Dead Soil
Author: Alex Apostol
Date: 2015-10-20 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Zombies; Post Apocalyptic; zombie apocalypse
Description: On June 21, 2020 civilization will fall and the dead will rise. Northwest Indiana will become ground zero for the zombie plague. Within twenty-four hours, Chicago will be nothing more than a breeding ground for the undead. Some people will choose to fortify their homes while others flee to the woods when it becomes apparent that there's no end in sight to their hell on Earth. How will you survive the apocalypse?
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

ISBN: 978-0-578-54711-4

Text Copyright © 2019 by Alex Apostol
www.writeralexapostol.com

Cover Design Copyright © 2019 by Alex Apostol

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Look for Alex Apostol on:

Facebook: www.facebook.com/AlexApostol87

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Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, July 2019

Also by Alex Apostol

The Chronicles of a Supernatural Huntsman Series

Broken Angel (Book 1)

Earth Angel (Book 2)

Hunted Angel (Book 3)

Rebel Angel (Book 4) Coming Soon

Part 1: Containing Books 1-3

Dead Soil Series

Dead Soil (Book 1)

Dead Road (Book 2)

Dead World (Book 3) Coming Soon

Dead Beginnings Novella Series

(From the Dead Soil World)

Volume 1: Lonnie Lands

Volume 2: Lee Hickey

Vol 3: Olivia Darling Coming soon

Zooey Zombie Novella Series

It’s an Undead Thing (Book 1)

So Over the Undead (Book 2) Coming Soon

Standalone Fiction

Girls Like Us

Non-Fiction

Novel Notes: A Guided Writing Journal

Novel Notes: Series Edition

This Is Me: A Guided Journal to Self-Discovery

Intentional: A Daily Christian Journal

My Writing Journal

My Riding Journal: Recorded Memories and Lessons

Warrior Princess: Claiming Your Identity in Christ Coming Soon

Part One

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

-Bilbo Baggins
in The Lord of the Rings trilogy
by J.R.R. Tolkien

I

“You’re not really here,” Christine Moore said in a hushed voice. “You’re not real.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I saw you…I killed…you died.”

“Does that mean everything about me ceases to exist? My being, my knowledge, my soul?”

Christine let her eyes drop to her hands in her lap as she sat perfectly still on the edge of the bed. She wanted to give him the answers he sought. After all, she still loved him. Death would never change that. But she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Only you know why I’m here, love,” he responded.

Finally, she forced her blue eyes to meet his. “I didn’t ask for this, Liam. You showed up at my bedside just days after I shoved that knife into your temple. I just wanted to spare you the empty life of being one of those things!” She realized she had raised her voice and immediately snapped her lips shut tight. When she opened them again she barely spoke above a whisper. “You’re just a grief-stricken hallucination. I’m seeing things because my brain can’t handle the shock of your death and of the state of the world. I’m only seeing you, talking to you,” she placed her hand on top of his, “…touching you, because I’m scared. You’re my comfort. You always were.”

Liam’s hazel eyes softened as Christine took in every detail of his face. A part of her was terrified by the fact that she’d been seeing her dead fiancé for the last four months, while another part was thankful. She took every opportunity to impress his being into her brain, worried that every time he came to see her would be the last time.

“I miss you so much,” she said softly as she leaned into him.

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. “I know, love. I miss you, too. But someday we will be together again.”

A chill ran through Christine’s body, raising the hairs on her arms. She didn’t want to think about it, about any of it. She didn’t want to consider the fact that she was going crazy, that she had to kill to survive, or that her days were limited. Everyone’s were. There was no guarantee any of the people sleeping in the next room would live to see the snow melt and the flowers bloom, or even see the next sunrise. Every day, more and more zombies found their way into their gated apartment complex. One day, they would figure out stairs and come banging on their door. Their chance to leave would be gone forever.

Christine sat up and eyed the brown leather journal sitting on her nightstand.

“You thought this journal was important for a reason, didn’t you?” she asked Liam.

He nodded his head once in agreement.

“You knew that it could hold the key to a cure?”

Again he nodded once and released his soft grip from her shoulder.

“Then, we need to get it into the right hands. We’ve waited too long already here in this tiny apartment. We should have left months ago. This could have been taken care of already.”

Christine looked over, but found that she was now sitting alone. There was a small indentation in the duvet where Liam had been. She put her hand down and felt that it was cold, as if he hadn’t been there at all. She threw herself back onto the bed and sprawled out, stretching her arms high above her head.

“This is bull,” she said with no concern if anyone in the other room heard her talking to herself.

She curled up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, taking in the comfort and warmth of the bed. She tugged at Liam’s oversized knitted sweater and wrapped it tightly around her thin body, blanketing herself in familiarity and lost love.

“Need to leave,” she mumbled to herself as she fought to keep her eyes open. “Need to go now…”

Her long, wavy blonde hair fell over her face, veiling her from the moonlight streaming in through the window. Her breathing slowed, heavy and deep. The mumbling stopped as her eyes finally shut.

II

Darkness encompassed the living room outside Christine’s bedroom door. Black lumps littered the floor and couch, the group attempting to get some sleep. There wasn’t much else to do once the sun went down. Electricity was long gone and the candle supply was dwindling. The fireplace was the main source of light and warmth as they waited out winter.

As Christine’s voice died out behind the thin white door to her room, whispers erupted throughout the darkness.

“Who do you think she talks to all the time?” Olivia Darling asked idly as she clutched her weathered softball bat in her hands, cradling it like a newborn baby.

“Don’t worry about it. Go to bed,” a gruff voice barked in annoyance. Zack Kran rolled over in his sleeping bag and threw his arm over his eyes.

“But what if she’s dangerous?” Carolyn Bock asked from the long window seat where she sat curled up, covering herself in her white down jacket.

“She’s not dangerous,” Gretchen shot back in defense. “She’s confused, and she’s in pain. She lost the love of her life.” Hurt and anger seethed behind the break in her voice.

“How would you know?” Rowan Brady asked. “You haven’t seen her in a decade before we found her here, and she hasn’t said more than two words to you in the months since.”

There was a heavy silence as Gretchen stared up at the blackness hanging below the ceiling. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t allow them to spill over and roll down her cheeks.

“Stuff it, pretty boy,” Gale Lewis huffed as she rolled away from the others to face the back of the couch. “We’re not here to form a witch hunt. If the girl wants to talk to herself for comfort, there’s nothing wrong with that. Leave it be.”

Rowan rolled his large brown eyes, but no one saw. His mouth stayed shut, although there were many things he would have liked to say. He knew if he spoke again Zack would rise up and tower over him, his battle sword in hand.

“What if she’s talking to a ghost, though?” Olivia chimed in again with a hint of laughter in her teenage voice.

“This is stupid,” Gretchen burst out as she stepped toward the door. “I’m just going to check on her.”

Before she could reach the handle Zack moved into her path. “Why don’t you let me do it?”

Gretchen’s eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. “Why? I’m her sister. I should do it.”

Zack didn’t say anything. He simply looked down at her with a softness to his dark eyes.

The hard lines on Gretchen’s forehead melted away to reveal the pain she carried beneath. “Will she ever forgive me for leaving her? That was so long ago…” she whispered, wanting to place her head on Zack’s chest for comfort. Instead, she stayed put and wrapped her own arms around her thinning waist.

Zack reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but hesitated just as his fingers were about to graze her leather jacket. He turned and let himself into Christine’s room without knocking.

The bedroom was lit up silver from the full moon shining through her window. He stopped in the doorway with his hand still on the knob, staring at Christine curled up like a cat on the bed. The covers were thrown to the bottom, as if she intended to climb in and cover up, but something distracted her. Someone distracted her. He shut the door without a sound. Slowly, he walked over to stand between the window and the side of her bed. His large shadow fell onto her twisted form.

He reached out and pulled the heavy comforter over her shoulders so only her porcelain face was uncovered. She gave a small moan and shifted herself further into the blanket, a hint of a smile on her blushed lips. Zack had only wanted to check on her, make sure she wasn’t huddled up against the headboard crying as he’d found her so many nights before when she thought everyone was asleep. But as he stared, he found he couldn’t turn away. She looked so peaceful. It was such a rare moment of comfort in a world so harsh and cruel. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen since Anita smiled at him from across the snow fallen forest.

A loud bang resounded in his head and he saw Anita fall, scarlet blood seeping through her chest and soaking her dirtied clothing. He blinked away the memories and headed for the door again. Christine wasn’t the only one who felt the sting of loss. There wasn’t a night Zack didn’t see Anita’s pained face as her life left her. He could still feel the weight of her in his arms when he dreamed. If Christine needed to think she was talking to Liam to get through the day, then there was nothing wrong with that. Zack often left the waking world just to see Anita in his dreams.

His thoughts turned to the others and their discussion. It didn’t come up often, but every once in a while someone would voice their concern for Christine’s sanity and what it meant for them. But Zack always stood up for her. No matter what it took, he would never allow anything to happen to Christine. He owed his best friend that much.

A fire still burnt in his chest every time he thought of the night Liam was bit. He should have been there. If he hadn’t left, Liam might still be alive. Christine never said it, but he could see the thought behind her glassy eyes on especially hard nights when they would sit together in silence. She was the closest thing Zack had to family now and he would protect her no matter the cost.

When he slipped between the ends of his sleeping bag most nights and zipped himself in tight, no one said a word as he closed his eyes and tried to shut out the endless chatter that ran through his mind. No one would say anything, but he could feel their gaze on him, questioning him, judging him, wavering in their loyalty to him and their cause.

If he had to go to Chicago to deliver the journal on his own, then that’s what he would have to do. It had to be done, help or no help. Someone had to save the world. Why not him?

Instead of going back out to his thin sleeping bag on the floor of the cold living room, he sat down on the bedroom floor with his back against the wall, looking off into the darkness. He let out a sigh as he looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes.

“Zack?” a small voice whispered.

He tried his best to ignore it, not even sure that he had actually heard anything at all.

“Zack, are you awake?”

This time his eyes sprang open.

III

Christine’s face hovered in front of Zack’s. He hadn’t expected her to wake up at all. She’d had a trying day and he knew she was emotionally exhausted. That was most of her days lately.

“Yeah, Chris?” He heard the rustling of layers of blankets on the bed as she sat back down.

“Is it ever going to get easier?”

Silence overtook the room. Zack knew he had to approach this the right way. Christine was in a fragile state. One mention of Liam in the wrong way and the bond they shared could be broken forever, or at least that’s how dire he felt the situation was.

“It will…it just takes time…it’s only been three months,” he said slowly, cautiously.

Now it was Christine’s turn to sigh into the darkness. “Three and a half months. And I knew I wouldn’t feel better by now. But I’m scared I won’t ever feel better.”

It was something that haunted Zack’s mind before he went to sleep every night. Losing his best friend and the potential love of his life in one day had been beyond devastating, but he kept going. He trudged forward, went out to scavenge for food with the others, cleared out the zombies from the building and surrounding buildings. He contributed. He continued to live even though every day he wanted to hide under the covers and replay the moments he spent with Anita over and over again in his head.

“I’m worried about you, Chris,” Zack said in a low voice, hoping it wouldn’t carry out to the others.

Christine sat up in bed, legs crossed, and leaned forward in Zack’s direction, waiting for his explanation.

“You hold up in your room most days, never coming out to see anyone else. Even if you didn’t say anything, just showing your face would ease everyone’s worry over you.” His voice started to grow in volume and tension.

With a breath, he checked himself and continued on. It was a conversation that was long overdue. It needed to happen. Christine needed a reality check. Maybe it would be the thing to snap her out of her downward spiral.

“When you do leave the room, you go straight to the patio with Liam’s bow to practice for hours.”
“It’s all I have left of him!” Christine said defensively as she sprung up from the bed.

Zack was on his feet before his friend could take a step.

“I lost the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with! He wasn’t just some person I saw a few times and fantasized about, Zack! You have no idea what I’m going through!” Tears welled up in her eyes. Her hands shook as they flew wildly around. “You have no idea what Liam meant to me or what I meant to him! You—“

But before she could get the last words out, Zack wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. He smelled of sweat and outdoors. His large arms hugged her to his chest.

Her tears flowed freely. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his shirt. “I didn’t mean it. I just—“

“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”

The slow, steadiness of his breath calmed her down enough to stifle her sobbing. She pulled away slightly, sniffling, and looked up into Zack’s bearded face.

“You’re the only friend I have.” Her lips pulled slightly at the corners, though it looked as if even this small act of happiness pained her.

Zack bent down and laid his lips on her forehead where her blonde hair met her fair skin and kissed. “I know. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulled away completely now and wiped the wetness from under her big, blue eyes. “Well, that’s not entirely true.”

Zack cocked his head to the side in a way that reminded Christine of a confused puppy. It almost made her want to smile. Almost.

“We still have to go to Chicago.”

Zack turned and peered out the window at the surrounding woods below. The moon shone off the bare branches of the trees, not quite penetrating all the way to the black ground below. He scratched his thick, brown hair and turned back to his friend. “I don’t know…It’s still pretty cold outside for a long trip and not everyone in the group is where I would like them to be fighting-wise.”

Christine rolled her eyes and turned him around by the shoulder aggressively. “It’s been forty degrees outside for a week now. The snow is all melted. It would be Spring Break in the sane world for God’s sake!”

Zack huffed out a small chuckle as his eyes drifted to the ground in thought.

“It’s time, Zack. We need to do this…for Liam…for everyone.”

Zack’s head rose slowly, his brown eyes focused on Christine’s delicate though determined features. He pursed his lips together and nodded his head.

“Okay,” he said so softly it was almost a whisper, “for Liam.”

IV

The apartment was quiet, almost peaceful, cloaked in the thick blackness of the dead of night. Small deep breaths could be heard from the bodies curled up on the couch and floor, if anyone was awake to hear them. Inside the bedroom, Christine fell asleep sitting up on the bed, her head leaned on Zack’s shoulder for support as he stared at the white wall across from him.

Taking everyone with only what they can carry and leaving the comforts of the apartment was a terrifying thought. It wasn’t because he was afraid to go out there. In fact, he spent most of his time out in the world alone. The zombies didn’t make him squirm. They looked disgusting and smelled putrid, but he was quick and talented with his longsword. He hadn’t had a close call in weeks. But taking these people, most of whom he didn’t know that well and surely didn’t believe in their capabilities, and pushing them out into the cruel wilderness…that he wasn’t sure he was ready to do. Their lives would be in his hands. They looked to him as their leader, a role he had never lobbied for, but was handed anyhow. If someone died out there, no matter what the cause, that was on him. He knew the overwhelming weight of responsibility he would feel should he failed. He felt it when Anita was killed.

Slowly, he edged his shoulder out from under Christine’s head and laid her down gently on the pillow. With small steps so he wouldn’t wake her, he backed away. She finally seemed to be having a decent night’s sleep, something she needed if they were going to head out into the messed up world soon. When his back hit the door handle he twisted it open and slipped out without being heard.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he shut the door gently. His body felt weak from the emotional draining he’d endured with their talk of Liam. For a moment, he wished desperately Liam was there so he could talk to him, get his advice on what to do. Then, he remembered all the times he heard Christine talking in her room, presumably alone. But she wasn’t alone, was she? Many times he’d heard her say Liam’s name while conversing, as if he were right there with her. Nothing terrified him more. He didn’t want to lose another friend, but it felt like she was slipping away already. What’s dead should stay dead and that included Liam.

From outside the front door, a stair creaked loudly. Zack’s eyes popped open. There was another creak. Lee Hickey, the giant Irishman, was already on his feet clutching a tire iron he’d found on their last outing for supplies. When Olivia Darling tried to go to the door, weathered bat gripped tight in her hands, Lee held out the metal rod to stop her.

“You serious, Hickey?” she whispered, her cheeks flushed with annoyance.

He didn’t answer, just narrowed his eyes and stared at her the way a father would if he caught his daughter sneaking out.

Olivia huffed out a sigh and lowered her bat, rooted at Lee’s side. “Next time, I’m going,” she said under her breath. “I can handle myself, thank you.”

Lee’s eyes drifted over in her direction, but not a single muscle in his body moved. His ears were trained on the other side of the door as another stair let out a groan from the weight of a body.

Zack unsheathed his steel sword that lay by his sleeping bag and held it out in front of him with both hands. He took large, but soft steps on the padded beige carpet as he made his way slowly to the bolted front door. He almost didn’t dare to breathe in case it could be heard by whomever was on the other side. Whoever it was, they were making their way slowly to the group of huddled survivors inside.

By that time, the others in the apartment had heard the noise and started to stir from their rest. Gretchen Moore stretched her hands high over her head and let out a silent yawn that wrenched her jaw wide open. “What’s going on?” she whispered in a ragged morning voice.

“Shhh!” Lee, Zack, and Olivia hissed together.

Gretchen’s hands flopped down to her side as she sat up on the couch. Finally, her eyes adjusted to the dark and spotted Zack creeping along with his replica Game of Thrones sword. Her jaw clenched tight. She jumped when she felt a hand reach up from the floor to grip her thigh. When she saw manicured pink fingernails she let out a breath of relief.

Carolyn Bock looked up at Gretchen from the floor with wide blue eyes. Her long, mermaid blonde hair was ruffled and stuck out as it draped around her round face. “Is it the dead?” she whispered so softly no one could hear her but Gretchen. “Have they learned to climb stairs? Are they coming? Are we going to have to climb down the balcony like we practiced? I don’t know if I can do that again—“

“Shut it!” Gretchen whispered back angrily.

Carolyn’s lips stopped moving, but hung open like a wounded child.

Zack finally made it to the door. He leaned his ear against the cold faux-wood steel as his fingers slowly worked the bolts. There wasn’t a single sound in the apartment at that moment. If he wasn’t waiting for something on the other side, it might have been peaceful. But there was something on the other side. He heard the shuffle of feet, two he believed. One larger and slow while the other one smaller and quicker. Zack’s heart sped up. With slow breaths, he forced himself to calm down.

Then, he heard it…a whisper.

“We need to be quiet,” the voice said softly.

Zack threw the door open and reached out into the darkness blindly. With a heavy thud, a large figure was thrown into the apartment. Behind it, a small shadow lunged inside, shrieking.

V

Zack had his sword raised, ready to bring it down on the thing curled up on the floor. There were screams coming from all ends of the cramped apartment. The scrape of a match was heard beneath the din. A dim light filled the small area of chaos.

“Stop! Stop!” the man on the floor shouted, his hands up to guard his face.

“Get the hell away from my dad!” a teenage girl said from behind.

The young girl screamed and then Zack felt excruciating pain from something colliding with his shoulder. He went down next to the cowering man, his arms spread out as his face rested on the carpet. He groaned and attempted to push himself up. He felt the warmth of fresh blood running down his shoulder.

There was a small click of a door opening and Zack felt soft hands grip him and pull him up.

“Are you okay?” Christine asked, blue eyes glistening.

He brushed himself off and shook himself free of her, more harshly than intended, “I’m fine.” The contrast of scarlet droplets on the beige carpet caught his eye.

By then, the unknown teenage girl who’d hit him had stopped screaming. She stood in a readied stance, baseball bat held tightly in her small hands, sharp nails sticking out from it at odd angles. The girl’s chest heaved as her brown eyes remained trained on Zack. He matched her glare-for-glare as he sized her up.

She couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Her rough, black hair fell in tight frizzed curls around her face and shoulders. She dressed in brightly, mismatched colored layers, as if she picked things up here and there without concern for who she was taking them from. Her black combat books hugged her small feet, the leather groaning each time she shifted her weight.

Once he was sure the girl wasn’t going to attack him again, he allowed his eyes to move from her to the man on the floor. Zack assumed it was the girl’s father. His hands were still over his face, concealing his identity and his intent.

In one swift motion, Zack reached down and pulled the man up by the collar. He whimpered pathetically. The young girl took a step toward them, but Zack quickly shut it down.

“Nuh-uh! You stay right there, Babe Ruth. I just want to ask a few questions.”

She didn’t take another step, but she didn’t lower her bat either. She never even blinked.

The stranger straightened his jacket and looked up at the face of the bearded man who held his fate in his hands. “Zack?!” the man asked.

“Luke?!” Zack’s voice immediately gave it away. He was disappointed to see Luke alive at all. “What are you doing here? We thought you were dead!”

“Hoped I was dead is a more accurate description, isn’t it?”

Zack didn’t respond, but fixed the middle-aged man with a withering stare.

“All right, all right,” Luke held his hands up, stepping over to his daughter. “Imani, put the bat down. I know these folks. They lived in the building with me.”

She did as her father said, but her eyes warned Zack not to make another move, but at the same time almost begging him to so she could use her bat again.

“Coward,” Zack said softly but sternly.

“Excuse me?” Luke retorted. He turned his head so his left ear would have a better chance of hearing him say it again.

“You’re a coward!” Zack shouted, causing everyone in the room to jump. “You left in the middle of the night with no word, no warning. We thought you’d gone to get your ex-wife and kid, that you’d be back to help us, but you never came back! Do you know what one less person helping to get supplies every day looks like?”

Luke stared at Zack, unable to look away though he shifted uncomfortably.

“It meant Liam, Ralph, and I had to go on more runs together. It meant that when Ralph’s baby needed formula he had to search day and night for it. It meant that sometimes we had to go out alone at night because there were only three of us doing all the work! It meant Ralph’s wife had to watch her husband die and then come back to life just to rip her to pieces. God knows what happened to their little girl, Lilly! It meant that when the fences came down and the zombies swarmed in, Liam didn’t have enough help to stop them and he was bit! He died! Christine here had to plunge a knife into his skull to stop him from turning into one of those things!” His hands gestured wildly as he shouted.

Zack had worked himself up so much, even the people of his own group inched away from him. As he screamed, spit flew from his mouth and his cheeks burned a fiery red. With each painful memory spoken, he took a step closer to Luke until he was chest to nose with the short librarian.

Luke couldn’t contain himself. His wide brown eyes clouded with tears that spilled over and rolled down his dark-skinned cheeks. He glanced around Zack’s shoulder to look at Christine. She held a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. It almost broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out through ragged breaths. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to them, dad,” Imani spoke up from the foyer. “Not after the way this jerk treated you before you left. Not after the things he said. He’s just pissed he couldn’t take care of his own so he’s taking it out on you.”

Zack stepped around Luke and moved toward Imani, but Luke put himself in his path again. “Let’s just calm down and talk about this,” he said. “We’ve all been through a lot.”

Suddenly, a fist flew out from nowhere and struck Luke in the jaw. Before he knew what happened, he was down on the floor clutching his face. The room was in an uproar again. Some gasped while others snickered.

“That’s for locking me in my apartment!” Carolyn Bock yelled with her fists still raised. “I had to climb out a third-story window!”

Again, Luke was crumpled on the floor in the fetal position with his hands in front of his face. A lump had already formed along his left jaw-line, the purple and blue discoloration quickly taking over his brown skin.

Zack held an arm out to separate Carolyn from Luke, though a creeping smile played at the corners of his mouth. “The man wants to explain himself, let’s let him explain himself…if he can.”

Luke eyed the group suspiciously as he slowly pushed himself up to his feet again.

“Talk,” Zack growled.

“Well, I…I mean…well there was—“

“Let’s start with why you planted one of the dead in your apartment after you left.”

Luke’s brows pulled together as his mouth slowly dropped open. He was dumbfounded, unable to answer.

“You knew we would check on you, come looking for you to see if you’d come back. Was it a trap to kill us?” Zack demanded answers. “Jerry hurt his back fighting off the zombie you left in there for us. He might still be alive if it wasn’t for you, you piece of—“

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It all happened so fast!” Luke interrupted, his eyes welling with more tears. “I left to find my family, but all I found was Imani. I brought her back here to collect some things before we set out to find somewhere to live. I meant what I said. This place wasn’t safe, and I was right, wasn’t I? The walls came down and—“

“You better choose your words carefully, Librarian.” Zack’s eyes narrowed to angered slits.

Luke pursed his lips and let out a slow sigh from his nostrils. He swallowed the saliva that had collected in his mouth and continued on carefully. “I didn’t know they could climb the stairs.”

“They can’t,” Zack retorted.

“Well, this one did. It pulled itself up one step at a time with its hands until it was at my door. We were caught off guard, without our weapons to defend ourselves. Quickly, we got around it and made a break for it. I shut it in the apartment, not thinking anyone was going to go in there again, only thinking about saving my life.”

Zack glared daggers at Luke.

“My daughter’s life,” Luke added strongly. “It wasn’t until we were already in the car, miles away from here that I thought about what would happen in the morning as you guys made your rounds. I knew how many you and Liam and Ralph had killed together. I thought you guys could handle it, no problem.”

“Guess that zombie caught us with our guards down. When we went in there, we thought we were going to find you, maybe your family, and give you the lecture of your life. Not be greeted by a blood-thirsty monster!”

“I’m sorry,” Luke breathed out as more tears collected in his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, to die because of my actions. All I wanted was my family…I just wanted my family.”

With those last few words, Luke couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. He covered his eyes with one of his large hands and sobbed loudly, his shoulders racking with force. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

The soft touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder made him startle. When he looked up, revealing bloodshot, tear -soaked eyes, he saw that it was Christine who gripped him comfortingly.

“Where’s your ex-wife? Your step-son?” she asked softly.

This sent Luke into another fit of sobs. “I wanted to help them,” he cried out. “I just wanted to help them. I went there to help them.”

“Tell us what happened.”

Luke nodded his head.

VI

Luke Benson crept from his apartment in the middle of the night. The half-moon hung in the sky peacefully, as if it enjoyed watching the chaos that consumed the world below it. It cast long shadows, mocking those that had to find their way in a zombie-ridden land. He shut the door as quietly as he could, not daring to wake any of the other men inhabiting the building. After his spat with Zack at the old lady’s funeral, he wanted to avoid them at all costs. That was part of the reason he had decided to leave that night. He barely had time to pack anything. All he could think of was his wife and daughter and getting them all somewhere safe.

Once he had tip-toed down the stairs and out into the uncovered Dune Ridge Apartment’s parking lot, his heart raced. It was almost impossible to decipher the shadow of a tree from the shadow of a hungry corpse lying in wait. Each step he took, he tried to force himself to take a breath and then release it, but it kept getting caught in his chest. The overwhelming desire to cough took hold of him, but he refused to open his mouth to release it into the night where anyone or anything could hear him.

When he reached his old Buick, he was finally able to let out the air he’d been holding. He shut himself inside as quickly as he could and slammed a hand down on the lock. When he turned the key, the old engine rumbled, gurgled, and grumbled to life. There was nothing he could do about the noise at that point. If someone heard him, then they heard him. He would drive away if they tried to stop him and leave them in his dust. The plan was to never return again. How could he live peacefully with those people and with the dead trying beat down their walls? He had to find somewhere impenetrable to take his family.

As he drove down the toll road to Whiting, the small lakeside town outside Chicago that his family lived in, he thought about the last time he’d seen his ex-wife. He had been picking up his daughter for the weekend before the dead overpowered the earth. Her beautiful, dark eyes glowered at him after he rang the doorbell, three hours late. No matter what he said, it didn’t matter. He had said it all to her before and she was done hearing it. Nothing he did made her smile anymore. But now, things have changed. The world was crumbling and it would force her to see what was truly important. He would make her smile again when he showed up to save her.

What used to be a forty minute drive at seventy miles an hour was now a fifteen mile an hour crawl around the wreckage that littered the road. Abandoned cars, suitcases, clothes, garbage, dead bodies; it was all scattered from one end to the other. As he drove, Luke found his mind drifting to the people those things belonged to and how they came to lose them. Each time he arrived at the conclusion that they probably met an unexpected and bloody end. Some were even lying in pieces next to their things as proof.

When he finally made it into Whiting, air caught in his lungs and stung. It was worse than he’d imagined. The main strip of buildings on 119th Street were burned to the ground. Smoke no longer rose from the charred pits of the brick businesses. The road was impassible, even to someone on foot. Luke’s jaw separated as he stared, stopped in the middle of the four-way intersection next to what used to be a White Castle. Instead of going straight into the wreckage, he turned left down a brick road and weaved his way around the neighborhood to his ex-wife’s house on Central Avenue.

Even though there was no one out on the roads, especially a police officer patrolling the area as he had foolishly hoped, Luke still felt the need to stop at all the signs and use his turn signal. Just because civilization had crumbled that didn’t mean he had to forget how things used to be. He felt in his heart he could keep civility going if he just pretended like everything was fine and obeyed the rules of the old world.

After two right turns, Luke stopped in front of a two-story brick home with a large front porch. The heavy front door and storm door were closed, which was a good sign. He let out a sigh as he gripped the steering wheel tightly in both hands. It was the moment of truth. Either he would go in there and find his ex-wife, daughter, and her new husband and his boy. Or if I’m lucky I’ll find my ex-wife and daughter, with no trace of anyone else, alive or dead. He blinked a few times to try to dissipate the thought. He felt sick just thinking it, but at the same time still hoped it was true. But he knew there was a chance he could go in there and find no one. He didn’t even want to think of the worse-case scenario. It was too gruesome and sent shivers down his spine.

Before he could scare himself out of going in at all, he jumped out of the car and shut the door quietly. It was best not to draw any attention to himself. There might be other people in the surrounding homes, watching to see if they could take advantage of someone alone. And Luke wasn’t dumb. He knew that even though he couldn’t see any of the dead lurking around at that moment, they wouldn’t be far off and they could be on him in a matter of seconds if he wasn’t careful.

He strode up the porch steps two at a time and opened the storm door. When it came time to grab the handle of the main door, he froze. Would he really be able to handle it if he found them dead? His eyes glossed over, making it hard for him to place his hand properly on the door handle, but he did. He gave it a turn. His chest clenched when it opened freely.

Inside, it was quiet and dark. The foyer blinds were open, allowing the light from the moon to stream in, but everything beyond those two windows was blackness. Slowly, he stepped inside. He shut the storm door behind him and locked it, but left the front door wide open. He wasn’t sure why he did this. He only knew that it made him feel better, like he had an easy getaway and security from the outside world. With his left hand outstretched, he felt his way down the hallway and to the living room. He stood in silence, his ears tuned to hear the slightest of movements. But he heard nothing.

He felt his way to the kitchen. As he passed the open door to the small bathroom his heart beat against his chest. He pictured a gnarled, grizzly hand pulling back the curtain to the shower, the tub filled with deep red water as blood oozed from the rotting corpse stepping out, its arms outstretched to grab ahold of him.

Luke shook his head and the images disappeared. He realized he had stopped and was staring, but there was nothing in front of him. Only an empty bathroom with a pile of soiled towels on the floor. He inched his way into the kitchen. The open concept didn’t leave much room for hiding, which was a relief to him. There was nothing lurking unless something was flat on the floor behind the small island. He counted that room empty as well.

That only left the upstairs bedrooms to search. He took each step carefully, trying his hardest to distribute his weight evenly so the creaking of the stairs was minimal. His heart raced again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear. It was from excitement. He was sure he’d find Kiana and Imani upstairs, huddled together, just waiting for him to come and rescue them.

The first bedroom he came to was Imani’s. He pushed open the door, which wasn’t latched shut all the way, and leaned in to look around. It was impossible to see anything unless it was within a foot’s range from his face. Reluctantly, he took out his cell phone, which he’d been charging with the solar charger Liam had given him, and turned on the flashlight.

Blueish-white light immediately filled the room, leaving only the deepest corners and crannies shadowed in darkness. Each breath he took rushed from his nostrils heavily. He tried to slow it down, to control it, but there was nothing he could do. His chest was weighted down by the many fears of what he would find. But as far as he could see from the doorway, no one was there.

He crept over to the next door and opened it slowly. Inside, he saw a familiar room. The sweet smell brought tears to his eyes. It was the room he had shared with Kiana. The bed was torn apart, but the comforter was the same one they used to cuddle up under years ago. His eyes wandered around the room until they landed on a strange mass moving in the corner on the opposite side of the bed. He took a step forward, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. Quickly, he aimed the light from his phone at the shaking figure.

“Kiana? Imani?” His voice elated with joy. He ran over to them and knelt on the floor to wrap his arms around them both. “I’m so happy to see you!”

“What are you doing here?” Kiana asked. It wasn’t with the usual dark tone she reserved for when he showed up unexpected to see their daughter, but landed softly with hot breath in his ear.

“I came to get you out of here.”

“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” Kiana breathed out.

Luke helped her and his fourteen-year-old daughter up from the floor. He checked them over to make sure they weren’t hurt, fussing over every little scratch or bruise they had.

“Luke, we’re fine, I’m tellin’ ya, we’re fine.” Kiana brushed him off, but then pulled him in for a tight squeeze.

Imani stood next to them, her eyes gazing up at her parents as they embraced. It should have been a moment every little girl whose parents are divorced waited for, but it wasn’t. Not with the power out, the room sweltering from the summer heat, and monsters roaming the streets looking for someone to take a bite out of.

“Daddy, what happened to Johnathan?

Luke released his hold on Kiana and looked down at Imani. “I have no idea, sweetheart. What happened to him? Where is he?”

The young teen’s shoulders shrugged, bouncing her black spring-loaded curls around. “Last we heard, he was in the kitchen.”

Luke’s chest compressed till it hurt. “The kitchen?” There was no way he had missed a twelve-year-old boy walking around. Even though he didn’t know Luke that well, only from the times he would come by to bring Imani home or pick her up, he knew the boy would be scared and run to him if he saw him. There was no way that child was walking the dark halls of the house alone unless…

Guttural growls and hissing gave away the young boy, but a second too late for Luke to react. He turned around and saw red as the boy lunged forward to sink his teeth into Luke’s dark, soft flesh. On instinct, the librarian stepped aside, throwing his arms around Imani in protection. The high-pitched scream that followed tore his heart in two.

Kiana reached up from the ground, pinned under her ravenous step-son as his teeth ripped shreds of her skin from her body. When his teeth clamped over her throat, the screaming stopped and turned to volatile gurgling. Tears streaked down Luke’s face.

“Mama! No! Mama!” Imani yelled, struggling to escape her father’s grip. She kicked and fought, but her father was too strong.

Luke dragged her from the room as Kiana lie still on the floor, her only movements created from the jerk of Johnathan’s head as it whipped back to tear another chunk of skin away. Luke’s arms tightened around his daughter as he dragged her down the stairs kicking and screaming.

“We have to help her! We have to save her! Let me go!” Imani yelled.

Once they were outside, Luke shoved his daughter into his car and knelt in front of her to speak on her level and to block her in.

“Sweetheart, she’s gone. Your mama is gone.” His voice was steady, but his lips quivered as he spoke above a whisper.

Her cheeks were soaked with tears. “You’re a coward!” she screamed.

Luke wanted to look around to make sure nothing had heard her, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the hatred burning behind Imani’s glare.

“You could have saved her! You didn’t have to choose! You could have saved both of us if you tried! You didn’t even try! You ran! You just ran!”

Luke stood and shut the door, trying to drown out the accusations, but they rang loudly in his head. He knew his daughter was right. He’d always been a coward, but he had hoped she would never find that out. He hoped she’d never have to see him make the coward’s choice that turned her from him forever, but that’s exactly what had happened.

VII

Everyone in the apartment stared unblinkingly at Luke as he finished his story, fighting back the tears that clouded his vision. He couldn’t take it. Their judgmental gazes fell heavy on his heart until he had to turn to look at the floor. His feet kicked at the ragged carpet, spreading the dirt that was caked into the fibers.

Zack cleared his throat as he processed what he’d just heard. None of it came as a shock to him, but the fact that Luke said it aloud was. He figured the man to be such a coward that he would lie. But Zack was sure the little spitfire would have called him out if he changed an ounce of her beloved mama’s death story.

Imani looked at the back of her father’s head with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Her small hands gripped the handle of her bat with knuckle-bearing intensity. She wasn’t letting her guard down. It didn’t matter if the group knew her father.

Zack was amazed at the level of smarts the girl seemed to have. He didn’t trust anyone with his life except himself either. But that wasn’t all that was there. Behind her hatred, Zack could see a sense of responsibility, a need to protect. Maybe because her dad proved himself to be such a worthless coward time and again she felt she had to protect them both. His mind wandered to the things the poor young teen had to have done to keep them alive all this time.

“I’m so sorry, Luke…Imani,” Christine said softly as she held eye contact with each of them.

“Thank you,” Luke muttered. Though Imani didn’t say a word, her brown eyes conveyed gratitude.

“So what’s the plan, Luke,” Zack said, punctuating the man’s name with contempt. “If I hadn’t pulled you in, where would you have slithered off to?”

Right away, Luke turned his eyes to look into Imani’s. Zack noted the intense yet silent warning the father gave his daughter. It was a look he’d gotten from his own father throughout his teenage years, when his dad wanted him to keep his trap shut about something. It was obvious there was something Luke didn’t want the group to know.

“Where have you been hiding out all these months?” Zack demanded.

No one said a word. The air felt thick as the silence penetrated and sank into it.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” Gretchen interrupted when the silence became too awkward to bear. “We have water, crackers, spam, um, I’m not sure what else at the moment…”

“Gretchen, please,” Zack said without turning to look at her. “Luke was just about to tell us where he’s been all this time.”

It seemed as if everyone in the room held their breath in anticipation. Could there possibly be another group somewhere, surviving? Maybe even surviving better than they were?

Luke shrugged his shoulders and looked back at Imani again before answering. The girl furrowed her brow, as if now to warn her own dad not to say anything. He turned back to the eight onlookers and smacked his lips.

“We’ve been driving, walking the area, looking for somewhere safe to hide. We spent some nights in abandoned houses. Nothing spectacular, but it’s kept us going.”

Zack’s head nodded in contemplation. The room fell into complete silence once more as everyone, including Luke and Imani, waited to see what Zack would say next. Without a sound or warning, Zack held his longsword up to Luke’s throat.

The middle-aged man whimpered, his face scrunched in paralyzing fear as he tried to shrink back from the sharp tip.

“Put it down!” Imani shouted, moving to Zack with the speed and gracefulness of a ninja. Her bat was poised to strike, the nails driven in at random darkened with red.

“No way!” Olivia Darling laughed from the back of the room. She stepped out from behind Lee Hickey’s broad frame. “Move over, green giant.” She gave him a playful shove, but Hickey didn’t budge. “I have a bat too! Nice weapon choice. They’re the best, aren’t they? Silent but deadly, easy to handle. I like the nails, too. Nice touch.”

Everyone turned to look at Olivia, their faces widened in disbelief.

“What?” she asked, nonchalant. “I appreciate a strong chick with a bat.”

As a group, everyone seemed to roll their eyes and turn their attention back to the situation unfurling in front of them.

“What I think—” Zack said slowly, never taking his eyes off Luke’s. He never once met Imani’s gaze, even though she was the one with his life in her hands at that moment. “—is that good ol’ Luke here is lying to us.”

Imani took a step closer and raised her bat even higher above her head. Zack didn’t flinch, didn’t move a centimeter, keeping his sharp sword at Luke’s throat without a second thought to what would happen to him.

“I think these two have found a new community.”

