for days but hadn’t wanted to voice it.

“Did you know polar bears can smell underwater?” He asked. “They can smell a seal even if it’s ten miles away. Even if we weren’t able to find her, Daisy or Popsicle could have. You can’t hide from a bear.”

“Or Donny.” Kodiak added.

“Yeah.” Tobias shrugged. “Or Donny. You know, I think he loves her. I think she loves him too, but she’s never admitted it and he doesn’t give away anything he doesn’t want you to know. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“He’s a good guy.” Kodiak said. “He’s hurting too. I won’t be surprised to find him gone in the morning to look for her.”

“He’d be wasting his time just like we would if we went back.” He said. “You want to hear something funny? She’s ok. I don’t know where she is or how she got away, but I know she’s fine. When I’m still and quiet, I feel it. I can’t explain it, but I feel it right here.”

He thumped a fist over his heart. He supposed he’d always had the connection but he hadn’t felt it like he did now. When he sat on the roof and emptied his mind of all the worry, when he relaxed his brain, he could feel her. She was still out there somewhere.

“She’ll find us. We just need to keep going. She might even beat us to Lakota, who knows.”

“I believe you.” Kodiak said. “You might try talking to Donny. He could use it.”

“I will.” Tobias agreed. “He should stay with the tribe.”

Kodiak stood and stepped to the edge of the roof.

“I won’t give up on my sister. We’ll see her again. Either here or in the halls of Valhalla.”

27

Analise and the Spiveys

Spivey came into the house and watched as Analise hobbled around the kitchen on the crutch he’d made for her. The medicine had knocked her out and she had slept well. They let her rest until she woke up grumbling about it being so late, the day was already half gone. It was nice to see her up and about. She wore some of Sara’s clothes although they were too big and hung limply on her small frame. Without all of the armor she was half the size. Her almost white hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and she reminded him of an elven princess from an epic fantasy novel.

“Wash up.” She said. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

She wielded the knife with a surgeon’s precision as she sliced the shoulder from the deer he’d shot early that morning into thin steaks. She was a study in efficiency as she seasoned and floured the meat and tended the pot simmering on the stove. Laurie and Sara tried to help but she good naturedly shooed them away. Sara had flour on her cheeks and was stirring up the bowl of seasoned eggs.

“Someone is feeling better.” He said.

She was. A good night’s sleep had done wonders. Her ankle bothered her more than the gouge in her shoulder but she couldn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t recovering from some kind of injury. Laurie had offered her another pill to help with the pain but she’d turned it down. It was only a sprained ankle.

“And a fist-sized hole in your shoulder.” Laurie had said.

“Yeah, but it’s not deep.” Analise had replied. “I’ve had worse.”

She flashed him a smile. “I’ll be back with my tribe soon. I wanted to do something nice for you before I go and cooking is kind of my and Tobias’s thing.”

“Smells great. My stomach and I approve.” He said with a laugh while he rubbed his belly. “After breakfast, I’ll show you my ride.”

Analise smiled happily and dropped a steak into the hot grease. “Can’t wait.”

The meal was filled with laughter and some tears as Analise told them tales about each of her tribe. She told mostly funny stories of the children and the monkeys or Teddy running away with the plow or her brothers’ inability to make good cheese. There had been some rough patches but she glossed over them and mostly remembered the good times. When the meal was finished, Spivey pushed back from his chair and groaned with pleasure.

“Young lady, you are the second best cook I’ve ever met.” He shot a wink at Laurie.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Soon as I clean up, I’ll be ready to get out of here.” Analise said.

Laurie threw up her hands in protest. “Oh, no. Sara and I will do the dishes. You’ve done enough. You two go play with his toy.”

Analise arched an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. Toy? He nodded and stood from the table. She grabbed her crutch and followed along behind him as he made his way outside. They were in a small industrial park surrounded by chain link fences with barbed wire along the top. A lone zombie clawed and keened at the barrier when it scented them but they paid it no mind. A sea of solar panels covered a large open area and thick cables snaked into one of the buildings housing the banks of batteries. He strolled across to another building and slid open the roll up door. Excited, she stepped inside expecting a tank or some kind of jacked up vehicle with guns and armor plates covering it. Something like Bob had built. Something tough that could take some punishment and cover the miles easily. She looked around for it. There was nothing but a bunch of dust covered machinery and a big basket with what looked like a circus tent folded beside it. She looked up at Spivey.

“Where is it?” She asked. She was anxious to get going. Doubt settled in her heart for the first time since she’d met him. Were they just stringing her along to keep her there?

He pointed at the basket and the pile of material.

“I present to you the Valkyrie. My hot air balloon. We’ll be able to spot your friends from miles away and won’t have to worry about outrunning the zoms.” He said with a big grin.

She just stood there with her mouth open.

28

Analise

It was still dark out and the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when they returned to the shed the next morning. He was in coveralls with a jacket slung over his arm. It could get cold if they went high. She’d spent yesterday repairing her armor and replacing pieces that had been ripped loose in the currents. Spivey had a well-supplied machine shop and plenty of electricity to power it. She had wanted to leave yesterday but he’d explained about the prevailing breezes and they’d have a much easier time flying if they left early in the morning. The currents nearly always blew to the southwest near dawn as the sun started warming the earth. She had buckled her boot tight and between it and the ace bandage, she walked without the crutch. She moved silently in her armor and carried a freshly made saw toothed battle-axe. She watched in nervous anticipation as Spivey carefully laid out the balloon material. He told her it was called the envelope and she nodded along as he explained how it worked. It was all great, but she wished he would work a little more and talk a little less. He laughed at the serious look on her face and assured her he knew what he was doing.

She offered to help but he waved her off. He affixed the lines from the balloon to the basket then tied it off to the stakes he had sunk in concrete. Satisfied, he hit the starter button on a propane powered generator. The motor hummed to life and settled into a steady idle. He positioned a fan at the mouth of the balloon, plugged it in and the material began to ripple from the forced breeze. She felt something on her arm and looked to see Sara concentrating on drawing something with a magic marker. Analise watched as the lines took shape and she recognized a flower starting to form. Sara smiled sheepishly.

“I wanted to put my mark on you, so you won’t forget me.” she said.

Analise smiled and held her arm steady. The girl focused on her work, tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, as she crudely drew a pink flower.

“All done.” Sara said.

Analise turned it this way and that, admiring the simple work.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’ll never wash it off.” She hugged the girl tightly. She would have Sasha ink it in permanently when she got to Lakota.

“Better not.” Sara said.

The black and yellow balloon began to take shape and it reminded her of a giant light bulb. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach. Closer. She was getting closer to finding her family.

Spivey stepped over, nodded his approval of the new tattoo.

“Won’t be long now.” He assured her. “Once it’s inflated, I’ll light the burners and she’ll be ready. The wind is steady out of the north in the general direction we want to go, and we should make good time once we’re up there.”

“How do you steer it?” She asked. It wouldn’t do to fly off in the wrong direction.

“The wind shifts direction based on how high we are. I’ll take her up or down until we find a current that works. I can’t follow the road exactly, but we’ll be close enough to spot your friends if they’re out there.”

“They are.” She said with conviction.

He nodded. “You know, you all would be more than welcome to stay here. You, your friends and animals. There’s plenty of room.”

“Thank you, but I need to go to this Lakota. The little kids have been there for weeks and I’d love to see them again.”

Spivey stepped back to the balloon, made a few adjustments and lit the burner at the top of the basket. He studied her without being obvious about it. Four days ago he’d dragged a barely conscious little girl from the water near his fish traps. She was bloody, bedraggled and looked like a drowned cat. He wasn’t sure she’d survive. Now she stood tall and proud, her white hair braided and wearing armor like a second skin. She’d fashioned a deadly looking weapon in only a few hours and it was obvious she knew how to use it. She was the most intimidating fourteen-year-old he’d ever met. She didn’t look like a little kid, she looked like a battle-hardened warrior. Within minutes the balloon began to rise from its lazy position on the ground until it was standing straight up. The word Valkyrie stood out boldly in big white letters across the black and yellow background.

“My brother and I are descended from Vikings.” Analise said as she watched it get fuller and firmer. “Valkyrie is a fine ship for me to sail the skies in. Maybe it was my destiny to be here, with you and your family.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe so. Let’s go find your tribe young Shield Maiden.”

Laurie came over to say goodbye. She held a picnic basket loaded down with food and supplies. She smiled and tried to be strong as she embraced Analise.

“There’s food in here for your tribe. There’s also stuff for you and the other girls. Some soaps and cosmetics, things like that. Take care of yourself. This isn’t goodbye, more like see you later. Goodbye would turn me into a sniveling mess and ruin my makeup. Find your way back someday, ok?”

“I will.” Analise said.

She looked for Sara. The girl was poking a stick at some debris by the fence. She waved at Analise then turned back to whatever had her attention.

“She’s fine.” Laurie said. “She just doesn’t want to see you go. She has her own way of seeing the world. Now go before I break my promise not to cry and take care of my old man for me.”

Analise hugged Laurie once more and made her way to the basket. Spivey kissed his wife then closed the wicker door.

He hit the lever and blue flames rushed from the burner. The balloon rose and the ropes grew taut. He signaled Laurie and she released the ropes from their anchors. The Valkyrie lifted into the sky and began to drift in a southeasterly direction as he coiled the ropes and hung them on their hooks.

29

Flying High

The highway was a twisting ribbon far below and she could see all the way to the town where everything went wrong. The river was still brown with mud but it was calm and back inside its banks. She scanned it for any signs of the tribe, any signs of smoke or maybe Bert’s head poking above the trees. She didn’t expect to find them hanging around the town, the plan had always been to keep moving, keep headed for Lakota if they ever got separated. It was the only plan that made sense but that didn’t mean they had stuck to it.

Spivey moved the balloon up and down and they circled the town looking for signs before they set off to follow the road. Her tummy flipped every time the balloon dropped in altitude or surged upward to find the right breeze that would keep them moving in the right direction. They’d been adrift for several hours now and she’d seen nothing but empty fields and deserted roads. Ghost towns and abandoned cars stretched along the snakelike highway far below. Small groups of undead staggered along headed to who knows where.

Spivey tried to keep the mood light and taught her how to fly the balloon but it did little to curb her anxiety. She knew there had to be a limit on how far he could go. She worried they wouldn’t be able to find her tribe. He’d assured her that as long as the wind cooperated, they’d keep going. They could always land when it got dark and hole up somewhere and propane was easy enough to scavenge from the farms and small towns that dotted the landscape. She worried about him making it back home. She had felt an instant connection to him and his family and couldn’t bear the thought that helping her might keep him from returning to his family. He quashed her worries and reminded her that he could go any direction he wanted, it was just a matter of finding the right currents.

“What’s that?” she asked and pointed to an arrow on an intersection.

He rummaged around below the seats, pulled out a pair of binoculars and handed them to her.

“You’ve had these all along?” she asked.

“Just remembered them.” He answered her sheepishly. “I never had a need to use them before.”

She focused them on the arrow, a green one made of tree branches and knew it was Donny leaving signs. He was showing her the way.

“Found them!” she shouted and pointed. “Now that we know what to look for all we have to do is follow the trail.”

A half mile later she spotted her name in yellow spray paint in Tobias’ half legible scrawl. Spivey moved up and down, kept the balloon going in the right direction and they slipped quietly along.

It was early afternoon when she spotted movement ahead. It was right at the limits of her vision and blurred by a heat haze coming off the road. Spivey squinted through his glasses but couldn’t see what she was pointing at. It had been a flash of white against the blacktop right at the crest of a hill. Daisy or Popsicle, she was sure. She willed the balloon to move faster. She willed her eyes not to play tricks on her. She had to know. She felt her brother through the connection that twins shared and her heart pounded. He felt close, she couldn’t explain it, but it was undeniable. Anxious minutes passed as the balloon drifted lazily along. The binoculars never left the crest of the hill and she couldn’t wait to pass over it. They would be on the downhill side, going into a valley, she knew it. As they got closer, more of the valley opened up below them and then they saw it. The parade of people and animals spread out for nearly a quarter mile.

Her heart climbed up into her throat. She saw the unmistakable long neck of a giraffe flanked by the white fur of polar bears and the small forms on their broad backs. A pair of black shapes glided along the asphalt far ahead of the tribe. Donny and Yewan running point. One of her savage sisters was surrounded by wolves and another atop a giant bird. She saw Kodiak striding beside Otis as he limped along. Her heart nearly burst in relief.

“Found them” She said and grinned broadly at Spivey.

30

Tobias

Tobias slumped in the saddle but kept looking over his shoulder at their back trail. He was second guessing himself again. Maybe they never should have left her behind. Maybe they should turn back and search. They were getting further and further away and it just didn’t seem right. She was out there somewhere. He was sure he’d have felt it if their connection had been broken. He felt her now, pulling at his subconscious. He didn’t sense panic or pain but joy. She was happy wherever she was.

He tried to keep a strong face for the tribe. Assured them over and over that moving forward was the right thing to do. She would catch them or be waiting somewhere ahead with a hot meal cooked.

Inside though, he was wracked with guilt. He shouldn’t have been so mean to her, he couldn’t get over it. He’d take the words back if he could.

Daisy lumbered along beside him and Popsicle. He hated the sight of her empty saddle and the sad moaning sounds she made from time to time. She was mourning the loss of her adopted cub too.

He felt the wind rustle the beads in his hair and ran his fingers over Kassie’s braid. He wondered if he’d see her again then chastised himself for thinking happy thoughts when he was supposed to be in mourning. Except he didn’t really think she was dead. He swore he could almost hear her voice. He swore he could almost feel her beside him, like she was close enough to touch. He sat up and scanned the road ahead. Nothing but rolling hills and endless miles of blacktop. He looked over his shoulder. Nothing. He felt the tingle of her presence again.

He swiveled to his left. Fallow fields and strips of woods. Same thing they’d been looking at for weeks. The feeling was stronger, and he caught a wisp of sound on the wind. The bears stopped plodding along and raised their heads, sniffing the breeze. He saw it then and was too dumbfounded to do anything but stare for a moment. A black and yellow balloon floated lazily towards them on a downward trajectory. His sister was standing in the basket with a huge grin on her face. He leapt from Popsicles back and yelled her name as he took off running to intercept the balloon when it touched down. Popsicle and Daisy passed him on either side at the sight and scent of their cub and he cursed them for not stopping to pick him up.

The rest of the tribe shouted greetings and as one they thundered towards the girl whom most of them had already given up for dead.

31

Reunited

The basket had barely touched the ground before Analise unlocked the door and climbed out. Spivey watched with a little concern as she limped directly into the path of two charging polar bears with her arms spread wide. They were being chased by a wild-eyed boy who was undoubtedly her twin brother. The tattooed boy sprinted to catch up and let out whoops as he drew closer.

His concern turned to wonder as the polar bears surrounded the girl and lavished her with their long tongues. They moaned in pleasure at the taste and smell of their lost cub. She kissed their noses and wrapped her skinny arms around their massive heads and whispered softly to them. They were like big, overgrown puppy dogs.

Tobias pushed through the bears and wrapped his sister in a gentle hug when he saw the bandages under her armor.

“I’m not gonna break dummy.” She said and pushed him away playfully.

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk.” He said.

His brow was furrowed with internal angst. Apologies didn’t come easy for him but it was obvious he meant it.