VIII

Zack scrutinized the two newcomers with darkened eyes. The muscles of his jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to beat the information out of them, verbally or physically. Emotionally, he was spent. After yesterday’s food run, his body ached and his head pounded. All he really wanted to do was check in with Christine privately, make sure she was okay, and maybe sleep the rest of the early morning away. That was all. But this was too important to blow off. If there were others out there surviving, he wanted to know about it.

Luke tried to avoid eye contact with everyone in the room. All eyes were trained on him and his daughter. He felt their questions and accusations burning into him. How did Zack know they’d found another group? The two of them didn’t look particularly well taken care of. Luke wore beat up, dirtied jeans that had belonged to another man. His long-sleeved, gray shirt had two gaping holes, one in the front that exposed his belly button, the other on his shoulder. The faint red stains around the openings told him what happened to the man who’d worn it before him.

Imani dressed in layers to keep herself as warm or cold as she pleased. It mostly depended on what activities she had planned for the day—fencing, archery, practice swings, running, gymnastics, soccer, karate—whatever she could do to expend the energy built-up inside her. And she was good at all of it, the very opposite of her dad. He was all numbers and words. He couldn’t catch a ball to save a life. It was amazing all the things she found out he couldn’t do to save someone’s life. But Imani, she was ferocious. She was going to survive this world in her pink tank-top, white and grey stripped shirt, black zip-up hoodie, black leggings, jeans shorts, and boots. She took care of her father. She was the one out there slaughtering every day for their survival, and every day it made her see him as more and more worthless. She didn’t want to think these things about her father, but she could feel the bitterness growing inside her.

But no one in the room knew these things. As far as they could tell, he was doing a phenomenal job at taking care of himself and his fourteen-year-old daughter. To them, he was the reason they were still alive. Well, except to Zack. That brute had jumped right to the conclusion that Luke wasn’t capable of taking care of anyone, so they had to have found a community to take them in. Luke’s face turned red at the accusation, not because he was offended, but because he was ashamed. Zack was right. Luke wouldn’t have made it on his own. They had enlisted the help of another community the minute they found one. Luke vowed to serve in any capacity he could just to gain their protection. He wanted to think he did it all for his daughter, but he had no doubt she could take care of herself after spending two days on the road with her. No, he did it selfishly, for himself.

“Yes, we did find other people,” he said solemnly.

“Dad!” Imani barked. Her face was scrunched tightly with betrayal. “How could you? We weren’t supposed to tell anyone!”

“Trust me, Imani. This one—” Luke nodded his head at Zack “—wouldn’t have given us much choice in the matter.”

Imani turned her eyes to Zack and looked him up and down. He wore a proud smile as he shrugged his shoulders in agreement. Her nose wrinkled in blatant disgust, as if he smelled of decomposing carcass. “I could have handled him.”

“You go, girl!” Olivia shouted from the corner.

Imani tried not to smile, but her eyes gave her away. She was proud of the fact that she could protect herself and her father, who often hid behind her when a zombie came their way. She had no idea what the word coward truly meant until she journeyed through the apocalypse with that pitiful man. Her mom had always called Luke a coward after the divorce, saying he abandoned his responsibilities and the relationship when it got tough, but Imani always defended him. She always stuck up for him, saying he hadn’t abandoned her. He still came around and brought her over for weekends, even though sometimes he’d leave her alone to go into work for a few hours here and there. Now that the world had gone mad, she looked back on those situations with new insight. He’d always been a coward. She was just too naive to see it before.

“So,” Zack said with wide eyes. “Where is this group you found?”

Luke’s eyes darted around the room. There were people he knew and some he didn’t, none of which he could trust. “Halfway between here and Whiting in New Chicago, about a twenty-five minute drive…before all the road blockage. Now, it’s about a fourteen mile hike. Took about 6 hours with all the detours and the dead out there trying to get us.

“I’m guessing this one here kept you at a good pace, too,” Zack said, pointing at Imani with his sword.

“I made sure we got here,” she rebutted.

“I bet you did.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or impressed.

The room fell into a silence as all parties thought about where to take the conversation next.

“New Chicago is halfway to the real Chicago,” Christine said, the meekness leaving her voice for once to exude strength and eagerness. “It would be a great stopping point for us during our travel. Can you take us there?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up,” Zack said, waving his hand and sword through the air. “No one said anything about joining this guy.”

“Not joining,” Christine argued. “But if we’re going to walk all the way to Chicago, which is over 35 miles away, we should have designated stopping points.”

“Wait, who’s walking to Chicago?” Carolyn croaked with panic. “I thought we were waiting out winter here.”

“We were,” Christine said firmly. “And winter is over.”

“I’m with Christine. It’s time we left, like we always planned,” Gretchen piped in, but instead of eliciting a smile from her sister, it only caused an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Olivia roared with her bat in the air. “Lee and I are in!”

Lee stood tall with his arms crossed giving no indication one way or another.

Zack stared at Christine with no response to what she’d originally said. She knew that he knew she was right.

Christine continued on with her argument. “And wouldn’t it be nice if one of those stopping points had food and water and shelter for us to safely pass the night? Say, a community with someone we actually know to introduce us?”

Zack shifted from one foot to the other while the rest of his people gawked at him in anticipation. It seemed Christine wasn’t the only one eager to leave the apartment and get that journal in the right hands. Why had Zack been clinging to life at the apartment anyway? There was nothing left for him there. It wasn’t that he was scared. He’d been out in the open, exposed to the elements and the zombies plenty of times, many times overnight. He always made it back.

That was just it. He always had somewhere to come back to. Zack let out a huff from his nostrils as he looked at the floor. He had a home. If they left the apartments and tried to brave their way together to Chicago, who knows if he would ever have another home again. What if they got there and there was no lab with scientist ready to dissect the journal’s entries? And what if after that disappointment, no one wanted to make the long journey back? He would be stuck in a foreign place with nowhere to call home. Maybe that was a luxury people just couldn’t afford anymore, though. He wondered how many people actually had homes since the start of it all.

“Okay,” Zack finally said as he raised his eyes to look into Luke’s. “We’ll go. But I’m telling you now…this better not be a set-up.”

Luke raised his hands in self-defense and took a step back. “Hey, you pulled us in here, man. We didn’t come looking for you. Of course it’s not a set-up.”

That seemed to satisfy Zack’s suspicions for the moment. He flopped back on the couch, letting his arm fall over Gretchen’s ankles as she sat curled up.

She looked to him, her face flushed and her eyes wide. “So, we’re really going, huh? We’re leaving here for good?” Her voice was elevated with excitement and fear.

Zack feigned a half-smile and nodded his head. “Looks that way.”

“All right!” Olivia shouted as she jumped in front of Lee. “I’ve been waiting for this day! Let’s get out of this dump!”

Lee continued to stand silently behind her with crossed arms, as if he were a giant Gollum.

Gale Lewis tried to stand up from her sleeping bag on the floor, fell back to her knees, and tried one more time as she huffed deep breaths. “You know, some of us can’t move as quick,” she said as a reminder to no one in particular. “It might take us longer than two days to do this.”

“You mean you can’t move that quick,” Rowan retorted.

“Yes, jerk-wad, I mean me. I am still a part of this, ain’t I?” Gale rolled her eyes.

“Of course you are, Gale,” Gretchen said from the couch with a smile. “We would never leave you behind.”

The older woman looked down at her young friend with warmth. “I know you wouldn’t, darlin’.”

Dan Anderson knelt down and rolled up his sleeping bag without a word. He hadn’t said much of anything since he mistakenly killed Anita. She was his friend, and Zack’s love interest. He wasn’t just grief-stricken and in shock from taking the life of someone he cared about…he was also terrified Zack would get his revenge one day. He held his sleeping bag tightly to his chest with both arms. A crumpled packet of cigarettes stuck out of the front pocket of his jeans. He wanted to reach for one, but didn’t want to leave the conversation. It was the most important one any of them had had in months, and Zack made everyone who wanted to smoke leave the apartment and go out to the patio.

“Are we leaving right this minute?” Carolyn asked from the window seat. “Can’t we get a little more beauty rest before we head out?”

Imani rolled her eyes at the blonde woman and looked away to the wall in a huff. She’d had enough of these people already. The last thing she wanted was to travel with them and have them stay in her new home, with her new friends. And what if they found out what she and her dad took when they left the apartments the last time? What would this group think of them? Would they try to kill them? Would they try to take it back? Her heart raced at the thought, though on the outside she was cool. She hardened her face as she silently made a vow to herself…she would never let them know.

IX

In the end, the group decided to rest for a few more hours and wait for daybreak before they headed out on their journey. While everyone crawled back into their sleeping bags, or onto the couch, Luke sprawled out on the tough carpet and fell right to sleep. Imani, on the other hand, refused to even lay down let alone closer her eyes. She sat with her back straight, as if chosen to watch over the apartment and everyone in it.

Christine saw the young girl sitting up and decided to join her since she couldn’t fall back asleep either. Her mind raced with thoughts of what they would find once they got to Chicago, what would happen if scientists were there to figure out a cure, what the world would be like afterwards. She knew there was no going back and it would never be the same again, but it could be better. Anything was better than this.

“So, what’s it like where you live?” Christine asked in a whisper as she sat across from the teenager.

Imani let her dark eyes fall on Christine. Not a single muscle in her face relaxed as she contemplated what to say and what not to say. She didn’t want to be rude and ignore the woman—she seemed nice enough and she didn’t look like a threat to anyone. But she knew there was so much she couldn’t reveal to outsiders. They would never understand.

“Well, it’s underground,” she said plainly.

Christine’s ice-blue eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. “Underground? That’s amazing. How?”

“It was an old bomb shelter on one of the guy’s farm. His parents built it during a war or something.”

Christine didn’t seem that old to Imani. Though her face was somewhat gaunt, she still held her beautiful youth in her eyes and expressions. It gave her a trustworthy quality the others didn’t possess. It felt good to talk to her. Too good.

Imani shut her mouth and turned her gaze toward the blank wall.

Christine scratched her nose carelessly, not seeming to notice the change in her new friend. “I’ve heard of those, but I’ve never actually seen one. I’m excited to see yours.”

“It’s not mine,” Imani said flatly.

“Well, no, but I mean, I’m excited to see where you live. You seem like a good kid.”

Imani turned to face Christine again, but this time her eyes were soft. “Thanks,” she said, internally scolding herself for letting her eyes glaze over with tears.

Her mother always used to tell her she was a good kid, and she was. She knew she was. Every day she made her bed, cleaned her room, helped her mama cook, and took care of her step-brother. She went to school, studied, got good grades, and participated in extra-curricular sports and clubs. And even though all her friends had started dating boys in their class, she never once even considered it. She didn’t want to end up like her mother, sad and divorced and forced to marry again just to survive and provide. She didn’t want a boy to rule her life.

For some reason, she wanted to tell Christine all of this, to pour her heart out to this kind-faced stranger to see if she understood, if anyone left in the world understood. But she didn’t. She turned her eyes away, sniffed, and let out a frustrated breath through her nostrils.

Christine had learned to read people at an early age. It was what made her such a good lawyer. She knew Imani wanted to be left alone, she just wasn’t sure why. A teenage girl stuck with her father should want to converse with anyone else that would listen to her. That’s when she realized just how bad it must be out there, how much being out there could change a person, right down to their general make-up. Imani wasn’t just a fourteen-year-old girl anymore. She was a warrior, a survivor. She was a part of this new world, and that made Christine want to bury her head and never come up again. What hope was there for the ones so heavily changed from it all?

The two sat in silence, subtly avoiding any more contact with each other. They watched the sun rise up from the horizon until it shone through the shut blinds of the bay window. Liam had always insisted that they keep the blinds and the black-out curtains closed in case the light, even the dimmest of lights, attracted any unwanted guests. Things had gotten lax since his passing. Liam’s ghost or whatever it was constantly reminded Christine of this when they talked each day, but she knew he couldn’t make her do it anymore. He couldn’t do it for her either. He was in her head, and there he stayed.

“I don’t know if you should trust them,” Liam whispered in her ear as she watched the light through the blinds change from pink to yellow.

She wanted to answer him so badly. It was torture when he spoke to her and she couldn’t say a word back because someone else was around. If she could lock herself in a room with him alone, she would stay there like that for the rest of her life. But Zack wouldn’t let her. She was aware Zack heard her talking to Liam on occasion, that he was worried for her. But what he didn’t know was that she could see him, feel him, smell him, taste him. How was she expected to give that up forever?

PART TWO

“We are not living in a world where all roads are radii of a circle and where all, if followed long enough, will therefore draw gradually nearer and finally meet at the centre: rather in a world where every road, after a few miles, forks into two, and each of those into two again, and at each fork, you must make a decision.”

—C.S. Lewis

I

The vibration of taught string woke Zack up from a dead sleep. His eyes opened and the apartment was in focus instantly. It was the sound of a bow. The immediate worry of the group being under attack melted away when he realized it could only be one person. He pushed himself off the hard ground and walked over to the patio where the door was cracked open.

Christine Moore released an arrow from the familiar longbow she gripped in her hand. She didn’t flinch at the movement of the door opening or the sound of Zack clearing his throat. Instead, she stared at the homemade target, the one Liam had crafted from the seats of their bar stools. That seemed like ages ago. Her arrow stuck out from the center of the red painted bullseye.

“Good morning,” Zack said through the rasp of his early morning voice. He cleared his throat again, stretched his arms high over his head, and scratched at his thick beard.

Christine didn’t say a word in response, but turned to him with blank eyes. Her mind was still reeling with all the disappointing what ifs that lie ahead.

She looked at me. I guess that’s all I’m going to get out of her today, he thought as he ruffled his hair. “No luck at sleeping, huh?”

“No”, she said and turned her gaze back out to the parking lot below their second story balcony. It wasn’t Zack’s fault she was in a mood again. It never was. But she struggled not letting her mood reflect outward and onto those around her.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. We’ve noticed…well, I’ve noticed…we can hear you—”

But his words were cut off as she quickly knocked another arrow and released it into the cool morning air. There was a sickening thunk as the arrow found its target and the target hit the ground. There was no sound of groaning from a zombie trying to right itself again. Zack knew she’d delivered a perfect head shot.

“Wow, you’ve really gotten good. Must be all that practice,” he said, knowing how hollow and dumb he sounded.

If only he could get through to Christine somehow, reach her grief-stricken mind and give it a good shake to snap her out of it. Whatever she was going through had been good for her archery, but he wasn’t sure that would mean anything once they left the apartment and she faced the monsters that killed her fiancé close up. Would she be able to handle it or would she freeze at the sight of them? The answer to that question scared him. He didn’t want to find out, but it was time.

The rustling of the rest of the group gathering their items swept through the balcony door and out to the two friends. Christine threw the bow over her shoulder as she turned to look at Zack. There was the smallest hint of a smile in her bitter eyes.

“Looks like it’s time to go,” she said and walked past him.

“Looks that way,” he said to no one. He walked inside and shut the door behind him. His fingers reached for the lock, but then he stopped. What was the point in locking it? They were never coming back. It was a possibility for everyone else in their minds, but he knew in his heart that it was a certainty. None of them would come back.

When everyone was out in the hall, Zack was the last to leave. He went through the same heart-wrenching epiphany as he did on the balcony as he shut the door and, on instinct, went for the keys in his pocket to lock it. Instead, he tossed them on the doormat. If anyone traveled through there, they would most likely thank their anonymous savior for giving them easy access to a safe place to sleep for the night. That thought alone made it easier for him to lead the group down the stairs and into the parking lot.

The sky was still shifting from night to day, displaying an array of warm colors across the group. In the old world, there would have been moaning and groaning from many of them at having to be up so early, but in this new world, none of them dared to. The only sound that could be heard was the light patter of their feet and a disgusting wet sound as Christine pulled the arrow out of her target practice’s head as she passed by. There was also a grunt as she pulled herself up by a branch to pull the other arrow out of the target in the tree. Rowan, Gale, Olivia, Lee—the people who didn’t know Christine before the downfall of humanity—looked at her from the corner of their eyes. Their faces were unsure as they stepped lightly ahead, Christine at the rear of the group.

Several dead wandered slowly around the abandoned parking lot, but were not close enough to cause any alarm. Luke gave a small gasp as one turned its head and seemed to look directly at him, but no one else paid attention. They walked in a loose-knit group down the winding road through the trees that lead to the main road. The gate to the Dune Ridge community hung on its warped hinges, undoubtedly brought down by the pressure of a relentless hoard smashing against it to get in. Now that the gates were down, it seemed the zombies had forgotten why they wanted to get in there so badly in the first place. Aside from the several stragglers, the group was alone…completely and utterly alone.

Zack looked up as the morning sun rose higher in the sky to reveal the perfect blue of a lovely Spring morning. He still expected to see the white trail marks of an airplane high up there, but the only white in the sky were the wisps of light clouds. A flock of geese flew above them in a “V” formation, their honks breaking up the intolerable silence. It was a sound he’d always cringed at before for its obnoxious quality, but today he was thankful for it. To him, it meant all hope was not lost. If the animals were still alive, maybe the humans had a chance. Maybe they would even find a cure and save some of the infected.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head as he stared down at his boots. He knew how dangerous those thoughts could be. A person could get carried away by useless hope like that. There most likely wasn’t a person alive who could help them and once all the zombies died off, the Earth would simply grow over humanity and start again like some poetic cleansing.

Zack looked back over his shoulder at Christine. Her lips moved, just barely, as she spoke to the empty space next to her.

II

Gretchen jogged lightly up to Zack as he led the pack silently down the town roads toward the Indiana-Illinois toll road. Even though they weren’t able to drive there due to the overwhelming road blockage, they still took the same familiar route. It was the only way Zack knew and the last thing he wanted was to be responsible for getting everyone lost and most likely killed. He noticed Gretchen by his side, but didn’t say anything. He’d never been good with words and rarely felt comfortable being the first to speak.

“She’s doing it again,” she whispered to him.

Zack stared ahead, letting out a weighted sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“So,” she said somewhat indignantly.

“So, what?” Zack was tired of her games. According to Christine, Gretchen left while she was still in high school. That was more than a decade ago. The older sibling went that long without knowing how her own blood was doing, but now all of the sudden she wanted to act like the mother hen. As soon as the bitter thoughts bubbled up he shoved them back down with guilt. He didn’t know Gretchen’s whole story, only snippets. He had no right to judge her.

“So, what are we going to do about it? We’re closest to her. We need to help her through this. It’s not right, her talking to herself all the time.”

Zack grabbed Gretchen by her thin wrist gently. He didn’t turn to her and he didn’t stop walking, but he wanted her to know he was taking what she said seriously.

“Right now I am the closest thing to her. Not you. I don’t mean that to be mean, but she doesn’t even know you anymore and she’s made it clear these last few months she doesn’t want to know you.” His whispers were soft but his words cut through Gretchen’s heart like a knife. “I will help Christine any way I can, but right now I think she needs her space to work it out.”

Gretchen pulled herself from his grip, her eyes turned up to his, filled with tears. She wouldn’t allow them to spill over.

The others in the group slowed so they wouldn’t come up too close to the discussion. Gale kept her eyes on Gretchen to make sure Zack didn’t do anything stupid. She didn’t think he was the type, from watching the last few months, but she never knew. He was still a man.

Dan Anderson walked closely next to Gale and held onto her upper arm to help her along. He was a good kid, and she knew he was trying to do whatever he could to make up for killing his young friend, Anita, and show Zack he wasn’t all bad. Whether Zack saw or not was still up for debate. The only person Zack really seemed to notice these days was Christine. They all did.

Zack’s insides churned at seeing Gretchen so distraught. “Look, I’m the closest person to her. I’ve been around her for years. Whoever you knew when you were a teenager, that’s not her anymore. People grow, they change. I’m sorry but the truth is you weren’t around and that made Chris feel abandoned. You’re not her sister anymore. You’re a stranger.” When he saw the panicked look on Gretchen’s face he stammered to backtrack. “To her you’re not, I think, just from the things she’s said…I don’t mean it’s right, it’s just, unfortunately, that’s the way it is right now. I’m sorry.”

Gretchen skipped a beat in her step and only started to move again when Gale looped her arm through hers and pulled her along. The older woman gave her friend a soft glance of apology. It wasn’t that she thought Gretchen didn’t deserve it. She most certainly did. Before the apocalypse, she was a selfish girl Gale concluded from all that was told. But things were different. Second chances should be given.

In the middle of the group, endless chatter erupted from Olivia and Imani as they passed the time talking about everything under the sun. Though Olivia was two years older, she was fascinated with Imani’s unique style and no-nonsense way of handling herself and her father. And Imani would never admit it, but she looked up to Olivia as she took some practice swings and bragged about the ease she felt at smashing the heads in of the stumbling corpses.

“You’ve never even had a close call?” Imani asked with wide eyes, remembering her narrow escape from her own step-brother.

Olivia’s eyes froze on the ground for a split-second, but no one around her noticed. Her lips parted into a cocky grin. “Nope. Never.”

“Wow,” Imani gaped. “That’s amazing. You were meant for this world.”

“You bet I was,” Olivia smiled.

She felt eyes on the back of her neck and knew that Lee Hickey, the gentle Irish giant, was watching her closely and listening to her every word, as he always was. This never seemed to bother her before. His presence was always a comfort from the moment she found him around Lonnie’s campfire. He was the one person who knew her before humanity had been destroyed. But now, she wasn’t so sure that fact was the comfort it once was.

“But what about your family, your parents? What happened to them? If it wasn’t a close call for you, why couldn’t you save them?”

Olivia didn’t skip a beat as she stroked her wooden bat and pat it against her other hand lightly. “Never had a family. Long gone before all this happened.”

Again, she felt Lee’s glare on her back. He knew she was lying. Though she’d only met him once before, he knew all about her family. She’d never told anyone the story of how she lost them, and she wasn’t sure she ever would. How could she? It was all her fault.

“Sorry about your loss, your mom…your step-brother,” Olivia added quickly to deter the conversation from her.

“Thanks,” Imani said softly.

Both girls heard the sniffles coming from Luke Benson as he walked close behind them next to Lee. Olivia wondered what it was like for Imani to be watched over by a bumbling coward. She wanted to ask, but knew she couldn’t right in front of him. The last thing she wanted to deal with now was making a grown man cry…or at least cry even more than he was already. In that moment, she was grateful again to have Hickey at her back. He didn’t speak much, didn’t interfere when she tried to kill a zombie, didn’t really interact with her much at all. His lap was a soft place to lay her head at night and his strength was always at her back if she ever needed it. Other than that, he was content to just let her be and watch her.

Rowan meandered from middle to front to back and to the middle again. He was the only person in the group to not have a single friend among them. Lonnie Lands had been his friend. He never left the young maniac’s side when he was alive. Now that the crazed leader was gone, Rowan struggled to find his place again. The obvious choice was Zack, with his accumulated mass of muscles and leadership skills as he pushed the group forward down the road to redemption, but Zack wanted nothing to do with the guy. Rowan wasn’t the type of man Zack would have befriended before the end of the world, and he sure wasn’t someone he wanted by his side now. So, Rowan traveled in limbo, talking to nearly no one, jumping in and leaving conversations at a whim. The only person to give him any kind of positive attention was Carolyn, and that was only because of his good looks.

Christine slowed her steps, allowing more space to grow between herself and the group. She looked behind her. The job of watching the rear was one she gave to herself and she took it seriously. There was no way she was going to let one of the undead sneak up on them and kill anyone else. But it was hard to hear with Liam always talking in her ear, so she had to physically look after the passing of several minutes.

“You need to stop blaming yourself, love,” Liam said as he rested his hand on the small of her back.

Christine felt the pressure of his fingers through the thickness of her jacket and layers of shirts. She wanted to smile, but it felt physically impossible with the amount of grief and confusion she felt. His touch messed with her mind when she knew he wasn’t real but her body could feel him just the same.

“It’s a little hard, Liam,” she whispered under her breath. She realized quickly after he showed up that she could talk basically inaudibly and Liam would still be able to hear while no one else around her would. In fact, she was sure if she just thought what she wanted to say without actually saying it he would still hear, but then he would feel less real and she wasn’t ready for that. “I was right in front of you, armed, when you got bit. Why you and not me?”

“Because you are strong enough to survive this world. I wasn’t.”

“What a load of bull,” she huffed through heavy breath. “You were a pro at archery, you killed these things every day. You built things from nothing. You were a scientist that could have saved the world. If anyone should be alive right now, it’s you.”

He moved his arm up to wrap around her shoulder, keeping perfect pace with her feet so that she never felt the pull of his body against hers, as she would have if anyone else were walking that way with her. “No, Chris. You are more valuable than you know. Look how quickly you’ve taken up my bow.”

“Yeah, only because I have you whispering instructions in my ear.”

“Even if I wasn’t, you still would have advanced, love. You do know I am just your subconscious, right?”

She rolled her eyes as she used to do when he talked in his pompous instructor voice. “Of course I know that. But…” she trailed off, unsure how to argue her case anymore.

“You’re kind, and this world is going to need all the kindness it can get. You’re caring and nurturing. You would be the best bloody mother in the world given the chance.”

Tears clouded her sight and the ground blurred under her feet. “And you would have been the best dad.”

She waited for the inevitable “Thank you, love” she always received from Liam when she complimented him, but there was silence. She looked up from the ground and over to where he’d been, but she was alone. How could she not tell when the weight of his arm disappeared from her shoulder? Maybe she never really felt it in the first place. She blinked away the madness of it all and continued forward, looking over her shoulder again.

III

After two hours of walking, the group was no further than the local waterpark, a mere three and half miles from the Dune Ridge Apartments. The park had been abandoned several times before the world became abandoned too. For some reason, no one could keep the locals interested in the small slides and wave pools. Twenty years ago, a child died when he fell off the steep waterslide. The park was deemed dangerous and its gates closed. Someone else bought the property, updated the attractions, and reopened it, but it was a flop. No one wanted to play where a ten-year-old had fallen to his death.

“Cool!” Olivia let out with large saucer eyes. “The waterpark! Can we rest here for a little bit?” She threw her bat over the wrought iron fence, following it closely with a graceful jump.

Zack took a deep breath and held it in as he thought about it. The area was gated with only one way in and out as far as he could see, and that was locked up with a chain. Murky, stagnant water sat on the bottom of the various pools as green parasites took over. He scratched at his forehead as Olivia smiled from the other side of the fence. She bounced up and down with hope and glee.

“We really shouldn’t. We haven’t even been walking that long. We should put some more distance between us and the apartments.”

“Oh, come on,” Gale grumbled as she leaned against the fence. “My dogs are barking and we still have miles to go.”

Zack rolled his eyes, but then his lips parted in a crooked grin that hid underneath his beard. “All right. Fifteen minutes. Go to the bathroom, eat a snack, rest your feet, and then we head out again. Fifteen!”

But most everybody had already thrown their belongings over the chain-link fence and were figuring out the best way to get over. Dan Anderson, Rowan, and Imani hopped right over without any assistance. Gretchen waited for Zack to boost her over with cradled hands. Once she was safely on the other side, he looked to Christine to give her a helping hand as well. She gripped his shoulder and held on as he projected her to the top of the fence. She hopped down to the other side and immediately headed for the umbrella-covered picnic tables to find some solace.

“Gale? You want me to throw you over?”

The older, overweight woman gave a hoarse laugh, cut off by deep coughs into her arm. “No thanks, handsome. I think I’ll stay on this side, keep a look-out.”

He figured she would say no. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he could boost her over the fence anyway. Something in him told him Gale knew this as well. She sat down on the sidewalk and took her shoes off, rubbing the soles of her feet meticulously. She gave a deep groan of bliss as her fingers dug into her calloused skin.

Quickly and with little sound, Zack pulled himself up and over the fence to join the others. As he took a deep breath, the damp smell of the mildewed waterpark saturated his nostrils. His nose wrinkled as he looked around. Olivia was chasing Imani around the base of the slides, threatening to throw the girl in if she caught her. Even in their enjoyment, they were conscious of the world around them and laughed almost inaudibly. Luke stuck close by, sitting at the edge of one of the slide’s pools, his short legs unable to reach his feet down to the water, not that he would have wanted them to touch with the shade of green it was. Lee sat close-by as well under a tree with his back propped against the trunk. He leaned his head back to rest, but when Zack looked closely he could see the quiet man’s eyes were still open and watching the girls play. Gretchen sat by the fence where Gale sat on the other side to keep her company. The visit, their backs rested against the links and each other’s, reminded Zack of a prison visit. Rowan chose a tree not too close, but not too far from Lee and curled up underneath it for a quick cat nap. Dan disappeared behind the building with the bathrooms, most likely to have a smoke and a mope. That’s when Zack spotted Christine sitting hunched over at one of the shade-covered tables by the concession stand. A smile played at his lips.

He stood up and strutted over without saying a word, hopped over the counter, and rummaged loudly through the stand. Christine’s head perked up a bit as she waited to see what he would find. Then, there was silence. He must have found something good she thought as she waited. After thirty seconds of silence, she started to worry.

Just as she stood up to make her way over, soft food in little plastic wrappers were hurled over the counter at her. One hit her square in the forehead. Her hand rushed to the spot where she’d been hit as her mouth gaped open. She pulled herself up to look over the counter, but Zack wasn’t there.

“Catch,” he said from behind her.

She whirled around and caught what Zack had thrown.

“Twinkies!” she breathed out with a laugh. “Wow.”

Zack unwrapped his own treat and shoved it into his mouth whole. “Would be better deep-fried like they used to do it, but this is still good.”

“Thanks. That’s really cool, Zack.”

“No problem. Figured we could all use a little sugar to keep us going right now. I know I can. Couldn’t find a drop of coffee anywhere.”

Christine nodded her head slowly as her eyes stared blankly in thought. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing, going to Chicago?”

Zack breathed out his nostrils loudly as he chewed the cakey treat, the cream filling overflowing in his mouth. He chewed some more and swallowed before answering. “I think we would have felt worse sitting in the apartment doing nothing when we could be out here doing something.”

She nodded in agreement as she unwrapped the plastic covering. So many thoughts flooded her mind in that moment, but she couldn’t pin one down long enough to voice them. As she took a bite, her eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh man, that’s good!”

The grumbling of distant moans pulled them from the joyous moment. Yelling erupted as several of the dead closed in on Gale with Gretchen at her back on the inside of the fence.

“Help!” Gretchen cried out for the others to come to the rescue.

“I got this, I got this,” Gale said casually as she struggled to stand up, using the links of the fence as leverage. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Just then, the groaning seemed to come from all sides. More dead shambled to the fence as the group looked on, trapped from within.

“Gale, give me your hand!” Gretchen yelled as she reached over the fence.

Before the two hands could touch, Zack was over the fence and stood ready to give Gale a boost.

“Are you crazy? You can’t lift me up that high,” Gale argued as the dead closed in closer.

Zack’s eyes widened till there was more white than color showing. The closest one couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away, with at least seven close behind.

“Would you just put your foot in my hand?! We don’t have time for this!”

Gale reluctantly did as he ordered. She held onto his shoulders and hopped on one foot as the other lay cradled in his hand.

“One, two, three…” Zack let out the deepest, longest groan any of them had ever heard as Gale straightened her legs and reached over the top of the fence. With Gretchen pulling her by the arms, she fell onto the hard concrete.

“Hurry, Zack!” Christine yelled.

By that time, everyone was crowded together inside the fence, holding their breath as the group of zombies closed in all around them.

Zack hopped from the balls of his feet as light as if he’d been standing on a trampoline and used his foot to boost himself up. Just as he was about to drop down, a cold, hard hand clasped around his ankle. His weight shifted and he stumbled, leaning backwards.

“I got ya!” Rowan said as he gripped the front of Zack’s shirt in his fist.

He gave him a yank and Zack felt the fingers of the dead hand slip away.

It took him a few seconds to catch his breath and right himself, but once he did he could see they were in bigger trouble than they’d originally thought

IV

All around the abandoned waterpark, the dead smashed their putrid bodies against the fence. The moans grew louder, combined with the clinking of the chain links, creating a horrifying symphony only the living dead could enjoy.

“Do you see a way out?” Gretchen yelled to anyone who might be listening.

Each member of the group whirled around on their heels in search of an opening between the monstrous hordes surrounding them.

“There!” Olivia pointed to the far west corner where there was a grouping of pine trees. “We can hop the fence there and run through. It doesn’t look like there’s any in there.”

“Too risky,” Zack barked immediately as he kept his eyes on the zombies closest to him. “They could be hiding in there and we’d never know until it was too late.”

“Isn’t that what we have our weapons for?” Olivia retorted in her usual teenage rebellious angst that said she knew better than everyone else in that group.

“What other choice do we have?” The crack in Luke’s voice gave away just how scared he truly was.

Zack turned to look at the group. Lee, Imani, and Olivia in were in the forefront, weapons in hand and ready to fight their way out of the waterpark if it was the last thing they did. The others stood close behind them, some weapons raised to fight while others hung down in their hands, as if they were unsure how to use them. Carolyn Bock cradled her handgun to her chest as if it were her precious baby, too afraid to aim it outward in fear of losing the only defense she had.

“Fine, we’ll try it your way,” Zack said gruffly. “But you have to follow me and stick close, I mean it. No stragglers and no one diverts. Understand?”

No one agreed aloud, but the fear in their eyes told him they would not stray from the path he laid out before them.

“God, help us,” he exhaled from between his lips as he let out a series of deep breaths.

Zack jogged over to the west side of the fence and waited for the others to arrive. He hopped over without missing a beat and landed on the cold, hard ground with a thud. A few dead heads turned on their ragged necks to face the source of the noise. Once their glazed eyes caught site of the fresh meat that was now on their side, they slowly shambled their way over.

“Rowan, you boost the others over. Hurry,” he said in an urgent whisper.

There were still quite a few of the dead, especially the ones on the opposite end of the park, that had yet to notice the group hopping the fence. The sound of the links rattling as they were boosted over mixed with the rattling of the zombie’s bodies against the fence as they stupidly tried to force their way in.

“Up and over, big girl,” Rowan grunted as he hoisted Gale over the fence. He tried to use his knees to gain the leverage he needed, but was too rushed. The zombies were closing in slowly and if he didn’t hurry they would have to fight them off outnumbered. Worst case, the group would leave him and Gale behind as they ran to save their own lives. Truth be told, he would run too. Gale was on her own.

As Rowan shot straight up to make sure Gale cleared the fence, he felt a sharp pull in the middle of his lower back.

“Gaaahh!” he screamed.

“Come on, man!” Zack yelled through a sharp whisper, tossing a hand over the side of the fence to help him.

Rowan tried to stand up straight but the pain was more than he could bear. He reached for Zack’s hand, though he knew he would never be able to stretch himself upright enough to get over.

“You have to come back and give me a boost!” Rowan yelled, panic overtaking his brown eyes.

More heads turned to look at the group. Their moans grew rampant as they moved inward to surround the now exposed survivors.

“We need to hurry, like now!” Imani cried.

Olivia had her bat ready to knock off any head that dared get close enough to her. She couldn’t conceal the excited grin that spread across her blushed lips. Why do I like this so much? Why is it so much fun for me to bash in the heads of these monsters who were once people? She didn’t allow herself to dwell on these questions long as the gap between her and the dead grew smaller.

Without arguing, Zack propelled himself back into the waterpark and squatted down to give Rowan a boost. The young man moved like he was in his nineties, hunched over and wobbly with frailty and pain. There was a moment when Zack hoped tossing Rowan over didn’t throw his own back out, but the thought quickly dispersed. He had to help Rowan escape, even if he wasn’t Zack’s favorite person in the group.

With much groaning, moaning, and yelps of pain, Rowan made it to the other side just as the first zombie reached the group. Olivia took a hard swing and crushed its left temple with a sickening crunch.

“Good one!” Imani cheered her on as she stepped up to the plate and took a swing at the next one to reach them.

The nails sticking out of her own bat made an even more horrible sound as they sunk into the top of the rotting corpse’s skull. It took a bit of strength and finagling to get the bat back out, but once she did the body crumpled to the ground and didn’t get back up.

Zack hopped over the fence and didn’t hesitate as he ran forward ahead of the group and into the thick pines. “This way, come on! Don’t fight. Just run!”

He didn’t look back to see if everyone was following him. He’d given them the orders, all they had to do was run after him as fast as they could and they would be fine. Even Gale at her slow pace would be able to out-stride the clumsy dead. Rowan should be all right, he thought as he embraced the cool wind on his sweat-drenched face. That was when he heard it… a sickening cry for help that made his stomach rise and drop like he was on a nightmarish rollercoaster.

V

Gale lay flat of the ground, her arm outstretched for someone to take her hand and pull her up from the clutches of the dead. One lay on its stomach, stiff hand clenched around the poor woman’s ankle.

“Help!” she cried out in sheer panic.

Everyone stared frozen in their disbelief. Zack had to physically shake his head to snap himself out of it to jump into action. The veins in his temples bulged as he pushed himself to his limit, running as fast as he could to get to Gale. Her cries for him only pushed him harder. His legs and arms pumped rapidly. His fingertips touched hers, but they were ripped away as the monster at her heels yanked her backwards.

No one could ignore the heart-wrenching cry as gnarled teeth sank into the older woman’s tender flesh. Again, Zack paused in his shock. This can’t be happening, he thought as everything moved in slow motion around him. We just left the apartment. I can’t have lost someone already. Not now. Not here.

“Zack!” a female voice shouted from behind him, pulling him from his stupor.

He locked his hand around Gale’s wrist as more dead enclosed around them. Just in time, the others came to the rescue as Zack pulled Gale up to her feet. She draped her arm over his shoulder and let him bear her weight as she favored her left bloody foot. The sweet thunking sound behind him eased his fear. The others were doing their job, they were cleaning up so he could get Gale to safety, if there was such a place for her anymore.

“Hold on, Gale. Don’t worry. I got ya,” he coaxed as she moaned.

The deep rattle of an undead growling nearby forced Zack’s eyes off the ground to look straight ahead. Fifty feet in front of them was an abominably large, rotting, drooling, bleeding corpse. Its head lolled to the side from having half its neck muscles ripped out. Its arms hung lax, but with the broadness of its shoulders, it still looked like it was training to be a body builder. The whites of Zack’s dark eyes became visible as he stared, dumbfounded.

The monstrous being took a lumbering step forward, its mouth masticating in anticipation of the food in front of it. But before it could take another step it fell forward, landing on its face with a loud thud. An arrow lay deep within its weeping wound.

“Oh, thank God, Chris,” Zack breathed out in relief. “Thank you.”

Without a word she picked up the arrow and stuck it in the backpack on her back. She gave a weak smile to Zack and Gale before turning to move on ahead of them to clear the way. “Thanks, Chris!” he said again, this time so she could hear.

“No problem,” she said without turning back.

He pressed onward with Gale. Her cries and moans grew more intense the longer he dragged her. Soon, the others cleared enough of the dead on their heels that they could turn and run to catch up, putting distance between the group and the dreaded waterpark.

“Ah, ow,” Gale whimpered as she tried to put weight on her mangled foot so they could pick up the pace. “This isn’t working, bud, we’re going to have to stop.”

“We can’t stop,” Zack urged her on, but it was useless.

Gale let her arm fall from his shoulder and sat herself down on a fallen tree trunk. “It’s no use, son. My foot is too far gone. Look at what that thing did to it.”

Zack had been avoiding looking at it altogether. A part of him didn’t want to believe it really happened and if he looked at it, studied it, examined it, treated it, that would make it real…too real to deny any longer. Gale wasn’t going to make it.

VI

The others finally caught up to where Gale and Zack had stopped. No one was quite sure what was going on. All they knew was that it wasn’t good. Gretchen didn’t stop till she was kneeling at Gale’s feet, clutching the woman’s hand in hers tightly. Tears silently streamed down her face as she took in the mangled mess of a foot in front of her.

Gale reached out her free hand to place it on Gretchen’s cheek gently. “It’ll be okay, pumpkin,” Gale assured her. “Don’t fret. You’ll be fine.”

This only made Gretchen cry harder. She leaned her face into the soft, wrinkled hand holding her and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw that Gale was already giving into the bite. Her pallor had quickly drained, leaving her a sickly pale color. Sweat ran down her face and onto her neck, drenching her clothes. Her once thin, but lively eyes now drooped, no longer blue but a dull, pale grey.

Gale’s large body swayed unsteadily on the tree trunk till she slid forward to land on her butt on the dirt in front of Gretchen. Where was Lee? Why was the only medically trained person in their group just standing by and watching?

“No,” Gretchen whimpered as she watched her friend’s eyes roll around in their sockets lazily. “Please, Gale, don’t leave me. You’ve been there for me through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sound of Gretchen’s sobbing voice seemed to wake Gale up for a moment and bring her back to the world around her. She motioned for her friend to lean in closer so she could speak without strain.

“Make things right with your sister.”

Gretchen swallowed a rush of tears and took a deep breath. “I’ve tried. I don’t know what to do. She won’t listen to me,” she argued through sobs.

Gale’s head shook back and forth slowly as her eyes closed for the briefest of moments. “Make amends. Apologize. Tell her you’re sorry for leaving her.”

“But I didn’t leave her to be mean. I had to get out of there to—“

“Listen to me!” Gale forced her voice to stretch as loud as it possibly could go. Her entire body seemed to deflate afterwards from the strain. She heaved great big breaths as she forced her eyes to remain open just a few moments longer. “Do it. Do it for me. Please.”

Gretchen kept her mouth closed and her eyes trained on the woman in front of her. Though her eyes were dull and slack, they were pleading. She couldn’t say no to her one friend’s dying wish, she just couldn’t.

“I will,” she promised as she squeezed Gale’s cold, clammy hands in hers. “I will.”

Gale’s head bobbled on her thick neck in approval, though she was too weak to pull her lips upward into a smile of any kind. The fight to keep her eyes open was finally too great and she let them shut. Her chest heaved up and down, though with each passing second it was slower. The wheezing sound within grew louder as Gale let her body lean back all the way against the tree trunk behind her, until there was silence. Not even the living dared to take another breath as they looked on at Gale’s peaceful body.

“She’s gone,” Gretchen whispered. Tears poured out of her eyes, but her voice was steady. “I can’t believe she’s already gone. I thought we’d have more time. It was so quick. I just can’t…” She trailed off as the sadness overwhelmed her entirely.

She lowered her head onto her hands wrapped around Gale’s and sobbed. Several hands rested on her back and shoulders, but they were little comfort to her in that moment. All she wanted right then was for Gale to get up and continue on for them. They had hope on their side finally, hope in the form of a journal promising that the world would be restored, but Gale would never be able to enjoy that again. The thought made Gretchen’s chest wrack with grief.

Another hand gripped her shoulder, but instead of resting in comfort, it attempted to pull her backwards aggressively. Instantly, her heart raced as she fought against the pressure to fall.

VII

“Get away from her,” Zack said as he pulled Gretchen up by her arm. There was no comfort or softness to what he did, but one look in his eyes told her he was in distress and worried for her safety.

He held Gretchen close to him. She let him feel the weight of her on him as she turned to nuzzle into his chest. Her head remained turned, though, trained on Gale’s lifeless body, waiting for the moment it would return from the grips of death to rise again. Every second that went by was excruciating, but she couldn’t look away. “Someone do it, please, before—” Zack started but it was too late.

One pale finger twitched on the deceased woman’s thigh, so immeasurable it would have gone unseen if not for Zack’s alertness. His eyes scanned Gale carefully, watching…waiting. After a moment, he took a deep breath, realizing he had been holding it in since the moment he pulled Gretchen to him. He squeezed her tighter as more stiff fingers moved in an attempt to flex and grip.

Slowly, the others in the group backed away to stand behind Zack and Gretchen, their weapons poised in their hands, though no one really seemed eager to use them. Carolyn Bock faced ahead, but her eyes refused to look at the robust corpse of the woman she’d bunked next to for the last four months. She held her bowie knife so tight her knuckles faded to a sickening white, having traded it for from the 9mm on her hip.

The only ones who seemed ready and willing to do what was necessary were Olivia and Imani. Both stood with their legs shoulder-width apart, bats gripped in both hands and ready to swing the moment that thing stood up and headed towards them. Dan Anderson, Rowan Brady, and Lee Hickey all stood together somewhat next to the young girls. Lee was closest, his eyes darting back and forth between Gale’s awakening body and Olivia. His arms hung at his side, his muscles tightening with each movement the corpse attempted. Rowan stood shoulder-to-bicep with the Irish giant, but his stance gave away just how unsure of himself he was. He held his pistol in one hand, slightly outward but still somewhat pointed at the ground in front of Gale, as if he couldn’t make up his mind. Dan stood behind the two, his thin, wiry frame almost hidden by the taller, thicker men. He kept his eyes on the ground, but every once in a while he would allow them to drift up to check on Gale. Each time ended with him averting his gaze again and squeezing his big, brown eyes shut.

Luke stood a ways behind everyone, not even trying to hide that fact that his knees were shaking. It took everything he had in him not to release his bladder at the sight of the shifting monster in front of them. He wanted to shout for someone to bash its head in, but knew that would not win him favor with their leader, Zack. So he kept his mouth shut and watched the nightmare awaken in front of him.

The first groan finally came from Gale’s parted blue lips, causing everyone to take in a sharp breath and step back one pace. Zack looked around the group frantically. Gretchen lost her hold on him as he stepped away and gazed over the surrounding area. Gale pushed up from the ground clumsily.

“Where’s Christine?” he asked to no one in particular.

Lee and all the women of the group looked around to find the petite blonde with her bow, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Christine!” Zack shouted, his voice echoing and bouncing off the large pines around them. “Christine!”

Gale’s glossy eyes focused on the source of the shouting. With more eagerness than before, the corpse groaned and grunted as it righted itself and took its first step as an undead zombie toward the group. Its mouth hung open, blood collecting into a pool and dripping down its chin. Each step jarred the once lively woman and threw her off balance, making her motions sharp, jagged, and slow.

“Guys,” Carolyn said, pointing to the lumbering figure headed towards them. “Guys!”

Zack spun around on his heel, crouched at the knees like a warrior. As he whirled, he grabbed his sword from his hip and thrust it forward. The sharpened blade pierced the fresh corpse through the chin and came out the top of its head. Both he and the monster stood frozen, staring into each other’s eyes. Zack’s were filled with water as Gale’s eyes closed slowly for the last time. The weight of her limp body forced the sword out as she crumpled to the ground.

The cool air was filled with the sounds of tears falling from the group. Zack knelt on one knee over Gale’s now permanently lifeless body and bowed his head, closing his eyes. Silently, he prayed for her and hoped that she now had the chance to rest in peace, as she deserved. He wished someone else had been willing to step up and do what needed to be done to give her that peace, but it didn’t seem like anyone would. He had let it go on longer than it should have anyway. He never should have allowed her to stand up, to move, or even turn into one of those things in the first place. Tears rolled silently down his bearded face as he kept his eyes closed.

Through the crying, he heard the soft patter of feet flying over dead leaves. He didn’t have to open his eyes or turn around to know who it was. Something inside him didn’t want to look at her right then either. If he hadn’t been distracted looking for her, he could have been merciful to Gale sooner. But with a sigh, he let that thought go. It wasn’t fair to place blame. How could anyone place blame on each other in a world like the one they lived in? There was no room for fighting amongst the living while the dead still walked.

He felt Christine’s presence next to him, though she didn’t reach out and offer him any comfort. It was too much for Zack to take in just then; Gale’s rescue, her death, her rising as one of those flesh-devouring monsters, her second death, Christine showing up from God knows where, her cold distance. He rose to his feet, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and cleared his throat.

“We have to bury her,” he said in a way that gave no one room to question him, as if they would have.

Everyone nodded their heads in silent agreement. They turned to each other, turned to the woods, turned to Gale, unsure of how they were going to accomplish the task in front of them. They had no shovel or pick to soften the hard ground, let alone dig a six-foot deep hole. Without a word, Zack stalked off into the thickest part of the pine trees, his jaw clenched together and his eyes blazing fire.

The others stayed where they were, glancing around at each other with questioning looks. Some shuffled their feet while others wiped at their drenched faces. Gretchen had sunk back to the ground on her knees, bent over Gale as she cried into the woman’s flannel shirt. No one made a move to touch her or give her any words of condolences. No one knew what the proper thing to say was when your recently adopted mother-figure died, turned into a zombie, tried to eat you, and died again at the hands of the man they all followed, so instead they chose silence and work.

“I’ll grab some wood for a fire,” Carolyn said meekly as she tugged at Rowan’s leather jacket sleeve for him to come help her.

“We’ll walk the perimeter to make sure there’s no other zombies close by,” Olivia offered and walked off with Imani close at her heels.

“I’ll come with you girls,” Luke said reluctantly as he jogged after them.

Lee sat down at the base of a large tree and opened up the pockets of his cargo pants to rifle through the meager first aid supplies he carried with him.

“I need a cigarette,” Dan said to no one as he stalked off, shaking as he slapped the crumpled pack against his hand.

Christine stood behind her sister in complete silence. In the last few months, she’d become a master at blending in with the scenery to the point of invisibility. It was a trait she prided herself on and counted on for her own survival, not against the monsters walking the earth, but from being seen by the people she didn’t want to let in. She watched Gretchen closely as her sister’s shoulders wracked with grief, bouncing up and down violently from the pain forcing its way out of her.

Something stirred in Christine that she couldn’t quite describe. It was familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. Just then, she heard a voice in her ear that made her rigid body soften.

“Do you think she cried like that when she left you?” Liam asked as he placed his hands on her shoulders from behind.

The weight of his touch was so real she could have sworn he was back from the dead. Each time it jarred her deeply and distorted her sense of reality to the point of not being able to take a breath for fear he would disappear.

“Do you think she missed you as much as she’s going to miss Gale? A woman she just met and barely knew?”

“They went through a lot together,” Christine justified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“You two grew up together. You were best friends. She knew you better than anyone ever knew you, and she left you like you were nothing more than a stranger.”

The words pierced Christine’s heart. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. The longer she kept her eyes open, trained on her sister, the more the cool air stung them, but she was afraid to blink, afraid of losing the one person who never betrayed her, never abandoned her, stuck by her even after death to be there with her through everything. That was more than she could say for her parents, her sister, even her beloved grandma. Everyone had left her at one point or another, for their own reasons, except Liam. He was still there, helping her to see what she was too afraid to admit, helping her to grow stronger to survive the world that wanted to destroy her.

“I told you not to turn back,” he said sweetly as he wrapped an arm around her to pull her in close. “I told you to leave this group, that they would be your downfall. In the chaos you ran from them, so why did you turn back?”

She stared ahead blankly, no longer seeing the dead woman in front of her or her sister that cried over the body. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

VIII

The group gathered around the fire as daylight gave way to a dark, cold night. Zack piled the last bit of crumbled earth over Gale’s grave and patted it down with his hands. It had taken him the entire day to get the job done. He had to leave the group and walk to find the nearest store that would have a shovel. That alone took him three hours of searching. Rowan told him to grab two shovels so he could help, but this was something Zack wanted to do alone. He craved the time alone to reflect on his emotions and thoughts …see where he’d gone wrong.

While Zack did this, the others kept themselves busy consoling Gretchen and each other, gathering sticks and branches to build a fire, and gathering logs for seating. They had two large tents that Rowan and Carolyn each carried on their backs in tightly packed backpacks. It took about an hour just to erect one with the two of them working on it. No one bothered to complain or try to speed them up. They had nowhere to go for the rest of the night, so long as Zack was determined to give Gale a final resting place. The zombies had dissipated as the group hid and kept quiet, Zack gone on his shovel hunt. The area was as clear as it would get.

Imani and Olivia, with the lax supervision of Luke, walked around the area periodically to make sure there was nothing lurking around, watching them, living or deceased. The two younger girls giggled and talked weapons as the anxious father wrung his hands and followed them. The girls tried their best to ignore his presence and enjoy themselves.

But no matter what anyone was doing; digging a grave, building a fire, erecting a tent, walking the perimeter, they each took a moment here and there to stop and watch Christine Moore. It was no secret that she had disappeared on the group without a word in a desperate moment. It was unspoken that her being there when Gale was attacked could have saved the old woman’s life with how good Christine had become with Liam’s bow. No one dared accuse her of this due to her fragile state, in fact that was why they were watching. They were trying to catch her talking to “herself” again, so they might have a reason to confront her on something. They went about their business in the crisp Spring air as their eyes stole glances at the young woman standing alone.

Christine Moore wanted to help the others set up the camp for the night, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was a war raging inside her mind and she was starting to fear she was losing. She questioned why Liam had told her to leave the group behind. Did he know something she didn’t? And how was that possible if he was dead and what she saw, felt, and talked to was just a piece of her own mind? Questions swirled around her brain so fast it made her feel dizzy. She leaned her back against the thick trunk of a spruce for support, hoping no one noticed how consumed she was within herself.

It was well into the night when Zack brushed his hands together to release the dried dirt from his flesh. His rough hands were sore and calloused, but he felt better. The physical labor of digging a deep grave seemed just what he needed to clear his mind and come to the realization that Gale’s death was not his fault. He never asked to be the leader of the group. He hadn’t lobbied for it, or even implied that he thought he was right for the job. But there he was, leading a mismatched gaggle of men and women, adults and teens, through the ailing world to try to heal it. But how was he to tackle such a position when he didn’t even believe in himself? This was the question that had plagued his nights for the last few months while he slept safely in the apartment. Now that they were out, exposed to the elements and the dead, he was sure his eyes would refuse to close for even a second.

He wiped the rest of the dirt on his jeans and walked away from the shovel. It stuck upright out of the mound, serving as a makeshift marker for their fallen friend. The small sliver of moonlight in the sky reflected off the metal to give it a tiny glint one could see through the darkness.

Zack Kran walked over to where Christine sat at the base of a tree and slowly lowered himself beside her. He didn’t say a word as he did this, afraid that no matter what he said she would find an excuse to push him away and isolate herself once again. He couldn’t allow that to happen. No matter who he lost on this journey, he couldn’t lose Christine. She was his dearest friend, the one who gave them hope for a better world with her determination to believe Liam’s journal had some kind of answer in it to restoring the world to what it was, so much so that Zack actually started to believe this himself. This determined, persistent, inspiring Christine had been present in the group just a few days prior. Where did she go? Now all she wanted to do was get as far away from the group as she could, it seemed, leaving the journal behind with Zack to go off shooting her bow, fighting the demons inside her. He gave her the benefit of the doubt in assuming that was why she had not been there to help them.

“So, rough day we had today,” he said with a sigh, unsure what else he could possibly say to get her to open up to him.

She stared ahead with wide eyes, as if she hadn’t registered a single word he said. She looked out at the fire and the group that sat around it, but didn’t really see them. Instead, she gazed through them, as if she were trying to read the flames for a promising future. Her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths and her nostrils flared.

“Chris?” he said as he turned to face her.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she said so quietly Zack almost didn’t hear her.

He stared at her, blinking as he processed her confession. He had to choose his next words carefully. If he said the wrong thing, he could lose this opportunity to get through to her for who knows how long…possibly forever.

The wisest thing that came to his mind was to approach her like his therapist did back when he saw one for his overwhelming stress when the comic book store was failing. He responded with a question. “Why do you say that?”

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let the air out slowly. “I think the Liam I’ve been talking to is…evil.”

IX

Zack laid his hand on the ground to support himself as he stared at his friend. “What do you mean evil?”

“The things this Liam says, they don’t align with what the real Liam would say. Liam would never have told me to abandon the group to fend for myself. That I had to take care of myself because no one else in the world was going to look out for me, especially knowing that you were still by my side. I think he’s trying to turn me against everyone. I could have helped today, but I didn’t because he convinced me not to, to worry about my own survival and let the rest of you figure it out or die. And Gale did die! Gale died because of it!” her voice grew panicked as she ripped her eyes away from the fire to stare into Zack’s desperately.

He turned his body to her, took both his hands, and placed them heavily on her shoulders. The sudden touch of a tangible human being seemed to jar her back to the present. The ones closest to them around the fire turned to look with worry in their gazes. Christine was sure she saw judgement in there too. She knew they all thought she was crazy. But hadn’t it been Liam who told her that? She couldn’t remember if it was him or her own thoughts that were planted deep within her. Either way, it was a part of her now and she didn’t know how to get rid of it. She wanted desperately to be the person she was before Liam died, but she felt that Christine died along with him.

Tears welled up in her eyes. It was all Zack had to see before he took her in his arms and held her tightly to him.

“It’s okay, Chris. You’re not crazy. Please, it’ll be okay,” he soothed her as he stroked her long, blonde hair. “We’ll get through this. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But what if I can’t get rid of him,” she whispered, trying to hide their conversation from the rest of the group. “What if he’s a part of me now?”

Zack took a deep breath as he considered her questions. He’d heard of people going through personality splits and other mental disorders after experiencing trauma or heavy grief. After all, Christine had to watch the love of her life die before her eyes, come back to life, and then be the one to shove a knife in his head to kill him again. He wasn’t sure anyone would be completely sane after going through that. He wondered what kind of state he would be in. Anita had died in his arms, but she was far from the love of his life. He barely knew her. If anything, she was more of a fantasy, a dream he hoped and wished for but never had. And he hadn’t been responsible in any way for her death. Dan was. Dan was the one who shot her. Dan was to blame, not Zack. And Anita hadn’t turned and he hadn’t been put in that position to do that unspeakable, terrible act someone should never have to do to someone they care for.

“You can come back from this, Chris. I know you can. You’ve been through something terrible that we humans were never meant to do. We were never designed to carry this immense amount of grief, responsibility, or burden. It’s overwhelming and we’re all bound to fall off the deep end once in a while. But there’s always a way back.”

She looked up into his eyes, her own glazed over with fresh tears. “But how? How do I find my way back to who I was?”

“I don’t know that you can ever get her back. She may be gone, changed by the things you’ve been through, the things you’ve seen. This new world has a way of tearing us down to nothing, but I do believe that we can build ourselves back up again. You have the chance to create yourself new, right now. All you have to do is make the choice, and I will help you through it. We all will.”

She smiled through her tears and mouthed the words ‘thank you’ soundlessly.

Zack smiled and placed a hand on her cheek. She leaned into the warmth of his touch and closed her eyes, picturing what her life would be like if she woke up and all the dead were truly dead. If she had a chance to start over like the world had the chance to start over once they delivered the journal.

Maybe Zack is right, she thought as she let her mind wander through her fantasy world of peace. Maybe I can start over and be a better version of me. All I have to do is make the choice and follow through with it.

“You know Zack’s just placating you. He doesn’t really think you can change who you are. He’s just worried you’re going to kill yourself to be with me and he’ll say anything he can to stop you from doing that, not because he wants you here with him, but because he’s selfish. He won’t let you move on and be with me because he doesn’t think he could handle the guilt of losing you when he promised me he would protect you.”

Christine’s breath caught in her chest. Liam’s voice penetrated her ears and saturated her mind. She pulled back from Zack’s hand and looked at him unblinkingly, her brow furrowed and wrinkled with distress.

“What is it?” Zack asked, leaning forward anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

She whispered so softly he almost missed what she said completely. “He’s here right now.”

X

Zack looked over his shoulder, his eyes shifting, as if expecting to see a dead Liam, rotting and decaying, standing behind him, arms folded with that smug smile he often wore, but no one was there. He turned his gaze forward to Christine again and took a deep, calming breath. Before the turn of the world, Zack would have denied the existence of ghosts, goblins, ghouls, and all other forms of monsters and spooks, but now? He lived by the rule that anything was possible.

Christine refused to take a breath as she stared back desperately into her friend’s deep brown eyes. She was crying out silently for him to help her, to banish the ever-darkening Liam that constantly loomed over her shoulder, infesting her mind with thoughts of betrayal, abandonment, and doubt.

“I know what you’re thinking, love, and you’re wrong on this one,” Liam said, his voice saturated with tenderness.

Christine didn’t move as he spoke to her, fearing what terrible thing he was going to try to talk her into next, but also fearing that if she disagreed with him that he would not show his face again. He wasn’t Liam, but he had the same orange hair, the same scruffy beginnings of a beard, the same expressive and caring green eyes. His breath was warm, his scent was masculine and familiar. All her senses confirmed it was Liam, but she couldn’t ignore the pleading of her heart to realize that it wasn’t.

“Gale is dead because of you,” she thought in a growling voice in her head. “I could have stopped those zombies from ever reaching her. I’m not the same Christine Moore you left months ago. I can shoot now and use your bow. I almost never miss.”

“And it was me who taught you how to use it, who pushed you to learn to defend yourself, wasn’t it? Why would I do that if I didn’t want the best for you?”

She mustered every ounce of courage she had and resolved to be brave despite the fear of losing him. “That wasn’t you,” Christine’s voice spat back in her head. “That was my Liam. The real Liam, when he was alive. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not him.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel heat radiating onto the back of her neck. The fact that she could feel him, his anger, scared her more than anything. Zombies were nothing for her to handle, but how could she get rid of something that lived inside her mind? This was the riddle she needed to solve if she ever wanted peace again. This was why she finally broke down and told Zack she was scared of the Liam that followed her around. She needed to be free of him, of his spirit, or whatever he was. She was past caring what anyone thought about her or fearing their judgement. She just needed help.

“You’re brilliant, Christine, you really are, you know that?” Liam said softly, lovingly.

A gentle hand brushed back the hair from her neck. Warm breath grazed her and made her close her eyes in remembrance of the man she loved so dearly. The grief was overbearing. She quieted herself and listened.

“You were this brilliant lawyer, saving the world, providing justice. And now? You’re a master marksman, taking care of yourself, surviving this world as it tries to eat you alive. You’re doing this. You should be proud of yourself and all you’ve done. No one else has been able to accomplish what you have in this little time. You can survive.”

His words soaked into her mind and left her chest warm and light. She could feel her heartbeat slowly pound as she replayed his words of encouragement over and over, lost in his voice.

“Chris?” she heard him call her, but he sounded farther off. “Chris?” His voice deepened slightly and drew out longer than before. “Hey, Chris!”

Suddenly, she blinked her thoughts away and saw that it was Zack calling out her name, not Liam. Her head swam with fading words of pride and love and survival.

“Sorry,” she said quietly as she returned to her senses.

“What happened? Where’d you go just now?”

“What do you mean?”

Zack’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, scrutinized her, as if he were trying to examine the mechanics of her mind. It was useless. He couldn’t figure her out. Her blank, pale face framed by tangled blonde hair revealed nothing about what was going on inside. She seemed completely dead and numb to everything around her. When she came to him in fear of the Liam in her head, it was the first time he saw life in her eyes since his friend’s death.

“You were talking about how this voice in your head, this Liam, talked you into leaving us. That you think he’s bad, or evil? And then you just…checked out for a few minutes.”

Christine never thought what it might look like to others when she was in conversation with Liam in her head. When he touched her hair to move it, did her hair really move or did she imagine it? The very idea of either was almost too much for her brain to comprehend.

She remembered telling Zack those things about Liam, but oddly it wasn’t what she felt for the Liam in her now anymore. There was a lingering love and appreciation for his kind words to her a moment ago. Because of that, she couldn’t imagine sending him away now. He might be the only thing that kept her motivated and going in this new world. If it wasn’t for those things he said, she would never hear them and she might lose hope. Then what would she do?

“Never mind,” she said quickly as she stood up. “I don’t know what I was saying, really.”

“Christine,” he tried to stop her.

“I think I just need to mull this over by myself some more.”

“But—“he tried to grab ahold of her arm but she was already out of reach.

“I’m sorry if I worried you. Really, just forget about it.”

And she disappeared into the darkness beyond the glow of the camp fire.

XI

Before she got too far, Christine heard the sound of leaves rustling behind her. Months ago, before she trained herself up to aim true with her bow, her heart would have nearly jumped out of her chest at the sound. Now, she simply stopped walking and waited for whoever it was to come to her and reveal themselves. She could tell immediately from the quickness and evenness of the gait that it was the living following her into the dark trees, not the dead.

“You need to be alone right now, don’t you?” Liam’s voice spoke softly into her ear. “You should just keep walking. Don’t worry about who’s following you or why. Nothing they have to say can be more important than collecting your thoughts and getting your emotions in check.”

His words made sense. In fact, that was just the kind of advice she would routinely give her friend Allison when she was alive, whenever their boss Mr. Shale reamed her in front of everyone at the office for something out of her control, back in the good old days. She couldn’t count the times her friend stormed into her office, slammed the door, threw herself down in one of the leather chairs opposite where she sat at her desk and groaned her complaints. There was just something about Christine that made people want to open up to her, release their burdens on her, and confess all the terrible things they wanted to do to their overbearing boss, or at least there used to be something about her like that. Now, it seemed most of the group avoided talking to her, even looking at her some days.

She had finally had enough isolation, though. She didn’t want to separate herself from the group anymore. She didn’t want to leave the people who depended on her in the dark while she went chasing the inner peace she knew she would never find. She wanted to help the group, lead the group, and make sure that no one else died before they made it to Chicago. She would not let the real Liam die in vain. Isolated and alone was not the life he would want her to have, even if the Liam in her mind sang a different song.

“Shut up. You’re not Liam,” she growled into the darkness surrounding her.

There was a shift in the air and she felt truly and completely alone as she stood in the cool, dense forest. That is, until the person following her finally caught up.

“Wait up, Chris!” A woman’s voice called out.

For a moment, Christine’s heart sank in her chest. She’d hoped it was Zack chasing her down to bring her back to the fire and tell her everything was going to be all right, that he believed her and was going to help her get rid of the terrible voice in her head.

Instead, Gretchen came to a halt a few feet away and took several deep breaths. Christine waited patiently, turning around to face her sister, but not moving any closer to show she wanted to hear what she had to say. She didn’t care. There was nothing her sister could say now to repair their relationship, not after all the damage she caused by leaving Christine behind without so much as a goodbye. Because of her she was filled with doubt, self-consciousness, fear, abandonment, and a whole slew of messy emotions that came with no repair manual.

Finally, Gretchen collected herself. Without a word, she walked hurriedly to Christine and threw her arms around her tightly.

Christine Moore stood frozen, arms at her side, bow slung over her back, afraid to breathe because it may give her sister the impression that she was letting her in again. It was the moment she had been waiting for for a decade. She had imagined what she would say if her sister ever dared to apologize for what she’d done. Christine daydreamed about telling her off, shooting down any excuses she came up with, and leaving her just as broken as she had left Christine years ago. She prepared herself for the moment, for what she would say, and let her sister dive in head first.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” Gretchen said. The water works started and she was almost unable to contain herself to carry on. “I should never have left you like I did. I can’t imagine how hurt and confused you were. That was so unfair of me to do to you. I was only thinking of myself. I was selfish. There’s no excuse for what I did. It was pure selfishness and I regret hurting you that way. I truly do.” Her sobs wracked her body and Christine’s as she refused to let go. “Please forgive me, please. I can never take back what I did, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to please, please forgive me.”

Christine let the apology sink in as her sister wept all over her shoulder. She wanted to argue, but what could she say? There was nothing to argue against. The apology felt as genuine as when Liam used to tell her he loved her. There were no excuses to counter, no justifications to reject, nothing. Her sister owned up to everything, something Christine never thought she would do. She truly felt regret for what she did. Christine could see it deep behind her tear-soaked eyes. What am I supposed to do now? Christine wondered.

Nothing came to mind. No words filled her head, good or bad. It was all too much to take in, accept, and reply to in the moment.

“Tell her off,” Liam whispered from behind. “You’ve waited for the moment to let her know just how badly she hurt you, so do it, sweetheart. You might never get another chance. Didn’t you say we should be honest? Well, here’s your chance.”

“It’s okay,” Christine said as she slowly placed one hand on her sister’s back and the other on her hair. “I mean, it’s not okay. It never was and you did hurt me beyond words, but don’t cry, please. It will be okay.” She could tell her words weren’t enough. Gretchen still poured her tears out as if Christine hadn’t said anything at all. Suddenly, she knew what she had to say to release the burden from her. There was only one thing that would give her that kind of freedom from the terrible pain she’d inflicted. Not only would the words release Gretchen’s pain and regret, but they would also free Christine; free her from all the anger and bitterness she’d let fester in her heart.

“I forgive you.”

The two sisters embraced each other deeply.

XII

The night was quiet with only the sounds of wildlife rustling in the trees beyond to wake the group. When dawn broke and the dark blue sky turned to brilliant golds, pinks, and oranges, Christine, Zack, and Gretchen were already awake and packing for their continued journey. As Christine shoved a small blanket back into her backpack she heaved in a great breath and held it in, turning her face toward the sky. She never realized how noisy the world really was until all of man’s inventions lost power and lie useless in the streets and abandoned homes. A thin fog coated the world in a haze that morning, making the scene before her look unearthly and surreal. Birds in the tree above chirped songs she’d never heard before.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to keep going?” Gretchen whispered.

She looked around at the bodies of their friends curled up close to the smoldering flames of the previous night’s fire. They slept peacefully, somehow, as far as she could tell. No one was tossing or turning, whimpering in their sleep or screaming out from their nightmares. Olivia lay curled up on the ground, using Lee’s lap as a pillow as she did most nights. Imani slept with her back against her new friend’s, embracing the warmth of another body against hers, though never daring to show how much it comforted her. Luke found a spot close by, though it seemed no one wanted to camp too close to him as he scrunched his body close in and wrapped his arms around his knees, his jacket thrown across him. Carolyn and Rowan fell asleep with their backs rested against a log close to the fire, their heads supporting the other’s weight perfectly. A small dibble of drool hung from the corner of Carolyn’s pink lips. Dan lay opposite them across the fire pit, his arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the coming sun.

Gretchen’s lips tugged till they parted in a small smile. Despite her great loss, she had also been blessed with the return of her sister and the friendships of those before her. She could have been left to survive the plague-filled world alone, but she had others with her. Gratefulness washed over her as the warm rays of the sun cleared the tree-tops and settled on her freckled skin.

Christine and Zack glanced at each other quickly in agreement. “We have to try,” Christine said. “This journal could hold the key to saving everyone who’s still out there.”

“I just don’t want anyone else to die,” Gretchen said with downturned eyes. They filled with tears, though there didn’t seem to be enough to flow down her cheeks. She assumed her ducts were almost dried up from the immense amount of tears she spilled the night before.

“I’m afraid that’s just the world we live in now,” Zack said, oddly soft-spoken.

Christine looked to him from the corner of her eye and couldn’t help but grin. When the world was right and she was consumed in her own life, her own work, and her own friends, she never realized there was a caring, sympathetic side to Zack. Had it always been there, or was it a new development forced onto him from living in this new world? Or was it Gretchen who inspired it in him? She couldn’t be sure, but she liked it.

“Death does not have to be a part of your world,” a voice whispered in Christine’s ear, ruining the moment. “People die from mistakes made, and you get hurt all over again because you allow yourself to get close to them.”

Christine’s pale blue eyes narrowed as she waved a hand with irritation through the crisp air. “Shut up!” she growled.

Gretchen’s eyes rose to stare at her younger sister. She couldn’t hide her worry from showing in the lines of her face. But Zack was gifted with expressive eyes himself and he used them in that moment to signal to Gretchen that she should stay quiet and let him lead on this one. He looked to Christine and gave a quick, reassuring smile.

“Sorry,” she said, unable to meet his gaze. “Just…” She struggled to find the words, especially since she hadn’t confided in her sister yet about what was going on inside her head.

Zack shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing the right thing. Keep it up.”

Christine forced her eyes to look into Zack’s, hoping they conveyed her gratitude for his encouragement. He didn’t know it, but those kind words meant the world to her and helped her to wake up and keep going with the group. They were the reason she was able to keep denying the Liam who resided in her head and think for herself instead.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered with a smile as he bumped his shoulder into hers.

“Thanks, Zack. Really.”

Gretchen watched the two, wishing she could be in on their conversation, to know what was going on with her sister that made her talk to herself like she did. Desperately, she wanted to fix the problem and make it all better, but how could she do that if she didn’t even know what was going on?

By then, the others in the group started to wake up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and greeting the day with what little enthusiasm they could muster up. Olivia jumped up as she did every morning and started in on her stretches. She coaxed Imani into joining her and the two bent down and touched their toes, feeling the muscles in their calves all the way up to their back elongate and rid themselves of their morning stiffness. Lee watched the girls from the ground where he sat, stretching his giant arms over his head and letting out a roaring yawn fitting of a lion. Carolyn, Rowan, and Dan stayed where they were, catching every moment of rest they could, unsure if they were ready and willing to start the day’s long journey yet or not. Eventually, they shook off their doubts, checked their weapons, and brushed themselves off. Luke stood around, looking unsure of himself. He sensed he didn’t belong with the group, that no one really liked him or trusted him, and it showed in how he separated himself while not straying too far from his daughter and her new friend.

“I have protein bars for breakfast,” Zack said as he rummaged through his backpack. One by one he tossed a small package to each person in the group. “We should really start heading out now, so eat them on the way.”

His voice was kind, but everyone knew this was not a question up for debate. It was dangerous to linger in one area for too long. Eventually, the dead sensed living bodies and came looking for the warm flesh and flowing blood to devour. Daylight was actually the worst time for this. In the night, the monsters seemed to wander aimlessly, as if sleep walking, unable to see their prey and unwilling to expend what little energy they had to listen for it. But during the day, their eyes could see, their ears were trained, and their hunger was at its highest.

There were no groans of discomfort or disagreement, just the rustling of backpacks and gear as everyone grabbed their items and headed out into the unknown.

PART THREE

“The trials on the road to world harmony are no greater than the courage of those who accept the challenge.”

—Carl Lewis

I

The group of travelers walked the road laid out before them, the road that led to an underground colony of survivors. Their hearts were heavy in their chests as the black hole of one missing person loomed around them. Their feet ached from the continual pounding on the hard pavement of a dismantled, forgotten toll road. Their muscles were wound tightly in their shoulders and back from carrying the weight of their weapons as well as the bags they carried. Their faces were drawn, their heads were down, their voices were silent, but they carried on.

Weaving in and out of the abandoned cars and trucks, everyone was on high alert for the slightest movement or sound. All it would take is one zombie hidden behind the wreckage to claim another’s life, ruin their day, and delay them further from safety and restoration. These thoughts continually ran through Zack’s mind as he remained at the head of the group, his eyes darting back and forth in search of danger. He could not let anything else happen to these people. They were good people. They did not deserve to die on some abandoned road because he wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t quick enough, wasn’t strong enough. He had to protect them.

“It shouldn’t be too much farther,” Luke said to no one in particular from the center of the group.

Silence fell upon them once again as everyone took in what he said, but chose not to respond. In the distance, to the east, a soft groaning met their ears. A zombie tried to move forward toward them, arms outstretched, but its way was blocked by a line of smashed cars. Instead of realizing the problem and walking around the vehicles, as any living person would have done, the brain-dead being pushed forward over and over again.

Christine watched the pitiful creature as she walked onward past it. She couldn’t help wondering what was going through its mind as it relentlessly pushed forward. Did these ‘people’ feel pain anymore? she wondered. Of course, it was obvious by now that the undead did not react to pain, did not cry out from being dismembered, did not shed a tear over their rotting flesh, and did not drop dead of anything but a piercing through the brain. If the brain was still the central system of function for them as it was for living, breathing humans, why didn’t it give them the benefits of common sense, deduction, and speech? The very thought sent goosebumps down her arms. If they had those abilities, there was a good chance she and the others wouldn’t be alive right now. The zombies would be too smart to out run. Suddenly, she felt thankful for their brainlessness.

“How much further did you say?” Zack shouted back without turning his head. His eyes were turned upward to the clear sky, the rays of the sun soaking into the hairs of his beard to warm his face.

“I didn’t,” Luke responded. There was forced confidence in his voice, hiding the fear he felt in talking to someone who hated him. “But it’s just a little further up ahead,” he added for good measure.

“Yeah, I got that when you said it the last three times over the last two hours. Is there any truth to it this time?”

There was a small pang in Zack’s chest after he finished snapping back at Luke. He knew there was a mound of unforgiveness that had settled on his heart, quickly turning into bitterness and resentment for the man who caused so much trouble and chaos for his group. There were too many ‘if Luke hadn’t done this, then this wouldn’t have happened’ scenarios for Zack to keep straight in his head, so he simply blamed him for everything. He knew this wasn’t right, but he couldn’t seem to control the hatred and contempt he held onto for the man. He couldn’t let it go, even though he wanted to.

Before the fall, Zack was not the type of person to hold a grudge. Everything seemed to slide off his back, unless it had to do with his store’s eminent closing. Nothing really seemed to faze him except the beauty of Anita every time she walked through his door and talked to him. Things changed in him when the world changed. It was no longer about profits and friendships; it was about peoples’ lives, and Luke had endangered them all. How was he supposed to let him off the hook for that? How could he ever trust a man who only looked out for himself at the expense of everyone else?

“Why don’t you come up here, then, and lead the way?” Zack barked back.

It took everything in him to make the suggestion. The last thing he wanted was for Luke to be walking alongside him, listening to his pathetic whining and self-pitying. But facts were facts. Luke knew where they were going and Zack had no idea. Whether he liked it or not, he needed him right now. He was their best chance at survival if what he said was true and they were going to find a group of survivors with an underground bunker willing to provide shelter. He hadn’t told Christine and the others yet, but the plan was that he continue on without them into Chicago. He would deliver the journal to the disease research center alone, so no one else had to risk their lives. They could wait peacefully in safety with others who would make sure they were taken care of. He feared telling this to Christine most. She seemed to take on the weight of responsibility the journal held all for herself. There was no way she was going to let him go quietly without her.

“Look, up there,” Luke said as he walked to the front of the group to stand next to Zack. “There it is…the bunker.”

II

They stared across an empty field of ragged corn husks.

“Are you sure this is it?” Zack asked Luke, who stood next to him hunched with arms folded.

“I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but you’ll be surprised, I think.”

Zack surveyed the land quickly, trying to spot where the entrance to the underground might be. There was a barn and an old farm house, heavy equipment strewn across the field, but he didn’t see a set of storm doors or any entrance into the underground.