She laughed. “So, what else is new? You’ve always been a jerk.” She softened the words as she wrapped him in a bear hug.

The rest of the tribe hurried in and welcomed her back. Tears and laughter flowed and the questions came faster than she could answer them.

Donny stood back panting as the others swarmed her. He and Yewan had run the farthest and the big cat was rubbing against Analise’s legs wanting her attention as the wolves jumped and tried to lick her face. The man inside the basket had eased the door closed and stood watching animals he’d only seen on TV or at a zoo licking and pawing at the girl, happy to see her. Bears and panthers. Wolves and an Ostrich. It was unbelievable, the end of the world really had happened. The lion had lain down with the lamb and little children led them all.

Donny couldn’t put his finger on the feelings coursing through him. Joy at seeing her alive. Anger at her limp and the bruises on her body. He should have been there to protect her. She should have never been separated from the tribe. He vowed that he would never let her down again. Despite the bruises and bandages, she was radiant. Her hair was radiant and shiny, almost glowing in the sunlight. Her pale skin was clean, not covered by the ever-present dirt that coated the rest of the tribe. Her eyes a vibrant glacier blue and sparkling with tears of happiness. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and stepped forward as Harper let her go.

Analise looked at the boy who stood tall and proud. His cheeks were in full blush as she met his eyes. He was so strong and handsome in his armor. A rock that never wavered in his commitment to the tribe. A warrior that was always in the forefront of the battle. A hunter who never failed to provide and he was hers. She knew it without a doubt. She rushed forward and when they met, he didn’t think about what he was doing, he was so happy to see her he swooped her up in his arms. He felt the heat rush through his body as she pressed her lips to his and ignored the whoops and catcalls from the rest of the tribe. Nothing else mattered at that moment for the two of them. If it took almost drowning and being lost for days for him to finally work up the courage to show that he liked her, she figured it was worth it. In a world full of nothing, they had found everything in each other.

Tobias bumped past Otis as he approached them. His face was an unreadable mask. Donny set her down gently and met the boy’s eyes.

“That’s my sister.” Tobias growled.

“Remember that whole being a jerk conversation we just had?” Analise asked

Donny’s face lit up in surprise when Tobias wrapped him in a hug and lifted him off his feet and spun him around as he’d done Analise seconds before.

Tobias grinned at him as he let Donny go. “Take care of her, or answer to me.”

Donny nodded once. It was enough to cement the bond between the warriors.

“I guess half a jerk is better than all jerk.” Swan said as she gingerly hugged her sister, mindful of both their injuries. “Glad you made it, I knew you were too tough to kill. Who’s this?”

Spivey had staked out the balloon and observed the tribe after the animals sniffed at the basket and lost interest. They were just as Analise had described them. Wild and savage looking but clearly dedicated to one another. He was still amazed at the fact that these children had managed to survive on their own for all of this time. He took in their long hair, braided and adorned with ornaments. Feathers, beads and jewelry were woven into it. Their armor was much like Analise’s. Some was repurposed plastic guards from various sports, some was thick, boiled leather and some was metal. Most of them wore furs of some sort and they all bore the scars of close quarters battle. The dark-haired girl with the wolves was wearing a splint on one arm. He could see the line of sweat on her brow from the injury that had to be causing her endless pain yet she endured as she welcomed Analise back into their group. He marveled at the strange new world they lived in where the dead walked the earth and humans ate each other. A world where a band of feral children met the new reality and didn’t give up. They had forged something special, something unheard of. Like flowers through a crack in the sidewalk, they had blossomed and found a way.

The pale boy approached him. High cheekbones and dancing blue eyes hinted at a mischievous streak. The scars and tattoos showed the warrior side of the young man. He held out his hand to greet the boy but the kid ignored it. Instead he stepped in close and looked in Spivey’s eyes.

“I don’t know who you are,” He said. “But thank you.”

Tobias wrapped him in a crushing hug that surprised him with its strength. He patted the boy on the back.

“Call me Spivey. Your sister is very special Tobias. She touched me and my family deeply. I’m glad we got the chance to know her.”

Tobias stepped back and very solemnly said. “I owe you a debt I cannot repay. I prayed to Odin and he sent you to return my sister on the wings of a Valkyrie.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything.” Spivey said. “We just did what was right.”

Tobias reached up and untied one of his braids. He slid a diamond ring free from his hair and held it out. “For your family.”

Spivey took the ring and dropped it in his shirt pocket. It would have been immensely valuable once, but now it was just a shiny rock. The sentiment behind it is what gave it value.

“My wife will love it. Thank you.”

The rest of the tribe gathered around him with praise and questions. The female polar bear licked his face while the giraffe sniffed at his hair. It was the strangest thing and he wished Sara could witness it.

“Feast!” Tobias yelled. “We must feast the return of my sister and the hero who brought her!”

“We don’t have any food unless motor mouth over there,” Swan gestured at Donny, “can manage to hunt something. Otherwise, it’s whatever we have left from the ice cream truck.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Spivey said. He reached in the balloon and pulled out the food basket Laurie had sent.

Cheers went up from the tribe. Blankets were spread and a small feast was shared between man, beast and children.

Spivey was a little intimidated at first, it wasn’t every day a panther stared at you until you gave her a bit of your sandwich. He wiped crumbs from his shirt and stood. “I have to be going. My own tribe is waiting at home. It was a pleasure to meet you all. If the wind currents cooperate, I’ll be telling my wife and daughter an amazing tale tonight over dinner.”

Analise hugged him once more and kissed his cheek. “I’ll never forget you.”

“Better not.” He kissed the top of her head. “You know where to find us. All of you can have a place there if you change your minds.”

She nodded and stepped back. He climbed into the basket and made his preparations. Tobias and Donny loosed the anchor ropes at his command. Spivey hit the lever on the burner and the balloon rose gracefully in the air. The pups chased it for a while until the Valkyrie was far across the field and high in the sky.

32

Tribe

Analise’ return to the tribe reinvigorated the spirits of the children. Tobias fussed over her like a mother hen, making sure her every need was catered to. She quickly tired of his hovering and told him to get away before she stabbed him.

She was content to sit in the saddle atop Daisy, stroke her fur and watch the silent countryside pass by. The songs of distant birds, the occasional chattering of a squirrel and the click of claws on the pavement were the only sounds in the silent world. Occasionally a screen door would creak back and forth on its rusting hinges or a loose piece of tin would rattle in the breeze but the world was quiet for the most part. Electric lines drooped on poles, cars sat dust covered in driveways and lesser creatures scurried to hide from the predators as they passed.

She talked quietly to Donny about her ordeal and how much she had missed them all. Especially him. They talked about the nameless man and wondered who he’d been. What he’d done to be sorry about. They had no answers and would never find any. It would remain a mystery. He was happy to walk alongside her and pleased in the acceptance the tribe had shown of their feelings for one another. The end of the world had taken away everything from so many but it had given him everything he’d ever wanted.

Despite their wounds, the tribe made good time. Houses and abandoned cars were more frequent the further south they traveled. Scavenging became easy and Donny’s spear flew true when a young buck ventured under the tree where he and Yewan waited.

Otis milked his sore shoulder for all the attention it was worth. His limp seemed to get worse when someone was watching but the bear was healing quickly. Kodiak had removed his stitches and the wound was a healthy shade of pink. The days passed pleasantly as they cut through the empty lands and the winding roads. A small horde of undead scented them and came hissing out of a field, hungry for flesh. They were slow and broken, walking nonstop for a year in all kinds of weather had worn them down. They got tangled up in a barbed wire fence and Swan sent her wolves to kill. The rest of the tribe watched from a distance, glad they didn’t have to get dirty.

Swan scratched at the splinted bandages on her fractured arm. It was sweaty, smelled bad and itched to no end. She muttered curses under her breath as the pain radiated outward from the injured bone. She practiced tossing her left-hand tomahawk at fence posts along the road and one of the wolves would happily retrieve it on the rare occasion she missed. She worried how the wound would affect her aim once it healed and tried not to think about it. She wasn’t bad with her left hand but she was much more confident with her right. Her bow was still in the woods by the corpse of Diablo. In the confusion, she hadn’t thought to send someone after it. It irked her that Donny was providing all the fresh meat. He hadn’t teased her, he probably wasn’t keeping count of his kills, but she was. By her score, he’d have to have a serious run of bad luck once she got healed or she’d never catch up.

Kodiak and Harper walked at the front of the pack, talked for hours sharing plans and ideas about what it would be like in Lakota. He didn’t like to think about the serious aspects, he supposed they would all go back to school and pick up where they left off. He was itching for some X-Box trigger time. Some mindless violence where no one really got hurt and the stakes weren’t real. An escape where when people died, they just hit reset and started over. Harper hoped they had a hospital set up, she wanted to learn more about medicine and repairing damaged bodies.

Vanessa ranged a couple of miles ahead of them on Ziggy. The Ostrich was much easier to handle than Bert and she could run farther and faster than Donny so she took over the duties as their forward Scout. She marked spots where she found supplies so Tobias or Kodiak wouldn’t waste time walking down long country driveways if there wasn’t anything worth having. She would find the best place for them to camp out and be waiting when they arrived. Sometimes she had to clean out a house and sometimes the undead were still fast and vicious but she had gotten good at killing. Most of the time she simply poked around, made sure there weren’t any infestations of fleas and had a fire going so the twins could cook.

They crossed into Oklahoma without much fanfare. They’d come down paths and backroads through Missouri and Arkansas and the sign that welcomed them to the Sooner state was faded. It was a milestone though and they celebrated that evening as they ticked another day off the journey.

33

Twisted

The miles melted behind them as they drew closer to the walls of Lakota, the fabled city they’d heard so much about. Some of the roads they traveled ended at streams and rivers but only once did they have to backtrack to find a bridge. Bert could wade through most of them but he was head strong and if he thought it was too deep, no amount of cajoling could get him in. Ziggy didn’t care much for deep water either but she would follow wherever Vanessa led her. As they got closer, now only a half finger away on the map, excitement, a little nervousness and anticipation filled each of them. They thought they might see or hear cars but they never did. There was no reason for anyone to be driving on the backroads, the truckers, retrievers and Hell Drivers stayed on the main route that linked the communities. Only a retriever would go off the safe roads anymore. There were so many trees and branches laying across many of them, it was slow going.

The weather was weird and everything seemed oddly quiet in an already quiet world. The air was heavy, almost ominous and from the looks of the clouds, there was a storm brewing. The sky was turning a strange shade of yellow they’d never seen before as they passed a sign at an overgrown crossroads.

Lakota: 10 miles.

The animals were acting skittish and kept sniffing the air, almost as if they could smell something troubling coming their way. They unconsciously picked up the pace and kept searching ahead for Vanessa. Miles away the horizon was thick with heavy rain clouds. The tribe wasn’t too concerned as long as they had a dry place to sleep, they’d been through storms before. They’d been trapped inside for days when a blizzard had howled outside Piedmont house. At least the weather was warm, they would welcome a nice gentle shower to wash away the stink and grime of life on the road. The clouds ahead were anything but nice. Evil was the only way Swan could describe them.

They were glad when they finally spotted Vanessa and Ziggy trotting towards them under the darkening sky. They hoped she found a good spot because the heavens were starting to look downright menacing.

Vanessa came in fast and the ostrich danced as she reined her around.

“It looks even worse up the road.” She said “But there’s a farmhouse with a barn about a mile up.”

Blacks and blues and grays shifted and roiled. Mother Earth was upset about something and was about to unleash her full fury. They felt small in the big, open plains. The breezes had stopped and stillness settled across the fields. The insects had ceased their noises, the flies that sometimes pestered them had gone to ground somewhere. Even they knew something was happening, something big and dangerous.

“Guys, I think we need to hurry.” Swan said with awe in her voice. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No but I think a downpour is coming.” Kodiak said. “A real gutter buster. Show us what you found, Vanessa.”

They could feel the charge in the air as lightning danced through the clouds, silent and eerie. It was unlike anything they’d ever experienced. The atmosphere seemed heavy like it too was waiting for something to happen.

It was scary.

It was amazing.

The wind came out of nowhere, they could see it and the rain racing across the fields. It was uncanny. They were perfectly warm and dry, the sun was still shining down but they saw a wall rushing at them. When it found them, it was like being drenched by a bucket of water. Rain drops the size of golf balls were blown nearly horizontal by the wind.

Vanessa dropped her goggles, leaned low over Ziggy’s neck and was gone in a flash. They could barely see her when she crested the hill in the road. Swan swung up behind Kodiak on Otis while Donny leapt on Daisy’s back behind Analise. The three bears broke into a fast lope, the wolves and Yewan pacing them on either side. Harper and Bert galloped ahead and followed Vanessa down a muddy driveway already being washed away in the torrent.

When she caught up, Vanessa was trying to open the storm cellar that was halfway between the house and the barn. She tugged on a big steel door that looked like it opened into the side of a grass covered hill.

“Help me, I can’t get it open!” Vanessa screamed up at her over the howling wind.

Harper twisted in the saddle to slide down Bert’s backside like she’d done a thousand times but he shied, ducked his head and bucked when lightning struck and thunder boomed loud enough they felt it in their bones.

She tumbled over his side, grabbed frantically for the reins and barely caught them before she fell fifteen feet to the ground. They broke her fall but the homemade harness snapped and she landed on her back with a meaty thud. Bert’s eyes were wide and wild as he spun and ran away from the flashing, thunderous cacophony of the storm. Hail pelted them as Vanessa tried to help her to her feet and keep a firm grip on Ziggy’s reins at the same time. The bears ran up and Kodiak slid gracefully off Otis. He and Donny snatched the door open and held it against the wind

“Get in, get the animals in before they panic and we lose them!” Kodiak bellowed, his shouts nearly drowned out by the raging winds.

Swan sent the wolves down in the cellar and they went willingly. Ancient instincts told them to go in the cave, to find shelter, and they hurried in with tails tucked and the pups shivering. The bears shared the same instincts and nearly fought to be the first down the stairs and into the man-made den. Donny helped Vanessa drag Ziggy down the steps and Yewan slunk around investigating the concrete cave before settling down in a corner.

Harper was drenched, her blonde curls plastered to her leather but she was getting her breath back. The air had been knocked out of her. She spotted Bert running from them, heading for the trees in the distance. She started after him when Kodiak grabbed her by a shoulder pauldron.

“Let go!” she yelled above the roar of the storm and before he could answer the buffeting winds stopped. The torrential downpour turned into a light sprinkle and they could see rays of sunshine peeking through the darkness above. Both were surprised and momentarily forgot about the runaway giraffe. They felt the sudden change in air pressure and it became deadly calm. Too calm. Something that sounded like a faraway train cut through the silence and they turned to see the massive black funnel cloud bearing down on them. It took them a second to register what it was. A tornado. The bane of the Midwest, the killer twisters that could flatten everything in their path. They’d never seen one before, only on TV. They stood transfixed and watched as the landscape was ripped towards its center. Trees were buffeted and ripped from the ground and the yellowed corn stalks from the fields were sucked up into the swirling maelstrom. The sound grew louder and the winds started buffeting them as it grew closer and seemed to be aimed straight for them. He snapped out of his stupor and dragged Harper towards the open door as Donny frantically motioned for them to hurry up.

She tried to pull away, to run after Bert, the broken harness still in her hand.

“Leave him!” He yelled.

“NO!” She cried “We have to save him!”