Imani walked past Luke and Zack, taking no time to look back to see if anyone was following. She was eager to get back home and see everyone she had grown accustomed to and comforted by since arriving at the bunker. The group followed her out into the field and then into the corn. She moved confidently towards a broken down rusted tractor, where she stopped. With a quick look over her shoulders to make sure the group was close by, she lifted her foot and stomped it down three times. It wasn’t the dull thud of porous ground, but a hollow banging that followed.

They waited for something to happen, listening with alert ears, but all that could be heard was the hissing of the cool wind and black crows cawing overhead. Imani didn’t attempt to repeat the action, but waited patiently three steps to the left of where she’d originally stomped. After a painfully long two minutes, the ground parted and was thrown aside, sending dead leaves scattering. That’s when the group saw it, the wooden door that led down into the ground.

Without hesitation, Imani lowered herself into the dark hole and climbed down an unseen ladder. Luke looked at Zack with a cocky grin, as if he had been the one to build the bunker and invite them into safety himself. Zack wasn’t fooled, though. In fact, he barely felt any appreciation for the man and the opportunity he brought before them, especially since he had to threaten it out of him.

“Well,” Zack said exasperated. “After you.”

Luke took a few more seconds to lock eyes with Zack and make sure he knew they were only there because of him and his generosity. He didn’t have to say a word. His smile said it all. He turned and lowered himself down as his teenage daughter had done just a moment ago, disappearing into the blackness below.

Zack knew he would have to be the one to go down next. What had he gotten himself into? As he used his boot to feel for the first rung in the ladder, he breathed in the dank air of the hole he was about to descend into. Why was he trusting this proven untrustworthy man? Was it his daughter? She was Luke’s offspring, bred with half his genes, but she was the complete opposite of the man who had perfected pushing each and every one of Zack’s buttons. She was courageous, strong, a fighter and a survivor in every way. She must take after her mother, Zack thought as the ground disappeared over his head. Suddenly, the sun was blocked out as someone else found their footing on the ladder, their body blotting out the sun.

“I’m heading down, too,” Gretchen’s voice called. With how wide and deep the entrance to the bunker was, Zack expected an echo, but there was none. Gretchen’s voice soaked into the walls, disappearing from existence altogether.

Zack climbed down further and further. He started to wonder if his feet would ever hit the ground. That was when his foot missed a step and he fell. His hands gripped the ladder rung, but it was too late. Down he went, but his back was quickly met by the ground with a dull thud. He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes that had clenched tightly shut. Pushing himself up, he brushed off the dirt from his pants and stepped out of the way in case Gretchen came tumbling down on his head.

A few yards ahead, he saw a small light and three shadows. They seemed to be waiting for the others to join them. Once Gretchen jumped down from the last rung with ease, Zack took hold of her hand and gently pulled her forward to meet Imani, Luke, and the stranger with them.

“I didn’t think this place would be so far down,” Zack said to the stranger in awe. He tilted his head back to look up at the compacted dirt ceiling supported by wooden beams.

“We wanted to make sure we had an impenetrable safe haven,” the man said in a deep, gruff voice. “No zombies finding their way down here, that’s for sure.” The man chuckled, jiggling the flashlight in his stubby hands. “I’m Mac by the way,” he said as he reached out his hand. “Mac Caraway. This was my father’s farm before the dead took over. I worked here with him, hoping it would one day be mine…just not like this…”

Zack shook his hand and looked into his deep eyes that looked almost black in the darkness of the tunnel. “Zack,” he said.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mac,” Gretchen said as she stretched out her hands and took his in both of hers. “We’ve all suffered terrible loss.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mac said with a sniffle. The robust man did not try to hide the fact that he was wiping fresh tears from his cheeks and grizzly beard.

In that time, the rest had made it down the ladder and joined them, ready to see what the place had to offer.

“Well, let’s show you around and get you acquainted,” Mac said with a smile. He shone the flashlight forward to light the way.

Christine was the last to make it down, so that meant that she was at the tail end of the group and far from Zack’s site. This would normally make him nervous, he always wanted to keep a close eye on her in case she bolted, but in this case it eased his worry. If there was something wrong with this group or their bunker, he was the strongest and the first to face any danger. Trouble did not always meet him head on, though. Sometimes it attacked from the rear and tried to stab him in the back. That’s why having Christine, with her deadly bow in hand, made him feel safe. He trusted her to take care of them, even if she’d let him down in the past.

Would Liam, or whoever it was whispering lies into her ears, try to convince her to let them die down there if the bunker group attacked them? Would he be able to convince her that she was better off on her own than with the others, as he tried to before? Zack looked over his shoulder just to make sure. He saw her light golden ponytail whipping from side to side as she turned her head to take in the full view of the narrow, high tunnel they made their way through. His heart slowed and he was able to take a deep breath again. She was safe. She was still with them. Guess he didn’t trust her fully after all.

Distant sounds met their ears as they journeyed further into the tunnel. There was clanking, talking, laughter, banging, chopping, and other non-distinguishable but familiar noises. Their eyes adjusted as light grew ahead of them, opening up into a larger area with shining silver walls. The group stopped at the tunnel’s exit, their eyes unblinking as they took it all in.

Mac stretched out his arms in presentation. “Welcome to the bunker!”

III

The narrow tunnel opened up into a room that was larger than anyone in the group expected. The ceiling shone a metallic silver and stood a good twelve feet above them. Zack looked up as he stepped out from the darkness and into the light of the bunker, seeing the blurred reflection of himself above. The walls glistened with the same silver as the ceiling and spread out to encompass at least a thousand square feet in that one room alone. Within the walls were heavy metal doors, each about twelve feet apart, evenly spaced, all the way around. Zack’s eyes moved along the walls, wondering what was behind each door. He had to remind himself to let his guard down and give the place and people a fair chance because a part of him wanted to believe nothing good could be behind them.

“This is incredible,” Gretchen mused in awe.

The others murmured their agreement as they spun to take it all in.

“Yeah, my dad was a bit of a nut if truth be told. He survived several wars and had a touch of PTSD and paranoia. Thank God for that or we wouldn’t have this underground habitat to live in, right?” Mac chuckled again and this time it infected some of the others, if only with optimistic smiles.

“Your dad built all of this?” Zack asked, hoping he hid the skepticism that crept through his heart and mind.

“Sure did. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, bless his soul. He believed the end was near, that aliens, or another race superior to us was going to come in and take over and that the family would need somewhere to hide out till they could be defeated. Guess he wasn’t entirely crazy, the old cook. Not saying these dead things are superior to us or nothing, but they sure did do a number on humanity.”

Zack nodded his head, still twisting his body and craning his neck to examine his surroundings. He felt the gentle warmth of another arm rest up against his. Christine had made her way forward from the back of the group and stopped next to her friend. Her face was smeared with bits of dirt. Her usually vibrant honey blonde hair looked dusty and ragged, pulled back into a long hanging ponytail. He could tell she was guarded as well, not fully accepting of the gift of safety and opportunity they’d just been given. “Nothing comes so simply” was what her eyes said. There had to be a catch. There had to be a downside to all this good. If there was, Zack would find it. There was no way he was going to let anything happen to his group.

Imani walked past them, raised her hand without stopping to slap it against Mac’s palm, and continued onward into the room. She made her way to one of the uniformed doors, opened it, and disappeared behind it without a word.

“Kid’s glad to be back home, huh?” Mac said as he smiled with familiarity at Luke.

“Think she’s more excited to get away from me.”

Mac’s eyes softened as he chuckled this time, placing his hands in the pockets of his overalls. “That ain’t true, brother. She knows just how lucky she is to still have her daddy in this world. She’ll come around. Just give her time.”

Luke stretched his mouth awkwardly to one side as he nodded his head, eyes focused on the dirt ground. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it, brother. That’s what I’m here for.”

Through the entire exchange, Zack kept his eyes on Mac, studying his facial expressions for genuineness, searching for any hint of deception or manipulation, but he couldn’t find any. The man meant what he said to Luke and he truly wanted to help. He knew that was a rare find, in this fallen world or in the one before.

“Don’t you think it’s a risk opening up what you have here to others?” Zack let his eyes graze over the few other people who were moving around busily, going about their day’s work. “I mean, aren’t you worried at all? You don’t know us, who we are, what we want. Aren’t you afraid of losing this place?”

Mac took a deep breath as he considered the string of questions. His gentle eyes turned upward for a moment before making their way back to Zack’s weather-beaten face. “Not one bit,” he said. “Something this good wasn’t meant to be selfishly hoarded, it was meant to be shared. I can’t turn people away to their death. I can’t sit by while innocent lives are lost to those soulless beings up there. I just can’t. I hope you understand, son, that we don’t invite you into this place lightly. We will be talking more so I can make sure you’re not a threat to this community, but I will not turn the innocent away to protect myself. I just can’t.”

The man kept eye contact the entire time he spoke, to the point where Zack’s brain was begging him to break it and look away, but he refused. Mac’s voice dripped with sincerity and kindness, and his smile warmed Zack’s heart as it beat tirelessly in his aching chest.

“Thank you,” a soft voice spoke up to Zack’s surprise, “for sharing what you have with us. I promise, we will not harm you, your people, or what you have.” Christine offered to Mac with the brightest smile of pure warmth, a smile Zack hadn’t seen grace her lips in the longest time.

“Well, thank you for that, little miss. That gives me great pleasure to hear. I sure hope you mean every word you say, too. But I’m sure you do.” Mac returned her smile, wrinkle for wrinkle, tooth for tooth. “How about we give you the grand tour?” Mac turned around, removing his hands from his pockets and displayed them out in grand gesture again.

“This is the main living area. It’s safe to say that this is where the magic happens.” He took a few steps forward and pointed over to the first three doors to the left. “Over there is the kitchen, the panty, and storage for cooking items.” He turned on his heel and pointed over to the first two doors on their right. “Over there is our public restroom area, one for boys and one for girls. Don’t let me catch you doubling up or where you don’t belong.” He chuckled to himself and led the group further into the center of the room. “The other doors belong to the community and serve as their private quarters. Each room is about ten by ten in size, has a bed, a nightstand, a lamp, a shelf, and whatever provisions each person brought in to make it their own. My quarters are no different than anyone else’s. I don’t rule this place like a king or nothing. There’s only room for one king in this world.” Another chuckle and off he went to the communal area best described as a living room. He rested himself on the arm of a couch and folded his hands across his portly chest. “We grow our own food as you saw upstairs.” His eyes shifted upward so the group would know he was talking about the world above. “We can our own preserves and we find our own supplies. We do not steal from others. We share everything down here. Is there anything else you’d like to know? Or any questions I can answer for ya?”

The group looked on at the man in silence. There was so much they wanted to know that they couldn’t formulate a single question between their eight brains. Luke had wandered from the group and retired to his own quarters without anyone noticing. Each exchanged glances with each other, as if challenging the other to speak up, but no one did. Eventually, the gazes landed on Zack, who looked to Mac with a weary, but thankful expression.

“We really appreciate you allowing us to take shelter here.”

“My pleasure…uh…” Mac fished for an introduction.

“Sorry, Zack.” He turned to the others and pointed them out as he called them by name. “This is Christine and her sister Gretchen. That’s Rowan over there, and Carolyn next to him. The spitfire there is Olivia and the giant next to her is Lee. In the back there is Dan.” He said the last name quickly, as if it were an afterthought. The lack of forgiveness he felt towards Dan still panged at his heart whenever he noticed the young man was still there with them, hiding out among the others, going unnoticed. Blending in and keeping quiet was certainly a talent of his, and one that Zack came to appreciate in his bitterness.

Zack turned back to the man in charge down there, the kind-faced Mac, and took a step closer to speak softly. “Could we talk later tonight?” he asked, leaning in close to the older man’s ear. “In private, I mean?”

Mac nodded his head and smiled. “I think we can arrange that, sir. I’d be happy to have a cup ‘a coffee with you and chat about your group.”

Zack gave a strong nod of appreciation and smiled back. The group didn’t know what it was Zack had planned for them, what he was going to talk to Mac about later in order to protect them and ultimately save their lives, but it had to be done that way, in secrecy and whispers. If they knew he was going to leave them behind to finish the journey on his own, some might not let him go. They’d insist they come with him and finish it out together…and he couldn’t let Christine do that.

IV

The group stuck close together as they idled in the main gathering area of the bunker. Dozens of people bustled to and fro, passing them with smiles and greetings as they procured food for the day, made meals, cleaned, stored items, and helped each other in whatever needed to be done. It was amazing how highly functioning and efficient the people in the bunker had become with less than a year of living and working together under their belt. Christine watched them with wide, wondering eyes. Why hadn’t she been able to build a community like this in the apartment complex? Why had everything fallen apart there when they were a group of people willing to work together too? They had achieved safety from the zombies in being off the ground for the most part, and yet their community had fallen and loved ones died. Her mind was brought back to poor baby Lilly whose body was never discovered among the wreckage in her parents’ apartment. Her mother was torn apart by her father, who had been transformed into a nightmare come to life. Christine’s eyes glazed over with tears as she couldn’t help picturing the nine-month-old suffering, being torn to bits by the teeth of the man she trusted most in her short and fragile life.

“Are you okay, Chris?” Zack leaned over on the couch to inquire privately. He didn’t want to draw much attention to her while she was still in a delicate state, until they had figured out a way to get rid of the Liam in her head for good. “You look upset or something.”

Christine took a stabilizing breath and blinked away the terrible thoughts. “Yeah, I was just remembering the apartment and the people who used to live there.”

Zack nodded his head, letting his face draw down in somber melancholy. “I miss it too. It wasn’t the safest place out there, obviously,” he looked around the bunker. “But it was home, familiar, and the people there were our friends.”

Christine stared at the dirt floor, her black combat boots kicking at it to make indistinguishable designs. She sniffed back the last of her memories before standing up. “I think I’m going to go up again,” she said, avoiding looking into Zack’s probing gaze. Before he could open his mouth in protest, she continued. “I’ll take Rowan with me. Just to check out what’s going on above us, make sure the area is safe, and…I just need some air. It’s a little stuffy down here.”

These were all excuses, Zack knew, but he couldn’t argue them. “Okay. Be safe and don’t stay up there too long.”

She gave a smile that immediately waned from her lips. “You got it.”

She went over to where Carolyn, Rowan, and Dan were all sitting together on the floor, their backs up against the cool metal wall, two of the three talking animatedly, though Christine was too far out of earshot to hear what they were saying. By the time she approached, they’d seen her coming and stopped.

“Rowan, I was wondering if you’d come up top with me, just to check things out? You know, before we settle in for the evening, just to make sure everything is in order and we’re not in any danger.”

She felt like she had to drag her sentence on and on thanks to the blank stares she received from all three of them.

“You want me to go with you? Not Zack or Lee?”

“Well, Zack still needs to talk to Mac, which I think he’s going to do here soon, and Lee has been acting sentry at Imani’s door ever since Olivia went inside, so I don’t think he’ll want to leave.”

Rowan took one glance over at where Zack seated on the cluster of couches in the center of the room where Christine had left him. Several people were chatting away around him, but he remained still like a statue, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on Rowan.

“Yeah,” the young man agreed as he pushed himself up. “I can do that.” He checked to make sure his 9mm was loaded and ready to go.

“Maybe you should bring a knife instead, just so we don’t accidentally draw any attention to the area if we have to take care of anything.”

Rowan nodded and tucked his pistol into the back of his pants. “Just so happens I have Bowie right here.” He reached down into his boots and pulled out the rugged knife sheathed in leather.

“Great,” Christine said, though her lack of enthusiasm might have given away her disappointment in having to take anyone along with her. All she really wanted was to be alone and have some quiet time to contemplate things—her life, her thoughts, her feelings, the state of the world, the journal.

“Ooo, can we come with you?” Carolyn jumped up to her feet with a wild grin on her face. “I’ve got my knife too and I could really use some practice!”

Christine fought the urge to roll her eyes. The girl was acting like she’d just been invited to go shopping at the mall and everything was half off. But Christine couldn’t argue with the fact that Carolyn did need the practice. If she was going to accompany everyone to Chicago, she needed to be able to contribute in fighting off the dead, and Christine knew she herself should contribute in teaching their inefficient members to fight. It was only right.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Christine finally said as she turned her back on them to head out through the tunnel.

Dan eased himself up from the ground, in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything it seemed. “I guess I could use a smoke,” he said to no one in particular.

Christine didn’t hesitate to start climbing the ladder up to the world above. The heavy smell of soil and people filled her nostrils and threatened to suffocate her. She couldn’t stand being enclosed down there, unable to escape from the wandering eyes of those she knew, those she barely knew, and those she didn’t know at all. It seemed even the people she just met that day could tell there was something off about her, that there was something going on inside her that no one was talking about. Of course they smiled at her and were as nice as could be, but underneath they were judging her, calling her names, thinking about how broken and weak she was and how she’d never get any better, never be restored to the Christine she once was. It was too overwhelming. She pushed upward on the wooden trap door and burst forth into the crisp Spring air of the world above.

As she stood up and brushed the dirt from her clothes, she realized she had made the right decision in coming up to check on things. The sun was setting, the sky a brilliant painting of reds, pinks, and golds. A gentle breeze blew through her tangled hair, refreshing her senses and clearing out the heaviness from her lungs. Beneath the whir of the wind, though, was the perpetual groan of the dead.

V

From behind the nearby tractor that stood as a marker for the trap door, five slow moving, corpses shuffled out into the open field. Their steps rustled the dead grass, giving their position away instantly to the four who stood frozen, freshly reemerged from below the surface. They all stood utterly still, as if the zombies could only see that which was in motion…but this wasn’t true.

The largest of the dead, and the closest, locked eyes with Christine, turned its heavy-laden body slowly, and headed for her with outstretched arms. Its moaning grew in anticipation with each step. Blood and bile oozed from between its teeth each time it opened its mouth and chomped down on the air with a clack.

Christine steadied herself and took a deep breath as the other four zombies changed their direction as well. They were only outnumbered by one, so the odds were in their favor. There was no reason for anyone to be nervous. This was what they’d been training all those months in the apartment for, for moments just like this one. Even so, she could see out of her peripherals that Rowan was stumbling to unsheathe his knife, Carolyn had taken a few steps away from the action approaching them, and Dan seemed utterly uninterested as he stood defenseless next to the others with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and his hands in his pockets.

It was more than Christine could bear. Her mind told her to whip around and give them a good verbal lashing before she turned back and took care of all five of the zombies herself. She could do it all on her own and there was no doubt in her mind about that. But then she stopped. It wasn’t Liam’s voice in her head saying these things anymore, but the message was still the same—that she was an island, a woman who could take care of herself, and that she didn’t need anyone else. But living is not the same as surviving a smaller, softer voice said. Yes, you could survive on your own, but could you really call that living if you’re not surrounded by others, helping others, thriving with others?

With no more hesitation, she chose whom to listen to. She whipped around to face the other three standing meekly behind her. Instead of hardening her face with irritation and anger, she softened it and approached them calmly. They still had a good thirty seconds before the zombies reached them, and that was just enough time to encourage these misfits to work together.

“Okay, Rowan, don’t worry about your sheath right now. Rip it off and throw it on the ground. You can pick it up later. Priorities,” Christine jumped in with confidence. The fact that they were on a deadline and time was ticking rapidly sent her blood pumping through her veins and sharpened her focus. “Carolyn, stand here,” she pointed about ten feet to Rowan’s left. “Hold your knife like this.” She reached out and adjusted the young woman’s grip, smiling at her all the while.

Carolyn’s hands shook slightly as she held tight to her lowly, small weapon, but the look from Christine, the look that said she knew she could do it, gave her enough courage to stand firm and hold the knife outward, even if it was just in hopes that a zombie would walk into it and pierce its head on its own. That was better than nothing.

“Dan!” Christine spoke louder and firmer than she had with the others. “Get over here. Help them!” She did not give him any further direction. How could she? As far as she knew he had no weapon on him and no will to live. He’d completely given up and she wasn’t sure how to motivate someone like that to fight and survive. She was hoping the fire burning in her eyes would be motivation enough for him.

They stood their ground with Christine. The zombies were now only a few feet from reaching their flesh with their cold, dead hands. It was exciting, like a game, to be so close to something so deadly, yet know that you were going to come out a survivor. With a swift movement, Christine reached for an arrow from her pack, readied herself, and loosed it on the closest threat. With a thunk, the zombie in the forefront and center of the oncoming group fell to the ground, an arrow piercing right between its glossed over eyes.

With the numbers even, the confidence of the group grew. Rowan was the first to charge, pulling his knife behind his head and stabbing down into the skull of the next closest pulseless being. Christine was impressed when he pulled the knife out right away instead of being dragged down with the force of the lifeless body as she’d seen most everyone in the group do countless times. Carolyn did not advance forward, but dutifully waited where she was when what used to be a young woman approached her hissing. Before the disease took over, Christine could tell that it had once been a woman in her mid-twenties with long, flowing, curly, blonde hair, just like Carolyn’s. Now it was tangled into a matted, dirty mess with chunks missing from being ripped out. Her face had holes in the flesh that revealed the white of her skull, jaw, and teeth underneath.

Carolyn’s breathing intensified and deepened as the zombie doppelganger drew closer and closer with each stumbling step. Its putrid, mud covered nails were just about to touch her soft face when she let out a roaring cry. It happened so fast, Christine almost missed it entirely. All she saw was the zombie on the ground, knife sticking out of its throat, black blood spurting from the wound, and Carolyn struggling to stand up. She squirmed and yelled out as the zombie’s gnashing teeth came within inches of her nose. The thing’s stiff, hard fingers entangled in her long hair, dragging her closer to its face.

“No, no, no, no!” she cried as she struggled to pull away. Tears filled her eyes as strands of hair broke from her scalp. “Help, please, help!”

Dan came rushing over with a knife in hand. With one swift swoop, the blade cut through Carolyn’s long strands, separating her from the terrible grip of the being. She scrambled away on her hands and feet. Christine didn’t hesitate to loose another arrow in the thing’s head before anyone else could take their time deciding what to do. She finished off the other dead surrounding them till they were all lifeless and still on the cold ground, as they should be. It wasn’t till she took a breath to clear her nerves and looked around to make sure everyone was okay that she realized what had happened.

Rowan stood, ready to pounce, though his hands were empty and his face was drawn wide in surprise. Dan clutched the Bowie knife Rowan had previously been holding in hand and was calmly wiping the blood from it on his jeans without a care while his other hand clutched long locks of golden hair. The unlit cigarette still hung loosely from his mouth, no worse for the wear. He didn’t have to say anything for Christine to understand, his deep brown eyes spoke it all. He couldn’t survive losing another person…he just couldn’t. There would be no more blood on his hands.

Carolyn heaved great big breaths as she collected herself, doubled over with her hands on her knees. When she finally stood straight, Christine smiled. Carolyn’s long mermaid curls fell down to her waist on one side and only to her shoulder on the other. Her face was smudged with bile and dirt, and her blue eyes were sparkling with life. She looked like a warrior, a survivor if Christine had ever seen one. A whisper of a smile crossed both the girls’ lips as they looked at each other and then out to the bodies that littered the ground at their feet.

VI

Christine stood with her hands on her hips and her face tilted up to the darkening sky. Five rotting corpses, now unmoving, lay scattered on the ground around her. A cool breeze blew past and chilled the sweat that dripped from her pours. Her body gave a quick shudder as goosebumps rose on her fair skin.

They’d done it. Even if it was a close one and it took more effort than it would have if she’d done it on her own, they still did it, and they did it together. She hoped the others had learned something from the experience as well, grown in their capabilities and confidence.

Unable to resist the temptation to talk to Dan about what happened any longer, Christine released the breath she was holding and walked over to where he stood panting over the corpse he’d brought down. “That was good, what you did,” she said, giving him a quick pat on the back.

He looked up from the monster that lay still at his feet and glanced her way. Instead of relief or confidence, though, Christine saw the return of hopelessness and defeat. “Just because I took one down doesn’t mean another won’t come, and another, and another, till we’re overrun.”

The words hit Christine in the chest like an arrow. She’d been so sure she had brought Dan back from his abysmal downward spiral. She was sure he’d seen a new way, that the people he traveled with were worth the fight, otherwise why had he fought at all?

“What’s the point anymore? I’m tired, man. I just want to rest.” Dan turned and walked toward the trap door to the bunker.

Christine stood there, dumbfounded by how wrongly she had read the situation and Dan. He had given up. Sure, he fought when the threat was breathing down someone else’s neck because he couldn’t live with the guilt of letting someone else die, but would he do the same for himself? Or would he gladly welcome the final rest of death? The very idea sent a chill down her body again.

“Hold up, Dan!” she yelled out as she jogged after him. She grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to face her. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”

He yanked his arm out of her grasp, his face contorting with malice. “I didn’t just lose someone I cared about! I killed them!” He made to turn away, but Christine maneuvered herself back in front of him.

“I know and I know that pain too,” she said desperately. “Liam was the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, but instead I had to put a knife in his head just so he wouldn’t turn into one of those things. I did it and I have to live with that.”

Dan took a step forward till his chin was almost touching her forehead. He glared down at her, his jaw tightening with each breath he took. “You had to kill him. That was mercy. What I did was not mercy…it was murder. And I can never take it back.”

She stood dumbfounded, blinking as she processed the magnitude of his words. They had both performed the same actions, but he was right. It was different. She scrambled for a way to bring him back and get through to him that it wasn’t his fault.

“You didn’t do it because you wanted Anita dead!” Christine called after him again. She marched up behind him till they were shoulder to shoulder and spun him around again for what she hoped was the last time. “You thought you were protecting an innocent man. Zack. You did it out of the goodness of your heart, not out of hatred. You have to learn to forgive yourself for it.”

“Yeah?” he rounded on her. “Why’s that? The memory will always be there. Forgiveness won’t change the fact that she’s dead and I’m the one who killed her!”

“You’re right,” Christine breathed out. “It won’t. But it will change how you feel on the inside. It will change how you see yourself. It will give you hope and a future again.”

He snorted through his nose and shook his head, taking his gaze from her and placing it on the cold, hard ground. “You just don’t get it. There is no future anymore, not for any of us.” And he walked off, back to the warmth and comfort of the bunker.

Christine turned around to see Rowan and Carolyn standing awkwardly behind her, their eyes doing all they could to avoid hers to spare her. She knew what they must be thinking then. She’d failed Dan.

“Some people can’t be saved,” Liam’s voice echoed in her head, though she couldn’t see him anywhere. “Some people are better off leaving this world to find comfort in the next. Why should he be spared that mercy?”

“Stop it,” she growled under her breath so the others couldn’t hear. “Just stop.”

The voice dissipated and the echoes came to a halt in her mind. She was alone again with only her guilt to keep her company.

“Let’s head back,” she said, heading for the doorway Dan had just disappeared down into.

Carolyn and Rowan didn’t argue with her, but followed her without a word. Christine lowered herself down into the dank bunker, dropping from the last rung to the ground with a thud. Dan was nowhere to be found in the tunnel. He wasn’t anywhere in the gathering room either.

“Your friend looked a little tired, so I directed him to one of the unoccupied rooms to take a load off his feet,” Mac smiled as they emerged from the dark tunnel.

“That’s very kind of you,” Christine said. The words felt foreign in her mouth, as if they were part of a lost language long forgotten.

They were no longer living in a world of politeness and civility. That was apparent to her the moment the outbreak was upon them. She remembered how cold Liam was when he refused to open the door to save their young neighbor and his mother, all to save themselves. Threat changes a person, time and time again…so why was Mac so pleasant? So friendly? So welcoming to a bunch of people he didn’t know? It seemed off and out of place.

“I’m going to grab some water,” Christine said as she headed over to the storage area designated for liquids.

“No problem!” he called after her with a smile and a wave. “Have as much as you like!”

Have as much as you like? Really? What’s wrong with this man? The thoughts overtook her mind as she poured the cool water back and let it slide down her throat. There has to be something wrong with him, with all of this. Something’s not right.

“Shut up,” she whispered forcefully, but then she realized…it wasn’t Liam’s voice inside her head saying these things either. It was her own. Was she finally getting rid of him or was he becoming a deeper part of her?

VII

Christine caught Zack just as he was making his way over to Mac. “Hey!” she urged him with a tight grip on his bicep. She pulled him over to the side of the room where no one would hear them. “We have to talk.”

“Can it wait?” he asked. “I was just about to go talk to—”

“Yeah, I know, Mac. That’s why I have to talk to you.”

This piqued his interest. He stood tall, folding his arms over his chest, centering his eyes on her with intent. Christine mirrored him unconsciously, drawing herself up to her full height despite the weight of her backpack, arms folded tightly over her chest, and piercing blue eyes boring into his dark ones.

“I think there’s something weird going on here.”

Zack rolled his eyes and let his arms fall to his side in exasperation. “Come on, Chris. I thought we were past all the paranoia.”

“Hear me out!” she said urgently. “So, this Mac guy. Seems nice, right?”

She stared at him, waiting for him to agree with her. If she could get him in the routine early of nodding in agreement, then when she got to the meat of the conversation he might agree with her purely out of habit. At least, that was what she hoped. She fought back a smile as she realized the lawyer in her hadn’t died completely.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Zack said. His voice was filled with annoyance, but his head nodded right along.

“Good, okay. Right. He seems nice. But how many nice people do we know in this new world? How many people have been welcoming, inviting, and willing to open their safety to complete strangers?”

Again she waited. She needed him to participate. If he did, he might even think that he was the one who came up with what she was about to say. Or it would be so obvious to him that he would wish he had seen it sooner. How could he not?

Zack sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we did when we found your sister and the others.”

“That’s different. She’s my sister.”

“But I didn’t know that.”

“Okay, besides you how many?” Christine said with bite.

“Not many, I guess.”

“Right! Practically zero. I mean, when we were running the apartment complex, how many new people did we let in aside from my sister’s group?”

She waited.

“None.”

“Exactly! None. And when unwanted people found their way in, what happened?”

Zack’s eyes implored her to give up, to stop whatever it was that she was doing, just so he wouldn’t have to relive all the things that happened while he was away.

“You were almost raped. Baby Lilly was…” He couldn’t seem to go on.

Christine saw the pain and guilt that lay on the surface of his distant eyes. He had been out looking for Anita and gathering supplies for each of those unfortunate events. People died and he blamed himself. He carried the burden of their shortened lives on his shoulders as if he had let the trouble in himself.

“Terrible things happened each time,” she quickly said to get their agreements back on track. “So, why is this Mac just welcoming us into his bunker, showing us around, all the ins and outs of the place, without knowing us at all?”

This time, Zack did not shrug his shoulders or sigh or nod his head in agreement. Instead, his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his arms tensed at his side. “As much as I hate the guy for being a whiny bastard, it was Luke who vouched for us. Apparently, he is trusted here.”

It was Christine’s turn to roll her eyes and sigh.

“I know, I can’t believe it either,” Zack continued, “But he said we were okay and that was good enough for Mac because he knows Luke and has spent enough time with him to trust his word about us. That’s good enough for me.”

“But what if there is something wrong here? What if Mac isn’t all he seems and we’re leading our own people right into his trap. What if—”

Zack gripped Christine’s arms so suddenly and forcefully that she almost choked on the breath she drew in.

“Stop it, Christine, just stop! You need to stop listening to the voices in your head, okay? They’re messing with you and if you don’t pull yourself together they are going to mess everything up for everyone else in our group who want a safe place to wait out this damned plague!”

Christine’s eyes bulged and glazed with tears she wouldn’t allow to break the brim. She thought for sure Zack would see what she saw, feel the uneasiness that she felt in the pit of her stomach. At the very least, she thought he would take a moment to consider it, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t given her the time of day, her only friend in this world.

She wrenched her body free from his grasp and fixated him with a hardened glare. “Forget it,” she spat. “Don’t listen to me. But just know I won’t hesitate to tell you that I told you so the minute this blows up in your face.”

Zack took a step back as if he’d been punched in the gut. The force of her words had physically moved him. She turned on her heels and marched back to the tunnel that led to the outside world above. He wanted to cry out to her, urge her not to go up there alone, remind her that they were safe down there and it was a world of danger up there, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he could do was straighten himself up, look around to see if anyone had witnessed their altercation, and when it seemed like no one had, return to finding Mac.

Christine’s outburst hadn’t changed anything. Zack was still going to ask Mac if everyone in the group, including Christine, could stay there while he continued on to Chicago to put Liam’s journal in the right hands. If he had to tie the little blonde down to a chair with rope, he would do it just to keep her safe. He would do anything to save her and everyone else he’d survived with for so long.

VIII

Christine wandered the farmlands above, all alone with nothing but the quiet of her mind and the gentle cold breeze to keep her company. She went back to the place where she’d taken care of the stray zombies and glared down at their unmoving bodies. Their rotting, mottled skin stank to high heaven, but from looking at Christine no one would be able to tell. Her nose didn’t wrinkle and her eyes remained wide and unblinking as she let her mind float from thought to thought without any direction.

She wasn’t sure why, but she pictured herself as one of the walking corpses—arms outstretched, moaning, unable to speak another word, unable to formulate another thought inside her empty head, stumbling in an eternal search for food, to quench a thirst that would never be satisfied. Then, she pictured herself on the ground, piled in a stack of bodies with the others brought down by her arrow. Even with their mouths wrenched open in their last struggle to devour flesh, they still looked peaceful in their silence. Their eyes were no longer filled with an evil consumption, their teeth no longer posed a threat to anything around them, and their fingers lay loose, unclenched, in the dried brown grass around them.

If those monsters had souls, if the people who were condemned to live as one of those things had been trapped inside with no way out, she was glad she could give them the peace of death. She hoped it brought them peace, at least. She couldn’t be sure. They looked at peace. That was all she knew.

With a quick huff of breath, she continued forward, stepping over the grey-green arms of the dead. She was headed in the direction of a great big red barn. Now that she was alone, with no one to stand in her way, she was going to do what she set out to do and explore Mac’s property. Maybe she would find something to explain why he was so welcoming and friendly despite the evil in the world, and she wasn’t just thinking of the zombies. The new world order had done something to the people who survived in it. There was no more common decency, no more looking out for each other, helping the poor and weak. They were all poor and weak now and it was every man, woman, and child for themselves…except for Mac, who wanted to share everything he had with every stray who came along.

She tread lightly over the brittle blades of grass. The low howl of the wind disguised the crunch of her feet with very step she took. She realized that also meant she would not be able to hear so clearly the footsteps of the dead, if they were nearby. Occasionally, she glanced over her shoulder, did a slow spin to make sure she was aware of what was going on behind her, in front of her, and on both sides. As far as she could tell, she was really and truly alone. Even Liam didn’t bother to show up and whisper nonsense in her ear, sweet or otherwise. She was grateful for that.

The double doors into the barn stood two stories in height and were made of solid wood. The weathered paint had begun to peel. The wood groaned and creaked as she pulled at it to give her enough space to slip in easily and quietly. If anyone came up from the bunker to look for her they might not even notice that the barn door was cracked open just a hair and a half.

Inside, she could barely see in front of her nose. There was no light from the moon or stars thanks to the overcast of low hanging, fast moving clouds. Her eyes adjusted after a minute, enough for her to see that the pathway in front of her was clear to walk. Shadows played tricks on her as she moved slowly through the old barn. Though she couldn’t see for herself, she was aware there was a second floor loft above her head, probably to store hay and whatever else farmers kept on hand.

Suddenly, a loud bang made her jump so high she thought she’d leave her skin behind. When it was followed by the huff of a curious horse, she let out a huff of her own. The horse whinnied, which was answered by the whinny of a friend. Their mere presence, though she couldn’t physically see them, was enough to put her mind at ease and slow the beating of her heart.

Horses are prey animals, she reminded herself as she resumed her slow walk of the building. If something dangerous were in this barn, they would alert me to it. It’s in their nature. They would make a fuss, way worse than the one they just did by me entering their home. She felt hot breath press against her cheek and neck. With a smile, she turned in its direction and reached out a hand for the creature to sniff her. The horse did just that and rubbed its nose in the palm of her hand for good measure. She wondered how long it’d been since Mac had been up there to care for them. If he kept them in the barn, he had to be feeding them, right? The very thought that he might not be sent her stomach into knots.

The animal extended its huge lips to graze against her finger, pulling her in to give her a nip with its huge teeth. She pulled back just in time. “I don’t think so, fella,” she said firmly, but lovingly. “I plan on keeping all my fingers, thank you.” The horse exhaled through its lips and turned in its stall in search of other tastier treats. That’s when Christine realized that her eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness of the stuffy old barn. She could see the outlines of everything at least, and that was enough to get around and feel for anything unusual.

As she moved from one stall to the next, she quickly realized that each one contained an animal. Most were horses, but there were at least five cows, one full of chickens, one that contained at least four fully grown pigs, and another with rabbits. There was no way for her to know how many were in that one because the furry creatures were all burrowed into the bedding and bundled together to form one big mass with ears.

She ventured further into the back where another set of large wooden doors stood. These ones were just as heavy as the ones she’d come through, but they were chained shut with a padlock, no way for anything to come in and no way for anything to get out. Smart, she thought as she ran her hands over the beaten up wood. Nothing can sneak up on him while he takes care of his animals then.

Curious to what she might find upstairs, she searched the dark for a ladder that would lead her up to the loft. It took a good five minutes, but she finally found the way she was looking for next to a door that she assumed was the barn office or maybe a tack room. She climbed the ladder, assuring her footing on each rung. There was no way for her to tell if the ladder was in good shape or not. It was located in the darkest part of the barn in the back, where even her eyesight had no chance of adjusting to see. She climbed and climbed, and then stumbled. Her body fell forward onto the hard wooden floor of the upper loft.

She wasn’t sure why, but the sudden urge to call out into the darkness to anyone who might be there overcame her. She knew it was silly, like the fears of a child entering a dark room, but then again they did live in a world where monsters lurked in the shadows. “Hello?” she whispered at first. The echo of her voice died immediately, absorbed into the bales of hay stacked in towers of four, taller than her. “Hello?” she called a little louder, still aware that less desirable creatures could be outside and the last thing she wanted to do was attract them inside to the animals and herself.

Mew.

The soft, high-pitched sound sent Christine out of her skin again. She hadn’t expected anything to answer her in the first place, and when it did the noise happened to be closer than she was prepared for. Something light and soft grazed across the top of her boot.

Mew.

“Aw,” Christine cooed after she’d reigned in her nerves again. “Hey there.” She bent down to where the tiny cat was rubbing its head against her leg, changing direction, and rubbing again. “What are you doing up here all by yourself?” she asked in her own high-pitched, soft voice. “Trying to stay away from the big scary monsters, huh?”

The cat answered her back with a purr-filled mewl.

Christine bent down and scooped the feline up into her arms and snuggled its face next to hers. She could feel the sharp prick of needle-like claws kneading her shoulder as the kitten forcefully smashed its face into her jaw and raked its head against her.

“Why don’t we get you somewhere warm and safe?” she asked with a smile. Warmth spread from her hands outward all the way to her toes as the kitten continued its calming purr. It cried out again. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Christine knelt on one knee and swung her backpack around to the ground in front of her, still holding the content cat in one hand. “I’m going to put you in here so you’re safe and I can use both my hands to get us out of here.” She wasn’t sure why she was speaking to the cat as if it understood her, she just knew it felt right to do so. Gently, she placed the kitten inside her backpack and zipped it up almost all the way. She left just enough open so the cat could poke its nose out and receive fresh, cool air as they climbed down the ladder together.

“Maybe you can tell me what you think of this place,” she continued to talk as she landed on the hard wooden floor of the barn’s main level again.

Another horse huffed out and nudged itself against the stall door to check and see if it would budge.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Christine went on as she headed to the door again. “But I just got here. I don’t know this place or these people. You’ve been living here longer. Maybe you can tell me if something is not as it should be.”

She pushed her weight against the door to open it and slipped out. As she was using her body to close it again she realized something…she’d left the door open when she went in.

IX

Zack spotted Mac over by a group of middle-aged men and women holding baskets filled with food supplies. The robust, friendly-faced man tapped another man on the arm and smiled, sending him and the others on their way to stock what they’d brought in. Now was his chance. Christine was nowhere to be found to interfere with his plan and Mac seemed to be available for the most part.

He walked over and tapped Mac on the shoulder lightly, who turned, his smile never waning as his eyes met Zack’s.

“Hey there, buddy! What can I do for ya?”

Immediately, Zack was put at ease, even with the magnitude of what he was about to ask this man for. “Can we have that talk now?”

“You betcha!” Mac beamed, laying a hand on Zack’s shoulder to lead him to a secluded area. “Right over this way.”

Zack let the large man guide him out of the gathering area and through one of the many doors that lined the metal walls.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mac said cheerfully and then let out a wholesome chuckle.

He lit an oil lamp and the small room came under a warm orange glow that filled Zack’s heart with ease. The space couldn’t have been any bigger than a ten foot by ten foot square, which meant his living quarters were the exact same size as everyone else’s. He didn’t place himself above anyone. Zack liked that about him. He respected that. Of course, Mac had mentioned that very thing when they first set foot in the bunker, but Zack had to see it for himself to believe it. He was sure Mac was a good guy who could be trusted, whether Christine could see it or not.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Mac said as he pulled up a plain wooden chair and gestured for Zack to take it as his own. He sat down on the edge of his bed and waited patiently with lively, expectant eyes.

Zack lowered himself down slowly, letting his entire body fall forward to rest on his knees. He hadn’t stopped walking, fighting, or moving since they left the apartment over twenty-four hours ago. He hadn’t realized it, but he was beyond exhausted. His eyes threatened to close on him for good before he could get a word out. Using his broad, calloused hands, he wiped the sleepiness from his face and eyes before he began. It did just the trick to give him a jolt of energy to push forward for a few more minutes. He gave his head a quick shake and got on with it.

“I know you don’t know us all that well,” he started, unsure of himself and what the sweet man would say.

“This is true,” Mac agreed with a nod, folding his arms across the buttons of his overalls.

“Right. We used to have a place sort of like this. Well, actually, nothing like this at all except for the fact that it was a group of people surviving together. Our apartment complex was secure for the most part and our building worked together to survive together. Christine was a part of that, and her fiancé, my best friend, who recently…well, he recently…left us. We lost him. And others. The walls fell. It wasn’t as safe as we made ourselves believe it to be. Luke was a part of our building as well in the beginning.”

“Yes, he’s told me all about that,” Mac assured him before he could continue. “He told me of you and them and of his failures and faults.”

Zack stared at the man’s narrowed, yet friendly eyes and wondered what that meant. Had Luke really told this man everything? Opened himself up to reveal what a sniveling, lying, cowardly useless bag of awfulness he’d been? If he had, Mac must be a saint to take him in still and trust him. Luke had proven his disloyalty to Zack and he was not sure he would ever be able to give the man another chance. This didn’t seem to be a problem for the man in front of him, though.

“If that’s true, why did you take him in?” Zack couldn’t help but ask. The curiosity was eating him up inside, derailing him from the purpose of the conversation.

Mac sucked in a breath and held it there as he pondered, his eyes looking up at the dark, flat ceiling above him. His gaze returned to Zack’s and he smiled. “When someone comes to me, lays their faults out on the line, really shows that they want to leave that life behind, leave themselves behind, and start anew…there’s no way I can deny them of this. Everyone deserves to shed themselves of their past mistakes to try to live a better life, don’t you think?”

Zack snorted softly through his nostrils, unsure how to answer this one. Everything Mac said sounded right, sounded exactly how Zack wanted to be and how he expected others to be, but something was holding him back from accepting it as truth for Luke. “Before I met Luke, I would say that’s one hundred percent true. But after all he’s done to us, the loss that’s accrued because of his mistakes, the lives that were taken because he couldn’t stand strong, the way I continually see him hide behind his young daughter’s shadow and put her in harm’s way to fight his battles…how can I give someone like that a second chance? How can I ever trust him to do the right thing again when he’s proven over and over that he will disappoint me beyond belief?”

“That’s a good question,” Mac said without hesitation, as if he already had the answer. “And it’s one only you can answer for yourself. No one can make you give forgiveness to someone. You have to want to forgive that person and trust that they can be changed for the better. Otherwise, you will live in doubt and fear the rest of your life. Forgiveness is as much for your own peace of mind as it is for theirs.”

Zack nodded his head, though he wasn’t sure he agreed with everything the man said. He just didn’t see how never forgiving Luke of the things he’d done will affect his life in the future, a year from now, five years from now, ten years from now. Most likely, Luke would be dead because he was not meant to survive in this new world, and Zack will have forgotten all about him.

“But you didn’t come here to talk about Luke, did you?”

Zack shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “No, I came to talk to you about my group, and this.” He reached into the back of his belt and pulled out a brown leather journal, holding it up for Mac to see and take in. “This was Liam’s journal, Christine’s fiancé, my best friend.” He said this as if it were a noble title for Liam, more for himself than for the person listening. “He was a scientist and we all believe this journal holds the key to putting an end to these monsters.”

He wasn’t sure what he had expected from Mac exactly, something big and dramatic or a slow surprise, but it definitely wasn’t what he got in return. Mac sat there, nodding his head slowly, his eyes resting comfortably on Zack as they always had; no surprise, no excitement, no curiosity to be seen at all.

Zack continued. “We’ve decided to make the journey to Chicago to put this journal in the right hands, if there are any hands left for it to be put into that is at the disease research center, but I want to change the plans. I think it’s best if I go the rest of the way alone and I was wondering if you’d let my group stay here with you until I return…if I return.”

Stoic and steady, Mac continued to nod his head and smile.

“You seem to have plenty of room here,” Zack went on, feeling the need to convince the man of why he should let them stay. “My group are hard workers and will do whatever you ask of them. We’d be so grateful to you for giving us safety, that’s for sure.”

“Have you talked to your group about this?”

Zack looked at the ground for a moment, his hands clasped between his spread out knees as his elbows rested for support. “No, not yet. I didn’t want to give them hope where there wasn’t any if you decided not to let us stay.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t let them stay?”

Zack’s eyes rose to meet his as he drew in an unsteady breath. He leaned back in his chair again and ran his hands over his face to clear himself. “I don’t know,” he began in a huff. “Because you have this great community and it’s been here for months and half your rooms are empty. It’s hard to believe these are the only people that have found this place in that time and have asked to stay. I imagine everyone would want to stay here if they knew of it.”

“I understand,” Mac said. “But I haven’t turned away a single person who has asked to stay. I also have not denied a single person who has wanted to leave. People are free to come and go as they like here. This sort of living is not for everyone. Not everyone desires community once they’ve lived out in the wilderness, fighting the demons of the night for so long. Not everyone thinks it’s their responsibility to pitch in and make sure chores get done and people get fed. I let them make these decisions on their own. They know the rules and if they don’t like it, I help them to see that maybe this isn’t the place for them…but I never make anyone stay or go. That’s up to them.”

“So, my people can stay then, while I go?”

Mac leaned forward so Zack could not only see his eyes, but could see the swirls of brown in the irises and the whites around the edges. “Yes. Your people can stay and you are free to go, should they all agree.”

Should they all agree. The phrase rung in Zack’s head long after it was spoken. Would they all agree to this? He could easily see Carolyn and Rowan agreeing to stay. Neither was much for endurance in the outside world, both a little green in how they fought. One slip up and they’d both be dead, and he was pretty sure they both knew it too. And he was sure Olivia would have no problem staying behind with her new best friend, and Lee to stick by her side and watch over her as he’d always done. Dan would most likely not argue with anything Zack suggested out of guilt. He would be fine living out his miserable days down under the ground where he felt he belonged. The only two he felt would give him any trouble would be the Moore sisters, Gretchen and Christine.

Christine, of course, would become bull-headed and stubborn, not wanting to be left behind while Zack risked his life for a journal she felt rightfully belonged to her because of her connection with Liam. She felt a responsibility and he didn’t think she had it in her to sit back and let someone else take that on. Gretchen, on the other hand, would be quick to agree with her sister out of guilt for abandoning her all those years, wanting to make up for lost time by showing Christine she was on her side now no matter what. She wouldn’t necessarily want to go to Chicago to continue the journey, but she would follow Christine to the ends of the earth now that she had her back, should Christine refuse to stay behind.

Zack sighed. “Thank you,” he said in short, though his voice dripped with gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. And talk to your people. See what they think, and let me know one way or another what ya’ll plan to do. I’ll help you get set up either way, brother.” Mac stood up and held out his hand to Zack.

The two grabbed ahold of each other for a moment, calloused hand to calloused hand. Without another word, Mac turned and left the small bedroom and Zack was left alone with his thoughts.

He had to prepare himself for the conversation to come now. If he didn’t present the idea exactly right, the whole thing could blow up in his face. Lives were on the line, and he wouldn’t take it lightly. It all rested on him now, and he was starting to feel like the weight was too much for him to carry.

X

Olivia sat square in the middle of Imani’s twin mattress supported by an old, weather-beaten box spring on the floor. She’d only spent one night sleeping on the cold, hard ground, but it had done a number on her right shoulder. She leaned back against the wall and let her body sink into the softened pillow-top padding.

Her eyes wandered the small space casually. Across from the bed was a tall skinny dresser. On top sat a framed picture of what Olivia assumed was Imani’s mother and family, sans Luke. In the corner, opposite the wall from the door, there was a wooden chair with a small nightstand that stood between the bed and chair with an oil lamp stationed in the center. Several chapter books lay in a messy stack on the floor under the chair.

“I could get used to this,” Olivia said as she smiled at her new companion.

Imani was still standing, though it looked like she was debating sitting in the hard chair or on the corner of the soft bed.

“It’s not bad,” she offered, lowering herself into the chair.

The oil lamp gave off a warm orange glow that engulfed the back half of the room where the girls sat. It was just enough for them to read each other’s faces and expressions. Through the steel door, not much could be heard of the goings on in the common area. Olivia didn’t have to hear Lee to know he was most likely sitting on the other side of the door like a guard dog.

“Sure is nice to have your own private space, though. We didn’t get much of that in the apartment, or out on the road before. It’s been a long time since I had my own room.”

Imani’s mouth pulled into a sympathetic frown. “Doesn’t help you have that giant always watching you.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Olivia said more to herself than her friend. “Lee is the only person left that I knew before all this happened.” She saw Imani’s eyes widen with intrigue so she continued on. “I didn’t know him well. He was a nurse in the ER and he helped me when I was hurt once.”

Imani’s face relaxed at the simplicity of the relationship between Lee and Olivia, realizing there was no intrigue there at all, but Olivia didn’t notice this time. She kept talking, feeling a release in herself the more she spoke.

“I was on my own in the beginning, but not for long. I found a group, but they were terrible, horrible people, only out for themselves and willing to hurt anyone who got in their way. I had no idea why they took me …” She trailed off, her eyes distant as she remembered what had happened. With a deep breath she continued on. “…One night one of the men tried to force himself on me. I had to…” she trailed off again, this time from the tears that were welling up inside her eyes. She had never spoken this aloud before and the weight on her chest from the pain of it was almost too much to bear.

Imani came over and sat on the bed, placing one arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Olivia smiled through her wet eyes as a tear rolled down her freckled round cheek. “No, it’s okay. It’s probably not good to keep it inside any longer. I’ve just never told anyone before.”

Her friend gave a reassuring smile that reached all the way to her eyes. It was just enough to convince Olivia to push forward through her story.

“I killed him. I had to. He wouldn’t stop.” She took another deep, ragged breath as she remembered the axe slicing into the man’s back, sticking straight out like a tree branch as he turned to look at it. “Once the others realized what I’d done, they ganged up, tried to kill me.”

Imani took in a sharp breath and covered her mouth with her hand. It was obvious then to Olivia that Imani had never used her weapons on anything but the dead. That was a whole other ballgame that Olivia was grateful her friend hadn’t played. She hoped the young girl would never have to.

“Luckily, nobody had fallen asleep with their weapon on them, only nearby. In the confusion most hadn’t grabbed them, but came over to see what was going on first. They shouted at me, tried to grab me, and I knew what they were going to do. I’d seen how brutal those people were. I grabbed the dead man’s gun and shot as many as I could.” Her voice was monotone, as if her mind were far away from her body. With unmoving brown eyes, she stared at the wall in front of her, an occasional tear streaking her cheek.

Imani waited with bated breath. She gripped both of Olivia’s hands in hers and held them tightly.

“The ones that hadn’t died from gunshot wounds, I went around to slit their throats one by one until there was no one left alive but me. I even had to go into the bathroom and take care of one of the terrible men’s wives. She had on these high heel red shoes that her husband had beaten another woman in the woods for. I was all alone again after that until I found Lee and the group he was with. Their leader was a real basket-case, but Lee protected me. He hasn’t let anyone harm me since. I can take care of myself, but it is nice to have someone care for you and look out for you. I just sometimes miss my privacy is all, but that’s not entirely his fault. Just the world we live in now.”

Imani nodded her head in agreement. Olivia’s eyes finally closed, forcing the rest of her tears to break the brim and stream down in silence. When she opened them, they searched her new friend’s face for judgement, condemnation, anything that would tell her Imani would never be friends with someone so awful, who’d done such horrible things in the name of survival. But there was nothing plaguing Imani’s sweet face other than a smile, pity, and understanding.

The young girl reached out for Olivia and embraced her tightly. Olivia relaxed into it, feeling the warmth of her friend’s body. She rest her head on Imani’s shoulder and let the hug last as long as she wanted it to, not once thinking about pulling away. Lee was a great protector, but he wasn’t much in the hug department. It felt nice to receive friendly affection Olivia thought as Imani pulled away and smiled at her.

“You’re extremely brave, Olivia Darling.”

Olivia snorted through her nostrils and gave a small chuckle, wiping the wet from her face. “Thanks, girl. You’re pretty awesome yourself.”

Their laughter carried around the room, bouncing off the steel walls and bringing about a lightness to the air that wasn’t there before. Olivia took a deep, relaxing breath that freed her chest and heart from the constriction it’d been under before. She hadn’t felt this free since she was with her own family.

XI

Lee Hickey leaned his head back against the cool steel of the door to Imani’s room. His legs scrunched up to his chest, he draped his arms over them and let them freefall. It had been hours since Olivia disappeared behind the door with her new friend. Why did that bother him so much? Why was he so afraid to lose Olivia?

Those were the questions that seemed to be on everyone’s mind when they stared at him as he kept close to her, hovering around her, watching her. It seemed abnormal to them, but if anyone knew what Lee had gone through after the fall they would realize how right he was in protecting her from the world, the monsters that inhabit it, and from herself. A sharp twinge ran through his tailbone from resting on the hard ground for too long. With a sigh and a grunt, he pushed himself up and stretched his arms high above his head.

“Hey, friend,” a wiry man with dark skin and an infectious smile said with a wave. “How you doin’? You doin’ all right? Can I get you anything?”

Lee finished his stretch and allowed a small smile to graze his lips in return. “Tha’s okay, man,” he said in his thick Irish accent, attempting to sound light-hearted.

“Well, you let me know, sir. I know this place like the back of my hand and I know how it can be settlin’ in somewhere new. You’re not alone, my brother. I’m Kevin,” the man said, his eyes twinkling as he stuck out his hand.

“Lee.”

“Man, where you from? That accent is cool, man,” Kevin said with a clap of his hands.

“Ireland,” Lee said, now unable to contain his smile.

Kevin was almost as tall as Lee, tall when compared with most other people. His hair was cut tight to his head and the sides were sprinkled with flecks of gray. Wisdom he called it. He dressed casually in a navy t-shirt and matching basketball shorts with a silver stripe down the sides. His face and neck looked dewy from working late into the night to make sure everything was in order in the bunker and everyone was taken care of.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer, Lee, my man.” Kevin slapped his hand into the palm of Lee’s and shook it again, placing his other hand on top. “You have a good night, now.”

“Ya too, sir. Take it easy.”

The unexpected interaction left Lee truly lighthearted, no longer pretending, and with a smile remaining on his lips.

The room next to Olivia’s had been reserved for him upon his request. He opened the door and disappeared inside without a word, encasing himself in darkness. His large body flopped down onto the hard, weathered mattress. Though he couldn’t see it, dust billowed out around him and tickled the hairs in his nostrils. For such a broad man, he gave a small sneeze and rolled over to face the wall, hugging his knees to his chest for warmth and comfort. Mac had shown everyone where they could find extra blankets for their beds, but Lee was too tired to drag himself across the common area to grab one and he hadn’t thought to ask Kevin. His mind would not allow him to rest anyway.

As sleep crept slowly over his brain, visions of his wife blurred with reality. He saw the wrinkles around her mouth as she smiled with all she had in her, that perfect smile that sent his soul soaring. The time she told him she was pregnant with their first child. That was the happiest day of his life next to their wedding day. Then, came the worst day, when he found her parents hovering over her bloodied body, digging their hands into her stomach and shoving her insides into their decrepit mouths.

His eyes shot open, though he wouldn’t have known it. The room was still completely dark, not even a sliver of light shone through the underneath of the doorway. Rapidly, his chest rose and fell in great heaves. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep or that he was dreaming about the day his wife was taken from him. Guilt settled in his stomach, churning his insides around painfully. He had been at the hospital when everything fell apart and the world turned upside down, finishing up his shift while his wife prepared to tell her parents about their oncoming joy of being grandparents. If he had been home, could he have saved her? Would she, and their child, be with him today? Those questions plagued his every thought and decision.

It was why he clung so tightly to Olivia. She wasn’t the first child he found after the great turn either, though she’s lived the longest. It seemed everyone Lee cared for was taken from him in a whirl of ripping nails and tearing teeth. There came a point when he felt broken inside. He physically couldn’t handle losing another person he came to care for. That was why Lee didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t learn about who he was traveling with and didn’t let them get to know him. If he kept his distance, his heart wouldn’t be torn in two when they inevitably left him. But the night Olivia threw herself into his lap and squeezed her arms around his neck as tight as she could, hot tears streaming from her big brown eyes onto his thick neck, he had no choice. He cared for her. And he would do whatever it took to protect her and keep her alive. He remembered her from the old world, when she’d come to the emergency room after falling off her sled on one of the dunes at the National Lakeshore.

The friendship between Imani and Olivia scared him, even if it was just a little. Imani was not from their group. He had no idea who she was or what she was about, or if she would put Olivia in danger just to play the hero. All this worrying gave him indigestion. He decided right then and there that he was going to try to learn more about Imani, and if Olivia decided to stay at the bunker for good after they returned from Chicago, then he was going to stay with her.

Another one he didn’t like the looks of was that Rowan Brady. He was too tall, too trim, and too good looking, for this world or any other. Rowan reminded Lee of Prince Charming, if Prince Charming wore a leather jacket, tight jeans, and worked as hard as he could not to work for the betterment of the group. He was lazy, he was a follower, and his eyes were way too big for Olivia. Though he was at least fifteen years older than her, that didn’t stop him from putting them together at every opportunity while they were staying at the apartment. Olivia would carry his weight while he joked and made goo-goo eyes at her. They would whisper things to each other, giggle, and let their eyes linger too long when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Why couldn’t Rowan turn his attention to Carolyn Bock? The girl was more his age and clearly wanting the protection of a man, though she had come more into her own through the lessons she received from the departed Gale Lewis. Lee wished Gale, of all people, was still there with them to help him. Whenever she saw Rowan turning his attention to Olivia too much, she wasn’t afraid to call him out loudly and publicly, his face always turning a deep shade of red. It delayed whatever he was planning, reminding him that someone was always watching him. Now, that responsibility fell on Lee to try to keep that no-good American boy away from the one person left who held a place in his heart.

Lee felt no physical attraction toward Olivia, and almost punched Rowan for suggesting it months before. He didn’t protect or keep a close watch over her because he wanted her for himself, now or in the future. No one would ever be able to replace his wife in his broken heart. Olivia was only a child to Lee, a teenager. But he knew not all men held the same values he held. He knew some men would see the subtle mounds of breast under her sweatshirt, the curves of her muscular legs, the flow of her straight chocolate-colored hair down her back, and be taken in by her tomboyish beauty. Not only was she pleasant to the eye, she was formidable. If someone had doubts about their own survival skills, Lee could easily see them latching onto Olivia for support and protection. He couldn’t let her be used like that. Not ever.

As his thoughts swirled faster and faster around his head, he began to feel dizzy. He turned his heavy body over to lay on his right side, tucking his arm under his head for extra support. All was quiet in the dark bunker as far as he could tell, or the thickness of the door made it appear so. Lee’s heart sped up. What could be going on out there that he didn’t know about? The thought gnawed away at his brain until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He rose up from the dusty old bed and cracked open the heavy steel door to peer out into the common area.

XII

Christine brought her new furry friend down underground with her, cuddling the black cat close up under her neck, resting it on her shoulder, holding it in one hand as she pet it with the other. She cooed soft words to it as she made her way down the dark tunnel toward the common area. She didn’t notice Zack sitting on the couch with Mac, deep in discussion, or anything else going on around her. The bunker was quiet, for the most part. Only a few people walked the circular area, finishing up the last of their chores for the day.

“How about we get comfy in one of these rooms?” she whispered to the cat, who purred in return.

She walked up to the first door Mac had pointed to when he told them which rooms were empty. She was still talking to the cat softly and letting her chin brush against its soft fur when she opened the door. The room was pitch black inside. Soft moans came from within.

Quickly, Christine dropped the cat to the ground as she pulled the travel-size flashlight from the pocket of her jacket. It shone a bright blue-white, revealing the source of the moaning and banging going on within.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Christine said as she closed her eyes and turned away from Olivia and Rowan, both of whom were scrambling to cover their bodies with the itchy wool blanket that lay at the foot of the mattress. “I should have knocked. I’m sorry!” She went to shut the door.

“Wait, please don’t tell Lee,” Olivia whispered, her eyes showing the whites around her brown irises.

“Sure, yeah, you got it,” Christine said as fast as she could and walked away.

She heard the soft clank of the steel door shutting behind her. If there was any doubt about those rooms being soundproof, it had been wiped out of Christine’s mind. Her feet carried her toward the middle of the room just to get away from what she’d seen.

A soft mew resounded behind her.

“Oh right, sorry buddy,” she said as she turned and scooped up the cat from the dirt floor. “How about we just sit on the couch and relax. Not sure I want to try another room just yet.”

She heard Liam’s familiar laugh echoing in her head. Without much effort, she pushed it out until it was gone completely. No matter what it took, constant vigilance and looking crazy to everyone around her, she would not let the voice of Liam continue to run her life anymore.

She was halfway to the clump of couches in the center of the room before she noticed Zack sitting there. He was alone now, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head, deep in thought it seemed. When she plopped down next to him he gave a small start, sucking in a deep breath.

“You’re jumpy,” Christine said flatly as she resumed nuzzling and petting her new friend on her chest.

“Yeah, well…wait, who’s this?” Zack’s eyes rested on the black lump of fur as its nose raised up to Christine’s to give it a little tap and sniff.

She smiled at the sweet gesture of trust and let out a faint escape of air from her nose, almost a laugh. “Not sure what to call him yet. I found him in the barn.”

Zack let out a sigh and let his heavy body rest onto the soft back of the tattered couch. A puff of dust shot up from behind his head and swirled in the air before dissipating. He considered telling Christine that keeping that cat was a bad idea. There was no way she was going to be able to take care of it, protect it, feed it. Supplies were eventually going to run out and he didn’t want her deciding on her emotions if she should starve to death to save this new love in her life. He also didn’t want her distracted in a fight with the dead because she was worried the cat might get eaten. But he held his tongue when he saw the genuine smile that spread across her pink lips. She whispered “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” to the black cat and rubbed her cheek along its back, warming Zack’s heart a bit.

The urge to tell Zack what she’d just seen between Olivia and Rowan surged through Christine, but she repressed it. Of course, a seventeen-year-old girl should not be sleeping with a man in his thirties, and she would have spoken out loudly against it if the world had still been as it was before. Now it seemed trivial. Maybe it was good to have a fun, pleasurable distraction from the chaos above their heads. She considered what Olivia had said about not telling Lee and the urge to tell Zack again bubbled up. Could it be the girl was sleeping with both older men? The fact that such soap opera drama could happen in the midst of a zombie plague seemed almost silly. She let out another huff of a laugh and pushed the ideas from her mind. It was none of her business anyway. What was the worst that could come of it? Feelings might get hurt, but that was much better than having your flesh caught between the teeth of a rotting corpse.

“You seem distracted,” Zack said, sitting upright again so his shoulders were level with Christine’s. “Something on your mind?”

“You mean someone in my mind?”

Zack’s cheeks reddened a little. He let his head loll to the side as he gave a crooked, pitiful, half-hearted smile. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’re my friend.”

Christine nodded her head and let the muscles in her face release the tension that’d been building up. “It’s okay. I get it. I would be worried it were happening to you, too.”

“Thanks,” Zack said. “Glad you understand.”

“You should really tell him about Olivia and Rowan and what they were doing all alone in that dark room. I bet he’d get a kick out of it. It might even help take his mind off of whatever it was he was just talking to Mac about,” Liam’s voice said, so crystal-clear that it made her jump in her seat.

“Everything okay?” Zack asked, leaning forward to look into her face.

Her eyes darted as she turned to look all around them. That time it didn’t sound like a voice in her head. It sounded like he was right behind her, speaking into her ear, so real she could have sworn she felt his hot breath on her. When she assured herself it was nothing but a trick of her mind, she let her rigid body soften back into the couch. After all, back at the apartment that was how talking to him always felt. It’d only been a while that he stopped showing himself and stopped speaking directly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, working hard to make her voice sound confident and casual. “Just thought I heard something strange. Probably one of the others shuffling around. This place is so big and the sound bounces off these circular walls. It kind of messes with me, you know?”

“Yeah I know what you mean.”

The two rested back, their shoulders pressed against each other’s as they let their minds be consumed by their thoughts, forgetting entirely the other was there.

The cat mewed softly, but Christine didn’t hear it. When her hand didn’t come to rub between its ears, it pulled itself upward till its nose was touching hers, its yellow eyes staring right at her.

“Mew.”

Christine’s hand rose slowly and stroked the cat on the top of its head. Complacent, it settled back down onto her chest and started purring again.

“I just walked in on Olivia and Rowan having sex.” Christine’s voice sounded distant, like it wasn’t even hers.

Zack gave no reaction to what she said, lost in his own world. If it wasn’t for his head nodding ever so slightly, she would have thought he hadn’t heard her at all.

“I’m going ahead to Chicago alone,” he responded.

Christine nodded her head as well, though her mind raced with a million thoughts. How could he do this to her? The only reason he even had a reason to go to Chicago was because she presented him with the journal and told him the solution might be inside. If anyone should go to Chicago it was her.

“He doesn’t want you to go because he doesn’t think you’re capable of staying alive long enough to get the journal there. He doesn’t trust you, even though you’ve worked your butt off the last few months to prepare yourself for just this. You can handle that bow better than he ever could. Your aim is impeccable. And didn’t you take riding lessons all throughout your childhood?” Liam’s voice spoke softly to her, and even though she couldn’t see him in that moment, she knew there was a grin moving across his lips. “You could get there before anyone ever knew you were gone.”

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” Christine said, but she stayed put, hesitant to open another room.

Just then, a woman about fifty years in age walked by, her reddish wavy hair stuck to her face as she attempted to carry ten jars of preserves to the other side of the bunker in her two thin arms.

Christine jumped up. “Here, let me help you,” she said as she reached for the jars.

The woman maneuvered the situation carefully, shifting the jars so none would fall and break on the dirt floor. Her face was tense, her thin brows pulled together in concentration. Finally, she had successfully shifted half the jars over to Christine.

The woman let out a huff of a laugh. “Thanks,” she said, starting for the pantry shelves again. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Christine was following. They placed the jars carefully on the shelf.

The woman let out a sigh and wiped the dampness from her forehead. “Thanks again,” she said with her hands on her hips.

“No problem,” Christine said with a friendly smile that didn’t feel forced for once. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Christine.”

The woman wiped her hand on her khaki cargo pants and then shook Christine’s. “I’m Karen. I’m kind of like the acting manager of the food here, though I don’t know how I got saddled with that job.” Karen let go of Christine’s hand and turned to leave back the way she came.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know which rooms are still free, would you, Karen?”

The redhead ran a hand over her outdated haircut, brushing her bangs back till they stuck straight out. “I think the fifth one, right there,” she said, pointing to a door two down from Olivia and Rowan.

“Thanks,” Christine offered with a smile.

She went back to the black kitten on the couch. Zack’s fingers rested on its delicate spine and tickled absently as he leaned back with his eyes closed. Christine reached down and picked up the little fluff-ball.

“Okay, now I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

Zack raised a hand to wave her off, but she was already heading toward her privacy.

XIII

The next evening, Dan stood by the tall metal shelving units along the common room’s east wall as Gretchen and Carolyn sorted through the preservatives and categorized everything. The two women had grown to like the safe, simple life inside the bunker and took well to helping out wherever they could. Dan, however, couldn’t seem to muster up the strength to pitch in. His mind was too consumed and clouded.

“Can you hand me that can there?” Carolyn asked with her hand outstretched. “Dan?” she asked when he didn’t move. “DAN!”

The young man didn’t startle or move a muscle. His eyes were focused on the dirt floor, as if the dust circulating in the air above it told a story only he could see. Gretchen set down the two jars in her hand and walked over to where Dan rested his back against the wall. She placed a hand on his arm, capturing his attention once more.

“Is everything all right?” she asked in her most gentle, nurturing voice.

Dan snorted through his nostrils, closed his large brown eyes and shook his head with defeat. “No, nothing is all right,” he said quietly, though the anger was still distinct in his voice. “I killed Anita. She was my friend and I killed her. She died right in front of me.” What had once been a declaration had now become his mantra, his life story. There was nothing more left inside Dan but the gnawing guilt of what he had done.

“It was an accident, Dan. I know you two were close and you loved her dearly, but you didn’t mean to shoot her. It wasn’t your fault. You have to forgive yourself and let this go,” Gretchen urged him, though she could tell from the long look on his face that it was falling on deaf ears.

Gretchen took a step back and elbowed Carolyn in the arm as she passed by, as if to tag the other girl in for round two. Carolyn set down the jar of honey she’d been handling and turned to Dan. She didn’t reach out a hand to touch him as Gretchen had, but placed hers in the pocket of her jacket just as Dan had placed his. Her eyes found the spot that seemed to capture Dan’s focus and settled in.

“You know, no one blames you for what you did. Everyone understands that you thought she was one of those zombies about to hurt someone.”

“Zack blames me. And he has every right to.”

“Okay, not a single line of that statement is true. Zack doesn’t blame you for her death. He blames himself, so I wouldn’t even worry about that. And if he did blame you, he would not hold the right to do so. You need to stick up for yourself, man. You deserve forgiveness just like everyone else, and not just from the group, but from yourself. How else do you expect to get on with this life? With the way things are, we are all going to need a whole lot of forgiveness to survive.”

Dan nodded absently, his head drooping low as if it were too heavy for him to lift up all the way.

Carolyn looked over at Gretchen. They shrugged their shoulders at each other before Carolyn left the wall next to Dan to join Gretchen at the shelves again.

“I tried,” Carolyn whispered into her friend’s ear.

“I know. Thank you. I just don’t know how to get him out of this funk,” Gretchen whispered back.

“I don’t know. I think this might be more than a funk.”

“What do you mean? Like he’s going to do something?”

Carolyn shrugged her shoulders again and let her blue eyes drift back over to Dan. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Dan might never get over killing Anita. She thought back to the day they found Dan passed out in the Wal-Mart pharmacy from taking too many sleeping pills. That was before he ever ended someone’s life, let alone a friend. He was unstable in the stable world. How could any of them have expected him to suddenly grow stability in this world that had fallen to pieces? Lonnie might have been right in what he said when they found Dan. He could possibly be beyond hope.

Dan listened to the indistinct whispers of the two women who claimed to be his friend, who claimed to not blame him for what he’d done. Their whispers suggested otherwise. Though he couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, he could imagine. I can’t believe we have to carry this dead weight. He doesn’t help out at all. He doesn’t do anything but take up space. He killed that girl in cold blood. He had to have known she wasn’t a zombie. He’s sick. We should get rid of him.

Voices swirled around in his head until he couldn’t recognize who they belonged to anymore. He wanted to clasp his hands tightly around his ears and scream for them to stop, but he was aware he was the only one who heard them. If he did that, Carolyn and Gretchen would definitely think he was crazy and probably would petition for his removal from the bunker. He had to get out of there, away from everyone.

“I wish there was something we could do to help him get through this,” Gretchen whispered to Carolyn.

“I know, me too. He seems like such a sweet guy, just broken up over this,” Carolyn whispered back.

Dan pushed off the wall and walked toward the tunnel to the trap door.

Gretchen opened her mouth in protest, but shut it again before a sound could escape. Maybe he needed some time alone to think, she thought. At least she and Carolyn had planted the nuggets of forgiveness in his mind. Maybe it will just take time for it to soak in and grow.

“We should let Lee know, shouldn’t we? Maybe he can put Dan on like a suicide watch or something?” Carolyn suggested as she put the apple butter next to the other twelve jars of apple butter.

“I don’t know if we need to go that far. He just seems sad. Who wouldn’t be? I know I’d be a mess too if I went through what he did,” Gretchen said as she watched Dan disappear into the dark tunnel.

Almost seamlessly, as Dan disappeared from stocking duty, another one of the bunker residents came to pick up the slack.

“Oo, Apple butter,” the older man said. His white hair and wrinkled forehead suggested he was in his late sixties, though his voice was still booming and his eyes shone behind his spectacles with vigor. He had a permanent smile plastered on his face and it refused to fade away. “Mind if I work alongside you ladies? I just can’t lift anymore heavy crates with this back.”

“Of course,” Gretchen said with a matching smile, though it refused to reach her eyes. She was too worried about Dan still. “I’m Gretchen, and this is Carolyn.”

Carolyn waved her fingers at the man lightly.

“I’m Rich. Nice to meet you ladies. Is this the last box?”

“It sure is,” Gretchen answered.

“Well, let’s get to it then and get to bed so we can have another wonderful day of stocking shelves again tomorrow.” His smile said he meant what he said, but his sarcastic tone and huffy laugh gave away his true feelings about the work.

XIV

Christine waited in the doorway to her room for Dan to clear the tunnel before she made her way casually across the wide circular common room. Zack was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only people from her group she could spot were her sister and Carolyn, and their backs were turned, consumed in their menial work of getting comfortable in this hideous world. Well, Christine Moore wasn’t going to do that. She refused to allow herself to accept the world for what it was. It had to be restored to its former self, or what was the point?

Once the tunnel was quiet for a few minutes, Christine stealthily snuck along the wall, quickly disappearing into the darkness. She felt her way along the black tunnel until she came to the ladder that would take her to the chaos and destruction above. The trap door resisted at first as she lifted up with her right arm and held onto the top ladder rung with her left hand. She stretched her body, giving it all she had until the dirt that lay atop the door dispersed and rained down through the crack.

The night air was crisp and cold, the ends of winter refusing to break way to warmth. The bite in the breeze chilled Christine’s cheeks and turned them red as she stuck her head out to see what waited for her above the ground. She took another step upward until her waist was above the earth and her hands rested on the cold, hard dirt.

All was quiet and calm. The tractors in the distance seemed like sleeping giants keeping watch over the crops, the grain blowing gently back and forth. The navy blue sky above was clear of clouds and the thumbnail moon shone white with the stars. For a moment, Christine almost forgot the disarray the world was in. She could hear the soft nicker of the horses in the barn as they conversed with each other, wondering when they would be fed and let out to play. It wasn’t good for them to be cooped up all the time. Sure, it was for their safety but it goes against their nature. They needed to run free.

Christine climbed out of the hole and set her feet firmly on the solid earth. Her eyes adjusted fully to the night, revealing no danger as far as she could see. Her bow hung across her chest to rest on her backpack. The fletching of her arrows brushed softly together as she took careful steps toward the big red barn.

The horses made more noise inside, as if they could sense her presence nearing. Tension in her shoulders released as she envisioned herself sitting tall on one of those magnificent creatures, galloping through the fields on her way to set the world right again. She let out a long, slow breath, the air puffing out in front of her in a white cloud only to disperse in the cold air. She reached for the large handle to pull one of the barn doors open.

“Taking a midnight stroll, eh?” a man’s deep voice said from behind her.

Christine whirled around. As she did her bow swung from her back to her chest and she gripped it with one hand while the other reached for an arrow from her backpack, ready to loose if she had to. When she saw who it was she rolled her eyes just enough to dispel some of her annoyance but not let Mac know he was entirely unwelcome.

“I needed out of that bunker. I was getting claustrophobic down there. The air is so stale.” She rambled off as and she swung her bow back over her shoulder. “Was it you who shut the barn door when I was up here before?”

Mac nodded his head slowly, his eyes settling on Christine’s. His hands rested on the hips of his overalls, his thumbs winding through the belt loops. He bent back ever so slightly to stretch his spine and catch a glimpse of the moon. “Sure was. Didn’t want anything sneaking up on ya while you admired the beauties. And I hear ya,” he said. “I loved spending my time outside before all this; tending the horses and cows, growing life out of dirt to nourish more life on earth. I was not built for a life in the shadows.”

“Then, why do you do it?”

“Because I was blessed with a way to survive and the means to share it with others. I feel it’s my responsibility to care for these people…and every once in a while I sneak up here and pretend the world is as it should be again, like tonight.” Mac’s lips pulled upward into a toothy grin. It was almost enough to infect Christine, almost. “Don’t you feel a responsibility to the people you came with?” he asked casually.

She thought about his question long and hard, brushing her hair back out of her face with her fingers. When Liam was alive, she was full of fire for helping people. When he died, that fire seemed to die along with him. All she could think of was his journal and getting to someone else who could help. She felt powerless to do anything else for the greater good but that alone. When she considered her loyalty to the group, she felt indifferent. Just not long ago she considered ditching them altogether to strike out on her own. A part of her said it was to protect them, so they could settle somewhere safe and forget about the mission to Chicago, but really, deep down in the pit of her being, she knew it was because they slowed her down. That was why she was out here alone again, trying to sneak off while everyone was occupied or sleeping.