“It’s too late!” Kodiak screamed above the deafening thunderous freight train bearing down on them. Boards and shingles and deadly pieces of tin flew past them. A tractor tumbled end over end and crashed through the back of the house as all the water from a fish pond was sucked into the swirling, black funnel.

She tried to twist out of his grip, she had to get to Bert, but he jerked her off her feet. The roof of the barn sucked up into the sky and the wooden boards followed. His heart raced and fear drove him towards the shelter, he could feel the winds trying to pull them into the hungry turmoil that was sucking up everything in its path. She fought him, punched at him, and cursed him. She was in a panic, a wild cat, he was leaving Bert outside. He would be killed, sucked up into the tornado and ripped apart. Kodiak wasn’t gentle as he forced her through the entrance and dragged her down the stairs. It took Donny and both the twins to muscle the door closed and slide the locking bar into place. The vacuum pulling everything towards the outside died instantly as the world beyond the doors was ripped apart.

“I hate you!” Harper screamed as they untangled from where they’d fallen. “You left him to die!”

She slapped him as hard as she could but the loud crack of skin on skin couldn’t be heard above the roar of destruction all around them.

The doors heaved against the pull of the storm and dust poured down from the ceiling. Something heavy slammed into them and shook the bunker. The pandemonium lasted for long minutes as they found their companions in the dark and tried to stroke their fear away. Whisper to them that everything was fine and scratch them in their favorite places.

After minutes that felt like hours, the wind eased its howling and the swirling cloud of destruction moved further away.

“I think it’s over.” Vanessa said softly, almost as if she was afraid it would hear her and come back for them.

Donny nodded and stroked Yewan’s neck. He could feel the fear in the big cat. Could feel the trembles of her muscles under his fingers.

“Help me with this.” Kodiak said as he tried to open the door. He needed to get out and find Bert. Harper’s slap had hurt but the words hurt more.

The crossbar was bent and he couldn’t push it up out of the heavy steel bracket. It was jammed tight.

“Gimme a hand guys.” He told Donny and Tobias and they hurried up the stairs. Harper was crying bitterly as Vanessa and Swan tried to comfort her.

“He’s dead. I could have saved him.” They heard between the sobs. “He didn’t care.”

The boys threw their backs into the bar and tried to ignore her, they didn’t know what to do about a crying girl. The bar wouldn’t budge.

“Something must have hit the door pretty damn hard to bend this.” Tobias grunted “It’s solid steel.”

They dug out more flashlights and searched the room for anything they could use as a pry bar. At one time it had been an expensive concrete storm cellar in an area along tornado alley. When the owners had it built, they’d had children and had been worried about their safety. They’d held drills and every member of the family knew what to do, all the way down to the littlest who was in charge of bringing the hamsters. It was well stocked with emergency food, flashlights and a hand crank radio. They had water, blankets and a camp toilet. Years passed, nothing happened, the children grew up and went off on their own and now it was used for storage. Old bicycles, tractor parts and baby seats that were too nice to throw away. Now everything was covered in a fine film of mold, the wooden shelves were rotten and during the rainy season water stood stagnant in the floor. It had been a decade since the old farmer had been down the steps and the sum total value of all the things inside would have been zero dollars and zero cents. For the children, they turned out to be very valuable indeed.

34

Salvaged

Harper wanted to scream in rage. It was no use. The thick steel door was bomb shelter quality; they weren’t going to cut through it. Even if they could whatever the tornado had dumped on the other side had buried them. Kodiak’s Warhammer had pried the locking bar loose but the door hadn’t budged. No matter how hard they pushed against it, no matter how many pry bars they jammed into the frame, they couldn’t move it a fraction. Something big was laying on it. Maybe the house, maybe a tree, maybe a bulldozer from the next county over.

Three days. Three long days and nights they’d been trapped in a hole in the ground. The darkness was absolute which led them to believe there wasn’t simply a tree or something on the doors, they’d been buried alive. No light seeped around any of the edges. They had gone through all the junk on the shelves and some of it had come in handy. The camp toilets and the chemicals in plastic bottles were still good. Some of the home canned goods were fine. Whoever had done it years ago had taken the dampness into consideration and dipped the lids in wax. They had enough food to last them a few weeks, long enough to dig their way out, but that wasn’t the problem. They were running out of air. Whoever had built the shelter hadn’t added drainage or a fresh air vent. It was basically a concrete box with a military surplus security door sold to worried homeowners by slick salesmen and built as cheaply as possible. They found a crack in the ceiling in one corner and had decided to break through there instead of the steel of the doors. Once they got through the concrete, there should only be a few feet of dirt. They hadn’t anticipated the steel mesh imbedded in the cement to hold it all together. Getting through it was slow and tedious work that consisted of hammering each strand back and forth a few thousand times until it broke. Concrete dust had filled the air the first few days but now it had all settled. That wasn’t the reason it was getting harder to breathe. When they realized they were slowly dying of asphyxiation, they stopped trying to make the hole big enough to squeeze through and concentrated on busting the rest of the way through the concrete. They had to break through, they needed an air supply.

Harper still sulked, still blamed Kodiak for Bert’s death. If they hadn’t been trapped in a black hole, if things weren’t so frustrating and dirty and smelly, they probably would have blown off a little steam, found a quiet spot and talked things through. Penned up so closely together with no privacy, not even to go to the bathroom, it was easier to stay mad. It was easier to redirect anger at somebody who had dragged you into the tomb you were in than be mad at an animal who just left a load you stepped in. He hadn’t tried very hard either she told herself. She’d rejected his halfhearted apology and he hadn’t tried again. Fine. She wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.

They were hot, sweaty and already down two flashlights, their batteries dead. Swan was feverish, the bites from Diablo were infected and her wolves knew something was wrong with the pack mother. She sat in a corner and dozed most of the time. She would be the first to go, Harper thought. She was the luckiest. She barely knew what was happening.

The boys had built a rickety platform and took turns with the hammers 24 hours a day. Nobody was getting any sleep, everybody was irritable. Even if they broke through and got some fresh air, would they have enough food to last until they made a hole big enough to crawl through? What was worse, dying from lack of air or dying of hunger or thirst? Would they kill their animals and eat them? Would the animals go mad from thirst and attack each other or the children? The situation was grim and she was fine to stay angry for a while longer. It made things easier. You didn’t care if you were mad.

Tobias paused his chiseling at the concrete and let out a whoop.

“I’m through!” he shouted and started pulling out handfuls of dirt. It rained down and made a pile on the floor. When he was shoulder deep against the ceiling he called for a spear and Vanessa handed hers up. With a final prod, grass and leaves tumbled down the fist sized hole and sunlight shone through. They cheered and gathered around, sucking in the cool, clean air. It tasted good, she’d never known it to have a flavor before but it was almost sweet it was so clean and pure.

The wolves smelled the danger first and their growls were heard above the happy chatter of the kids. Everyone got quiet and looked to them as they eyed the hole, fangs bared and low rumbles in their throats.

“Oi, anybody down there?” a British accented voice shouted down the hole from above.

Nobody answered, too surprised at what they heard. There were the sounds of a scuffle above and then the gekkering barks of excited foxes shoving their noses into the hole. Zero answered back with a bark of his own and then they heard Caleb shouting. There was a chattering from the monkeys, the British guy yelled something then they were yelling right back, nearly dancing with joy.

“Move over you little hellion.” they heard him say and his voice replaced Landon’s hollering down at them.

“Have you out in a bit.” He said. “I think we found the door. Seems to have a Cadillac parked on it. Might want to stand clear.”

Now that they had a hole letting in the sounds of the outside world, they heard diesel engines idling, the sound of a chain being hooked to something and the screeching of metal and crunching of wood as the car was dragged off the door. Dirt was shoveled off, boards and tin tossed aside and crowbars jammed into the frame to pry the bent door open. A dozen hands grabbed it from the outside and pulled it open. Bright light illuminated the cellar as dirt spilled down the steps. They squinted up at a tall figure silhouetted in the sun as three little kids ran around him and down the stairs, ignoring him telling them to be careful.

Caleb, Landon and Clara, followed by a trio of foxes and chattering monkeys raced down the stairs and into their arms.

“Ewwww. You guys stink.” Landon said after hugging them all.

“Yeah, smells like poop.” Caleb added. “Come outside, meet our new friends.”

“I think that’s you.” Tobias said and tried to rub armpit sweat on him. “We’ve been bathing in rose petals the last few days.”

Harper and Vanessa helped Swan up the stairs as Donny lent Analise a shoulder to lean on. Kodiak and Tobias gathered their saddlebags and weapons and followed the tribe out into the sunlight. He squinted at the destruction and saw an old red Cadillac on its roof off to one side. The two-story farmhouse was spread out across the fields, a lot of it on the mound of the storm cellar. The barn was completely gone, the only thing remaining was a brown square of dirt where it had been. Harper squealed and ran for Bert who had his head up in a tree that had somehow managed to stay standing. He was languidly picking at the few leaves that had survived the winds. When he saw her running for him, he lowered his head and licked her salty, blonde hair. She hugged him tight then let him get back to his foraging. Her eyes threatened to overflow, she couldn’t believe it. Maybe Kodiak had been right to let him run free. The barn was gone, if she would have gotten him inside, they would be too.

The people that came to help kept their distance. They knew the animals were friendly, they knew the kids treated them like household pets but that was them. They weren’t too eager to run up on a thousand-pound bear or a pack of wolves and introduce themselves.

“I guess you’re those world-famous wild kids.” A scruffy bearded man said when he stepped up after a moment. He was tall, skinny, wore a wide grin and a trucker’s cap.

“And you must be Kodiak.” He added and stuck out his hand. “They call me Scratch. Heard a lot about you, those little one’s never shut up. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” Kodiak said. “Thanks for pulling us out. One of my tribe needs to see a doctor. Do you have any?”

“The best in the territories.” He answered and registered Swans sweating face and pale complexion. “Come on, let’s get her over to the ambulance, we weren’t sure what kind of shape you’d be in when we found you so we came prepared. One of the SS sisters is standing by, she’s just a little wary of the bears.”

“SS sisters?” Kodiak asked and Scratch looked around and held a finger up to his lips.

“Uh, I mean Sara. Best not to let them hear you say that. And if they do, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Okay.” He answered, not sure he understood.

Swan refused to let them help her walk, told them she wasn’t an invalid, just needed a little booster shot.

“Hyenas have a nasty bite, filthy things eat the undead.” She told Sara as she carefully unwrapped the soiled bandages on her wrist.

Sara eyed the wolves nervously, they were huge and hovered around the girl protectively but once she saw the wound, she ignored them. She had work to do, the wolf girl could lose her hand if she didn’t get that infection under control.

“How’d you find us?” Kodiak asked as he was introduced to the others that made the slow trip out to search for them. The giraffe knew where they were, it just wasn’t in any particular hurry. It stopped frequently to nibble leaves.

“Well, that long-legged critter over there showed up at the gates after the storm blew through. He still had the saddle so we figured he was from your group. We’ve been expecting you for weeks. We were all trying to figure out what to do with him, when those three little savages came tearing up the street all painted up like Indians on the warpath toting ice picks and knives like they were ready to go to war. They were sure some guy named Gordon had ambushed you. Once we got them calmed down, President Meadows sent a rescue party. That giraffe led us straight here, although he took his sweet ass time.”

“I need to thank him. Is he here?” Kodiak asked as he scanned the half dozen vehicles and the people gathered near them, some still keeping a safe distance.

“Well, he is a she and that’s her standing by that big ugly fella.” Scratch laughed and pointed at Lacy and Gunny.

35

Vanessa

Vanessa soaked up the warm sunshine and inhaled the fresh air. The storm cellar had been the fuel of nightmares. She had already been preparing for the end, she really believed they would die down there in the blackness after the batteries gave out. She shuddered at the thought. She walked away from the hole in the ground, spread her arms wide, tilted her face to the sun and let it wash the darkness away. She would meet the rescuers in a minute, she needed this.

When she lowered her arms, finished her prayer of thanks and opened her eyes, a man was a few yards away, patiently waiting for her to finish. Ziggy was between them, wings up in a protective stance as she hopped from foot to foot. He was silently crying, the tears rolling down his cheeks were from pure joy and the smile that split his brown face went from ear to ear.

“Daddy?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, baby girl.” He said, almost choking. “It’s me.”

He held out his arms. She felt lightheaded. The earth threatened to spin out from underneath her. The spear fell from suddenly numb fingers. His beard was gray and full, his hair longer, but the rumble of his voice was distinctive and unmistakable. She’d know it anywhere. It had calmed her fears of monsters under the bed, it had sung her to sleep and it had been firm when she’d done wrong.

“Daddy!” She screamed and raced towards him.

Ziggy followed behind, wary and ready to defend her chick. She couldn’t believe her eyes; it just couldn’t be. He’d been in Dallas for work the day her mom had dropped her off for the field trip. She had watched on her phone as the city was overrun before the lights went out for good. In her heart, she had buried him a year ago.

She leaped for his open arms and he caught her, drew her close to his chest and hugged her tight. He let out a laugh of pure joy and swung her around in circles.

“My baby.” He cried softly. “My baby. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Daddy, I thought you were dead. What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story, baby girl. I’m here and you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” He whispered.

He wondered what his daughter had been through, what hell she must have endured and how many of the stories he heard on the radio were true. She was a foot taller than he remembered and lean. Her straight ironed hair was gone, in its place a tight mohawk. She was muscular and athletic, with no trace of the baby fat he had tickled when she was younger. Her face was covered in ritualistic scars, faded war paint and machetes hung at her waist. Her leather armor was crude and thick, hand built for comfort and functionality over looks. It showed signs of hard use and was scarred like her body. He decided he didn’t care what she had been forced to do to survive; he felt only pride that she had.

“You need to meet my tribe.” She said and pulled him towards the others. “How did you know I was here?”

“They’ve been talking about you for months.” He replied. “Most of us didn’t believe half of what we heard; you know how Bastille is.”

“Never heard him.” She said. “We didn’t have a radio.”

“Oh.” He said. “So anyway the three youngsters made it to Lakota and they told all kinds of unbelievable tales. He’s had them on his radio show at least once a week. They said there was an African warrior princess who rode an Ostrich into battle, that she was fierce and brave and made the best S’mores sandwiches. They said her name was Vanessa and even though she was nice most of the time, she made them learn how to read even though it was hard and I knew it had to be you. You’d told me you were going on that field trip.”

The bears had discovered the strangers had food and were fast becoming best friends with anyone who tossed them a fish or hamburger.

“This is my dad, Donald.” She announced as they approached her group that was gathered around the ambulance, watching the doctor work on Swan’s swollen hand.

“And this is my tribe.” She said with pride and introduced them and their animals.

Sara cut them off halfway through the introductions.

“You can get to know each other later.” She barked. “We’ve got to go, I need her in my clinic, I don’t like the way this infection has spread.”

“Wait.” Kodiak said and stopped her from pulling the door closed.

He quickly signed to Swan, asked her if she was okay getting separated. Do you trust these people?

They took care of the triplets. I think it’s safe.

We’ll be right behind you. He signed and let go of the door.

“Scratch!” she yelled. “Get us back pronto, but don’t drive like an idiot. We have a patient back here that needs medical attention.

“Yes ma’am!” he saluted “Needs a bath too, she’s kinda ripe.”

He threw Swan a smile and a wink then hurried away. He didn’t see her snarl and glare.

“I’ll ride with her.” Harper said and ran for the passenger seat. “Donny, can you make sure Bert gets back?”

He nodded and Kodiak felt the rebuke. His cheeks reddened a little but he held his tongue. She was still mad. He didn’t understand why but didn’t have time to figure it out now.

“We need to get you to Lakota.” Lacy said. “John, do we have a trailer to haul the giraffe?”

“Not really.” Gunny said. “But Tommy can rig something up if we need it.”

He turned to address the boy who seemed to be their leader, the wild looking one that rode the Grizzly. “We’re only about ten miles out, if you kids want, we’ll get trailers out here for your animals. If you want to finish the trip on foot, that’ll give us some time to get finish setting up your accommodations. Your choice.”

Kodiak glanced at the sun.

“It’s a quarter after three.” He said. “We can make it tonight but I’d rather take it easy, get cleaned up and come in tomorrow.”

Gunny looked at the sun then glanced down at his watch. Twelve after three. The kid was good. They talked for another half hour, got to know each other a little and had dinner on the tailgate of Gunny’s truck.

The kids wolfed down Martha’s home cooking but then started to look sheepish halfway through the meal. They were eating like animals. Kodiak was the first to slow and actually start chewing his food and using the napkin instead of the back of his hand. Tobias was the last to start acting civilized and that was only after Analise kicked him.

They let the animals have the rest of the food, gave them directions in, told them what to expect in town and wished them well for the night. They’d see them in the morning.

“Don’t be too late.” Gunny said as he fired up his truck and the triplets climbed in the back seat of the crew cab. “The three young ladies you saved from that Gordon character are eager to see you and of course those three probably won’t sleep a wink.” He gestured at Landon, Caleb, and Clara. “They haven’t shut up since the giraffe arrived. We’ve got each of you homes to stay and your companions will be safe. There’s nothing to fear, welcome home.”

36

Swan

She was clean. Her hair was damp and she relished the feel of the soft cotton bathrobe that covered her frame.

She looked at the pictures that decorated the wall of the new President’s house. One in particular held her attention.

“That’s my son, Jessie.” Lacy said.

She watched the girl as she stared open mouthed at the last school picture taken of her boy before the outbreak. His hair was long, he had on a plain black pocket t-shirt, had a half smile on his face and stared directly into the camera. He didn’t seem particularly happy to be there and Swan could imagine his mom giving him a lecture that morning. Something about smiling this time, grandma thought you looked angry in last year’s picture.

“He looks a lot like somebody I knew; only this guy was way more scarred. His name was Bob.” Swan said.

“Bob? Lacy asked. “My Jessie has a dog that travels with him he calls Bob.”

The hair was the same and Swan stared into the eyes. Bob hadn’t been a handsome boy, he had an ugly scar on his face and he’d been black and blue with bruises but the eyes were the same. She reached up to touch the face as she put the two images together in her mind. He looked so different then, so innocent. She supposed they all did.

“I worry about him out there.” Lacy said as she watched the girl touch the photo almost reverently. “He’s been through so much, but he’s making a difference and I guess that’s all a mother can want for her son.”

“It’s him.” Swan said, her mind remembering the broken boy. “He was hurt. We nursed him back to health, but he didn’t have a dog.” Swan said.

“I haven’t heard from him in months.” Lacy admitted. “The last anyone has seen him was at the Tower. His girlfriend had died, Johnny thinks he got a load of supplies and is camping out somewhere in the mountains. Tell me more about this Bob.” She urged.

Swan told her of the week Bob, or rather Jessie, had spent with them back in the spring and something didn’t add up. Jessie had been exploring new territories and his reports, although sporadic, had been regular. She thought she would have heard if he’d been hurt so badly or had lost the car but maybe not. It was a crazy world beyond the walls.

“That sure sounds like him.” She sighed. “He must have used that alias to protect you guys from his enemies. He has plenty, though from what I hear, most of them don’t survive when they catch up to him.”

“He’s very brave.” Swan blushed at the memory of the boy she’d had a crush on. “I’d like to see him again.”

“Me too.” Said Lacy. “Me too.”

Zero interrupted their conversation as he whined at the door. Nature called.

“They are very well behaved.” Lacy said. “I was a little skeptical of having four wolves in my house. Our cat hasn’t come out from under the bed since they arrived.”

Swan took pride in the words spoken to her. “They are my pack.”

“How’s the arm?” Lacy asked.

“It’s getting better. Doesn’t hurt to make a fist anymore. Soon I’ll be sharpening up my skills again.” she answered.

Lacy watched her buckle the weapons belt around her bathrobe then follow the pack out to the meadow. It looked comical but she knew the girl was deadly with the tomahawks even with one arm in a cast and the other just starting to heal from the infected wounds. She’d heard the stories and read the reports. The doctors had been concerned, the infection looked like the beginnings of the zombie virus. It was spreading the same way a bite from the undead did with the long, red runners. They knew penicillin wouldn’t cure it and had given her some kind of experimental drug, something they’d gotten from Jessie, before it spread any farther. It seemed to be working, she was healing nicely and would be starting school next week.

37

Tobias and Analise

Tobias watched through the curtains as the bears splashed in the swimming pool. It was a big one, twelve foot on the deep end and Runa had happily pumped all the treated water out and filled it with lake water. It was a kind gesture and the polars didn’t seem to mind being confined to the back yard. The fence had been reinforced overnight and now stood taller and stronger than the original wooden one. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He understood the bears couldn’t run free, there were too many people, something might happen. He’d argued that Daisy or Popsicle would never hurt anyone on purpose but not too hard. He knew they really couldn’t wander around town on their own. The dogs barked like crazy when they were near and if one was dumb enough to attack them then there would be a dead dog and an angry owner.

He wasn’t sure what they’d expected when they got here, he hadn’t thought about it much. He supposed they would all live together like they had at Piedmont house. That hadn’t happened. They’d been separated to live with foster families and were supposed to go back to a normal life like everyone else. He should have known it would be like this, they all should have but no one had really thought about it. They were impressed with the town at first. It had everything they’d dreamed of. Hamburgers and hotdogs. Movies and popcorn. Hot running water and electricity. It was wonderful but it came with a price and he was still debating if it was worth it.

He wondered what the others were doing, how they were fitting in with the foster families that opened their doors to the orphaned tribe. They’d already been here for a week and the days had been a blur of activity. Doctor appointments, vet appointments, school enrollments, shopping for clothes and getting comfortable in their new environment took up most of their time. They had internet and spent time catching up, reading through other kids’ blogs and Facebook posts. It was limited but every time Lakota added servers the Tower would send more terabytes of random information pulled from the NSA computers. Eventually, if they wanted to keep expanding, they could have the entire internet up until the day it crashed. He’d tired of it after the novelty wore off. He learned that most of the kids hadn’t been outside the walls other than the first few weeks of the outbreak. Their families had fled here and hadn’t left since. They’d been safe and sound for a year and had forgotten about what it was like outside the walls. The things they complained about were trivial and dumb. The chains on one of the swings set were too long. The truckers hadn’t raided any sports stores in ages and the soccer net had already been patched twice. The internet was too slow and there was too much lag on multiplayer Call of Duty matches.

They all sounded like a bunch of sissies and he wasn’t really looking forward to meeting any of them. He was still adjusting to having hot water with the turn of a knob and electricity at the flip of a switch. He worried that someday the memories of their time in the wild would seem more like a dream and not the reality they’d fought their way through.

Analise came out of her room wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt looking like an ordinary girl in every way. None of her tattoos were showing, her long hair was brushed and she had replaced her combat boots with sandals. She was trying her best to fit in.

He let go of the curtains and they moved in unison to the entry way of the kitchen. He watched Runa as she bustled about laying out ingredients. She seemed nice. Like him and his sister she had the pale blonde hair and glacier blue eyes.

She had volunteered to foster him, Analise and the bears and it was probably the best match they could have asked for. She’d been a flight attendant from Oslo and had barely made it out of the Chicago O’Hare International Airport on the first day of the outbreak.

She hummed as she busied herself and nodded towards the cutting board when she noticed them.

“You can chop the vegetables.” She said in her faintly exotic Norwegian accent.

She knew they had been the primary cooks for the tribe for a year and were pretty handy around a kitchen.

“What are you making?” He asked as he eyed the cutlets of fish on the counter.

“It’s a dish from home, but the fish here is not so good. We make do with what we have and thank the Gods it’s not less.” She said, quoting an old Norse proverb.

He picked up the knife and began dicing the carrots and potatoes as she told him about her recipe and asked about the fish they caught out of the Mississippi. Tobias was happy in the kitchen and confident, in a different life he may have become a chef. She watched the tattooed boy as he worked. He was thin, all lean muscle, heavily scarred and tattooed, wild eyed and long haired. He would be a handsome man someday but she wasn’t sure he was going to be able to slip back into society as easily as the others. His hair was long and he hadn’t combed out the little braids and the mementos woven into it. He wore short sleeves and tribal tattoos covered his arms. He had a short fuse and knew if the kids at school teased him it would lead to a fight, he wouldn’t take much abuse from anyone. Her heart went out to him, she knew he was a good kid, but he would need more time to adjust. The other foster parents had met to discuss the best ways to integrate the children back into civilized society. From the stories they shared, they had had it rough. They had been at war, had killed the entire gang that had kept Trish, Misty and Sasha as sex slaves. They had killed thousands of undead and it was a miracle they had survived all that they had endured.

She asked them if they were excited to start school again and meet new friends. Analise was eager to get back and try to have a normal life. Tobias was still on the fence. He said nobody better mess with him or his sister and talked of not going, maybe learning how to drive and become a Retriever.

He seemed more nervous of sitting in a classroom with a group of other children than he would riding into battle.

“Eg vet dere har hatt det vanskelig.” I know you haven’t had it easy. She said in Norwegian.

“We’ve done just fine on our own.” Tobias grunted. “And these soft handed kids’ best not forget it.”

He understood some of the language. Their grandfather had come from Norway as an adventurous young man. A beautiful American exchange student had captured his heart when he was a ski instructor in Lillehammer. After a whirlwind romance they’d gotten married, much to the surprise of her friends and family. He’d followed her back to the States and they spent the next forty-seven years together. Again, much to the surprise of her father who had prophesied a quick end to the foolish marriage. Grandfather Gjurd had regaled the twins with tales of Norwegian explorers and mythology. Brave adventurers and mighty warriors.

“This place, it is safe.” She said, choosing her words carefully. She knew he was trying, that he wanted to be a part of the town, but it was hard for him.

“The people of Lakota are good people.” She continued. “The president is fair and they are rebuilding the world into a better place. I don’t think there is a better town out there.”

She looked at him intensely. “But, is it for you? The way of the warrior is in your eyes and your blood. You may be a great explorer and do heroic things like our ancestors someday but for now, you must be polite in a civilized society.” She stated.

“I know.” He sighed. “I think I’ve had enough of fighting to survive for a while. I want to see what it feels like to be a normal kid again.”

Runa smiled and took the vegetables he’d chopped to add to the hot skillet.

“You know you are welcome to stay with me as long as you like, but when the day comes that you take a boat and sail to Norway, do not forget me.” She said. “I miss home. I miss good fish and the smell of salt air. I miss the wind blowing in off the fjords.”

Tobias contemplated what she said as he cleaned the knife and methodically sharpened the blade. He had never thought that far ahead. Before the fall, he was only worried about getting passing grades. Now he was so used to scratching out a day to day existence that he’d never bothered to think about the future. Her words struck a chord, though. The possibilities were limitless. He could go anywhere, be anything. Why couldn’t he rediscover the places that were lost? Why couldn’t he sail to the land of his forefathers and claim the untold riches and relics that were gathering dust in museums. He was snapped from his daydream by the sudden silence and realized she was waiting for a response.

“Sorry. What?” He asked.

“I said, when you reach the north, you must watch out for Huldra.” She repeated with a smile.

“Huldra, what is that?”

“She is a beautiful elven spirit that lives in the forest. The most beautiful woman you will ever see and she will ask you to dance with her and her friends.” Runa said.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Tobias said. “I’d dance with a bunch of hot elves.”

“Ah, but if you accept her invitation, you’ll be there forever. Time moves different in a fairy ring and long after you’re exhausted and dying of hunger, begging for them to stop, they will laugh and dance until you die.”

Analise giggled. “Tobias will be safe. He’s scared of girls.”

He shot her a dirty look and touched the braid of Kassie’s hair. “No, I’m not. I have a girlfriend, remember?”

38

Donny

Donny and Yewan kept lookout for the kids rummaging through the cargo containers below. They were all younger than him but he enjoyed their company. It seemed the rest of the tribe was all starting to assimilate into society again. The unofficial leader of the band of scofflaws looting below was called Slippery Jim. The mischievous boy was always concocting some scheme that would surely land them in trouble and his pal Gage was right there in the middle of it. There were eight of them all together. Most of them were boys except for Lizzie, a sassy, smart mouthed beanpole of a girl.

When the container wall had been built last year, they’d been in a hurry. Hordes of hungry zombies were following the train and they only had hours to throw it up. Some of the boxes were crooked, some of the hastily bulldozed dirt path they sat on was washing away with the rains. They had brought in another trainload of containers and were methodically swapping them out as they made the wall another row higher and reinforced the foundation. The boxes they replaced were stacked up in a holding yard where they would be inventoried and emptied if they held anything of value. It was a back-burner project and they didn’t have the manpower to search through every box so hundreds were stacked up waiting until someone had the time. Once Jimmy realized what they were doing, the Bullet Brigade went into action. There was too much treasure at stake to stay away and the group had a thriving black market of goods that they ran through the school. Every few nights they would sneak out and ride their bikes to the holding yard. They knew which guards were diligent and walked their post and which ones would stay in the booths on top of the wall and nod off. The only unknown was Phil. He was the head of security and you never knew when he would make the rounds or have a surprise inspection.

From his position on the highest container, Donny could the see the top of the wall to watch for roving guards and also spot a blacked-out golf cart if Phil was trying to sneak up and catch a guard sleeping. He was content but not truly happy. He loved the time he got to spend with Analise exploring the town in safety. They didn’t have to be wary of the Savage Ones or zombies or gangs trying to kill them. He didn’t have to hunt for their food and if he had a bad night, they didn’t go hungry. They’d done all the things dating teenagers were supposed to do. He had bought her ice cream sodas, taken her to the movies and had walked hand in hand through the parks.

One of the bullet brigade had a jet ski and had promised to show him how to ride it. He was warm and safe and happy but something was missing. He was almost bored at the complacency of everything. There was no thrill. No adventure. No adrenaline rush taking down game or killing something that was trying to kill you. His biggest excitement was acting as lookout. The pilfered items meant nothing to him, but his new friends did. He felt protective of them, they were a lot like the kids in the orphanages he’d run away from. Looting the containers was the only real excitement in this town. There was no real danger in it though. Lakota was more secure than Fort Knox. He almost wished the kids would find a long-lost zombie in one of the containers to spice things up. In the days since the tribe had arrived, he hadn’t had an opportunity to hunt. Kim Li acted like a bossy older sister and was adamant that he stay inside the walls. He was pretty sure that she knew he snuck out the window most nights with Yewan to prowl the streets and back alleys but she didn’t push the issue.

Despite his grumpiness, Cobb and his family had welcomed him in with open arms. Kim Li was wonderful to him and Mama Martha treated him like a long lost relative.