“I did feel responsible at one time,” Christine answered carefully. Somehow she knew Mac would be able to see through a lie, but there was no reason to tell him the whole truth just yet either.

“What changed?” he asked.

Christine took a breath and turned her face up to the dark, twinkling sky. “I did, I guess.”

He had no response to that, but Christine didn’t feel he was judging her for it. She felt a peace radiate from him and understanding, and most of all a desire to help her in any way he could. It both annoyed her and comforted her. She let herself rest silently in that moment

…until she heard footsteps on the other side of the barn.

Suddenly, the animals inside rose into panic. The horses kicked their stalls in an attempt to break loose. The goats bleated their cries for help and the cows groaned and paced in their small corrals. The steps came around the side of the barn, closer and closer to where Christine and Mac stood. Right away, she noticed Mac held nothing in his hands but the belt loops of his overalls. He was defenseless. She swung her bow around and reached into the sheath at her hip.

“Mac, catch,” she whispered as she drew out her bowie knife and tossed it gently in the air.

Without missing a beat, Mac reached out and grasped the handle of the knife to draw it toward him.

Christine readied her bow, holding it up with her one arm outstretched and the other pulling back on the tout string. She heard the groaning of the dead nearby, just around the corner making its way nearer. She waited perfectly still, in complete silence.

Inside the barn there was a loud snap, like the cracking of a whip. Her head turned toward the doors as she considered all options and outcomes in that moment. The animals gave way to their flight instincts. The horses sounded as if they were going to tear right through the wall. And the groaning seemed to change course to the other side of the barn.

“They’re going around front,” Christine mouthed to Mac and pointed with her bow. She motioned for Mac to go around the left side while she went around the right.

Softly, they crept away from each other, neither sure what they would find once they reached the other side. The heavy wooden doors creaked on their hinges as the dead struggled to get inside. Each screech of metal told Christine they were an inch closer to reaching the helpless creatures within. Along the east side of the barn, there was nothing but grass and cold wind. No dead to combat with. She stuck close to the wall and took careful steps, one leg over the other.

When she finally arrived at the corner she stopped, her body stiffening. One, two, she counted in her head, giving a nod with each second that passed. THREE!

She jumped out from around the corner, her bow raised to kill the being that stood a few feet in front of her. For a split second her fingers almost released their hold on the string, but then she groaned instead.

“Mac!” she whispered angrily. “Where are they?”

“Inside,” he mouthed as he tilted his head to the open door behind him.

The groaning grew louder. There was also a new creaking sound that could be heard just below the panic of the animals, like the familiar sound of someone swinging on a tire swing from a large branch in the front yard.

What the heck is that? Christine wondered as she made her way in front of Mac, toward the cracked open door.

XV

Christine’s hands rushed to cover her mouth. She stifled the uncontrollable gasp that escaped her lips. Mac stood close to her side, his arm around her shoulder, drawing her into him to avert her eyes from the horrific sight. Nothing he did, though, could hide her from the sound, that creaking rope sound.

She resisted burying her face into Mac’s broad soft chest and took a step away from him. Her eyes settled on Dan’s lifeless body swinging from the end of a rope tied to one of the barn rafters, zombies below pawing at the air to rip him down and tear him to pieces. Their stiff, decaying fingers grazed the tips of his boots, but none were tall enough to get a good grip.

“Oh, sweet Lord, help us all,” she heard Mac whisper under his breath.

Frozen, Christine watched the hypnotic swinging, back and forth, and let her ears ring with the moans of the dead. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her first instinct was to charge in, kill all the zombies, and rescue Dan’s helpless body from being devoured. Then, another emotion crept up; anger. Why would he do this? she wondered. How could he? Lee brought him back to life once already, my sister fought for his place in the group, Zack didn’t murder him in cold blooded revenge when he accidentally killed Anita. Forget us helping him, he could have helped us. He was another pair of capable hands that could have tended the horses, plowed the field, made preserves, anything! Why would he do this?

As if he read her mind, Mac turned to her with saddened, sympathetic eyes. “Some people just aren’t equipped to handle this cruel world. The devil gets a hold of them, instills them with a fear that can’t be shaken, and convinces them to do horrible things.” He tried to look into Christine’s eyes to assess the effect of his words on her, but she didn’t seem to notice he was there at all. She only stared at Dan with hot angry tears welling up in her eyes. He knew she heard him, though, so he continued. “You know when all this started, I saw people I loved die before my eyes and I considered the same thing.”

That got Christine’s attention. She turned her head to look him in his deep eyes, silently urging him to explain how he was still alive then when Dan was dead.

“My God was the only thing that kept me alive, God and the purpose he instilled in me. Some people are not fortunate enough to accept the grace He gives, or the strength. There was no way Dan was going to win this fight without it. I know I wouldn’t have.”

The constant hum of the dead seemed to fall into the background as Christine considered what Mac said. His eyes turned down and glazed over with sincerity and bad memories. He gave a quick and quiet sniff and blinked it all away. But then his mouth fell open slowly and his eyes widened to show the whites all the way around as he stared past Christine’s shoulder into the barn.

There was a moment of hesitation while Christine imagined the worst case scenario, each one more horrible than the last. But she took a deep breath and held it in as she turned. Some of the dead had given up on Dan’s body and turned to the other living beings within reach. They sauntered over to the stalls where the horses, cows, goats, and other livestock kicked and screamed to get away.

“We have to help them!” Christine whispered in panic.

She took a step forward but Mac placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “There’s no way we can take them all. There’s at least fifteen and I only have a knife.”

“We can do this!” she said without hesitation.

She held her bow up and aimed it, lining with the first zombie to touch the bars of the bay mare’s stall with its cold hands. With a soft, slow breath she pulled back on the string and released an arrow. There was a soft thunk as it pierced all the way through the thing’s porous head. It slunk to the ground, its face scraping down the wood of the stall till it hit the floor.

Christine turned to Mac for just a moment to see that he was standing with her, ready to fight even if the odds were against them. He nodded his head once. They would fight to win or die trying. There was no turning back now. Christine had to rescue Dan’s body and the animals who were trapped. In that moment, there was no reasoning that the journal and her mission was more important or that she didn’t feel responsible for the lives of others. She went with her gut, which told her to do something.

Three of the dead that were gathered under Dan’s body heard the sound of the arrow leaving the bow and turned to the source. One had been a woman, shorter than Christine, with matted brown hair and blood oozing from her blue mouth. Another looked like a man, but it was hard to tell with its small size, mangled face, and long patchy red hair. It was a wonder how the thing could see at all with one of its eyes missing, a gaping black hole where it used to be, and the other eye oozing blood and infection, but it did. It headed straight for Christine with its one arm outstretched, fingers grasping at the air. The third was taller than the other two, and wide. Its white wispy hair was slicked with bile, same as its mouth, though it seemed to be well in tact compared to the others. It had recently been a living, breathing man. Christine imagined him in his home, lighting a fire for his wife and children, protecting them as the zombies broke in and overpowered him, making him one of them.

Quickly, she reached behind her, pulled an arrow out of her backpack, readied it, and lined the closest one up again. Release. The nondescript red-headed zombie hit the ground the moment the arrow pierced its only eye. Again, she reached behind her, grabbed an arrow, readied it, and aimed. She heard Mac’s heavy breaths next to her and wished he would get himself under control. The sound was distracting. She released another arrow, but this time it struck the small female in the neck. Blood squirted out in spurts, but it continued forward, its head lolled to one side now and its mouth releasing a terrible shrieking.

“I’ve got that one. Get the big one,” Mac said as he readied himself to fight.

By that time, others from the zombie horde noticed what was going on. They broke off from the grouping below Dan’s body one by one and made their way slowly over to the living, breathing, meat by the door. Even the ones that had turned to the animals had lost interest when they couldn’t make their way through the bars. They shuffled, feet dragging along the dirt ground, over to Christine and Mac. She had to do something before they were surrounded, before they had to retreat out into the open where the environment wasn’t contained and anything could happen.

She reached behind, pulled an arrow, readied it, aimed, and paused. Missing was not an option this time she told herself. She had to strike the head or they would never have a chance. The horde was closing in. Mac raised his knife as the small female neared him with hunger in its bloodshot eyes. Its fingers gripped the straps of his overalls and pulled him closer. Before it could force Mac into its mouth, he plunged the knife into the top of its head. There was a sickening, wet sound as he pulled the weapon free, and then the body hit the ground at his feet.

Christine felt the tiniest bit of tension release in knowing one more was down, only about thirteen more to go. With each one they put to permanent death, they had a fighting chance. She drew a slow breath and released another arrow. This time it hit its target dead on. The large male zombie’s head jolted back from the force of the arrow penetrating its skull. It fell to the ground with a thud, dust kicking up and dancing around its putrid body before dissipating.

Mac groaned and then cried out in struggle as he fought with another one of the dead, one that matched him in size and strength. They had each other by the shoulders, throwing each other around; the zombie attempting to draw Mac closer while Mac attempted to shove it away. If Mac let go to drive his knife into its skull he might not have enough strength in one arm to hold the corpse off. He could be bitten and he was well aware of the situation he was in. So the struggle continued in a fury of grunts, groans, and war cries.

Christine readied another arrow. The draw was still a bit much for her and she felt a throbbing pain growing in her arm and shoulders. In that time, a widely girthed female undead shuffled forward until it was only a few feet away. Christine’s eyes kept flickering up to judge the distance while she aimed, but the zombie was too close. It reached out and swiped the bow aside before Christine could steady it. The arrow released into the dirt.

The rotting corpse grabbed Christine’s arm hard. She could feel a bruise already forming from the force of it. With all she could muster, she tried to wriggle herself free, but the thing had an unbreakable grip. Christine’s eyes widened as the monster pulled closer, opening its cracked, bloodied lips to reveal broken, jagged yellow teeth. Black bile dripped as it drew closer. Christine pulled her head back. Every muscle in her face tightened as she kept herself from gagging on the rotting smell emanating just inches from her face. She could still hear Mac fighting the other zombie to her left.

This is it, she thought as the undead chomped the air in front of her face. I can’t believe this is it.

XVI

All at once, Christine felt the zombie’s hands release their grip. When she opened her eyes it was crumpled up in a heap on the floor, the top of its head sheared clean off. Half the skull lay next to it in a bloodied mess of matted dark hair and skin. Christine held her breath and whipped around.

“Here!” was all Zack said as he shoved a large knife into her free hand. “Toss that bow aside and start killing these things!”

He didn’t wait for her to agree or make a move. He charged forward to the closest non-living being and began hacking away with his longsword. His movements were swift and always hit their mark, slicing through brains and hacking off legs so the dead would stay on the ground where they belonged. He didn’t make a sound as he cut his way through the remaining horde. His breath escaped his lips in silence, only seen in puffs of white as it hit the cold air.

Christine snapped out of her shock and finally exhaled the breath she’d been holding in. She turned and put an end to the ongoing struggle Mac was trapped in, driving her knife into the temple of the zombie he was fighting.

“Thanks,” he said, out of breath.

Christine didn’t bother to respond. There was no time. They had to extinguish every single zombie before they killed an animal, finally reached Dan, or worst of all bit one of them. She followed behind Zack, putting an end to the broken beings on the ground with a single stab of her knife in their brain. Within two minutes they all lay still and lifeless, blood and bile seeping into the dirt floor.

“What were you two doing out here?!” Zack turned and closed the gap between him and Christine. “Those things almost had you!”

She wanted to take a step back as he approached, but she didn’t. Instead, Christine kept her eyes on his and her face firm and unflinching. Without a word, she pointed up at the ceiling behind Zack. He turned his head and his body slowly followed. The muscles in his face pulled downward as his eyes stared in disbelief.

Dan’s body was still swinging slightly, his head rested downward and to the side. Christine couldn’t help wondering how long it had taken him to die. She hoped he hadn’t suffered and it was quick. She clenched her jaw as she stared, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

“Holy—,” Zack said under his breath. “Mac, stay down here and grab him. I’m going to get him down.”

Mac did as he was told and reached up high toward Dan, though he was not able to put more than a fingertip on the young man’s boot. He braced himself for the full weight of the body when it came down.

Zack ran up the steps to the rafters. He walked to the edge and reached out to the beam the rope was tied to. His arms were shorter than Dan’s and for a moment he was worried he wouldn’t be able to reach to do it, but there was no way he was going to call anyone else from the bunker up there to help him. No one needed to see this. His knife worked against the rough rope until it was cut loose.

“Get ready!” he shouted down to Mac.

All at once, the rope gave way and Dan’s body sliced through the cold air to land in Mac’s arms. It wasn’t graceful or soft. It wasn’t like you see in the movies. It was clumsy and hard and almost too much for Mac to handle. He swayed back and tried to steady his balance as Dan’s full weight threatened to knock him down.

There could have been comments about how Dan didn’t look like he weighed that much or about the bulging of his dark, sensitive eyes, or the fact that the air wreaked of death all around them, but there was nothing to be heard in the complete silence. Christine took a step closer as Mac struggled to stand upright and Zack ran back down the stairs from the loft. She wondered how Gretchen would take it. That was the only person from the group she could remember ever talking with Dan, the only one who seemed to be his friend. Everyone else avoided him. If Christine hadn’t just lost Liam, she might have been in a better state of mind to reach out to Dan while they were at the apartment still. But she kept to herself, as Dan seemed to, and watched everything going on around her instead of participating. They had a lot in common, really. The idea sent a chill through her body and a tingle up her spine. That very well could have been me, she thought and then turned to Zack as he approached them hastily.

Though Mac still struggled, Zack didn’t stoop to help him. He didn’t put his shoulder under Dan’s other arm to help drag him back to the bunker to await a proper burial. He stared with saddened, heavy eyes.

“We should get him back,” Christine offered, her voice catching in her tightened throat. She touched Zack’s arm to encourage him.

“Yeah, we should,” was all he said as he bent down and scooped Dan up into his arms like a child.

Dan’s head rested forward onto Zack’s chest, his legs and arms swinging with each step taken. For anyone else looking on, it might look like he was only sleeping. Tears rolled down Christine’s cheeks. At least he hadn’t been bitten. He wasn’t going to come back as one of those things. He could rest in peace now, no longer troubled by the chaotic world around him. Christine and Mac followed a ways behind Zack as he headed back to the safety of underground. If only Dan had stayed there. If only they had all stayed there.

Mac bent to open the hatch. He headed down first and waited, ready to assist Zack in getting the body down safely and quietly. Christine watched, wanting to help but only feeling in the way if she tried. She looked up at the dark sky and felt a drop of rain hit her nose and splatter her cheek. Closing her eyes, she let out a deep breath and embraced the coolness of the water striking her skin.

“If you had left sooner, taken the journal to the right people in Chicago immediately after I died, like you wanted to, instead of listening to everyone else, Dan might still be alive. He might not have wanted to leave the world if there was a hope for its restoration. It still needs to be done, so no one else gives up like he did, Christine. Your plans may have been delayed, but only let it be for a day. Insist his immediate burial and leave tomorrow night while everyone sleeps. It’s what you have to do.” Liam’s voice rang inside her head. She waited for his touch on her arm or shoulders, but none came. When she opened her eyes, she stood alone at the top of the open hatch.

“Coming down?” Zack called up to her.

The rain fell harder now, dampening her long blonde hair, weighing down her head and thoughts. Maybe Liam’s right, she thought as she lowered herself down into the ground. I should leave, and soon.

They made their way through the tunnel to the common room, led by the dim light of Mac’s flashlight he kept in his back pocket. Their steps were careful, soft, and slow. Christine was unsure how they were going to bring this body into their living space and not have a whirlwind of questions, tears, and cries of grief from those who knew him and some who didn’t. She thought of the few children who were a part of the community and wondered if they had seen a dead body before. In the middle of the night she had even heard the sound of a young toddler, no older than two, crying, though she had yet to see them. Surely, in this world, they’d seen worse horrors she assured herself.

“Wait here,” Mac said, holding his arm out as they approached the round common area.

Zack waited in the shadows, clutching Dan’s lifeless body to him. His breath was heavier than usual, but Christine couldn’t be sure if it was from carrying Dan or from the shock of it all. She wondered what Zack was thinking in the moment he found Dan. Was he happy that the person who killed Anita was dead? Or did he feel remorse, sadness, or even regret? Zack was never one to hide his feelings and that went for his feelings toward Dan after he came to the apartments. He never talked to the young man of his own accord, and when he was forced to it was short and harsh. His eyes threw wild daggers every time Dan crossed his path and there were many times the tall, broad man grumbled inaudibly under his breath, the only word that could be made out being Dan’s name. But Christine couldn’t believe Zack would ever have truly wanted Dan dead. That just wasn’t him. Unless the cruel, hideous new world had changed him. She didn’t rule out the possibility.

After a few minutes, Mac popped his head back into the tunnel and waved Christine and Zack forward with his hand. “Come on, you two. It’s okay. Very few are awake and the ones who are I’ve prepared so they don’t wake the others.”

Christine went first and stopped when she was a few feet into the light. She turned and watched Zack emerge from pure blackness with the dead boy laying loosely in his grip. If she hadn’t been there, witnessed the terrible event herself, and saw what she saw then, she would have gasped, let out a little scream of shock, possibly even burst out in a raucous sob. Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks silently.

“Dear God,” she heard a woman’s voice behind her say. Another gasped a soft, “Oh no.” There was quiet crying from more than one. When she turned to look, there was a total of five people standing in the common room looking on, one being Gretchen.

Christine’s sister had her hands over her mouth, pressed tightly to her. Her eyes were already bloodshot from the threat of tears as they welled up and spilled over in a stream down her cheeks. Her nostrils flared as she tried to keep under control. Instead, she let out strained whimpers. Finally, her eyes closed and gave in. Her shoulders moved up and down as she let herself feel the immense pain and grief death tends to bring. She opened her blue eyes and took small steps forward until she was standing at Christine’s side in front of Zack holding Dan. Her shaking hand reached out for the cold hanging one nearest to her. Her entire body shivered and then she sobbed even harder. She let go of Dan’s hand and threw herself onto Christine, begging silently for comfort.

Christine wrapped an arm around her sister’s back while the other cradled her head and pet her short, wavy hair. She shushed her calmly, trying to soothe her away from a breakdown.

“I can’t believe it,” Gretchen said through the tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone. How did it happen?”

Christine pulled away slightly to look her sister in the eyes. Her own softened and glazed over with tears, making it hard for her to see, as if she were trying to open her eyes under water in the stinging salty sea. “He hung himself…in the barn,” she said slowly.

This sent Gretchen into another fit of tears and clinging for comfort. Christine didn’t try to fight it, but gave in, needing comfort of her own in that moment. They held each other tightly as Zack walked over to the couch and laid Dan’s body down gently. Everyone in the room followed to where he lie and stood around him in vigil, saying their goodbyes with silent respect.

Christine held Gretchen’s hand tightly in her own as she looked down. Aside from the bruises and rope burn shining brightly on his neck, Dan looked as if he were in a peaceful dream. She reached down and grabbed hold of both his wrists to position them neatly across his chest. That’s when she felt it…his muscles contracted and tightened at her grip. A soft, hissing filled the room and Dan’s eyes opened.

XVII

Christine dropped her hold on Dan and jumped back. The boy’s dark lips parted to emit a horrendous hissing. His clouded eyes locked onto Christine’s and wouldn’t release her from their gaze. One stiff arm raised from the couch and stretched out toward her warm flesh, his fingers closing and opening desperately. As Dan’s fresh corpse reached further, his body tugged away from the couch in an attempt to sit up and grasp its first meal.

There were gasps and squeals of terror from the small crowd of onlookers, a mixture of Christine’s group and the bunker dwellers. They all stood frozen, unsure what to do. Dan was one of them, or at least he had been. Some had just learned of his passing seconds ago. To be faced with attacking his corpse was just too much for any of them to process. Christine could see it in their large, bulging eyes and covered mouths.

Christine reached over her shoulder where her arrows stuck out from her backpack. A rushing wind blew past her and with a slice Dan was on the ground face-down. Zack stood over Christine, his longsword in one hand and his other outstretched to help Christine up from the crouched position she was in. She grabbed his hand and stood, brushing the dirt from her jeans.

She wanted to say thank you, but she couldn’t. How could you thank someone for killing a friend?

Zack sheathed his sword at his hip, turned, and walked away to one of the rooms. He shut himself inside without a word.

“What happened?”

“What’s going on?”

“How could this be?”

“How did he die?”

“Was he bit?”

“Were there others?”

The questions came flying at Christine so fast she didn’t have time to answer a single one. Her head spun from the whirlwind of noise. She wanted to reach up and cover her ears so she could think for a minute, but then Mac came to stand next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Okay, folks, I know you have some questions that need answering. How about we show some manners and ask one atta time so we can answer properly, hm?” He gave Christine’s shoulder a squeeze. It was meant to be comforting, she knew, but all she wanted to do was run and hide.

Christine’s eyes roamed the crowd and landed on Gretchen. She was still covering her mouth, staring helplessly at Dan’s oozing, bloodied body on the ground. Even though she was silent, it looked as if she were screaming. Her entire body shook like a leaf in the wind. Christine made to move toward her, but Mac had a strong hold. She decided not to fight it. Everyone deserved to know what happened. It was up to Mac and Christine to work together on this one.

One of the bunker dwellers, a shorter man with oily black hair slicked back and suspenders holding up his raggedy brown pants, spoke up above the rest. “Will someone please tell us what in the Sam Hill happened to this boy?” His voice echoed throughout the dome-shaped room and brought silence afterwards. At least a dozen pairs of eyes stared, eagerly awaiting the answer.

Christine opened her mouth to speak even though she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say, but Mac beat her to the punch.

“Well, Adam, this young man here—”

“Dan,” Gretchen said in a small, shaky voice. “Dan Anderson.”

Mac nodded his head. “—Dan…well, he, uh,” Mac stumbled to find the right way to go about it. “Dan chose to depart from this world a little early, unable to handle the hardships this life has brought upon us all.”

Several of the people in the crowd signed the cross over themselves and muttered a small prayer for Dan’s soul while others looked at the ground, hiding their tears as they shook their heads. Gretchen couldn’t take her eyes away from the body. She was the only one. Most couldn’t bring themselves to look at it, even for a second. Christine noticed there were more people gathered around now than before.

Mac reached up with his free hand and wiped at his nose with a sharp sniff. Christine wasn’t sure if he merely had an itch or if he was starting to tear up as well. “Somehow the dead gathered in the barn and saw Dan’s body, uh, hanging there just out of reach and thought they’d have a go. Luckily, Christine here,” Mac gave her shoulder another squeeze, “was checking on the horses and saved the day. Zack was there too, a hero of the night no doubt. Without these two, we might be shy an animal or two or maybe all, so we should thank them for their service to the bunker and our survival.”

The speech started off rough, but by the end Mac had gathered his voice, warranting an uproar of raucous clapping. But it was silent. A few showed their appreciation with a slight tug of their lips up into a curt smile, others simply nodded solemnly once in Christine’s direction.

“We just happened to be there,” Christine said, her cheeks burning and her eyes unable to remain still on any single person’s face.

Her mind was still going a mile a minute. Did Dan hang himself because he hated this world and felt guilty over Anita still, or did he hang himself because he was already bitten and knew he was a dead man? How could he have turned if he wasn’t bitten? That had to be it. He held on so long after Anita was gone and seemed to be doing so much better. There was no way he would have waited that long if that was what caused him to take his life. And if that was it, he wouldn’t have changed. He would have died a peaceful death. When did one of those things bite him, though? Did he let it bite him on purpose, like I almost did when Liam turned?

Her breath caught in her chest. She’d almost forgotten about that moment. The moment when she had to make the choice to end her life and spend the afterlife as one of the undead with Liam eternally by her side, or to go on living without him and drive a knife through his skull to bring him relief from his retched new life. She hadn’t realized it through all the pain, but she was glad she chose to live. It was hard. It was lonely. It was painful and exhausting. But it was better than being one of those things.

“So, if he hung himself,” a middle-aged man spoke up, making his way forward to look Christine and Mac in the eyes. “how did he turn into one of them?”

Mac took a deep breath as he contemplated. He chewed his tongue and turned his eyes to the ground. “Well, Tom, we don’t really know.” Sure, he could have said Dan was bitten and they wouldn’t have known the difference. He could have made something up to give them an answer, but he didn’t. It was only the truth, plain and simple. They had no idea how he became one of them.

Christine finally stepped away from Mac and out from under his arm. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, but remained focused on the people in front of him as the questions were still firing off. She walked to where her sister stood next to Dan’s motionless body. They looked upon him together.

“I’m sorry, Gretch,” Christine offered.

Gretchen sighed and wiped the tears from her sopping cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak but all that escaped was a ragged breath. Her mouth closed again in silence.

Even looking on at a friend who was alive only moments ago, through the terrors witnessed, through the hordes of dead walking the earth, through losing loved ones and not-so loved ones, Christine still felt the deep-seeded bitterness in her heart for her sister leaving so long ago. Each time she felt that dark pang she chastised herself inwardly for being so petty and stupid. She needed to let it go and move on. They had bigger problems now. But the pain of her sister abandoning her still stung and she didn’t know how to make it stop, especially to be there for her in any way that mattered. She decided to just be there for her despite her hurt feelings.

Christine moved her hand ever so slightly, brushing her fingers against the back of Gretchen’s hand. Her sister startled at the unexpected touch. She looked down and then to Christine, the tears welling up in her eyes once more. They spilled over the brims and streamed down her face in rivers.

She wasn’t sure which one of them made the move, but the next moment their hands were intertwined together, squeezing so tightly they turned red.

“Thank you,” Gretchen whispered.

“For what?” Christine asked.

Her sister turned to her and smiled softly. “You’re here. That’s everything.”

XVIII

The next morning was a blur of mixed emotions from the group and from the people of the bunker. Gretchen was beside herself, staring off into nothingness one moment and breaking down into sobbing tears the next. Christine tried her best to comfort her, but nothing seemed to soothe the painful confusion over Dan’s death, and his second death.

Zack finally came out of the room he used to shut himself away in for the entire night. Sleep had eluded him as one thought bounced to another. He couldn’t help feeling responsible in some way for the poor kid doing what he did. He knew Dan carried a heavy weight over Anita’s death and Zack did nothing to help relieve it. If he hadn’t been so cold, so distant, always staring harshly at the kid or saying short, unkind words, if he hadn’t been so hard on him, maybe it would have given Dan the hope needed to keep going. Zack stretched his arms over his head and rose to his toes, feeling the pull in every muscle of his broad body. There was a small group already gathered in the communal area, talking in hushed voices. When they spotted Zack silence fell heavy.

Carolyn Bock sat on the couch with her face in her hands, not really crying but on the verge at any moment. Her head was spinning from the news. How could she have slept through something so huge? How could the sounds of a friend turning into a zombie and then dying not have shaken her to her very core and jerked her from her slumber? She wished she had been there, and at the same time she was glad she hadn’t been. When Gale turned it was almost too much for her to witness. It was no secret that she wasn’t built for this world. When it came to fighting off the dead she had minimal skills. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to learn, but she was slow to it. She had to work twice as hard as anyone else with target practice and she still wasn’t who anyone in the group would want defending their backside. Dan hadn’t been much help either, always lost and wallowing in his grief. Carolyn wondered how she hadn’t seen this coming, actually. The kid had given up long before last night.

Olivia Darling leaned her head against Lee Hickey’s chest as he wrapped a large arm around her shoulder. No tears fell from her eyes, but they dared not blink. Instead they stared ahead in deep thought. She was seventeen-years-old and Dan hadn’t been that much older. Though she hadn’t spent much time or talked with him, she felt a connection to him solely on their closeness in age. In the new world there weren’t many young people. They just couldn’t survive. Was Dan’s death further proof of that? Were the young not meant to live in this world? She wasn’t sure anymore. She’d always thought no one was more capable of surviving the dead than herself. When others needed the protection of a gun, shooting the dead from far off so they didn’t have to come near them, she delighted in getting up close, seeing the memories of who they once were in their eyes before she put them out of their misery with her beloved bat, the one weapon that felt natural in her small hands.

Lee gave Olivia’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, standing tall and stoic in his silence. When he heard of the events of the night before his face gave nothing away to the emotions that boiled up inside him. He’d brought Dan back to life once before, the day the group found him overdosed on pills in the abandoned Wal-Mart pharmacy. Lee saved him and he was foolish enough to think he could continue to for the rest of Dan’s days. He’d failed him. He’d lost another one. How many more would Lee have to watch fade away before it became too much for him? He feared he’d already lost too many. That he couldn’t stand to lose another. But he knew that was unrealistic. There would always be another death to deal with, another body to bury in this world. He allowed some of his weight to rest against Olivia for once as they held each other.

Rowan Brady stood near Olivia and Lee, just close enough to feel a part of them, but just far enough away that Lee didn’t notice him. The big brute scared him, though he would never admit that to Olivia when she accused him of it late at night in bed together. Rowan wished he had Lee’s strength, stature, intimidation, and skills. He worried eventually Olivia would see Rowan for who he really was; a lost, lonely, scared man with no direction, no purpose, and nothing to offer in this world, and she would turn to the one person whom she knew before the fall of mankind…Lee. He wrestled with these thoughts because he was almost a middle-aged man, in his late thirties, and Olivia was not even a legal adult, walking that fine line between child and adulthood. He knew he should feel bad for what he was doing, but he didn’t. A part of him enjoyed her company, enjoyed the release she provided him, the feelings of pleasure in a world with little to find joy in. Her fearlessness of the dead provided him with comfort and ease. He knew if they were ever in a scrape she would run into the battle while others wouldn’t. She would fight to the end and she would without a doubt protect him, not that he couldn’t protect himself. Thanks to Lonnie he knew his way around a gun and knife pretty well, and could drop zombies as good as anyone else. But he knew there were moments he would need someone at his back. Now that Lonnie was gone, he chose Olivia to be that person for him. Little of Dan was going through his mind as he looked on at the kid’s body covered in a grey wool blanket on the floor.

Luke and Imani stood across the room on the other end of the U-shape of couches and chairs. Imani looked on with wide eyes, taking in the body, the commotion, the mixed emotions, and sadness of the group she’d only just come to know recently. Her line of vision kept moving over to Olivia with concern. She never thought in a world like this that she would be able to make a friend. The task had always proven difficult when kids were running around having fun and being kids and the world was normal. Imani wasn’t like other girls her age. When most were budding into their womanhood, focusing their attention on boys and make-up and shopping, Imani stayed where she’d always been. She enjoyed reading and daydreaming of all the things she could do and accomplish. Her clothes were functional, mismatched, and comfortable, her face untouched and natural, her hair a wild mess of curls. She didn’t groan in school when the teacher gave assignments or started a new subject. Learning was an advantage to her, a fun challenge. She excelled in science and math, a world that was mostly dominated by boys and she schooled them every single time. This did not make her popular by any means, but she never cared about being popular. Now, with everything turned upside down, she’d found a friend and she was scared to death of losing her. They’d already lost the old woman on the way over and now more from their group had fallen. What if Olivia was next? Then, Imani would be stuck alone with her dad again. She turned to look up at her father, who didn’t seem to notice. A deep sigh escaped her slightly parted lips as her eyes turned back to the heap of blanket on the floor, shielding them from the horror beneath it.

Luke Benson’s short but muscular body swayed side-to-side as he stared at Dan’s covered form. He hadn’t known the boy at all really, only traveling with him to the bunker those few days. He’d always seemed off, distant, as if something was occupying his mind that was not of this world. He’d heard the story of Anita and how Zack loved her, spent his days trying to find her when he wasn’t helping the group at the apartments, how Dan had mistaken her for a zombie and shot her as she approached Zack to embrace him, finally. It was enough to drive any man insane, like a tragic love story from one of the books Luke spent his life categorizing and placing back on the shelves of the library. The desire to reach out and hold his daughter was overwhelming in that moment. Dan’s death placed a deep-rooted fear in Luke’s heart that grabbed hold of him and wouldn’t settle. If Dan could hate the world so much that he would take himself out of it, was that possible for Imani? He knew his daughter did not love him as a daughter should love their father. She didn’t respect a single thing about him. Instead, she resented him and harbored bitter contempt for his very being. It hadn’t always been like that. He could remember when she was a little thing and she would run up to him, hug him, sit in his lap and snuggle up to his chest. His heart ached for those times again. But instead of putting his arm around her shoulder in comfort, he remained where he was, swaying slightly from fear and doubt and worry.

The people of the bunker gathered close to Mac, who spoke encouraging words of comfort and hope to them. “This young man was broken by this world. The burden of releasing others from their chains of waking-death proved too much for him to carry. It is not a job for everyone. We all make mistakes and we all have sins, but don’t forget that we are also released from them in faith. Dan did not have this faith from what I can see and he was not able to overcome the grave as we are all capable of. Would I have found this man sooner, I wish I could have showed him the way and helped to save him.”

“But what about the fact that he turned into one of them things even though he had no bite marks on him? You said so yourself, Mac. You checked him head to toe, that giant fella with the medical knowings checked him. No bites, no scratches, nothing,” a tall, robust man in canvas overalls spoke low, worry overtaking his drooping, tired eyes.

“Shawn, I wish I had the answer, I really do. Only God knows why this happened. We have to trust,” Mac said without wavering.

Several in the group looked over their shoulders so their leader and generous provider wouldn’t see them rolling their eyes. Others clung to Mac’s encouragement with their last ounce of faith, their eyes wide in hope and their hands clasped so tightly their knuckles turned bone white.

“I think it’s time we pay our respects and lay this soul to rest.”

As if the words sparked something inside them, Zack and Lee both blinked away their thoughts and walked over to Dan’s motionless body with Mac. Gretchen’s tears poured from her eyes again as she sobbed in silence. Carolyn allowed her tears to flow as well for the first time since she’d been woken up with the terrible news. Olivia now leaned into Rowan’s chest and pressed her face in to hide her over-spilling grief. Rowan wrapped both arms around her and squeezed tightly, resting his cheek atop her soft, brown hair. Imani tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry it hurt. She coughed into her arm, trying to muffle the sound from the solemn moment. Luke’s head snapped to look at her, worry overtaking every inch of his face.

And Christine stood apart from the rest, hanging in the back, looking on at everyone else as if it were a dream. Of course, there was the thought of if she had gone to the barn a little earlier then she could have saved him from doing what he did, but then another voice told her it was only a matter of time and if she had stopped him yesterday and left as planned, he just would have done it today. Her stomach reeled at such terrible, selfish thoughts. She didn’t want to be the woman she’d become, but this world had taken over her body and made her do things she normally would never do. It wasn’t that long ago she was yelling at Liam, begging him to let in their pleading neighbors when everything started, unable to comprehend how he could be so cold and leave them outside in this mess. Now, she knew she would make the same choice. She was in survival mode and she would never be released from it until she put Liam’s journal into the hands of someone who knew what to do with the knowledge it contained and they set to work on making the world right again. Then she would be able to return to her life and old ways, her old self. A small huff of a laugh escaped her lips. She almost believed herself that time.

XIX

It rained cold droplets on the somber group the day they put Dan in the ground. Zack, Lee, and Mac started digging the grave at daybreak and didn’t finish until late morning. When they were ready to place him in, they went back down to the bunker to let the waiting grievers know.

Everyone came up to the surface to see the body laid to rest, the travelers and the people of the bunker brought together by grief. No more than one minute above ground and the small crowd was soaked, though no one complained.

Together, Zack, Lee, and Mac grabbed hold of the rope wrapped around Dan’s body and lowered him slowly into the grave site. Once Dan was lying beneath the earth’s surface, all three men stood back up and wiped the dirt from their hands on their pants. Lee went to stand behind Christine with the others, but Zack remained by the grave, standing alone while Mac prepared himself to start the service.

Zack panted heaving breaths, wiping the sweat and rain from his brow as he leaned on his shovel next to the grave. His eyes never seemed to look up from the hole, continually staring, unblinking, at the body wrapped and bound in a stained white sheet in the mud. Christine watched Zack from the middle of the huddled mass. She studied his face, looking for any clue to his plans after his role as gravedigger came to an end.

Christine’s thoughts came to a startling halt when she felt someone’s fingers intertwine with her own. She looked down to find soft pale skin mixed with her own. Her eyes followed the arm all the way up till her eyes met her sister’s. Every muscle in Gretchen’s petite face was tight, working to keep the tears inside, to be strong. Christine gave her hand a little squeeze and forced a smile onto her lips. Gretchen pulled back a smile and held it for two seconds before her face turned to stone again.

Christine looked over her shoulder at the rest of the people gathered around her. Lee, Olivia, Rowan, and Carolyn were standing closely together, using each other for warmth and shelter from the rain. The gentle giant, Lee, seemed almost proud to provide a barrier from the weather for everyone. He stood tall, his back straight, his shoulders dropped, his chin turned slightly upward, and his arm draped lightly over Olivia and Carolyn’s shoulders. Rowan stood awkwardly on the other side of Olivia, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the reason they were all gathered there. Christine turned her gaze forward again.

In front of her was Luke and Imani. They stood just close enough to each other for any onlooker to know they were of the same family, but far enough apart to seem a little off. Imani leaned on her bat, the nails digging deeper into the earth the wetter it became. Luke stood, his weight shifted more to the left and his hip jutted out, his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his damp cowl-neck sweater. It was hard to read either of them from the back of their heads, but she knew both were only there out of duty, not out of love for Dan or sadness over what happened to him. They barely knew the kid, really.

Then, Christine paused. She barely knew Dan as well. In her grief over Liam she had shut herself away in the bedroom, avoiding everyone for as long as she could. In the months they spent together waiting out winter in the apartment, she only talked to Dan maybe a handful of times. Nothing deep, nothing meaningful to hint at the kind of person he was, the troubles he was dealing with. Surface talk. As far as she knew, that was how everyone talked to him. What a lonely life.

“It’s a sad thing to lose a loved one,” Mac started his speech as he set his shovel aside. “But to lose one under these circumstances is almost too much for us to bear, too much to comprehend. From what I’ve heard Dan was a quiet, smart, kind young man who just could not accept the world for what it is now. We all feel that way from time to time, don’t we?”

Several of the bunker people nodded and bowed their heads, while the group of travelers looked on. Christine was hearing the words coming out of Mac’s mouth, but processing them was a challenge. Thoughts of the journal, riding off into the night alone, getting to Chicago and to the research center kept creeping in and silencing the service from her mind.

“I know Dan had great friends among him,” Mac said as he made a conscious effort to meet the eyes of everyone in the group, save for Zack who was standing behind him and off to the side. “And I know he will be missed. Rest easy in peace, friend.” Mac bent down, picked up some wet dirt, and tossed it onto the white bundle in the ground. He signed the cross over his body and said a silent prayer before walking away with his head hung low so the others could do the same.

Slowly, one-by-one, each person tossed a handful of dirt on the cold, wet body and walked off. When it was Christine’s turn she stopped, holding the dirt tightly in her hand till it warmed into clay-like mud. She took a deep breath from her stomach and held it in, thinking about what she would like to say to Dan while her sister clutched her other hand. She couldn’t think of anything except ‘rest easy, friend’, a variation on the same words Mac had just used to end the service. Christine closed her eyes and tossed the dirt onto Dan. She felt nothing, really. What a terrible human-being I’ve become.