Kim’s dad, Tommy, had invited him to help out in the truck shop and he discovered that he liked it. He learned quickly and usually only had to be shown once how to do something. He liked working in the shop better than going to school but he did what they wanted. They said he should give it a try but he was way behind. Most of his classes were with the little kids. Book learning had never been his thing. He could read and write and do some basic math but not much more.

He gazed off in the distance. Out there was where it was really at. Living by the blade. Outsmarting your prey, fighting for your life and the life of your tribe. He missed it, but knew it wouldn’t be the same without the tribe. Those days were over.

He tapped his spear to warn the others of an approaching patrol and melted into the shadows.

39

Girl Talk

“Hold still.” Sasha said. The heavily inked girl began the process of outlining the faded pink flower on Analise’s arm. She was keeping her promise to Sara.

Trish’s boss, Caitlin, sat beside Swan on the couch in the back of the bakery. Kassie, Vanessa and Harper sat in chairs opposite flipping through outdated magazines. The scent of fresh bread and other delicious concoctions permeated the space.

Swan was recounting their escape from Gallatin for the hundredth time when Caitlin heard the wild girl’s stomach growl over the buzz of the tattoo gun.

“I can’t believe it. Are you still hungry?” The redhead asked.

“I could go for some more of that banana bread.” Swan answered. “Where are you getting the bananas anyway?”

“They’re freeze dried, got a few hundred cans of them but they do taste good, don’t they? What about you girls?” Caitlin asked the other three. “You want anything?”

“Chocolate chip cookies!” They chimed in unison.

She shook her head, left the room and returned a few minutes later with a plate of cookies and a thick slice of banana bread.

“I wish I could still eat like you.” She sighed. “I’d be as big as a house if I did.”

“Finish your story. I want to hear more about this retriever you met in Gallatin.” Caitlin urged.

“That’s pretty much it, he helped us out and then he disappeared.”

“Is he cute?” Caitlin asked.

“I guess, for an old guy. He said he would be coming this way before long. Can’t miss him. Drives this big jacked up Jeep thing with guns hanging off it and thinks he’s a cowboy or something.” Swan said through a mouthful of bread.

Caitlin raised an eyebrow at Trish. “Dibs on the cowboy.”

“I dunno.” Kassie said. “You might have some competition; I think my mom kind of likes him. She said she hoped he showed up while we were still here.”

“Oh really?” Caitlin asked. “How much longer are you staying again?”

The girls laughed, everybody knew they were leaving tomorrow. Kassie was bemoaning the fact that she and Tobias hadn’t been able to spend enough time together. They only came in because the doctors here wanted her mom’s opinion about Swan’s hyena bite. The infection was bad and getting worse. They had some kind of new medicine they wanted to try but didn’t know a whole lot about it. They wanted a second opinion before they injected her with the pink liquid.

“I wish those truckers would raid an upscale fashion store.” Caitlin grumbled as she pointed at the beautiful models in the magazine’s pages. “I’d like to have clothes like this. They think all we want is blue jeans and flannel shirts.”

“So.” Trish asked, eager to change the subject before Caitlin went off about the lack of fine clothes again. “Have you forgiven him yet?”

They knew she was talking to Harper and asking about Cody. They’d heard the story about their fight more than once. Everything had been so harried and busy the past few weeks they hadn’t found time to talk to each other. When they did cross paths, there were other people around and it was awkward. It was easier to be excruciatingly polite and keep their distance. Harper stared down at the gossip magazine and the happy couple announcing they were expecting a baby.

“I’m not mad anymore.” She said. “He’s avoiding me though. I don’t think he wants to talk.”

“Well,” Sasha looked up from her tattooing. “It did seem to work out for the best. If Bert hadn’t shown up here no one would have known where to look for you.”

“Maybe.” Harper admitted. “But I’m not going to chase after him. He knows how to find me.”

“I see him moping around when I go out to the gardens.” Caitlin said. “He likes to sit at the end of the wall and stare at the water like he doesn’t have a friend in the world.”

Vanessa looked at Harper over the top of her Outdoor Life magazine. “Girl, you better go get your man or someone will. You know these city girls are just waiting for a chance to get their hands on him. I heard them giggling and whispering when he went in the dollar store to get school supplies.”

Harper looked away from Vanessa’s intense gaze. “Maybe you’re right."

When Sasha finished, Analise admired the new ink on her arm. She’d tried to encourage Donny to come with her, but he’d declined. The boy who feared nothing was afraid of any kind of needle. It made her love him even more. She really hoped Harper and Kodiak worked out their issues because Vanessa was right. The Lakota girls wanted to be with him just because he was famous. They might not even care about him but if posting selfies together got them likes on their Facebook page then they’d string him along.

40

Kodiak and Harper

Cody sat on the southern corner of the barricade wall. Much like the river spot at Piedmont it had become his place to go when he needed time to think. The guards paid him no mind after the first couple of days. Just a wave or nod and a how ya doing kid as he walked along the top of the wall.

It was sort of nice to not be constantly looking over his shoulder for danger. It was a relief to have plenty of food and a real bed to sleep in. His new foster brother Gage had tried to get him involved in some kind of plan to loot some of the cargo containers, but he’d declined and steered him in Donny’s direction.

He pulled a piece of chalk from the pocket of his shirt and began drawing on the rusty red steel paint of the cargo container. Mindlessly he doodled and when he finally looked at what he’d drawn he saw it read C+H. Cody and Harper. He wondered if he really was Cody again. All of the townspeople called him Cody; the only ones who still used Kodiak were the tribe. Except Harper of course, she hadn’t called him anything. She wouldn’t talk to him even though there had been a few opportunities. That was fine. If all it took to make her so mad she’d never speak to him again was saving her life then maybe she wasn’t worth it. He didn’t need a girlfriend and he certainly wasn’t interested in any of the silly girls he’d met so far.

He wondered if Kodiak the Warrior was just a memory in this safe and secure walled city that would fade in time. He started school in a few days. That would be strange. Going back to learning Algebra and other stuff he considered useless was going to be hard.

He heard approaching footsteps but didn’t look up. He automatically categorized them. Soft soled shoes, not boots. A light tread that would be silent if it wasn’t on metal. One of the girls. It had taken a while but he no longer reached for a weapon every time he heard a noise. He had no enemies in this place, nothing to fear. His enemy lived in his head and constantly rehashed his mistakes and bad decisions.

He smelled lavender and the soft scent of lilacs. It was Harper.

“Hey.” she said as she sat down beside him. She offered him a chocolate chip cookie but he waved it off and dropped his chalk in the process. He watched it fall the thirty feet to the ground. Great, he thought.

“Hey.” He replied.

She rested her hand on his knee and spoke softly as they stared out at the wide lake. “I forgive you and I’m sorry. I don’t hate you and I never have. I love you, dummy.”

“I love you too.” He said “That’s why I did what I did. I was thinking about me. I was thinking what it would do to me if something happened to you. I’m sorry too.”

She kissed him on his cheek and lifted his arm. She scooted in next to him and wrapped it around her. “That’s better.”

“Yes, it is.” He smiled and kissed her softly.

“So, I hear you are the hottest thing around. Girls are just lining up to spend time with the fearsome Cody Wilkes.” She smirked.

“Huh?” Kodiak asked cluelessly.

“Oh, yeah. Word on the street is that I have some serious competition as soon as school starts. I figured I better get up and restake my claim before some girl bats her eyelashes at you one too many times.” She teased.

He harrumphed.

“Should I be worried some football jock is going to steal you away?” he asked.

“Not likely.” She said. “Rumor has it you have a big Grizzly bear you would sic on them.”

“Otis? He’s a pussy cat.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that.” She said. “They think we’re all as wild as Swan.”

They laughed at that. She already had a reputation around town. She’d pulled a tomahawk and snarled at a boy who had run to hold a door for her.

“You happy here?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I want to be. Sheriff Collins and Griz are nice. They’ve had their hands full with Caleb, Clara and Landon. I think they appreciate the extra help with them.”

She paused. “I love hot water and watching DVD’s from the old days. Shampoo and bubble baths. I like not being worried about getting attacked. I miss some things, though. The sunrises over the Mississippi and taking long rides on Bert. I don’t miss the fear but I miss the joy, even if it was something silly like making fun of Tobias’ cheese or watching one of the monkey’s ride Kuma Lisa or Mr. Ringtail. I miss the laughter.”

He nodded in agreement. He’d been disappointed to find that the X-Box in his room didn’t make him feel like it once did. The delicious meals and the endless variety left him stuffed yet strangely unsatisfied. Part of him wanted to let go of that old life, but part of him wanted to scale down that wall and disappear into the wilds.

“It seems to be working out for Vanessa.” Kodiak said. “I’m happy for her. It gives me hope for the rest of you. There’s still a chance, you know. We made it, maybe some of your families did, too.”

“Maybe.” Harper said doubtfully. “Mr. Bastille has been broadcasting our names for over a week. I think they would have replied by now.

He changed the subject. “A retriever told me about an African safari park they stumbled across down in Texas. The fences were intact and there was a large herd of gazelles being stalked by lions. Elephants were bathing in the river and tigers were basking in the sun.”

“Was it Rye?” She asked.

“No, it was a Lady called Fat Nancy. She seemed nice enough. I asked about Rye, no one has heard from him since he left Gallatin. Some of them didn’t seem to like him very much. They say he’s a scoundrel and cheats at cards.”

“True.” Harper said. “He admitted as much.”

“Still, I like him. He helped us get away, I don’t think we could have without him.”

They sat in comfortable silence until the day faded into darkness and the chill night air sent them home.

41

Geeks and Freaks

Winter was coming but the tribe didn’t feel anxious about it. The homes were warm, heated with an inexhaustible supply of natural gas, the weather was mild and blizzards were unheard of. Thanksgiving was over and Christmas was three weeks away. Their animals didn’t seem to mind the new homes either. Bert could wander the acres of wilderness inside the walls, the bears were content in their back-yard habitats and Yewan became the house cat down at Tommy’s shop. The children had more or less settled in even though they didn’t really fit in. The same old clicks they’d all experienced in high school were still there. The jocks and the nerds, the stoners and the entitled. Lakota had the best schools and teachers in any of the walled cities and accordingly they had the largest number of students. Many parents moved there not only for the schools but also because it was the capital city. Work was easy to find and more and more positions were needed to fill in the growing government. Power and wealth were becoming important again.

“I want to show you something.” Harper said and ran to her room. “Wait here.”

They were in the big apartment above the jail. When Griz and Sheriff Collins had taken in the triplets they had expanded the little flat to encompass the whole floor. They had knocked out a few walls, added a bathroom and now all six of them lived there.

Analise and the boys didn’t look away from the TV, they were all mashing furiously on their controllers in a four-way Super Smash Brothers battle. Vanessa was the only one to jump up and admire the tooled leather armor Harper held out. It was a beautiful hard leather piece that had been formed to fit her perfectly. It contoured her waist and breasts, buckled along the sides and had boiled leather pieces riveted around the bottom to give it the appearance of a short skirt. Cody stole a quick glance to see what Vanessa was exclaiming about and did a double take. He got knocked out on screen but didn’t care. The cuirass was amazing, it looked like it could have been in a museum.

“Where did you get that?” he asked and hopped up to check it out.

Donny and Analise did too and fingered the fine leather, admired the quality workmanship.

“Griz made it.” She said. “Not only is he the best gunsmith in town, he’s pretty handy at armor, too.”

“Can he make me some?” Tobias asked. “I mean real Viking stuff?”

“Of course. He wants us all to come down to his shop so he can take some measurements. He said you can never have too many guns or too much armor. He saw the one I made and wanted to try his hand at working with leather. He said he’d make some for all of us if we wanted.”

The game was forgotten as she modeled the outfit, complete with arm guards and bindings for her legs. He’d improved her morning star, too.

“You’re ready to ride again.” Vanessa said.

“Yeah.” Harper replied a little wistfully. “I guess those days are over, though.”

At first the other kids wanted to befriend them, after all they were famous, but the friendships were forced and all they ever wanted was to hear the same stories over and over again. There were constant requests to show them their scars or tattoos or bring the animals to school and have them do tricks. It got old after a while. Vanessa may have had it harder than any of them. She was tiny and the ritual scars on her face couldn’t be covered up. No matter how often they saw her, they still turned their heads and stared. She wore dresses and long sleeves to cover the scars from the savage ones. Her hair was growing out and she’d started straightening it again but they still talked about her. Snickered behind her back. She was the smallest of the group of freaks and the daily insults were getting worse as they grew bolder.

Swan’s arm had healed up completely and she was already in trouble for fighting. A boy had made fun of her for the way she drank at the fountain. She cupped her hand, filled it and drank from it. It was how she drank from a creek, you never stuck your face in and lapped like a dog. It was too dangerous. When she snarled a warning at him, he’d laughed. When she broke his nose and threatened to squish his eyes out with her thumbs, he’d cried.

Nobody messed with Tobias or Analise, they looked too wild even though she’d tried to appear normal for the first month. He wouldn’t let even the slightest insult go unnoticed. He was quick to anger and even quicker to react. They learned to avoid him and not to whistle at his sister. He seemed to take great offense at that. Donny was almost invisible to them. He was quiet and stayed to the back of the room. Some tried to goad Cody but out of them all, he and Harper were the ones they accepted the most. Aside from some scars they usually kept covered, they seemed almost normal. It was easy to forget they were barely tamed savages.

The school was big enough that they only shared a few classes together and were usually spread out all across the campus. The worst class for all of them was gym. They had to wear shorts and t-shirts and if the kids ever forgot they weren’t the same as them, gym class brought it all back. The battle with the Savage Ones had left them all scratched and torn. Uneven slashes and skin ripped open from jagged teeth had been sewn without anesthesia. The infected wounds had healed but they didn’t heal pretty. Pink and white lines crisscrossed their legs and arms.

It was a Friday, dodge ball day, and Vanessa was actually glad. It was cold outside and she didn’t want to run around the track or play soccer. She was good at most sports but she excelled with the red rubber balls. Especially the one little one the size of a softball. The burn ball. If she got her hands on it, whoever she targeted was out. A year of slinging heavy steel spears had built up her muscles and her aim was true. She was always one of the last to be picked as they were choosing sides. Even though she was tiny and fast, could dodge the ball with crazy skill and was nearly impossible to hit nobody wanted to pick her. She was weird. As they were lining up to, the coach’s phone rang. He put it to his ear for a second, yelled at Goldberg to take charge and disappeared down the hall towards his office.

He was the boy Swan had punched. There was still some faint bruising around his eyes and his nose looked tender. Goldberg waited until he was sure the gym teacher was gone and announced they were playing a different version of the game. A better version.

“This is called whack a geek.” He said and his buddies guffawed. “The rules are simple. Throw balls at the freak until your arms get tired.”

He shoved Vanessa hard and she stumbled behind the basketball backboard.

“That’s not fair.” Someone said and he got pushed across the line too.

“Anybody else wanna join the freak team?” he asked and no one did.

Goldberg and his friends were the biggest boys in the class, they were seniors, and Vanessa recognized the meanness in them. The savage that hid beneath the veneer of civility. She’d seen it in Gordon but it had taken him a long time before he worked up the courage to hurt someone. To kill someone. Her savage wasn’t buried deep, it hovered right near the surface and she smiled her warrior smile. These boys thought they were going to hurt her, give her a few welts and sore spots from a rubber ball. She laughed and her grin got wider. She welcomed it. She wanted it.

“You can’t do this.” The boy who stood up for Vanessa said. “I’ll tell.”

“And I’ll toss you over the wall and let the zombies eat you.” Goldberg said. “Bet I won’t.”

They were hesitant to throw the first ball, thirty kids against two of the smallest in the class but when Goldberg whizzed the burn ball and it landed with a satisfying smack against the boys leg, his cry of pain sent the rest of the balls flying at the dodging figures. They bounced off the walls and were snatched back up to be thrown again. Vanessa dodged most of them and grabbed a big red one. She used it as a shield and smacked the balls out of the air with it. She laughed louder and pissed them off even more. They couldn’t land a solid hit, she moved too fast. The boy was already crying, big red welts covered his body and he’d curled up into fetal position.

Somebody dragged the basketball cart over and started throwing them. Then the footballs and softballs and finally the baseballs. They hurt when they hit and now they had so many, twenty balls at once were flying in at her. She moved to protect the boy, bouncing as many as she could off her dodge ball but they were aiming at her head, her legs and her body from both sides. Goldberg was getting angrier, he couldn’t make her stop smiling. He couldn’t make her cry out in pain. She’d taken a basketball to the face, blood poured from her nose but it only accented her shining white teeth. She was actually laughing at him, at his feeble attempts and it infuriated him. He ran to the storage closet and pulled the fast pitch machine out to the floor. It was loaded with baseballs and he aimed it right for her and flipped the switch. The first ball slammed against the concrete wall and exploded. The next one barely missed her head and the game was over. It would have killed her if it made contact but no once seemed to realize that but her. The others kept throwing, kept thinking it was a cruel game to teach the freak a lesson, whatever that lesson was supposed to be. She raised her voice, screamed her war cry and it rang through the school.

The tribe reacted instantly. Desks flew, papers were scattered, and door glass shattered as they bounced off the wall. Cody raced down the hall as doors flew open and the tribe joined him. Stunned students and teachers sat at their desks not knowing what happened, why the new students had dashed out of the room. Tobias and Cody slammed through the doors first and didn’t hesitate for an instant. They plowed into the crowd and started smashing heads with Donny half a step behind. They all carried weapons, things they’d grabbed on their dash to help their sister. Math books knocked people out of the way. A laptop computer sent keys and teeth flying across the gym floor. A soda can in each hand delivered devastating blows. Vanessa ducked under the ninety mile an hour baseball that would have shattered her ribcage and leaped for the desperate looking Goldberg. She drove both knees into his chest and pummeled him mercilessly with one punch after another. His nose exploded again as he tried to fend off the blows raining down. The machine twisted and sent bone breaking fastballs careening around the gym and off the screaming students. Swan snarled and jumped from one opponent to another, bashing them with a metal pencil sharpener she’d ripped off the wall on her way out of history class. Caleb, Landon and Clara all had metal toys in their hands and were laying knees and shins open to the bone. The tribe was brutal, they fought as a unit, side by side and back to back, until none of the others were left standing and all they heard was the shriek of the coach’s whistle.

They stopped swinging and all eyes darted for danger, for others coming to attack them. The backboard was shattered, windows and overhead lights were broken and teens were trying to get away from the savage kids. The whirr-thunk of the empty baseball machine wound down when Donny flipped it off.

“You okay?” Cody asked as Vanessa slid into the circle, all of them facing outward among the students laying on the ground.

“Yeah.” She said and pinched her nose to get it to stop bleeding. “You guys?”

“I broke a nail.” Swan complained. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried to grow them out.”

Teachers looked in at the carnage through the windows in the gym doors, wary of the flying baseballs. The new kids had laid out a whole class of students, most of them juniors or seniors. They were afraid to enter, afraid the out of control children would attack anything that moved. The coach finally stopped blowing his whistle and stood looking at them, the damage to the gym and the bloody mess of his class.

“Get out.” He said and pointed to the side door. “You don’t belong here.”

Vanessa made it a point to walk on top of Goldberg instead of around him as they picked their way through the groaning people. The ones that hadn’t been knocked unconscious hurried to move out of their way.

42

Fireside

Tobias was still angry. They were gathered in Runa’s backyard, watching the polar bears laze in the pool.

“They had it coming.” He said again. “They started it.”

“And we finished it.” Cody said with a little exasperation “I know, you’ve told us a million times. The question is, now what do we do?”

“I don’t think they’ll bother us anymore.” Analise said. “Not after that ass whooping they took.”

But they might bother the animals. Donny signed. They might poison them to get back at us.

“He’s right.” Harper said. “Look what Gordon did to Teddy.”

“I say we get out of here.” Tobias said. “We don’t need this place, they have electricity, big deal. Who needs it? We did just fine without it.”

“What about the triplets?” Swan asked. “You want to drag them back out there? They were doing good until we showed up.”

“Well, they can stay.” He shot back. “I meant us.”

“Me, too?” Vanessa asked. “You want me to leave my dad?”

“Nobody has to go anywhere.” Gunny said as he came through the gate in the fence with Lacy, Runa and others following him. “We’ve just come from the school, heard their side of the story. Now I’d like to hear yours.”

They told him and the adults nodded. It was pretty much as they expected. They had seen the damage and heard the defensive stories but the big picture was easy to piece together. Older kids started bullying the odd ball and she fought back. Her friends came to help and the bullies got their asses handed to them. It happened. The difference this time was the ferocity of the attack. The teens could have killed Vanessa or the boy she was shielding. What started out as meanness and cruelty had elevated quickly. The tribe answered with overwhelming force and had put a hurting on some of the older teens. It wasn’t just cuts and scrapes, a black eye or two. There were broken bones, missing teeth and slashes that required stitches. Vanessa was the only one of the group that had any injuries and that was only because she’d been outnumbered thirty to one.

“The parents are concerned.” Lacy said. “The school board doesn’t want to let you go back. They think you were too long in the wilds.”

“They started it.” Tobias said defiantly.

“They could have killed her with the pitching machine.” Kodiak said evenly. “They were trying, they were shooting at her. None of them were ever in any danger of dying, we weren’t trying to kill them or they’d be dead.”

Gunny looked at the ground to hide his grin. He liked this kid. Hell, he liked all of them.

“I know.” Lacy said. “And I know it’s not fair but if you go back, it won’t get any better. You’re the outsiders.”

“I don’t want to go back anyway.” Tobias mumbled. “It was a waste of time.”

“There are options.” Lacy continued. “There is home schooling or apprenticeship programs. You can start working and earning a living. We can get you into any career you want.”

“We just wanted to be normal kids again.” Harper said. “We thought we could go back to like it was, like they did.”

They talked for another half hour and told the grownups they’d figure it out. Donny was already working at Tommy’s shop, Harper wanted to be a nurse, Tobias and Analise wanted to be chefs, Kodiak a veterinarian, Vanessa wanted to finish school and Swan had just shrugged when they asked her. The grownups left and they told them they’d let them know tomorrow so arrangements could be made.

Darkness fell and Cody started a fire to chase the chill as they sat around and discussed options. Nobody was very excited about their prospects. They hardly ever saw each other anymore except on weekends and a little at school. If they started jobs, they’d be just like the grownups. Work all day, take care of house when you got home, watch something on a DVD and fall asleep just to wake up and do it all over again. Life inside the walls was pretty much what it had been before the fall.

“I’m going south.” Swan announced.

“What do you mean?” Tobias asked. “South Dakota? South America? South Park?”

She flicked an acorn at him.

“South of here.” She said. “I’m going to check out that safari park in Texas. If they’re still caged, I’m going to set them free.”

“That’s a long way.” Cody said. “It’ll take weeks.”

“Yep.” She replied and stared into the flames. “Maybe months.”

There was silence around the fire as they contemplated her words. They knew what they meant.

When are you leaving? Donny signed.

Swan looked up at the moon. It was almost full and the stars were twinkling brightly. No rain, no snow.

“There’s no time like the present.” She said and stood.

Donny nodded and looked at Analise. She smiled and he saw the answer in her eyes.

Meet you at the front gate he signed, touched foreheads with Vanessa then slipped off into the darkness.

The twins exchanged a look and an almost imperceptible nod. “Don’t leave without us.” Tobias said and they both hugged the dark girl then went inside to grab armor, weapons and saddlebags.

“Are you going?” Vanessa asked the two hunkered by the fire.

“Yes, I think so.” Cody said and turned to Harper. “This isn’t the place I dreamed it would be. I think I expected too much.”

“I think we all did.” She said. “It isn’t a bad town, most of the people are wonderful and I think it’s good for Landon and Caleb and Clara but not for us. They might be right, we were out there too long.”

“Let me say goodbye to them.” She said. “I’ll be there.”

She hugged Vanessa long and hard then she too disappeared.

“We’ll miss you.” Cody said when he and Vanessa were alone with the fire. “But I would never ask you to come.”

“I know.” She said.

He stood, placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment then went to grab his own fresh new armor and weapons.

43

Lakota Left

Kodiak stood tall and straight as Gunny approached him, Swan next to him. The rest of the tribe made final adjustments to their gear and checked straps on saddles as they waited for Harper, the last to arrive.

“How did you know we were leaving?” Cody asked. “We didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“I’d gotten used to having Zero and the wolves underfoot.” Gunny said with a smile. “It’s easy to notice when they’re not there.”

Zero padded forward at his name, insisted on an ear scratch from the man that smelled of tobacco and gunpowder.

They wore their armor and had braided and adorned their hair again. Swan had painted her face and was eager to go. Kodiak slid his war hammer through a strap on Otis’ saddle. The big bear sniffed the ground where someone had left an intriguing scent. He chuffed and raked a paw over the spot.

“We can figure something out.” Gunny said. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I think we do.” Cody said. “Mrs. Meadows was right. We’ve been out in the wild too long. We like it out there. It seems right and natural. Being inside the walls has felt wrong ever since we got here.”

Gunny knew he wasn’t going to change their minds and it didn’t even occur to him to try to stop them by force. These kids weren’t kids anymore. They were fifteen and sixteen years old. Kids that age were getting married and starting families in the Hutterite community. They’d done more and seen more than most of the people in the compound.

Harper came out of the darkness leading Bert and the triplets followed. They were in their armor, had their weapons and the foxes trotted by their sides.

Gunny opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off before he could protest.

“They’re not coming.” She said. “They wanted to send us off properly. As warriors.”

The goodbyes took a few minutes and they waved as the band of children and their companion animals ambled out of the walled city. The foxes whined, they wanted to join the caravan.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.” Gunny told the little ones and turned back towards the town.

They were almost run over by Vanessa as she slid gracefully off Ziggy and wrapped them in an embrace.

“Love you guys.” She yelled over her shoulder as she ran alongside her ostrich for a few steps then swung into the saddle.

“Wait up!” she yelled and zipped through the gate as it closed. “I’m coming!”

Epilogue

The Prophet

His body was covered in sores and bug bites. The stink coming off of him would turn a buzzard’s stomach. His filthy hair was long and wispy like his beard. His teeth were yellowed and his gums were infected. The undead didn’t know what to make of him in his rotting animal skins and the living shunned him as a lunatic.

He was only seeking to spread his gospel of the Feral Children when he’d stumbled into the guard on watch. He was shoved roughly to his knees at the edge of the fire.

“Caught this thing prowling around the perimeter. Thought it was one of the undead until I heard it humming a tune.” Rocky told his assembled crew. “Course, I don’t think even the zombies smell as bad as this one. Gimme another beer, David Lee.”

They let out a round of laughter as Meeker shoved the Prophet flat on his face. He groaned and ran his tongue over the tooth he’d felt loosen and spit a glob of bloody saliva. This band of outlaws definitely needed to hear the good news. He’d been following the glow of their campfire for miles, eager to share the tale of the Feral Children and have them join his crusade.

His preaching to the undead had not been well received. They would swarm towards him when he approached, like they were eager to hear his words but always stopped short. They stood there swaying listlessly or milling about but soon lost interest in what he had to tell them. He prayed for them anyway then continued his journey. He’d covered hundreds of miles since he’d taken up the cause. When he tired, he rested, often waking up with the undead within spitting distance. He no longer feared them; he only wished they were more receptive to his words.

He pushed himself to his knees and spoke. “Brothers, if I may, I have a wonderful tale to tell you of fearsome warriors with gentle souls. It will lighten your burden and free your…”

He doubled over from the kick in the guts delivered by the one called Meeker.

“Shut up, filth.”

The men laughed as he vomited from the blow.

The Prophet pushed back up from the ground and drug a filthy hand across his mouth to wipe the drool from his wispy mustache.

“As I was saying.”

Another kick to the midsection and he groaned and curled himself up into a ball.

“Let the whack job talk, he came from somewhere and it might lead us to easy pickings.” David Lee said. “It’s boring as hell out here, might as well have a few laughs before we kill the poor bastard.”

One of them grabbed his hair and drug him to his feet. “Speak your peace, freak.”

The Prophet swayed unsteadily. He looked around for something to use as a pulpit. He settled for the stump of a tree at the edge of the campfire.

He raised his hands towards the heavens. Someone flung a half empty beer can in his direction that barely missed his head.

Distracted by the ranting of the Prophet the men hooted and hollered. They hurled insults at him as he tried to preach over their voices. The men never heard or saw the horde of undead as they swept through the camp, drawn by the shouting of the Prophet.

The dead swarmed through the camp and fell on the group of outlaws. They flowed around the Prophet like water and he wondered briefly if that’s how Noah felt when he parted the seven seas. No, wait that was that dude Jonah that did that, he corrected himself.

They fell on the drunken raiders before most of them could pull a gun or blade from its sheath. Jagged teeth tore into tender flesh as a few ineffective shots rang out and the Prophet continued his sermon.

He lowered his arms and said “Amen.”

He stared at the carnage before him. They had been bad men and mocked his story of redemption. God had smitten them for it.

Oh, well, I tried. He shrugged and began pilfering through their belongings.

He whistled a tune as he shouldered a weeks’ worth of supplies and left the carnage behind him. Maybe the next group he encountered would be more receptive he thought optimistically when he told them the incredible story of angels disguised as children and their fearsome beasts.

Author’s Note

Wesley Norris

Hi guys and girls! I hope you’ve enjoyed the tale of The Feral Children as much as we enjoyed telling it to you. This is the story I’ve been waiting to tell since Book 1. It’s been an incredible journey for the tribe, and I feel fortunate to have been a part of it. What comes next for the tribe? I like to think that they are out there free and happy. Maybe they find that other zoo and Bert gets a girlfriend. All I know is that our tribe of unlikely heroes accomplished amazing things with their will and fortitude. We can all take something away from that.

As of this writing the sizzler reel for Zombie Road has been filmed. I got to play Bastille, my wife was Sheriff Collins and one of my sons was Stabby. Keep your fingers crossed this works out for David and we all get to see Gunny and Jessie on the screen someday. Who knows, maybe the Feral Children will be next!

If you are wondering who this mysterious Rye character is then it’s your lucky day. Keep reading, there’s a short story in the back of this book that follows him on a retrieval. I’m excited to announce there’s a brand-new chapter in the Zombie Road saga centered on the retrievers and Rye is the main character. Look for the first book Deadline sometime in early 2021.