PART FOUR

“Not even the brightest future can make up for the fact that no roads lead back to what came before.”

—Jo Nesbo

I

Zack sat on the couch with his head leaning over the back of it. Gretchen settled in next to him, her hands folded in her lap and wringing together. Zack sighed. Gretchen cleared her throat and took a ragged breath. Zack looked at her discretely and raised a hand as if to put it around her in comfort, but then lowered it back to his side.

Gretchen shifted in her seat and gave a huffy, impatient sigh. “Can you tell me what this is about before I go crazy here?” Gretchen finally blurted out, slapping her hands against her thighs when she broke them apart.

Zack sat all the way up and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his face with his hands, sniffed, and sat up. “I’m going to Chicago alone,” was all he said.

Gretchen narrowed her eyes and waited. There had to be more. That couldn’t be all he wanted to talk to her about. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with her since she and the others joined the group, only calling on her to correct something she did wrong with her knife or Christine’s bow or Dan’s pistol. But he had seemed to warm up to her in the last few days after leaving the apartment. Especially after her reconciliation with Christine. Often, she wondered if Zack had feelings for Christine because of the way he watched over her, but his eyes never lingered lustfully, only with worry like those of a big brother. A lump formed in her throat making it hard to swallow. Her eyes threatened to tear up, but she forced it down. They had only put Dan in the cold, wet ground yesterday but already she felt she had cried too much over it. She had to be stronger, though the tears fought against her now to flow.

“And?” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“And no one is coming with me.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know what alone means.”

The muscles in Zack’s jaw tightened and released, though it went unnoticed under his thick, dark beard. “You really think Christine is just going to let me walk out of here with the journal while she stays behind and what? Cans fruit? Looks after the animals?”

Gretchen rubbed her top and bottom lip together while she considered. “Doubtful.”

“Yeah, doubtful is one way of putting it. More like the minute she notices I’m gone she would chase me down with the furies of seven hells.”

That put a small smile on Gretchen’s face. She didn’t know her sister that well as an adult, but she was getting to. Of course, this was only how the new world developed her. If she had come home while Christine was working as a lawyer in the city, she would have been a completely different woman. She wanted to ask Zack what her sister was like before all this happened, but it wasn’t the time.

“So, what does any of this have to do with me?” she asked as she stood up and paced the floor in front of the couch.

Zack grabbed her arm. His large hand fit all the way around. Warmth spread up and radiated through her chest as her heart raced. He held tightly before he gently pulled her back down onto the couch. “I need you to make sure she doesn’t come after me. Distract her long enough that she couldn’t ever catch up to me. Make sure she stays safe in the bunker with you.”

Gretchen let out a little laugh. “And how am I supposed to do that? She’ll know something is up.”

“Chances are, she already does.” Zack nodded his head across the room to where Christine was partially hidden in the shadow of the tunnel that led to the world above.

Christine’s eyes locked on her sister and friend for a moment before she continued to the room she was staying in. She shut the door quietly behind her. Even though she was gone from sight, Gretchen and Zack still sat frozen, as if any movement they made would draw her out to question them.

“That was close,” Gretchen said under her breath, letting her tense shoulders relax again.

“It’s not going to be an easy task. I still have to get the journal from her before I go.”

“But she keeps it on her at all times, in her backpack. How are you supposed to swipe it without her noticing?”

Zack rubbed his hands together and then placed one softly on Gretchen’s shoulder. “I guess that’s where you come in.”

II

Zack waited quietly on the edge of his temporary bed. His room was drawn in complete darkness except for the sliver of light that penetrated through the crack in the door. He didn’t move a muscle as he waited for Gretchen’s signal that Christine was out of her room and occupied. It was the only way he would be able to get his hands on the journal, the only time she would be away from her backpack and it would be unguarded.

He heard three knocks on the steel door as Gretchen attempted to lure her sister out of her quarters. Zack’s heart raced. He hated doing this to his friend, his last friend left in the world. Going behind her back and stealing from her made him sick to his stomach, but it had to be done. It was for her own good, to keep her safe. No matter how many times he told himself these things, the terrible twisting in his stomach refused to cease.

Then came three more knocks. Zack’s back stiffened as he sat upright and turned his left ear toward the door.

“Christine? It’s me. Gretchen.” Her voice was soft and wary. “Can I come in?”

The muscles in Zack’s neck tensed as he waited to hear the loud pull and shriek of the steel door opening, but it was silent.

Three more knocks.

“Christine?”

Three more knocks.

As he sat, staring off into nothingness, Zack’s jaw loosened and fell slightly open. The knots in his stomach started to kick and flip and twist within him. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry.

Christine was already gone.

Once he processed what was going on, he stood up from the bed and made his way to the door. He went to grab the handle just as it was yanked away from him.

“Geeze!” Gretchen exclaimed, gripping at her chest as if she were having a heart attack. It only took a moment for her to recover her composure. “She’s not in there.”

“I know. She’s gone,” was all Zack said as he walked past her.

Gretchen spun around. “Could she be checking things out above? Making sure there’s no zombies nearby? Or maybe checking on the animals again? She’s been doing that a lot lately. Or—”

Zack turned on his heel so quickly that Gretchen couldn’t help taking a step back to avoid colliding with him. “No, I don’t think she’s checking things out or tending to the animals. I think she’s gone.”

Gretchen’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing back and forth. “No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just leave us all here and not say anything.” She spoke assuredly, but at the same time she turned to open Christine’s door.

It wasn’t locked. The creak of the steel sent a chill down her spine. The room was empty. There was no Christine, no backpack, no bow and arrows, only a mewling black kitten to greet her at her feet. Gretchen looked over her shoulder at Zack with wide, fearful eyes.

“She’s gone!”

“I told you,” he said. “But at least we know where she’s going. There’s still time for me to catch up to her.”

He went into his room nextdoor and grabbed his sword, securing it in its scabbard around his waist. Snatching the black weather-resistant jacket from the chair in the corner, he shoved both his arms in it aggressively and zipped it up. He grabbed his own backpack from the floor and charged past Gretchen to the shelves stocked with canned goods.

“What are you doing?” Gretchen asked, following closely on his heels. “You won’t be able to find her. We don’t even know when she left. She could have hours on you. You might know the direction, but you don’t know her exact route. How do you expect to—”

Zack turned and cut her off, his jaw tense but his eyes soft and understanding. “Don’t worry about it, Gretchen Moore. Leave it to me. I’ll get your sister back.”

Gretchen’s eyes turned down as she released her breath. If she had a nickel for every time a man told her to not worry about it, but this time was different. She trusted Zack. She placed her hands on his arms and looked up into his dark determined eyes.

“If you’re going after her, then I’m going with you.”

“No way,” Zack said matter-of-factly before he turned back to the shelf and started shoving cans into his bag.

“What do you mean no? I can watch your back, cook food, build fires. I can help you.”

He had no response on hand for her plea, so he grabbed a can of cut up hot dogs and shoved it into his bag.

That was it for her. Gretchen grabbed Zack’s arm and pulled him around till he was staring right into her blazing blue eyes. “You listen to me. I’ve known Christine my whole life. She’s my blood. I am not going to sit by idly while you chase after her. I’m going with you. End of story. You got it?” Her lips were pursed, her jawline hardened with intensity. The only thing that gave away how nervous she was in that moment was the little swallow that made her brow turn up ever so slightly and her lips loosen their grip on each other.

Zack set his bag down on the ground and placed both hands on her upper arms carefully. “This isn’t going to be like traveling with the group. It’s going to be hard. If we get more than a few zombies around us at a time, we’re probably going to die. And all to chase down someone who very well could already be dead. If we find her body, or worse her corpse walking around, we’ll have to end her, bring her back, bury her. Do you think you can handle all that? Do you really want to take that risk if that’s what’s out there waiting for you?” His voice was soft, but stern.

Gretchen wanted to shrug his hands from her, but at the same time they were comforting. She looked into his warm eyes, searching for his fears deep within.

“You bet I do.”

III

Though Zack had wanted to leave without anyone knowing before, he now wasn’t sure he wanted three members of the group to disappear on the rest of them without any word. He gathered Carolyn, Olivia, Lee, and Rowan together on the couch. He and Gretchen stood next to each other like parents about to lecture their children. Luke had seen the gathering from afar and meandered over to listen in. Zack met his eyes with contempt. He had more important things to worry about than Luke. He was the bunker’s problem now, not his.

He had to remind himself of how cold he was to Dan and what had happened to him to keep from rolling his eyes when Luke sat down, cross-armed, on the arm of the sofa, his eyes alert and ready to take in what the two had to announce as if he were a part of their group still. Imani stood far off in the distance by the food racks, but Zack could tell she was trying to listen as her left ear was pointed toward them intently.

Zack wanted to start off, but Gretchen jumped in without warning. “Christine has taken off by herself,” she said with an air of drama.

Zack eyed her with a furrowed brow and had to concentrate hard again to keep his rolling eyes in check. Coming out of the tunnels after feeding the animals above, Mac wiped the sweat from his brow and spotted the group collected in the center of the bunker.

“What’s going on here, good folks?” he said with a grin on his face that reached all the way to his eyes.

He genuinely loved to see people gathered in the place his ancestors had built, that he had invited them into for safety. Nothing gave him greater joy than people from all over getting along and sharing their time together. He stood next to Luke, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as a greeting, keeping his eyes trained on Zack and Gretchen who were obviously running some kind of show.

Zack opened his mouth to speak, but again Gretchen got the better of him.

“Christine is gone and we’re going after her,” she said with certainty.

Now they had the group’s attention. It wasn’t exactly how Zack would have went about breaking the news to them, but it was effective and quick. Time was not on their side. Neither knew how far of a head-start Christine had on them. They had to tell the group and get out of there before all chances of finding her were lost.

Everyone seemed to talk at once, but since the group was so small, Zack had no trouble making out all they had to say.

“Knew there was a screw loose there,” Olivia said as she leaned over to Rowan.

Rowan nodded his head in agreement. He would have agreed with anything Olivia said at that point. She had him wrapped around her finger so tightly he was never getting loose. Zack had seen the two of them sneaking off to all the nooks and crannies they could find together. It was all they did, it seemed. He couldn’t blame them, really. It was the end of the world. His head jerked back ever so slightly at the thought. No, it wasn’t the end of the world. Not if he had anything to say about it.

“Why did she leave without saying anything? Where do you think she’s going?” Carolyn leaned over on Rowan’s other side to beg his ear, her freshly cut chin-length hair brushing against her cheek. All Rowan gave her in return was a shrug before turning back to Olivia. Carolyn’s eyes grew wide as her brow furrowed heavily over them. Her cheeks turned as red as fresh apples. She huffed out a breath of air from her nostrils and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I knew she’d take that journal. All’s lost now,” Luke said while shaking his head. “She won’t make it and then the journal will be gone forever. There goes our chance of fixing this world.”

Though it was what Zack had been thinking and worrying about, he hadn’t said it aloud to anyone and was taken aback when Luke did. He wanted to strangle the short, cowardice man who was too scared to go out and do anything for himself yet felt he could judge others for doing so.

Lee was the only one who didn’t seem to have anything to say. He sat on the other side of Olivia, arms resting at his side, his face not showing how he felt one way or another about what Christine did. Zack noted that the bulge in both his cargo pockets was smaller by half than when they left the apartment days ago. Their medicine supply was dwindling. Either way, he would have to ask Lee to give them a few things, just in case. They would have a greater chance of needing it out there than the group would have safe down in the bunker.

“All right, all right, everyone just listen,” Zack said with his hands raised to silence them all. “Christine had the same plan I did, so I can’t really fault her for that. She took the journal and headed for Chicago’s disease research center to see if they can make sense of it and create some kind of cure. It was the whole reason we all set out on this journey in the first place. But the world is dangerous, and it grows more dangerous each day as more zombies are made. She didn’t want to put any of you at risk for what she feels she alone is responsible for. I feel the same. That’s why I planned on taking the journal and heading out, just like she did. She happened to beat me to it, so now I’m going after her because she’s going to need all the help she can get if she plans to make it all the way into the city, where I’m sure there are more dead than we ever encountered out here in the wilderness and suburbs.”

“Wait, what?” Gretchen interrupted by grabbing ahold of his arm. “You mean you’re not bringing her back here? You’re going to let her go into the city?”

“It’s not too late for you to stay, Gretch,” Zack said under his breath, but it was no use. Everyone was listening.

“What do you mean stay behind?” Carolyn chimed in. “You didn’t even give us a choice.”

“Yeah,” Olivia backed her up immediately. “I want to go too.”

“Me too,” Rowan said with as much gusto as he could muster considering he didn’t really want to go at all.

Zack couldn’t help rolling his eyes then. He looked up at the ceiling as their objections washed over him and flooded his mind. “Okay, enough!” he shouted, quieting every single one of them. “No one is going with me, okay? I am going alone. Not you,” he said looking directly at Olivia, “not you,” he looked to Carolyn, “and not you,” he turned to Gretchen, his voice softening as his eyes gazed directly into hers. They clouded over with frustration and fear.

“What? Why?” she protested, her own eyes welling up in confusion.

“Because Christine will never forgive me if you die out there.” He cleared his throat and put on a voice that was more final.

Gretchen took a deep breath in and considered his words, mulled them over in her mind, tossed and turned them. Finally, she let her eyes fall and took a step back from Zack in submission. As much as she wanted to be out there helping in the search for her sister, she knew Zack was right. It wasn’t what Christine wanted and the last thing she wanted to do was destroy the relationship she had just restored with her sister. Zack had proven himself capable of handling himself out there. Gretchen’s eyes turned to the ground.

“Good. I’ll be leaving immediately.”

IV

Christine flew through the abandoned fields, one property to the next. The bay Thoroughbred gelding she took from Mac’s barn was tall, fast, and willing to work if Christine asked in the right way. At first it took her a moment to remember everything she had learned from her riding lessons growing up, but it all came rushing back the minute the gelding pinned his ears, bit down on the bit, and threatened to take off on her. She moved her hands back and forth, moving the bit in the horse’s mouth, a gentle reminder that she was there and she was the one in charge. Before long they took off, on Christine’s orders, and made for the once great city of Chicago.

With each stride, the horse’s nostrils flared with steaming heat. The cold air whipped at Christine’s face, burning into her skin, but she didn’t slow down. Not until she put some good distance between herself and the bunker and when the horse had given it all he had. Then, and only then, did she pull back on the reigns lightly to have him walk. She wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed she was gone. Zack was usually either brooding by himself or settling things between people with Mac. It’s like he had become the simple farmer’s right-hand-man. It was more than she could bear. He was capable of so much more. She’d seen the things he could do with his sword. It was unreal! Olivia had her head wrapped up in Rowan, Rowan in her, and Lee was always watching from a distance. Christine was sure none of those three would ever realize she was gone until she rode back with a cure in her hand. Carolyn was settling into safety and pulling her weight where she was able to by helping the people cook, clean, store food, and whatever other menial jobs they had. She wouldn’t notice a thing. It wasn’t like the two of them ever really got along much anyway. It was Gretchen who was the potential whistleblower. She would be the one to notice within the hour that Christine was nowhere to be found.

Christine’s hips swung lightly with the horse’s movement as he walked along, his head high and alert.

“You must have been a race horse in your younger years, huh, boy?” She reached down low and patted the gelding on the neck. His coat was shiny with sweat.

Christine brushed her hand against her down jacket and then reached around to grab her backpack from her back. For a moment, the horse stopped and turned, unsure of what the person on his back could be doing.

“It’s okay, boy. Just getting a snack.”

She reached inside and pulled out two shiny green apples.

“Want one?”

The horse stretched his neck further around till his nose was touching Christine’s boot.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She reached down and let the horse devour the juicy treat in three swift bites.

“Good boy,” she said as she patted him again. Then, she gave him a little kick with her heels and asked him to walk on, onto Chicago.

She shoved her own apple into her mouth, savoring the fantastic flavor that coated her tongue. The horse stopped and turned its head again, wanting to see if he could coax a second apple out of his rider.

“I don’t think so, buddy,” Christine said with a soft nudge of her heel. “We need to keep going.”

The fields were growing smaller and the trees more sparse as the suburbs of the city made their appearance in small brick houses with torn gutters and broken shingles. Christine watched each house they passed as her horse clomped down a neighborhood road. There was no movement so far. Every few minutes, in the fields, she saw a zombie off in the distance, too far away to pose any kind of threat. In the south suburbs of Chicago, where the houses were right on top of each other, only separated by narrow alleys and one car driveways, she knew things would be different. The zombies could hide themselves, unintentionally of course. And they could also pop out unexpectedly.

Christine’s horse jumped to the right when a metal trashcan fell over and hit the pavement. One of the dead shuffled out from behind it, half a rodent dangling from its blood-soaked teeth. The horse neighed, snorted, and side-stepped away from the human who didn’t look right.

“Whoa, boy,” Christine said in a low, calm voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

Suddenly, the horse bucked with a crazy grunt, kicking away another corpse that tried to grab onto its hind quarters. Another fell out from behind a pile of garbage bags and crawled forward on its bloodied hands and knees. It made a hissing sound which was more than the horse could take. As the dead woman crept closer, the horse reared up, throwing Christine from his back.

Her tailbone hit the ground first, then her shoulders, then the back of her head.

Then, there was nothing.

V

Zack followed Mac up the ladder to the outside world with everyone from his group following close behind him. The cool air felt good on his warm face. He took a deep breath to clear his lungs of the stale air from the bunker. He could hear everyone behind him do the same the minute their noses touched the fresh air. He walked with Mac across the field, past the broken down tractor, to the big red barn. The last time he was in there still haunted him. A part of him feared he would see a body hanging from the rafters again.

When Mac pushed the large door it scraped against the track with a terrible screech. The animals came to life inside with their own unique sounds. Mac led Zack over to a stall in the far back corner.

“This is my pride and joy right here,” Mac said with a beaming smile, his hand waving over the stall in a showy fashion.

He pushed opened the door. Zack moved a step closer and took in the pitiful yet somewhat cute creature before him. He wasn’t sure if it was a horse or a pony. Its coat was a mixture of mismatched colors, shaggy in length, and matted with patches of mud. Its blue-ish hair was streaked with grey and white. The whiskers on his muzzle were long and twitchy.

“Whaddaya think?” Mac asked in clear anticipation of a great response.

“Well…” Zack said, though he had no idea how to finish.

“I know he doesn’t look like much, but old Blue here is one fine animal. He’s loyal, compassionate, hard-working when he wants to be, and it might not look like it now, but this fella’s got some get-up-and-go in him, I’ll tell you what.” Mac chuckled with a snort as he pat Blue on his hind quarters. Dust swirled in the air in a puff.

Zack found all of what Mac said hard to believe. The thing named Blue twisted its neck to look over at Zack, gave a deep long snort, and pushed his nose into the corner of the wall in avoidance.

“He’ll do,” Zack said. “Let’s get him going, then.”

Mac grabbed the halter off the stall door and with a few buckles gained control of the horse to walk him out into the aisle with everyone else. Even on sturdy, even ground, it was hard to tell if Blue was a horse or a pony. Mac saw Zack eying his beloved beast and answered the question before it could be asked.

“This here is a Kentucky Mountain Saddle Horse. Quite a title for such a little nugget, but he carries it well. If you can get him into his gaited trot, you could go for days and never get sore, such a smooth ride!” Mac was beaming ear-to-ear with pride for what was now deemed indeed a horse.

“If you love him so much, maybe I shouldn’t take him,” Zack said with hesitation.

He needed to get to Christine before she got too far, and he knew there was no way that was going to happen on foot while she was on horse, but there was a good chance Zack would be surrounded by zombies at some point and if it came to him or Blue, he would give Blue up in a minute and run for it.

Zack looked at Blue, the animal’s big dark eyes growing heavier as he stood in the crossties, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him. Zack took a step closer and put his hand out for Blue to sniff. The horse gave little interest, standing perfectly still with his head slightly lowered.

“Nonsense. You’ll be safe on Blue here and he’ll get you to Christine in no time.”

“But I can’t guarantee Blue will make it back, or that I will either.”

Mac had reached down into a bucket and picked up a large brush. He put it on Blue’s back, ready to start grooming, but stopped dead in his tracks with the thought of his Blue not coming back again.

His eyes turned down and he let out a sigh. “I know, son. It’s okay. Christine and that journal of hers are more important, though, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would, but I’m a little biased.”

The two each gave small chuckles as Mac started to brush down the horse. Zack watched, eager to get going. He paced the floor as the others explored the barn and checked in on the other animals in their stalls. Mac picked the dirt and manure from Blue’s hooves and then tacked him up with a dusty western saddle and bridle. Zack was happy to see the saddle had the huge horn in the front for him to grab onto if he needed to. He wished desperately this was a situation in which he could just ride his skateboard down an evenly paved road, or that he still had his skateboard at all. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he was riding it to his comic book store.

Mac walked Blue out into the open field next to the fence and stopped. Gretchen, Olivia, Rowan, Lee, Carolyn, Luke, and Imani all filed out of the barn behind Zack to watch. A couple of the people from the bunker had joined them; a middle-aged woman with wavy short black hair named Heather, a young boy named Aaron who Zack assumed was Heather’s son, and an older, taller, thin gentleman with white hair and a drawn face named Alan.

“Do you want a quick lesson before you head out? Just to make sure you know the basics of what you’re doing?” Gretchen asked, hoping she could remember what she learned when she was twelve-years-old. That was the last time she took lessons or could remember being around horses at all. She never took to it like Christine had. While Christine’s interests and hobbies always revolved around the great outdoors and adventures, Gretchen spent a lot of her time alone in her room or out with friends in town.

“There’s no time, “Zack said as he stepped up to Blue’s left side. “Every second we wait, Christine puts more distance between us.”

Gretchen raised her hands in silent surrender. She wasn’t going to argue and Zack was thankful for it. She went to take a step back but Zack reached out for her, wrapping his around the small of her back and pulling her into him. He placed his lips gently on hers.

Gretchen pulled back on surprise at first, but quickly gave in to the warmth of his touch. His mouth was soft, yet pressed harshly against her own, as if desperate for a last goodbye. Before she could fully give herself over to the moment Zack pulled away.

Without a word, he placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up and over the little horse’s back with little grace and sat down. His longsword hung down by his left leg. When it tapped Blue’s side, the horse’s ears perked up and he stepped forward unexpectedly.

“Whoa,” Zack said in surprise as he scrambled to reach for the reins. “How about you let me get situated here first, okay?”

Old Blue gave a snort and lowered his head to the ground, pulling the reins right from Zack’s hands. He munched on the grass lazily. The others in the group couldn’t help but laughing a bit. Even Gretchen covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide the smile from her eyes. Zack leaned forward and grabbed the reins again, but the horse’s head was too strong to lift up.

“You gotta give him a good yank, son,” Mac said. “Pull up on one side and that should do it.”

Zack did what he was told and it worked. One good yank from the left side and the horse raised his head from the ground.

“Thanks again, Mac. I really appreciate all your help.”

“Don’t mention it, son,” Mac returned. “There needs to be a little more charity at the end of the world!”

Zack turned to Gretchen, who walked up and rested her hand on the horn of the saddle.

“Take care of yourself out there,” she said with a pained smile and misty eyes.

“I will,” Zack said. He placed his hand on top of hers and let his thumb rub back and forth against her soft skin. “Look after everyone here.”

Gretchen’s eyes met his and held his gaze. “You got it.”

Zack gave Blue a good kick in the side and the horse trotted off. Each bounce thumped Zack back into the saddle hard. He kicked the horse again and this time he took off in a spirited canter across the field. Each time the longsword rose in the air and bounced off of Blue’s side, it encouraged him to move forward faster.

We can do this, buddy, Zack thought as he held on for dear life. Just please don’t throw me off!

VI

Christine groaned, writhing on the ground from the pounding in her head. She heard the dead around her—hissing, munching, growling, moaning, tearing—but she felt nothing. Though her eyes were open, the world around her spun too fast for her to see what was going on. She tried to push herself up to stand but her legs buckled under her weight, the pain in her lower back too much for her to endure. She sat on her knees, hands planted on the blacktop, waiting for the world to right itself around her.

In what seemed like the far off distance she heard a grunting and squealing that she knew could not have been any sound from the dead. It was familiar, as if she’d heard it in a nightmare before. And then she knew. It was the sound of her horse being ripped apart alive. Her stomach tightened so deeply she thought she would retch. The horse was somewhere near her, suffering a most horrific death, all because of her. It took everything Christine had inside her not to scream out in anguish.

The horse gave its last squeal of pain, an excruciating sound that tore at Christine’s heart, and then nothing more. It was the constant moan, tearing, and chewing of the monsters somewhere nearby that now filled her ears. The poor animal had been granted mercy finally and lay still and silent. Though she knew this, Christine thought she heard the beat of hooves on the alley road behind her. It was the wrong direction from which her horse had fallen and she was sure the horse had to be dead. There was no chance it stood up and ran away to save itself, was there? Not after the noises she heard it make.

Christine turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder, the world of abandoned houses, overturned garbage cans, and road swirling around her like a funhouse. She pursed her lips and focused, straining her gaze to the direction of the sound, willing herself to see what was coming for her. It seemed to work, even if just a little bit. She saw a large, dark figure moving toward her fast. It had shadowed legs and two arms and two heads. She closed her eyes and let them rest, opening them again a few seconds later.

A short but wide horse came to a sudden halt at her side and gave an irritated snort, throwing its head up and down.

“Hey, come on. Don’t do that,” Christine heard a man’s voice grumble as he dropped the reins and dismounted.

The minute his boots hit the pavement with a resounding thump they made their way over to Christine. Her vision continued to clear, the sun moving temporarily behind a cloud to give relief to the searing pain in her head.

“Chris!” Zack whispered, though she could tell he wanted to cry out. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? Were you bitten?”

Christine placed her hands on Zack’s arms to steady herself as she tried to stand again. The world had finally stopped spinning around her and she saw her friend’s face clearly. It was the best and worst thing she could imagine seeing in that moment.

“What are you doing here?” she asked sternly, forgetting that the dead were feasting on her horse just yards away. “You were supposed to stay at the bunker.” In her fall, thanks to the great smacking of her head, she forgot for a moment that she knew Zack would come after her when she left, no matter how much she hoped he wouldn’t. That was just who he was. In the comic book version of their lives, he was the superhero who always saved the day and the damsel in distress.

“Of course I couldn’t stay!” he whispered, irritated. “You’ll never make it alone. It’s a suicide mission. Is that why you did this?” His brown eyes widened and softened as he considered the fact that his only friend in the world may have left the bunker to end her life quietly, away from everyone who cared about her.

Christine finally stood erect, though her hands still clung to Zack’s arms for balance. There was a sharp stabbing at the base of her head where it connected to her fragile neck, a wave of pain that radiated from her tailbone up her back and down her legs, and a sickness rising from the depths of her stomach. But the world was still and that was an improvement. Behind her she could hear the retched sounds of her horse being devoured bite by bite, but she didn’t dare look that way now that her vision was clear.

“No, that’s stupid,” Christine retorted with an eye roll she couldn’t control and which she regretted after the sharp stab in her head. “I came out here to deliver the journal and give humanity a fighting chance…hopefully.”

She knew there was no guarantee the journal would be useful at all, or that anyone who would find it useful would still be alive, but it was this hope that kept her moving forward. She couldn’t lose that, or all would be lost.

“I need to get you back to the bunker,” Zack said, now gripping her arm with a force that made her wince.

She wrenched her arms free and stumbled back a few steps. “No!” she said more loudly than intended. Her voice echoed off the broken garage doors and down the narrow alleyway. “I have to do this!”

“No, you don’t! I know it feels like you do, but anyone can do this, Christine. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“Yes, it does! Liam left the journal to me—“

“Liam didn’t leave the journal to you, Chris! He died and it just happened to be in the same apartment you were in—“

“He would have wanted me to take this to the research center in Chicago, he would have only trusted me—“

Their voices carried louder and louder over each other as they argued back and forth.

“I can do this for you,” Zack said with a furrowed brown and burning eyes.

“No offense, but I’m going to be the one to put this journal in the right hands and there’s nothing you can do to—” But Christine was cut off when Zack placed his hand firmly over her mouth.

She wanted to pull herself free from his grip, but he spun her around and hugged her close to his body with his free arm. She could hardly breathe. Her eyes widened till the whites shone brightly around her blue irises.

Her horse lay gutted, steam rising from the warm bowels spread on the pavement. Its head was angled painfully, almost touching its back in an impossible way. Nine rotting bodies squatted around the corpse of the sweet animal who had carried her so close to the city. Their hands were still, their mouths chewed slowly, and their eyes fixated directly on her.

VII

Christine held her breath, her mouth starting to hurt from the pressure of Zack’s hand, but she didn’t dare move a muscle. Her first thought was that there were too many for the two of them to take on. Her second thought was that they’d been in tougher situations before. Her third thought was, who cares. We either fight our way through or die trying. Oddly, she felt at peace with that last thought. She knew she wasn’t in control. All she could do was try. And oddly enough, Liam’s voice didn’t dare speak up to coax her into abandoning Zack to his fate either. Maybe after telling him to shut up so many times she’d finally gotten rid of him.

Christine squirmed against Zack’s rigid body to signal him to let her loose. He did, gripping his longsword tightly in both hands, moving no faster than a snail down a long dirt road. Christine slowly, carefully, reached behind her to grab an arrow from her backpack. When her fingers touched nothing but the chilled air her eyes widened. Her heart beat loudly against her still chest. In the chaos of falling off her horse the arrows had scattered from the small opening in her backpack. She turned her head and saw them laying here and there on the black alley road yards behind her.

If she made a break for it and tried to collect the arrows it would surely gather the attention of the dead. They would clamor their way toward Zack who would be left to fight them all on his own until she could pick one up and release it. If she did nothing, she would have to use her Bowie knife to attack them hand-to-hand, which she had little training in and was more than unsure of herself in handling it. Her mind raced through her options.

“My arrows fell from my bag back there,” she whispered just loud enough for Zack to hear her. “I have to get them or we won’t stand a chance.”

Zack was silent, but she noticed his muscles contract in his arms as he tightened his grip on his sword. He didn’t say a word, only nodded once, never taking his dark eyes off the gruesome display in front of him.

Christine took a slow, silent step backwards. The dead continued to gorge themselves on her horse’s bloodied body. She took another step. Still, the creatures took no notice of her. Another step. Then another. Then, Christine’s foot came down on a misshapen rock and it slipped out from under her. She stumbled, her arms raising out to catch her balance, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled not to let out a gasp or a groan.

Several glazed-over white eyes turned to see what made the noise. A decaying, green-fleshed, ragged female gave a high-pitched hiss, blood and gore dripping from her red lips. That got the attention of the rest and slowly they all stood up. The terrifying sound of the dead filled the narrow alleyway.

Christine knew she had one chance to get there in time. She turned and took off as fast a she could, her legs and arms pumping to propel her to the arrows that would save their lives. By the time she reached the first one and knelt to pick it up, she could hear Zack’s screams of fury as he tore through rotting flesh with his sword.

Christine knocked her arrow in the bow and took aim. She released it not into the head of the thing Zack was fighting, but in the ones closest to the horse still struggling to raise themselves on unstable feet. Liam had once told her during one of their archery lessons that Zack and the others knew how to handle themselves in close combat, but if they became overwhelmed there was nothing they could do so it was always smarter to aim for the ones who haven’t reached them yet so they never would. At the time she had let the words go in one ear and out the other, sure she would never have to use a bow to defend herself, sure that Liam would always be there to take care of her. She was glad what he said came back to her in that moment.

Zack hacked his way through the three walking corpses nearest him while Christine ran another few yards and collected the next closest arrow. She released it seamlessly right between the eyes of a large, blood drooling male in torn, soiled clothes. He fell to the ground just before he could join the three already struggling against Zack.

There was only one more arrow Christine could see clearly lying on the ground next to a heaped pile of black garbage bags. She sprinted toward it and scooped it up. Once released, it penetrated the nose of a small female and came out the back of her head. For a moment, Christine wondered if it was even an adult, or possibly it was only a teenager who had been separated from her parents and attacked when she was all alone and scared. Christine shook her head, her blonde ponytail whipping back and forth to rid herself of the thought. She didn’t have time to contemplate who these things were before they became the monsters they were now. She had to help her friend.

Instead of blindly searching for the rest of the arrows, Christine had to act fast to get back to Zack and help him take down the last four. She reached for the knife sheathed on her belt and gripped it tightly in her hand as she ran forward.

Zack wielded his sword with precision, slicing through the necks of the dead coming for him. By the time Christine reached him, there were only two left standing, a tall but skinny male at his front and a short but fat male to his left. Without hesitation, Christine screamed and jumped on the large male before it could get it hands on Zack. They fell to the ground in a tangle and she plunged her knife into its right eye over and over again.

Something touched her shoulder and Christine whipped around with her knife.

“It’s just me,” Zack said with his hands raised, sword already sheathed at his hip.

Christine’s chest rose and fell in great heaves. She looked down at the bloody mess she sat on and slowly rose to her feet. Her head ached with the beating of her heart. She wiped her knife off on her black pants and put it back on her belt.

“That’s all of them?” she asked, sure one they had missed was going to come stumbling out of a garbage pile.

“That’s all of them,” Zack said with a long release of his breath. “We did it.”

Christine’s eyes were vacant as she thought about the things on the ground that used to be people, about her horse who had carried her so close to the city only to be taken down in the most horribly violent way.

“You okay?” Zack asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

It jarred her from her thoughts. She was thankful for that. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little winded.”

Zack laughed. “That was a close one. How about we find a place to stay for the night. It’s going to be dark soon.”

Christine nodded. She walked further back and grabbed the reins of the horse Zack rode in on. Together, the two headed friends and their horse headed forward down the alley, side-stepping around the massive bloodied body of the bay Thoroughbred.

“Thanks, friend,” Christine whispered as they passed by.

“If we find somewhere to rest for the night and get going at first light, we should be in the city by noon. Then, it should only be a matter of finding the research center and getting this journal inside. Do you know where the building is?”

“I think so,” Christine said as she stepped out from the alley onto the main deserted road.

“Good enough for me,” Zack said, walking beside her but following her.

“We should check the houses on this street for shelter,” she said, pointing to a row of one story brick homes set closely together. “It’s not ideal, but it seems quiet. If there were more around here they would have been drawn to all the sound we made. That makes me think there’s no more in this area, at least for the moment.”

“Good thinkin’, Chris. Pick one to be your palace for the evening, then.”

“That one,” she said pointing to the one on the corner of the nearest intersection.

They headed toward the shambled house in silence, Blue following behind as she led him. Neither knew what the night would hold for them, but they had hope that it would be quiet, that they could rest, and that their mission would reach completion by the end of the day tomorrow.

VIII

The bunker was silent. Everyone had shut themselves in their private rooms for the night, snuggled safe and warm under their itchy wool blankets, resting their heads on feather-stuffed pillow cases tied shut on one end. All the candles were snuffed out save for one that always stayed lit in the center of the circular living space, sitting atop the rectangular coffee table in front of the sagging, musty couch.

Olivia Darling cracked her door open and poked her head out. Everything was still. She didn’t hear a sound as she looked one way, then the other. “Pst! Come on!” she whispered loudly.

From the shadows, a dark figure emerged and crept forward toward her door.

“Quiet!” she hissed as she invited Rowan into her room. Once he was inside, she shut the door behind him.

Silence settled on the bunker once again. The only movement was the light of the flame from the candle that danced upon the walls. There was no one to see Lee Hickey peering out from the crack in his own door. Olivia and Rowan certainly weren’t aware they were being watched.

Lee emerged from his room. His footsteps were slow, though not light. He had no intention of creeping through the shadows to figure out what the two were doing. But at the same time he couldn’t keep away. If Olivia needed him, he would be there. He just wanted to make himself readily available should she call for him. There was something about that Rowan guy Lee didn’t trust. But he trusted Olivia, and so he waited on the couch in the low light of the flame.

As time drifted slowly by, Lee fought to keep his eyes open. His head lulled to the side and woke him up, his head bobbing back upright. He looked around and saw that everything was still dark, still silent. If he had fallen asleep it must not have been for long. He shifted his massive frame to lean into the cushions of the old couch, this time already deciding not to fight the urge to close his eyes and get some rest.

“No!” someone shouted in anger.

Lee’s eyes popped open. The muscles in his body went rigid as he perked upright like a cat listening for its prey to make a move.

Silence.

Did he imagine it? Was it the beginnings of another horrible dream about his wife? He couldn’t be sure. It sounded real, but then again the mind plays tricks when it’s caught between sleep and awake. He closed his eyes again.

“I said no!”

That time there was no mistaking it. It was Olivia’s voice and she must have been yelling pretty loudly to be heard through the thick door. She was in trouble. Lee shot up from the couch, hopped over the back and raced to Olivia’s door, throwing it open without stopping.

“What the—?” Olivia sat up on the bed, pulling the wool blanket up over her bare chest.

Lee stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes fixated on Rowan laying on top of Olivia; his shirt off, his belt and pants undone, his arms confining her on either side. Heat rushed upward inside Lee, making him feel lightheaded.

“Lee! What the heck?” Olivia started, but Lee couldn’t hear her.

He stomped forward, the muscles in his body constricted to the point of hurting. The vein in his neck bulged with the pounding of his racing heart.

“Hey, man, we were just—”

But Rowan was cut off by the slamming of Lee’s fist in his mouth. The young man fell to the floor, blood flowing from his lip.

“Lee!” Olivia screamed, covering herself even more as she moved to the edge of the bed.

Rowan scrambled to his feet when he saw Lee had not given up on coming after him. Before he could find traction with his feet, he was shoved hard into the wall. His head hit the concrete, sending a searing pain down his neck and through his shoulders. He groaned loudly. His fingers touched his temple lightly. There was blood.

“LEE, STOP!” Olivia shrieked.

Rowan knew he was coming for more, but his body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t make any attempt to defend itself, except to raise his arms in front of his face.

Lee grabbed Rowan’s head in one of his large hands and slammed it into the wall where it’d hit before.

Tears streamed down Olivia’s face as she burst into tears. She jumped off the bed, not caring if she was naked from the waist up and grabbed at Lee’s arm to pull him away. It was useless. Even with the weight of her pulling against him, his arms shoved forward over and over again to smash Rowan’s face. The once grey wall was now streaked with dark red.

“STOP! YOU’RE KILLING HIM!”

Others rushed into the room, grabbing onto Lee to restrain him. It took four men to pull him off. Rowan’s body crumpled to the floor in a heap. Olivia rushed to his side and knelt over him. Afraid to touch him, she sobbed over his face, which was beaten beyond recognition.

Lee struggled against the men holding onto him. His chest heaved as his heart threatened to burst forth from it. The room was dark, but all he could see was red. What had he done? Why had he done that? What possessed him? What would happen now? Finally, he stopped struggling against the men who held his arms.

What have I done?