Thanks to the incredible David A. Simpson for his faith and trust in me and allowing me to journey down the Zombie Road with him. He’s truly a one of a kind guy and if you happen to see him tearing up the roads in the ZR Mustang or at a convention, stop in and say hi, buy a book and chat with him. They say you should never meet your heroes, well; he’s the exception to the rule in every way. Thanks buddy.

We met a young lady at Walker Stalker 2019 in Atlanta named Kassie. I’ve never seen anyone as excited as her to hold a book in her hands and her infectious attitude is something I’ll always carry with me. She was so excited when I told her that there would be a character named after her in this book that played a pivotal role. I hope we did you justice young lady.

Thank you, Tony Bowman and family, for the insight on autism and the inspiration for the Spivey Clan. Tony is one of my favorite writers of all kinds of twisted tales and if you haven’t read his work, then you are missing out on a real treat.

Thank you Runa Iren Nummedal for the help with the Norwegian translations and the folklore.

Thank you to all the people working behind the scenes to make a good book into a great one. Alina G, for your tireless efforts, thank you. The always excellent Eric A. Shelman for the awesome narration that gives these characters a voice, thank you. Thanks to all of the fans that drive this series and threw their names in the hat for characters. Many of you will see your own names mentioned in here. Thanks for playing along. We can’t kill all of you, but we killed as many as we could! You guys and girls are amazing.

I’d be remiss not to mention my own band of Feral Children. Wynema, Ryan, Garrett, DJ, Landon and granddaughter Harper as well as all of their friends who helped shape the personalities of the Tribe. I love you all!

Most importantly, thank you to the beautiful lady that I call my wife, Shannon. I wouldn’t be doing this without her love and support. She’s been there the whole way with a pat on the back or a kick in the backside, depending on which I needed most at the time.

Wesley R. Norris

August 1, 2020

Authors Note

David A. Simpson

What a tale! This book wraps up their story and Wesley knocked it out of the park. They were too long in the wild and going back to a mundane and boring life just wasn’t in the cards for them. Who knows what they’ll find down in Texas? They are older and wiser now. They are no longer children, no longer think like children and no longer act like children. I think tales of their exploits will be told and retold around fires for generations. They’ll probably wind up being tall tales that no one believes as true, like Paul Bunyon or Pecos Bill. I think they might head up to the plains States and start a new hunter/gatherer society that follows the great herds of buffalo and deer. If you are a reader of the Zombie Road series, I think you may see them again as Jessie tries to find the right time and place to be in.

Thanks for sticking with us through their perilous journey, I hope you found it as fun to read as it was for us to write.

All the latest info can be found in the David Simpson Fan Club on Facebook, come on over and join the rest of the folks.

Thanks again and as always, live life, have fun and don’t get hit by a bus.

David A. Simpson

09/16/2020

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44

Burrito Bushido

A Zombie Road Short Story

WESLEY R. NORRIS

Middle Of Nowhere, Texas

July, 10 Months After The Outbreak

I dropped a gear and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, straddling the center line of the highway. I knew I wasn’t going to outrun them, but I wasn’t going to make it any easier for these assholes either. The road was too long, too straight and too flat for me to pull far enough ahead that they’d give up and let me be on my way with the priceless treasure nestled in the back. There was nothing but low scrub and cactus on either side of the narrow blacktop, so I wasn’t going to be able to hide from them either.

Bo barked at the driver of the Ford Raptor as he pulled alongside the passenger’s side and aimed a shotgun at the Armadillo, my armored up silver Jeep Wrangler. I wasn’t worried about him shooting at us with that scattergun, the windows were bulletproof and the flat bodied design of the Jeep was ideally suited to armoring. The body panels were reinforced with military grade plate armor and a layer of ballistic ceramic on the backside. The open top was covered in a titanium alloy mesh, a prototype material found in one of the abandoned military bases across the country. A fifty-caliber round would put a dent in it, but it wasn’t coming through. What I lost in speed from the additional weight of the upgrades was kind of a moot point anyway as the Jeep wasn’t a real fast vehicle to begin with.

Another car, a convertible SS Camaro approached on the driver’s side. The passenger aimed what looked like a MP-5 submachine gun at me. I gave him the finger and tried to swerve into him, hoping to push him off into the desert scrub. As the Armadillo’s tires squealed in protest from my maneuver, I was rewarded with sixty pounds of pissed off Australian Shepherd landing in my lap. Bo growled at my driving. I shoved him back to the passenger seat and growled right back at him. The Camaro veered wide onto the shoulder to avoid me and the driver fought the high performance sports car for control on the loose gravel. In my rearview I saw a Cadillac come flying out of the dust behind me, a belt fed machine gun mounted on the hood. Terrific, I thought.

Another Ford Raptor roared down the shoulder to my left narrowly missing the Camaro as the driver fought to get asphalt back under the tires of the muscle car. Tumbleweeds and cactus were tossed in the air like confetti by the passing truck and the Raptor veered in front of me. The grinning jackass manning the bed mounted machinegun actually waved at me, before tilting the gun to aim at my face. The Camaro slid back into position on the driver’s side. I glanced at the ugly mug staring at me from the sports cars passenger seat. I was boxed in. The Armadillo was pretty heavily armored but a few armor piercing rounds from that thirty cal through the run flat tires or radiator at point blank range would leave me stranded a long way from home.

I brake checked the Cadillac riding my bumper, just because I’m a dick sometimes. The Caddy driver slammed on his brakes to keep from eating my rear bumper and I swear I heard him yell something ugly about my mother over the roar of the engines and the hum of off road tires on the weather beaten asphalt.

I wanted to go north, but they forced me back south. I’d play their game for now. I wasn’t out of the fight yet though. I had the M&P .45 on my hip and its big brother, the Smith & Wesson Governor in a holster attached to the console. Not to mention the armory in the vault that stretched from the tailgate to the back of the front seats along with a few other nasty surprises. Oh, and Bo, never forget Bo, he wasn’t a large dog, but he was hell in a fight and quicker than a pissed off rattlesnake with the temperament to match.

We passed back through Alpine, Texas and continued our trek towards the Mexican border towns. We passed through empty ghost towns and blew right by the few shriveled undead we passed. My new friends kept their guns on me the whole trip, just waiting for an excuse to rain fire down on me and Bo. I bided my time, slowed down every chance I got, just to piss them off, and waited for the opportunity to turn the table on these clowns.

I’m a retriever. You can call me Rye. I’ve been called a lot worse. I’m one of those people you hire to go after the things you can’t live without but don’t want to risk your own neck for. Priceless paintings, museum pieces, grandmas fine China, the family Bible, it doesn’t matter, I’ll get it for you if you are willing to pay the price. I’m the CEO of World’s End Acquisitions and Bo is my partner and Vice CEO. We operate out of a log cabin a short drive through some of the most inhospitable terrain imaginable near Carrizozo, New Mexico.

The undead still roam this isolated country, but they aren’t the threat they once were, especially in the southwest where the weather and the scavenger animals are relentless. Although, there’s still a lot of fresh and fast ones who’ve been trapped indoors in the bigger cities where most of my retrieves end up being. Those are the best paying jobs but also the most dangerous. One bite and it’s game over. No cure, no antidote just a slow painful turn into a mindless zombie. But if it was easy, anyone could do it. As a rule though, it’s never safe to underestimate any of them. A bite on the ankle from a desiccated dried out husk of a zombie buried in the sand is just as lethal as a bite from a freshly turned one.

Bo and I were on a job to retrieve an extremely valuable set of arrowheads, known as the Livermore Collection, from the Museum of the Big Bend in Alpine, Texas. The obnoxious douche Colonel that hired me was based out of a fortified compound in Idaho, he called Valhalla. Nice place, but he didn’t strike me as a real military man and most of what came out of his mouth sounded like bullshit. Still, it was paying work and it had been a long time since I’d ventured this far south so I took the contract. It should have been a simple in and out job, but my luck never runs that way.

Everything was going to plan until these asshats ambushed me from out of nowhere. I had a sneaky suspicion that we were after the same prize. Retrievers tended to live short lives due to the nature of our work. It wasn’t uncommon for a client to hire more than one retriever for a job since most of us operated on a cash on delivery system. No retrieve, no pay. Most of the retrievers I know are good people. A bunch of loosely wired adrenaline junkies and thrill seekers, but there were quite a few shady ones out there too running the wastelands. If the zombies didn’t get you, or the bandits, or the cannibals, can’t forget those guys, then a shootout with an unscrupulous rival retriever usually ensued.

I was gonna have a word with the Colonel when I got back. I made it very plain that I only took jobs where I was the primary. I didn’t need a bunch of second stringers trying to poach my job. Of course, I didn’t mind occasionally poaching one of theirs. Don’t judge me, I told you I could be a dick sometimes.

We rolled through the gates of a fortified, ramshackle border town. It wasn’t much of a gate, probably wouldn’t stand up to an assault from a few hundred determined zombies, just an old chain link slider on a weathered rubber tire. No one manned the guns mounted on top of the crate container walls. The guards were probably getting sloshed in the cantina. I wished I was with them.

The population was sparse here, even before the outbreak. The machine guns sat solitary under their canvas tarps. Old men sat under the stoops of ragged porches, seeking respite from the blazing sun sipping warm beer, long past its expiration date. Skinny kids and skinnier dogs played in the street. Bo let out a low growl as we passed them. He didn’t like other dogs, or most people for that matter. Half the time he barely tolerated me.

The lead Raptor pulled to a stop in front of a beautiful Spanish style villa. It looked out of place considering the poverty evident in the rest of the town. The bandits kept the guns on me as they ordered me to disarm and exit the vehicle. I did, mostly. There was still the Benchmade folding knife clipped in my belt at the small of my back and a .22 derringer tucked inside my boot.

“Bo, guard.” I pointed at the back-cargo area where the felt lined case with the arrowheads rested. Bo slipped into the back and disappeared from sight.

I stepped from the Armadillo and raised my hands and got a good look at my new amigos. They were an ugly bunch. Dirty, unshaven and they stunk like three day old road kill. Not at all the dashing, roguish type like yours truly. I quickly gave them nicknames. Happy was the gunner who waved at me. Bumper Humper for the Cadillac driver. The Camaro SS guys were Hans and Franz the Nazi twins. Raptor drivers I called them Buzzard and Vulture. The ugly bastard carrying the short-barreled shotgun, Shotgun Guy. Gimme a break, its stressful having a bunch of guns pointed at your favorite person and it’s the best I could come up with at the moment.

“Guys, I think there’s a mis-.” Happy slammed his rifle butt into my stomach. I doubled over and almost barfed. I stood back up to stare down the pie plate sized barrel of a shotgun stuck in my face.

“Walk.” Shotgun Guy said gesturing towards the villa with the shotgun.

They fanned out behind me in a semicircle, guns pointed in my direction. I am never in favor of guns pointed in my direction, for the record. I prefer to do the gun pointing. Shotgun Guy jabbed me between the shoulder blades and nudged me towards the door of the villa.

“Take off your boots.” Shotgun Guy ordered.

“What?” I asked, a little confused.

“Take off your damned boots. They ain’t allowed in the house.” He jabbed me again with the shotgun.

I leaned against the door and pushed off my Tony Llama’s, saw my big toe peeking through the hole in my sock. I hoped they weren’t gonna steal them. They were my favorite pair. Ostrich skin and broke in just right. I watched as the one I nicknamed Buzzard pocketed my derringer and placed one of my boots next to his to see if they would fit. Shit, looked like a perfect fit. I heard the shuffling as they all took their shoes off too. Then I was rudely shoved through the door.

I entered the Spanish style house and I can honestly say, for once I was speechless. The interior was decorated like the inside of a Japanese samurai fan boys wet dream. A full suit of Japanese samurai armor graced the foyer. A young Hispanic girl dressed as a geisha, lowered her eyes as she walked by carrying a tray with ornate Japanese cups and a tea pitcher.

The first floor was an open floor plan, divided off with sliding doors complete with rice paper windows. More girls, in geisha dress, faces painted, and hair pinned up with ornamental pins, scurried around the room. Potted bamboo and bonsai trees stood arrayed around a small bubbling fountain in the center of the room. Japanese art adorned the walls and Oriental rugs covered the hardwood floors. All that was missing was a tiger wearing a solid gold collar. Scratch that, the big cat paced restlessly back and forth in a gilded gold cage. Soft music was piped through the speakers, reminiscent of what I’d heard in Oriental massage parlors. You know, the kind usually found near truck stops and seedier areas of big cities, back before the apocalypse. Again, don’t judge me.

My sock footed entourage directed me towards a sliding door. They hadn’t bothered to frisk me. I’m not a guy you should trust when you tell me to disarm.

A geisha darted in front of me and slid the door open smoothly on its wooden track. The sock footed thugs took up position around the door and ushered me through. I stepped into the room and took a moment to admire the nice rug I was standing on as the door slid shut behind me. I had a customer that would pay top dollar for something like it.

“Don’t try nothing stupid.” Shotgun Guy warned me from the other side of the thin partition.

Again, I was struck speechless. Sitting on a pillow behind a low table sat the ugliest damn Mexican I’ve ever seen. He was trimming a bonsai tree with a small pair of scissors. He was decked out in a red kimono, his long greasy hair tied in a top knot. He had a pair of taped up reading glasses perched on his nose. On the table before him sat a daisho stand that held a Japanese katana and a shorter wakizashi. I took note of the chrome 1911 with the ivory grips, scrimshawed with a rising sun, lying on the pillow near his right side. A tanto was tucked into the sash of his kimono. Flickering candles gave the room a soft glow. A low shelf to his left held four human skulls. They were polished bright, and a small brass tag underneath with their names engraved identified them as retrievers. One of them I knew personally, the rest by reputation. This was not a good sign.

“Sit.” He ordered as he set the scissors to the side and eyed his work on the bonsai with a practiced eye.

I didn’t. I stared at him defiantly.

“Sit or I’ll have my men drag you out and break your kneecaps.” He didn’t look up from his bonsai.

I like my aching knees just like they are so I sat cross legged on the floor opposite the table, my eyes stealing glances at the forty-five.

“I am Pascal. You may call me...,” he paused for dramatic effect, like a bad James Bond villain. “Pascal.”

He erupted in the batshit craziest laugh I’ve ever heard, then just as quickly calmed himself. He snapped his fingers. The door slid open behind me and a geisha darted in and removed the tree.

“You are Mr. Rye,” he said. “I have heard of you.”

I’d heard of him too. He was a retriever in name only. Mostly, he was a bandit, slaver, drug dealer and smuggler. Rumor was he used retriever work to scope out his client’s towns and sold the information to other bandits. I’d heard he was eccentric, but I think that was a generous description. This guy was a few eggs short of an omelet.

“I assume the Colonel also hired you to retrieve the Livermore Collection. I always welcome a little competition, it keeps me on my toes, but you, senor, have trespassed into my territory. You should have shown proper respect and saw me before you scavenged right in my backyard.” He said as he poured us each a small cup of sake’ from a bamboo wrapped jug.

“Drink,” he urged. I watched him sip delicately from his cup. Pretty sure he wasn’t poisoning me, I shot mine like it was Mescal and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

He shook his head and refilled my cup. “Sake’ should be sipped and relished not guzzled like cheap whiskey.”

I shot mine again, just to spite him and felt the warm glow of the rice liquor spread through my body.

He chuckled to himself and didn’t bother to refill my cup. Stingy bastard. The stuff was pretty good and with the way this day was going, I could use another drink or four.

“In the future, if you wish to retrieve in my territory, you will come see me first and we will negotiate terms.” He looked at me and I swear I could see the crazy just dancing behind his heavy lizard-lidded eyes.

“You bet. Sorry for the misunderstanding. I’ll see myself out.” I had no intention of following his orders; of course, I just wanted to get away from this psycho. I went to stand up, glad to be on my way, knowing deep down it wasn’t gonna be that easy. It never was.

He placed his hand on the katana. “Sit down!” He snapped.

I eased my hand towards the Benchmade still clipped behind my back. I was itching to gut this bastard and take my chances with his boys outside.

“If I draw my sword, it will taste blood before it is resheathed.” He said softly. “And should you best me; my men will cut you down.”

I sat. Patience, Rye. Miss Campbell, my go to source for weapons and gear back in Lakota always told me my hot head and poor judgment was gonna get me killed one day. I hoped she was wrong.

He continued. “As I was saying, in the future, you will see me before working in my territory.”

“Got it,” I said. Irritation seeped into my voice.

“In the present, we must deal with the affront to my honor.” He slid the tanto from his sash and laid it on the table before him.

He snapped his finger and the door slid open again. The geisha entered and set a scene straight out of your nightmares on the end of the table.

A zombie head sat wedged atop what looked like a big pickle jar filled with murky fluid. I couldn’t make out was bobbing in the liquid. The putrid head stunk something awful. Sagging flesh hung in folds on the cheeks. The remaining eyeball was black and lifeless, the other a nasty empty socket. It gnashed its rotting, broken teeth at me.

“I will accept the first joint of your pinky finger. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you choose which hand.” He slid the tanto towards me.

I reached for it, ready to make my move, when the door slid open behind me and Shotgun Guy jabbed that Remington into the back of my skull. Damn, I was really starting to dislike these guys.

“If I refuse?” I asked him.

He gripped the hilt of his katana. “Then your skull will join the others who dared to insult me. Since you are of some reputation and were kind enough to deliver the merchandise to my front door, I offer you the honorable alternative. Take it, not many get the option.”

I gulped and tried to buy myself some time to think. Time to act and get myself out of this jam. I blurted out the first thing that popped in my head.

“Are you having some kind of identity crisis here? Geographically confused? Bat shit crazy? I mean, obviously you’re Hispanic, but you have this whole Japanese vibe going on. I mean, I’m not judging you or anything, but this shit is just weird.”

He didn’t like my lame attempt at a joke. He nodded at Shotgun Guy. Shotgun guy swatted me across the side of the head with the barrel of the shotgun. Blood filled my mouth and I felt at least a couple of teeth loosen in their sockets.

Tough crowd. I rubbed my jaw. Damn that hurt.

“Do you have another joke Mr. Rye?” He smirked over his steepled fingers, instantly reminding me of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons.

“I always have jokes,” I said through my swollen mouth. “Have you ever considered changing your name to Burrito Bushido? Maybe take your act on the road? I’m sure you’d be a big hit on the drag queen scene with that lovely silk dress and all.” I asked. Stupidly. Sometimes I just don’t know when to shut up.

This time I got the shotgun cracked over the top of my head. Ouch, that was good for at least a mild concussion, but at least I heard Shotgun Guy choke back a laugh. If I could stand the pain, I’d have these guys rolling in the floor laughing before long.

I wobbled for a few seconds, then shook it off as best I could and ignored the blood running down my cheek from my cracked noggin.

Pascal leaned forward. “You are amusing, I’ll grant you that but this is no joking matter. Do it, or I take your head.”

I picked up the tanto and laid my left hand on the table. Pascal snapped his fingers and a geisha appeared with a small brazier filled with glowing embers. A flat piece of steel glowed red in the bed of coals.

I lined up the blade with the first joint of my left pinky finger. Manic glee glistened in his eyes as his façade dropped and his crazy shined through.

“Just give me the tip senor.” He said in heavily accented English. Everyone laughed at his joke. Hell, if it wasn’t my finger about to get amputated, I’d have laughed too. Dick jokes are funny, I don’t care who you are.

I closed my eyes, held my breath and pushed the blade down hard. It was razor sharp and I barely felt it as the tip of my finger was severed. I dropped the tanto and grabbed my wounded paw to staunch the bleeding. Buzzard and Vulture stepped forward and grabbed me, while Shotgun Guy jabbed that shotgun against my spine. They held my arm out while the geisha with the brazier cauterized the stump with the piece of cherry red metal. The feeling in my finger came back in a hurry, and I’m not ashamed to say, I howled like a run over dog as my damaged nerve endings fired on all cylinders. I almost blacked out from the pain. Only stubbornness and pride kept me from crying like a baby. That shit hurt. A lot.

They let me go and I reached for the sake’. I turned the jug up and drained the whole thing. My stomach burned with a fire that matched the burning in my hand as the potent liquor hit my system.

Pascal picked up the fingertip and tossed it into the air. For a second there, I thought he was gonna catch it in his mouth like a grape. He let it fall into his open palm, then flicked it into the open mouth of the snarling zombie head. It chewed on my dismembered digit for a few seconds, and then I heard a plop as it went down its throat into the jar below. Well, that answered my question about what was floating in the jar.

“Now, you will turn over the merchandise to me and I will ensure the good Colonel gets it and you Mr. Rye, can be on your way.” Pascal said, once again playing the warrior monk role.

Hans and Franz dragged me to my feet towards the front door. Pascal rose smoothly, patted his pickle jar zombie on the head and slid the katana into his sash.

He gestured. “After you, Mr. Rye.”

I shuffled in my sock feet towards the door. Hans and Franz flanked me, tightly gripping my arms. The Raptor boys flanked us with their submachine guns ready. Shotgun Guy kept the Remington against my spine. I was almost flattered they thought I was that dangerous. The geisha all bowed as we passed and one of them darted forward to open the outside door. I winked at her and was rewarded with a blush in her cheeks before she quickly lowered her eyes again.

We entered the yard. I looked longingly at the ‘Dillo, wishing I could get my hands on just one of my guns.

“Retrieve my merchandise.” Pascal motioned to Happy.

“I’m sure you have your vehicle booby trapped, where is the deactivation device?” Pascal asked me.

There was a row of rocker switches between the sun visors. The one in the middle was labeled SELF DESTRUCT in big red letters. The Up position was labeled Armed and the Down position Disarmed. Of course, I wasn’t that dumb in case you’re wondering. No one would put it in plain sight like that. However, a lot of the types of people I was concerned with stealing my stuff were that dumb, but I wasn’t sharing that little nugget of information with this finger collecting asshole.

“Overhead rocker switch, can’t miss it.” I tried not to smirk.

Happy opened the door and was rewarded with a face full of fur covered razor blades. He screamed in terror as Bo tore into him, darting in quick to take snack sized bites out of his flesh while he shrieked and flailed under Bo’s assault. The others raised their guns towards the fracas, but didn’t fire for fear of hitting Happy.

Bo continued to savage him until I yelled. “Bo, hide!”

Bo broke off his attack and dashed into the brush in an overgrown neighboring yard. They fired at my furry friend, but never touched a hair on him. I wasn’t too worried about him. Bo could take care of himself and was no stranger to being shot at. Neither of us was. We seemed to have a knack for getting shot at.

Happy stood unsteadily to his feet. Blood poured from the numerous bite marks and he was missing most of an ear. Made me feel a little better about my finger. Not much, but a little.

With Bo safely out of the way, I activated the switch in my belt buckle. The real self-destruct switch. The one hooked to two pounds of C4 plastic explosive located under the gun vault, right above the oversized fuel tank. The gun vault that had a few thousand rounds of ammo and a dozen grenades, some of them white phosphorous inside of it. Plus, the six jerry cans of fuel in the rack above the rear bumper. It would be one hell of an explosion. Let one of them push the clutch in and turn the key and it was the Fourth of July.

Happy peered cautiously inside the door of the Armadillo, just in case I had a honey badger or something equally as viscous just waiting to finish what Bo started. Satisfied, he climbed up in the seat.

His eyes were naturally drawn to the switch that glowed red, indicating the self-destruct was armed. Here’s a secret. It always glows red and always says Armed. It has nothing to do with the transmitter in my belt buckle for the C4. That particular rocker switch is connected to a device called the Mousetrap. It was designed by a half crazy, sneaky bastard who goes by the handle of Wirebender back in Lakota. Tommy and the boys in the Lakota truck shop installed it for me when they armored up the Jeep.

I watched Happy flip the switch to Disarm. I heard the twin soft pops and he fell out of the Jeep in agony, clutching his groin and screaming for his mama.

The Mousetrap was simply a twenty-two-caliber derringer mounted in a steel box. An electronic actuator squeezed the trigger when activated and fired both barrels straight up through the seat. Right into the nether regions of would be thieves. Don’t judge me. I’ve already told you I can be a dick sometimes and I don’t tolerate people who try to steal stuff from me that I’ve already stolen. Ever.

Everyone, including me, cringed as Happy mourned his shot off manhood. He was on his knees cursing and wailing. His hands covered his bloody crotch. Pascal screamed in frustration and strode toward the fallen man. The katana slid smoothly from its scabbard. A flash of steel in the midday sun and Happy and his head were separated from each other. Happy’s head spun like a top when it hit the ground, a look of pure surprise frozen on his face when it stopped its spin and stared lifelessly at the sky.

Pascal spun and headed in my direction. I saw the blood dripping from the yard-long razor sharp blade and the crazed look in his eyes. Uh-oh.

“Enough games!” He yelled, spittle hitting me in the face.

Sneaky bastard that I sometimes am, I now held the Benchmade folding knife in my right hand in a reverse grip. Happy’s unfortunate accident gave me the distraction I was looking for to slip it from my belt and flick open the three and half inch blade.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of black and white fur moving near the corner of the villa. Bo was probably pissed they’d shot at him and he wasn’t the best tempered dog on a good day.

Pascal glared at me, I glared right back. I hovered my left index finger over the switch in my belt buckle. Holding it down for five seconds manually overrode the control module for the explosives. This place would be a smoking crater. I’d do it before I let this asshole steal from me and take my head.

“I will have what’s mine.” He said, seething with rage. “I’ll round up every child in this village and send them one at a time into that ugly beast of a machine until all of your booby traps are spent.”

“I’ll send us all to hell first amigo.” I really didn’t like this guy and considered blowing us up just to get him to shut the hell up. I pressed my finger to the button in my belt buckle, unsure if I even had five seconds before he lopped my head off with that oversized pig sticker.

His men took a step back. I guess they’d seen this show before and didn’t want to be in the way of that razor-sharp katana when it started swinging.

“Then we’ll kill each other.” He pronounced kill like keel. He raised his sword and I pushed the button, counting off the seconds in my head.

I was only at two Mississippi when he swung. Everyone was watching to see my head fly through the air, so nobody was paying attention when Bo raced from his hiding spot and hit him in the middle of the back at full throttle. Pascal crashed into me halfway through his swing. I let go of the override button. I grabbed him and tossed his bony ass right into Hans and Frans. The katana went flying and the three bandits went down in a pile of thrashing limbs. My partner was a blur of motion and I heard Shotgun Guy screaming. Bo had used the kimono clad gangster as a springboard to deliver a mouth full of sharp canines right into the face of Shotgun Guy.

Bumper Humper spit out his cigar and reached for the pistol stuck in his waistband, but I was on him with the Benchmade and jabbed him three or forty times before letting his body hit the ground. Then I ran like hell.

“Let’s go Bo!” I shouted. Bo abandoned the savaged Shotgun Guy, who I instantly renamed Ground Chuck. He was a chewed-up mess and wasn’t moving anymore.

Hans and Frans untangled themselves from Pascal and fired at me as I was running away. I threw myself over the bed of the closest Raptor and watched the bullets punch a line of holes through the thin metal of the truck bed in a horizontal pattern. I scurried behind the metal shroud of the bed mounted machine gun, pulled myself up by the firing handles and opened fire.

I swept the barrel across Pascal’s remaining men, finger locked down on the trigger focusing on the Raptor boys first then moving onto the rest of them. Hot, empty brass piled up at my feet. His goons never had a chance and went down in a shredded pile of bones and guts. I swung the machine gun towards the fleeing Pascal. The skinny prick ran through the door of the villa and slammed it shut as I poured armor piercing rounds into everything but him. Some assholes are just born lucky.

I had no idea how many reinforcements he had inside, but I felt like I was owed a little revenge so I strafed both floors of the villa with machine gun fire in a sweeping pattern at head height, hoping that the geishas had the sense to hit the deck. His crew already ran me down once and not wanting them to catch me again, I turned the gun on their vehicles. I shredded the other Raptor, then the Cadillac. Almost felt bad about the Camaro, it was a sweet ride, but I finished off the ammo belt on it anyway.

The machine gun barrel glowed red from the sustained fire as I let the handles go. I could feel the clock ticking against me as I vaulted over the side of the truck and jumped up in the Jeep behind Bo. I deactivated the self-destruct sequence and fired up the engine. I spun the Jeep around, slowed just long enough to chunk a white phosphorous grenade through the window of the last Raptor and punched the gas.

I saw Pascal run out on the second-floor balcony with a long rifle clutched in his hands as he grew smaller in my rearview mirror. I heard the boom and felt the impact of the heavy round hit the tailgate. Another boom, miss, then another boom, hit. My spare tire exploded. Good thing, that wasn’t a gas can. I buried the pedal to the floorboard. I tore down the now deserted dusty streets, swerved to miss a dog lying in the middle of the road licking himself and redlined the engine before shifting gears, trying to eke out every ounce of power the Jeep had. I hit the flimsy gate at sixty miles an hours just as the second Raptor went up in a spectacular fireball when the fuse on the willy pete grenade burned up. All I could see was smoke and dust in the rearview. Good. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me either.

I scratched my partner behind his ears and fished us out both a piece of beef jerky. He’d saved my ass, again. We raced north as fast as we could, eager to get the hell out of Pascal’s territory. My missing digit throbbed something fierce, and my head hurt from the blows I’d taken. My jaw was swollen and I could feel those loosened teeth moving in their sockets. But we’d made the retrieve and it was gonna be a good payday.

I wasn’t through with Pascal, not by a longshot. I’d be back for his bony ass when the odds were a little more in my favor and before I was done with him, he’d have a body part or two floating in that pickle jar to keep my finger company.

The road behind me was clear as far as I could see. The rapidly cooling desert air felt good blowing through the titanium mesh that covered the top of the Armadillo and the setting sun painted the desert in a myriad of hues of brilliant color. I never tired of a desert sunset. Despite losing my favorite pair of boots and part of my finger, I was still alive and had a story that would earn me a few free drinks down at the cantina in Carrizozo. After I collected my payment and punched the Colonel in his mouth, of course.

Some people were happy to be inside the fortified towns, rebuilding this world into something better, but not me. Don’t get me wrong, they are the future. Someday, people like me will be folk tales and footnotes in the history books. Me, though, I was happiest on a retrieval, risking it all for adventure, glory and a pocket full of money.

I’ll be taking a few days off to heal up and break in a new pair of boots. Use some of my payday to settle up my tab at the cantina and see if I can’t coerce one of the local girls into some debauchery. I’m one of the best at what I do, so if there’s something you just can’t live without and don’t want to risk your own neck to go get it yourself, stop into the general store in Carrizozo, New Mexico and tell them you’re looking for Rye. I’ll be in touch.