They pulled him from the room and sat him down on the musty couch, the same couch he’d been drifting off to sleep peacefully on only moments ago. He heard the screaming cries from Olivia as they wrapped her in a blanket and took her from the room. By then, everyone was awake and had gathered outside to see what was going on. The gasps, groans, and screams filled the silence, penetrating Lee’s mind with horrifying images of what he’d just done. A young girl, no older than two, wailed in Luke’s arms as he looked on in horror.

An older woman named Hattie wrapped an arm around Olivia and guided her gently to her own room across the common room. She handed the girl a glass of water and knelt before her, whispering something, something to calm her Lee assumed. Olivia sat on the bed, unable to drink the water. The tears refused to quit their unending flow down her face. An overwhelming fear that Olivia would drowned in them started to overtake him, but that wasn’t right. People didn’t drown in their own tears. Not really. Lee wondered what was happening to him, if he was going crazy. If he had finally cracked under the pressure of the new world.

Soon, there were shouts for towels, water, the medical kits, and anything else that would be useful in keeping Rowan alive. Lee hung his head, resting his elbows on his knees to stare at the dirt ground. No one was paying him any mind at the moment. Instead, they were rushing to save Rowan. The ones that didn’t know how to help the young man looked on at Lee with fear in their eyes.

Lee was sure he looked like a monster to them. He sure felt like one inside; an uncontrollable beast.

Two familiar feet settled into his view in the dirt. “Lee, brother…what happened?”

The Irishman looked up to see Mac standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, his face drawn down in concern. There was no fear in his dark eyes, only sadness and worry.

“I don’t know,” Lee said in return.

Lee looked through the open door to Olivia sitting on the bed. She looked so frail wrapped in a wool blanket, shaking like a leaf with blood smeared on her hands. Unexpectedly, Lee’s vision jolted and everything changed. He saw his beautiful wife lying still on the kitchen floor, her body ripped open by the prying fingers of her diseased parents. He couldn’t save her from the pain and agony, her miserable lonely death, or the death of their unborn child. Again his vision jumped, and he was back on the couch, tears welling in his eyes.

Olivia looked up from the glass of water in her hands to lock eyes with Lee. He swore he saw red flames burning within. Again, he hung his head, staring at his clasped hands. He couldn’t save anyone, even when he tried.

Carolyn Bock made her way over to Luke, the only familiar face she could find not involved in what was happening. She stopped short when she saw the little girl in his arms, her small pale arms clinging to his neck as she sobbed from being woken up.

“What’s going on?” she finally asked.

Luke jumped slightly when he heard her voice. “What? Oh, Lee beat up Rowan pretty bad. They’re saying he might not make it. One of the guys in there with him now is a vet, so he knows injuries pretty well.”

“Yeah, animal injuries. Rowan needs a doctor,” she said with a furrowed brow.

“The closest thing we have to one is Lee, but since he’s the one who did it, I doubt anyone will let him near the boy again,” Luke shifted the child in his arms to his other hip, revealing her tear-streaked round cheeks and sleepy eyes.

“Who’s this?” Carolyn asked. She ducked down and around to get a closer look at the beautiful girl’s face.

“Oh, this is just one of the, she’s just—” Luke started to stumble.

“I’ve seen her before,” Carolyn said, this time reaching out to brush the child’s thin honey hair from her brow to tuck behind one ear.

The little girl allowed it, but still cringed away ever so slightly into Luke’s shoulder.

Carolyn’s eye’s widened as her jaw fell open. “Luke!” she said, almost yelling his name.

He looked to her with pleading eyes, begging her to stop there and say no more.

“Luke!” she said again, this time closing the gap between them so she was standing face-to-face. Her eyes burned with an unbridled anger.

“What?” Luke asked, feigning innocence as he shifted the girl in his arms again away from where Carolyn stood.

Carolyn forced herself to soften her expression and smile. She leaned down again to get the little girl’s attention and hold her gaze. “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked in a honey-dripped, sweet voice.

The girl leaned back into Luke more and turned to look at him. Luke’s face fell, his eyes closing, as he let out a defeated sigh. Carolyn leaned in closer and smiled bigger before asking the girl her name again.

The girl lowered her head, raised her eyes to Carolyn, and said, “Lilly.”

Carolyn took a stumbling step back, not wanting to believe what she’d just heard come from that little girl’s rosy pink lips.

“Carolyn, please, I can explain,” Luke started, but quickly closed his mouth when he saw the fury in Carolyn’s face.

“Lilly?” she almost yelled. “Lilly Sherman? Christine and Zack said she was dead, that they found Ralph tearing apart his wife and there was no trace of Lilly anywhere. You took their kid?! How?”

Luke said nothing. He let his gaze fall to the dirt floor as he brooded over a good explanation, but there was none. All he could do was shrug his shoulders and shift the little girl’s weight again. “Please, don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded one final time, but it was too late.

Carolyn was gone.

IX

Christine Moore woke to a rustling sound outside the window she slept under. The house they’d taken shelter in was rundown with musty furniture and no food in the cabinets. Exhausted from the close encounter earlier, she had curled up on the couch, a cloud of dust puffing up into the air when she flopped down. It was now the middle of the night. The house was pitch black except for the sliver of moonlight that shone through the break in the curtains.

With a quick rub of her eyes, Christine rolled over and looked at Zack, who was sprawled out on the floor. His sword lay ready by his head. When he breathed in, she heard the faint rumbling of snoring. It brought a smile to her lips before she remembered an unusual sound had been what woke her up. She sat up on the couch and turned to look out the window, the curtains parted just wide enough for one eye to peer through.

She jumped with a gasp when she saw a large eye looking back at her.

“Zack!” she yelled in a strained whisper.

He rolled over, stirred, and then jumped up to his feet within seconds, his longsword gripped tightly in his hands, ready to unsheathe it should the situation call for it.

“There’s something outside,” Christine said, standing up and clambering over to her friend, almost tripping over her backpack that lay on the floor. She bent down and picked up an arrow, for good measure.

“What’d you see?”

“It was…” Christine hesitated while she processed what she saw. “It was an eye.”

“What? Like just an eye? Floating there?”

Christine sucked her teeth before giving Zack a smack on his arm. “Not a floating eye. An eye attached to someone’s face, you dummy.”

“Okay, okay,” Zack said with a small laugh. “I’m still waking up here. Was it alive?”

Christine turned to look out the window again, but there was nothing there. “I don’t know.”

Suddenly, there was an uproar from Blue, whom they had stuck in the fenced-in backyard. The fence was high enough Christine was sure nothing would be able to see the poor animal resting there, but it sounded like something had found him after all. Blue snorted and squealed in fear as he ran for his life in circles around the large yard.

Christine and Zack rushed to the sliding patio door and threw it open.

“Whoa, boy,” Christine said as she tried to approach the frantic animal.

He galloped past Christine, his dark eyes wide with fear. His normally perky ears were pinned back against his head as he charged forward without a thought for where he was going. But what was he running from? Christine stepped back next to Zack and scanned the yard for any movement. It was hard to see anything with the thick-bellied horse kicking up dust and snorting so loudly they couldn’t hear anything else.

“Blue!” Christine hissed. “Calm down, boy!”

The horse looked at her, but continued right past in his never-ending circle.

Christine reached in her pocket and pulled out a granola bar, crinkling the wrapper loudly as she opened it. “Look, Blue. A treat.”

The stocky gelding stopped in his tracks and sniffed at the air toward Christine. His ears perked back up as his nostrils flared widely. With nothing more than two seconds of thought, Blue walked over to Christine and grabbed the snack from her hand with his teeth.

Christine rubbed him on the white patch on his face and pat his neck. “Good boy.”

Now the yard was silent and still. The two friends glared outward, their eyes adjusting to the darkness of the night.

“I don’t see anything,” Zack said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe this horse is just crazy.”

“He is, but that’s not why he was scared.” Christine squinted her eyes and strained her ears.

Just when she was about to give up and turn around to go back inside she heard it; a footstep outside the fence. She ran to the gate, unlatched it, and threw it open, a single arrow clutched in her hand and ready to strike.

“It’s me!” a woman yelled.

Christine stopped herself, the tip of her arrow just inches from her sister’s eye, the same eye that had peered through the front window.

“Gretchen!” she barked in anger and relief. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay at the bunker. It’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why I’m here,” the young blonde said as she lowered the arms she’d thrown up to protect her face. “I want to help you. I could be useful.”

The old Christine would have narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips, and refused to listen to a single word Gretchen had to say, not because she couldn’t be useful in their quest or that she was incompetent, but purely because of the hurt she’d caused her when they were younger. But things were different now. Christine had forgiven Gretchen and learned to let go of the bitterness and resentment she felt toward her. That’s why instead of treating her with contempt and sending her away, Christine just smiled, wrapped her arm around Gretchen’s shoulder, and turned to lead her inside the house.

“You nearly gave Blue a heart attack,” Christine laughed as she looked over her shoulder at the round scruffy horse sniffing the ground for luscious grass to eat.

Christine didn’t even notice Zack had left the two of them alone and went back inside. As she approached the door she saw his feet sprawled on the floor already as he lay down to sleep.

“I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Christine said, stopping to look at her sister. “I appreciate you wanting to help. It was a brave thing to do, catching up to us all by yourself.”

Gretchen smiled and looked at the ground, a little uncomfortable at the compliment, at being called brave. She never once thought of herself that way, but it was nice to hear all the same. Her cheeks turned a bright pink as the two sisters smiled at each other, caught between the cold outside and the warm, stale inside.

“Look out!” Christine tried to grab Gretchen’s shoulder to pull her out of the way, but it was too late.

A searing pain erupted from Gretchen’s shoulder and shot through her neck, her arm, and then her entire body. She felt like her very veins were on fire, like lava flowed through them.

“No!” Christine shouted as she charged forward with her arrow.

Gretchen crumpled to the ground in a twitching heap. The fire inside her subsided as a hollow numbness took over. The spasms in her muscles faded away to leave her motionless on the moist midnight grass.

Christine plunged the tip of her arrow through the eye of a stinking, rotting corpse that was once a young woman in her twenties. The arrow went straight through the pupil and out the back of its head. Its dark mouth hung open, slathered and dripping in fresh blood; Gretchen’s blood. Christine pulled the arrow back and the zombie fell to the ground with a thud.

Zack showed up in the doorway, his own mouth hanging open in shock.

“We have to help her!” Christine said as she rushed to her sister’s side and knelt over her body. “Do something! What do I do?”

“Chris, I don’t think there’s anything we can do. She’s been bit.” His voice was hallow as his eyes clouded over.

“No!” Christine shouted through the tears. “There has to be something. We can’t just let her die or turn into one of those things! There has to be something we can do!”

Zack stood over Christine, unsure if he should rest a hand on her shoulder for comfort or not. He wanted to scream and curse, kick anything he could, cut the head off a thousand zombies, as his eyes welled up with hot tears. He shouldn’t have gone back inside, assuming they were safe. Nowhere was safe anymore. He knew that. Why had he left them alone?

Christine sobbed as she threw herself onto her sister’s chest, fresh warm blood soaking through the flannel shirt that covered her wounds.

Blue moseyed over from the farthest corner of the yard where he’d run for shelter and stood as close to Christine as he could get. He lowered his head slowly to hers and sniffed at her hair, sending gusts of warm breath over her. But Christine took no notice. How could she as her sister lay dying?

X

Gretchen writhed on the damp ground, moaning with each twist of her bloodied body. Her skin felt hot to the touch, as if a raging fire scorched just beneath. No amount of sweat seemed to cool her as it poured down her face and neck. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, praying she would die right then. Anything would be better than becoming one of the walking dead, doomed to devour the living. But death wouldn’t submit to her will. She persisted in pain as her sister watched over her, hunched and concerned.

“We have to do something,” Christine Moore whispered to Zack for the hundredth time. She swiped a tear from her eye and flicked it at the ground.

“What can we do? There’s nothing that’s going to save her. Come midday, she’ll be one of them if we don’t put her out of her misery.” He wished it wasn’t true. Sure, when he first met Gretchen he didn’t like her. She was guilty by association, a friend of the man who killed Anita. But he’d warmed up to her and her ways; how she tried to be on everyone’s side and make peace where she could, how she cared for everyone in their group without discrimination, even Zack after he’d been cold to Dan with no regard, how she would bring him a cup of coffee with a bit of whiskey in it to calm his nerves back at the apartments, the way she smiled with all her teeth, reaching all the way up to her brilliant blue eyes. And that kiss. It made him feel like he was finally coming back to life again. He didn’t want to say goodbye to this wonderful woman who had entered his life when he least expected it, but what else could he do?

But Zack’s truth about Gretchen’s state felt like a knife to Christine’s heart. She wanted to cry out, but knew it would accomplish nothing. Gretchen didn’t need her sadness or her sympathy right now, she needed her little sister to do something to save her from a fate worse than death.

The sun had broken the surface of the horizon moments ago, splashing the sky with streaks of gold and and pink. Dew settled on the long blades of grass. The morning air still had the cool bite of early Spring, giving Christine goosebumps on her arms and neck. Or maybe it was the sight of her sister’s transformation. It looked more painful than anything Christine had ever endured, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Gretchen’s skin had lost all its color, settling on a ghostly white, exposing all the dark purple veins under her almost translucent skin. She shivered and shuddered from the fever threatening to overtake her completely; body and senses.

How much longer until her brain boils from her temperature? Christine wondered as she stared. Was that what made the zombies into what they were? If it were that simple, wouldn’t there be a simple cure? Or was the damage permanent?

As if Zack could read her mind, he said, “If there was a simple cure they would have found it by now. This is anything but simple, Chris, and there is no stopping it.” He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and took a deep, ragged breath that told Christine he was struggling to fight back a pain she wasn’t aware he felt. “We need to do the right thing here,” he said finally.

She turned to look up at him, her eyes wide in disbelief at what he was suggesting. His own eyes refused to meet hers, turned down to stare at his heavy boots.

Christine spoke just above a whisper so there was no chance her suffering sister would overhear them. “You want me to kill her? Are you serious? No, I can’t do that!”

Zack’s gaze finally met hers. “It’s for mercy, Chris. Mercy is what you gave Liam. You spared him from becoming one of them and you can do that again for her.”

“But we hold a journal that might have the answer to stopping this and we are this close to delivering it into the right hands. I wish I never killed Liam. If it wasn’t for me, he might have been restored back to himself. I could have saved him, but instead I ended his life.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She refused to blink in fear they would come streaming down her cheeks again and she’d be unable to stop them.

Zack took a deep breath and held it while he thought what to say next. “You didn’t kill Liam, Chris, and you know it. The zombie that bit him killed him. There was nothing you could do to save him because he was already dead, and Gretchen will be too in just a few short hours. What are you wanting to do? Tie her up and bring her with us to the research facility? What do you think they’re going to be able to do for her?”

Christine’s entire body stiffen as her lips pursed. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do!”

“What? No. You can’t just—”

“Watch me!”

Christine took off into the house without another word. Zack heard her throw open cabinets and knock stuff around as she searched for something. He heard her make her way to the garage where she did the same, on a mission to find whatever it was she was looking for all of a sudden.

“Aha!” she said in triumph. She appeared in the open doorway of the sliding back door with two brightly colored jump ropes in her hands. “That’ll do. Now help me tie her up, please.”

Zack wanted to shake his head and protest the idea as loudly as he could. It was dumb. It was reckless. It could get them killed and anyone else they happened to meet on the road. It could be the end of them. But when he looked into Christine’s big blue eyes he saw nothing but love and hope. He never realized before, but they looked like Gretchen’s eyes, so big and beautiful and innocent, maybe a little naïve.

“Okay, fine,” he said, taking a rope from Christine’s hands. “I hope you know what you’re doing, though.”

“Me too,” she said as a smile spread across her tear soaked face.

XI

Zack and Christine worked together to lift Gretchen’s body up and over the back of the horse like a sack of grain, face down. By the time the two had secured her, gathered their belongings, readied Blue after allowing him to rest for the journey, Gretchen was farther along in her dissention. She no longer spoke words, but only let out groans of pain and anguish. Her eyes had started to glaze over, turning her once brilliant blue irises a milky pale gray. Every few seconds her rigid body convulsed and twitched, her muscles tightening beyond anything Christine or Zack had seen in a living human being.

Christine Moore balanced her sister on the back of the horse, not wanting to take her hand away in fear she’d fall. She fought harder than she ever had before at keeping her tears at bay. The lump in her throat threatened to suffocate her if it grew any larger. How could she have let this happen?

Zack placed a hand on Christine’s shoulder and handed her the reins to the stout little horse. “I think we should get going.”

Christine nodded her head in silence, letting her eyes fall to the ground instead of looking at her friend. She was afraid if she looked into his eyes that she’d start crying again.

“I’ll walk next to her to keep her safe and on the horse.”

Christine nodded her head again and took the leather reins in her hand. They felt cool to the touch and slightly wet from the morning mist that had settled in the air. A shiver ran down Christine’s spine and she shook before taking her first step.

“Come on, boy,” she said, giving the reins a gentle tug to get Blue to walk.

He moved forward without hesitation, giving a long exhaling snort as he lowered his nose to Christine’s elbow. It brought a smile to her turned down lips for just a moment. She took her free arm and wrapped it around the horse’s neck and under his head to hug him affectionately. If it wasn’t for him, she had no idea how they would get Gretchen to the research center in Chicago. They still had about ten miles to go until they reached the edge of the city, and more once they got inside. He may be short and fat and speckled with gray, but Blue was her noble steed in that moment.

The two friends, their horse, and the partially-zombified sister walked at a steady pace in silence. The only sounds to fill their ears were the clomping of Blue’s hooves on the pavement, the chirping of birds, the cool morning breeze rustling through the new buds on the trees, and Gretchen’s moans of agony. They tried to ignore that last one best they could. There was nothing they could do about it now except carry on.

“Over there,” Christine said casually as she walked beside Blue’s shoulder, holding his reins loosely in her hand.

Ahead on the road, the putrefied corpse of a large, skinny, decomposing male shambled toward them. Its mouth hung open in a perpetual hiss. A glob of blood caught in its throat and turned the hiss into a gurgle, but it hardly seemed to notice. It continued forward, dragging one foot behind it, its right arm dangling by a few threads of muscle and tissue.

“I got it,” Zack said, stepping away from Blue and Gretchen. He jogged forward as he unsheathed his longsword.

With one effortless swipe, the zombie’s head separated from its neck and rolled across the road and into the ditch. Its body fell to its knees and then forward with a thud. Zack jogged back to the horse’s side and wiped his sword on the saddle pad before sheathing it again. No one said a word about it. They simply carried on.

The sun moved across the sky slowly, bringing with it springtime warmth. Christine turned her face upward as the sun settled into the very center of the cloudless sky.

“How about we stop for a minute and have a quick snack?” Zack asked.

“Okay,” was all Christine said as she diverted from the road to stop next to a grouping of younger trees.

She didn’t dare let go of Blue’s reins to relax for fear something would spook him and he would take off with her sister. Instead, she stood by his side and grabbed a granola bar from Zack’s hand when he gave it to her. She unwrapped it and scarfed it down as Blue lowered his head and chomped on the fresh green grass at his hooves.

The constant noise of Gretchen had fallen into the background as their time on the road dragged on. It wasn’t until Christine stopped that she noticed her sister sounded different from when they left. She no longer groaned in pain, but hissed and screeched, as if trying to free herself. She wasn’t hurt anymore, she was angry. Christine looked at Zack with wide eyes and then at her sister, who was still slung over the back of the horse on her stomach.

Zack walked around to the other side of Blue and stopped at Gretchen’s head. He squatted down and twisted his head to stare up into the young woman’s face. Gretchen lunged forward and tried to take a bite out of his nose with gnashed teeth and wild, glazed over eyes. Zack jumped back and fell to the ground, scrambling away on his hands and feet.

Blue knew something wasn’t right immediately. He pawed at the ground and shifted from side to side, throwing his head up and down through the air, trying to get away from the thing on his back while still listening to the commands of the woman holding his reins. He nickered and hopped his front hooves off the ground ever so slightly in warning. He was ready to bolt and knock the monster off his back.

“She’s turned,” Zack said as he righted himself, face drawn long. “Chris, she’s turned.”

Christine knew it was what would happen. She knew Gretchen wouldn’t make it to the city before she turned into one of those things. Her only hope was that they could keep her safe and that the research lab would be able to inject her with something to make her herself again. It was farfetched, Christine knew, but she couldn’t give up that hope.

“We have to keep going,” she said sternly, stuffing her granola wrapper in the pocket of her jeans.

“If we don’t turn her over, she’s going to take a bite out of this horse’s side,” Zack said, scrambling to his feet and running in front of Christine to stop her from moving on.

They couldn’t lose Blue now, not when they were so close. Only another hour or two of walking and they would be in the heart of the city and on the lab’s doorstep.

“Okay, you flip her onto her back while I hold Blue steady. He’s scared and I’m afraid if I step away he’ll buck her off and run.”

“Okay,” Zack said as he reached out to grab hold of Gretchen.

Christine stroked the side of Blue’s tense, hard neck to try to calm him down. “It’s okay, boy,” she said in a soothing voice. “She won’t hurt you.”

Zack slid his hands under Gretchen and flipped her over like a pancake. Her rigid body strained against the change, not wanting to bed backward to accommodate the new riding position. Her teeth snapped at the air as she struggled to right herself with her hands still tied behind her back. The uncontrollable thrashing made Blue’s eyes bulge and his ears go flat against his head. Christine continued to coo to him in an attempt to dissuade him from bolting.

Zack walked around to the other side of the horse and laid an arm across Gretchen’s tied together legs to pin her down best he could. “That should do it,” he said, giving Christine a thumbs up. He tried to project to Christine the strength he wish he felt. Inside, he could barely bring himself to breathe. His heart physically hurt as it beat rapidly in his chest. He didn’t want to lose Gretchen, but he really couldn’t see a way in which she lived, in which they had a chance to get to know each other better.

Together, and carefully, they all moved forward again.

The minutes seemed to blur as they worked together to steady the horse and the undead it carried. The more Gretchen gnashed her teeth and spit into the air with feral hissing, the more Blue spooked to the side and whinnied in fear. It was a balancing act that hung on Christine’s knowledge of horses and of the creatures that walked the earth in place of people for the last eight months. She could feel the muscles in her neck and shoulders stiffen, causing her to roll her head every so often in an attempt to loosen it. The pain made her head throb. She thought about asking Zack if they could take a short break, but then she saw it…

The Chicago skyline was just ahead.

XII

Zack, Christine, Blue and his undead cargo made their way into the south side of the city of Chicago. A once packed and bustling metropolis was now deserted beyond recognition. Garbage blew across the interstate. Clouds covered the rays of the sun, cutting the traveling friends off from any warmth it briefly provided. Their pace was slow as they maneuvered around the abandoned cars, possessions, and bodies. The larger the skyscrapers grew, towering over them ominously, the more the undead came out of the shadows.

Without calling it out anymore, Zack took care of them all with a quick thrust or swing of his longsword. Each time, Christine’s eyes moved to her sister’s snarling body laid across Blue’s back to make sure she didn’t fall. After a quick thud of a dismembered head, Zack was back next to the horse’s side in diligence.

“Do you know where the research facility is?” Zack asked again.

“I told you. I have an idea, but we’re going to have to do a little searching.” Christine was sure Zack kept asking because he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. She couldn’t blame him. She wished she knew exactly how to get there on foot too, but she didn’t. She’d never had a reason to seek it out before the downfall of humanity.

“It’s somewhere past Chinatown but before we hit Navy Pier,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “I know that once we see the museum by the lake in the south loop we turn left onto Roosevelt and it’s down there a ways in the medical district.”

She waited for Zack to make any noise of acknowledgement, but he was silent. Blue gave a long snort as he lowered his head and bumped Christine in the shoulder. They were passing by a large black building familiar to her, from long ago when her dad used to take the family to the Auto Show every February. Her heart gave a small ache at the thought as she wished for those simpler days, for her parents to be alive again. Gretchen’s story of her narrow escape from their own parents’ dead hands was enough to give her endless nightmares for the rest of her life, and so far it proved true. She often saw their bloated, rotting faces, teeth gnashed and blood dripping from their blue lips while she slept.

Time passed slowly as they walked cautiously in silence, only making the occasional stop to clear the way of debris and stray zombies. They had yet to come across more than a handful at a time, which Christine was thankful for. Zack had been able to handle all of them on his own so Christine never had to leave her sister’s side.

“If this research center has the answer, or the cure, or whatever it is you think they have or will have once we give them Liam’s journal, do you think there will ever be another game played here?” Zack asked as he looked up at Soldier’s field where he’d once seen the Bears play.

“It’s possible,” Christine said as she considered his question deeply. “Sure, I think so. I really do.”

“Just maybe not in my lifetime,” Zack said almost under his breath, defeat washing over every word. His eyes glanced at Gretchen’s face. He raised a hand to brush the tangled mess of hair from her, but pulled away suddenly when she snapped at his fingers with her teeth.

Christine bit her lip and stared up at the great stone columns of the stadium. She wanted to retort his comment with one of positivity, but she couldn’t. It was very likely there wouldn’t be another game there in their lifetime. There may never be another one again. This meeting at the disease research facility could go either way for them. There could be no one there for all she knew. But this little tiny mustard seed of hope was all it took to keep her pushing forward. It wasn’t over until she saw for herself that it was over.

“Here’s Roosevelt,” she said, her voice rising in elation. “We’re almost there. Just a few more miles!”

They turned down the large road and made their way around a ghostly traffic jam. Where Roosevelt intersected with Columbus Drive there was a massive fifteen car pileup. The skeletons of the vehicles were charred black, though the fire had died out long ago. Christine tried her best not to look inside the cars and keep her eyes focused on the road ahead. The last thing she wanted to see was the burnt body of some poor person trapped inside, especially if it was hissing and trying to escape still.

Zack groaned. “Starbucks…I could sure go for a hot cup of caffeine right about now.”

Christine almost asked if he wanted to go inside and see if anything was left to salvage, but decided against it, her mouth hanging open and then closing itself again. They were so close to finally getting answers, one way or another. She didn’t want anything distracting her if they could avoid it. It felt a bit selfish to deny her friend a pick-me-up, but then again she was doing it for all of humanity. Surely he could go without if it meant saving the world. They continued on without another word about delicious hot coffee.

As they walked, Blue pinned back his ears, his lips pulling away from his teeth in a ridiculous nervous grin. Christine mused that it looked like he was trying to speak, but couldn’t find the right words…until he did. He whinnied and hopped to the side, turning his body left and right in an attempt to get away from something. Christine tightened her grip on the reins, grabbing onto his bridle with her other hand to steady him. The horse’s large rear end knocked into Zack and threw him off balance.

“Watch it, buddy!” he said as he righted himself and brushed off the dust from his side.

“Look,” Christine said, her voice hauntingly monotone.

Zack looked up and saw why. They were passing an elementary school and inside the fenced-in yard, where so many kids had enjoyed recesses and playing together on the playground, were those same kids, now shuffling around miserably, groaning in their starvation and discomfort. A few smashed themselves against the fence and hissed at the living flesh passing by on the other side. Their little hands reached through the chain-link, tearing at the flesh on their arms.

Christine stared in disbelief. Of course, she knew no one was immune to the horrors of the current world, but the sight in front of her was almost too much for her to bear. In a time not so long ago, her and Liam discussed having kids, whether they wanted a boy or girl or both and what their names would be, where they would go to school, what they thought they would turn out like, if they would look more like him with his ginger hair and glasses, or more like her with her porcelain skin and striking blue eyes. Those kids penned up in that schoolyard belonged to someone, someone who didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.

“Chris,” Zack said, jerking her from her thoughts.

She shook her head and blinked away the terrible images that had clouded her mind. Till the very end, she had been with Liam. She was able to say her goodbyes and see him off to the other side. Gratitude overwhelmed her heart just then for that small fact.

They crossed over the bridge across the river in more heavy silence. The clomping of Blue’s hooves on the pavement, the steady repetition of it, was a great distraction to ease Christine’s mind.

“There’s a Petco,” Christine said as her eyes zeroed in on the store eagerly. “Maybe we should stop in for Blue.”

Zack’s brow furrowed. Though he didn’t say a word of disagreement yet, Christine knew he was thinking it.

“He’s been such a good boy and has come all this way and he can’t survive on our scraps this whole time. He needs real food. Grain. Hay. Grass. Water. Way more water than we’ve been able to give him.”

“And where do you plan to put all this? On the good boy’s back on top of your sister?” Zack hadn’t meant for there to be a sting in his voice, but it came across nonetheless.

Christine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No,” she said drawn out, concentrating on keeping her cool as she spoke. “I figured we could take him in and let him eat and drink whatever they have left there, then be on our way again.”

Zack sighed. It wasn’t full of bitterness and boiled temperament like Christine thought it would be. It was understanding and maybe even a little self-chastising. “All right. Let’s check it out. Who know? Maybe the employee lounge has some coffee for us two-legged animals.”

XIII

The sliding doors to Petco had been wrenched open. A cool breeze blew through and tossed around the empty bags of food and garbage that strewn the floor. There was just enough room for Christine to lead Blue through the doors and into the abandoned pet supply shop. His shoed hooves echoed loudly off the tiled floor.

All seemed quiet, but Christine knew that was never a good indication of if they were alone or not. She thought back to her first incident in the new world at Zack’s own comic book store with him and Liam. She gave a quick shiver as she remembered how close they had come to being bitten by one of those monsters and how it was entirely her fault. Her pride often made her feel more capable than she actually was, and that had almost cost them their lives. That day she was put in her place until she learned to wield a weapon or two, too late to save Liam, though.

Blue’s large nostrils flared as he sniffed the air in the store. His stomach gave a loud gurgle, as horse’s stomach’s constantly do whether they’re hungry or not, but Christine knew this horse was ready to mow down on some grain. Now, all she had to do was find it. Just because it was a pet supply store did not mean they had horse supplies, which seemed the case since they were in the middle of downtown Chicago where there were not too many horses aside from the ones employed to pull fancy carts for tourists. If it came to it, she was sure Blue would eat whatever food she put in front of it, even if it were cat food.

“Let’s just get this guy something to eat and get out of here,” Zack said, a little uneasy.

Christine nodded and pulled Blue over to the first food aisle she came upon. She grabbed a large bag of dog food, one of the last ones left, and tore it open to pour it out onto the tiled, littered floor. The puffed up horse startled at the ripping sound, but quickly decided it was no threat and lowered his head to begin his meal.

“Good enough,” Christine said, brushing her hands together in accomplishment.

She turned to look at Zack who was standing in the center of the store outside the aisle, his face white as fresh milk and his eyes as large as the full moon. His mouth hung open, resembling the many fish in tanks along the far side wall.

“What is it?” Christine asked as she tried to lean over to see outside the aisle without pulling Blue away from his well-deserved lunch.

Zack didn’t say anything, but unsheathed his sword and held it in two hands in front of him, ready to attack. Christine knew what that meant. Immediately, her mind bounced back and forth with the decision at hand; does she let go of Blue to fight and risk losing her sister if the horse takes off? Or does she hold onto the horse and her sister and risk losing Zack because he doesn’t have enough strength to defeat all the undead coming their way?

“Zack!” she whispered in panic, desperate for his input on what to do.

She couldn’t make up her mind. She couldn’t lose either one of them but it didn’t seem like she had an option that guaranteed both their safety. She considered tying the horse off to one of the shelves but Blue could panic and knock them down and get lose, or a zombie could come out of nowhere and devour him. Then, it would be almost impossible to get Gretchen to the lab to save her. It wasn’t like she could dangle a bone on a stick in her face like a dog in a cartoon and have her zombie sister follow her there.

“Zack!” she tried again, but it was too late.

The first one had arrived and made a lunge for him. He plunged his sword forward into the monster’s face and pulled it back out. The lifeless body, rotten and stinking, fell to the floor in a flop. The second creature stumbled over it as it made its way to the living flesh. Its teeth snapped at the air as it hissed and groaned. Little droplets of blood sprayed out from its mouth as it chomped at nothingness.

What do I do? What do I do? How do I save them both? Christine was in a panic.

“Chris!” Zack yelled over his shoulder as he sliced the head off the second zombie, only to have four more make their way to him in an encircling arc. “CHRIS!”

Christine’s heart raced so quickly she was sure it would burst forth from her chest. Her hands were sweaty and slipping on the leather of Blue’s reins. She tried to swallow but her mouth was so dry. Breathing was almost out of the question as her chest heaved up and down in tiny, quick movements.

“CHRIS! HELP!”

She heard the wet, slicing sounds of Zack’s sword hacking its way through the undead as more poured in through the open doors. Zack groaned and grunted with exhausting effort as he fought off the horde that threatened to engulf him. His own chest heaved, but in deep, wheezing breaths. Whenever he had a second in between slicing, he called out for Christine to help him.

Christine dropped the reins from her hand and removed the bow from around her shoulder. She grabbed an arrow and readied it as she rushed out of the aisle into the middle of the store. She couldn’t believe how many had found them in such a short amount of time. There had to be at least twenty or more pushing and shoving each other to get to Zack and his juicy flesh. Without hesitation, Christine released the first arrow to watch it land in the back of a short woman’s head, buried in her long, tangled, dirty, blonde hair. It was pulled back into a ponytail and if Christine hadn’t looked too hard she would have thought it was herself. The monster had on black jeans and black boots and a long-sleeved gray shirt, which now was soaked through with black blood. The zombie crumpled to the floor, face-down. A pool of ooze formed around its head.

Christine plucked another arrow and released it. It found its way into another zombie, this one a large male with dark skin and white glazed eyes. Instead of taking it down by landing in its head, it only pissed it off by traveling through its neck and out the other side. It turned and screamed, its mouth wrenched open to an impossible degree. Christine was shell-shocked for a moment, frozen in the horror-filled nightmare laid out before her, staring her right in the eyes.

As the thing turned and made for Christine, she released another arrow, this time waiting until the undead beast was close enough to avoid missing. With an arrow stuck between its eyes, it fell to the ground ungracefully, its legs sprawled out awkwardly.

Zack was still slicing and hacking away with no regard to where his sword landed. He was so exhausted from the effort that he knew if he took even a moment to catch his breath he would never raise his arms again. His muscles screamed in pain, his nerves burning. A pile of the dead had formed around him as a barrier, but the undead didn’t let that stop them. It only slowed them down slightly as they clawed and tripped their way over.

Christine continued to release arrows into the growing crowd. How could they be taking down so many of these things and still have them grow in numbers before her very eyes? It didn’t make any sense! As one would fall, three more would shamble through the doors and over to them. She wanted to shout out for retreat, but even that seemed impossible. There were too many on top of them and there was nowhere to go. She had no idea where the back exits were and one wrong turn could corner them with no way out.

She heard panicked nickering behind her, but she wouldn’t allow her mind to think about Blue, not even for a second. If she did, she would want to abandon what she was doing to check on him and her sister, and that could mean the death of Zack. Even with her help it was looking hopeless for the ex-comic book store owner.

“God help us!” Christine cried out as she released arrow after arrow into the swarm of the risen dead.

Zack cried out in pain, his arm falling to his side. To Christine’s horror, she saw an arrow sticking out of his right bicep. He struggled against the pain to raise his arm again and continue the fight for his life. Tears welled in Christine’s eyes but she ignored them as she ran forward to pull the arrows from her victims and release them into new ones.

“Zack!” she shouted as she snatched and released, snatched and released.

She didn’t know what screaming his name would do. He couldn’t stop to turn and look at her, and even if he did what then? There were too many zombies between to get to him. All she would do is distract him and possibly kill him. Even though one of her arrows had found its way into his arms, relief washed over her that it hadn’t found a more deadly home in his body.

Too close to the horde now, she had to throw down her bow and fight the zombies with nothing more than the tip of an arrow and her hands. She held her weapon firmly in her fist like an 80’s horror film villain ready to stab. Down she plunged the arrow into a soft and porous head and up she pulled to get it back. Again and again, she made her way through the massive crowd of moaning, groaning, shambling, clawing, chomping dead, each one falling to the ground in a heap at her feet, like a disgusting walkway laid out for a queen of the damned. She stepped on them, smashing in their skulls with the heel of her boots.

Blood ran down Zack’s arm to soak the sleeve of his shirt. Each time he raised his arm and tensed his muscles, the flow would become heavier, staunched only by the arrow still stuck in his flesh. He no longer heaved in exhaustion but cried out with each thrust of his sword. His movements became slower and with each zombie he felled he had to take a step backwards so the next one wouldn’t make a meal out of him.

Suddenly, Christine felt a hand tighten around her arm. She turned, ready to plunge her arrow into a head. Instead of there being a hulking mass in front of her as she assumed, she looked down at a hissing, rotten-faced child. It couldn’t have been older than ten and Christine really couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl in its life. Its hair was torn from its head along with the flesh to reveal skull and tissue. Its face was contorted into the stuff of nightmares, its jaw wrenched open and its eyes milky white and sunken. It snapped and hissed and howled as it tried to pull Christine’s arm into its mouth.

Christine shoved at the child’s corpse, knocking it backwards but not off its feet. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to end this child’s life, even though it looked like it was most likely ended anyway. Even if a cure was made, there was no coming back from what this child had suffered. Still, she didn’t want to be the one to do it.

The sound of hooves echoed off the walls and around the whole store. A loud whinny sounded, and before Christine could turn to look Blue ran by in a streak and knocked the zombie child to the ground, his hooves stomping over its body in the process and pulverizing its skull into a bloody pile of mush.

Blue charged forward into the undead, rearing up and bucking, smashing in heads with the force of his hard hooves. Blood flew across the air with each kick. The stocky horse didn’t hesitate a single second and it continued its tirade through the mass. Zack ducked quickly to avoid being taken out with the rest of them as Blue reenacted a western rodeo show in the store.

Christine watched with wide eyes, sure they were about to lose the sturdy horse that had taken them so far on their journey. She wanted to rush in and help him, but she knew that would be dangerous with how recklessly he was kicking. All she could do was stand back in awe as zombies fell to the floor to be trampled and stomped to death.

Zack finally had an out with the zombies’ attention on Blue. He scrambled away on his hands and knees so as not to be kicked in the head, and made his way over to Christine. When he righted himself, he winced at the pain of the arrow shifting in his arm. Christine made to place her hands on him, but pulled back at the last second so she wouldn’t cause him more harm. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know what to do. She had no medical training beyond the CPR class she took in college.

With her face pinched in regret and worry she asked, “Do you want me to pull it out?”

He jerked his arm away from her. “No, we can’t. If you do that, the arrow will tear through my skin and make it worse. It has to go all the way through.” He reached up and held the arrow right where it connected with his arm in one hand and used his other to snap it off. “There,” he said matter-of-factly. “Good enough till I can find someone who knows what they’re doing to remove it.”

Christine threw her arms around Zack’s neck and squeezed him as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you!” she cried.

“You mean you weren’t aiming for me? Because if you wanted to take me out, that would have been the perfect time and way to do it. No one would have ever suspected you,” he said with a playful grin.

Christine cried harder. “No, never!”

Zack placed his hands on her back and held her tightly to him. “Okay, okay, calm down. I was just kidding. I know you didn’t mean to.”

They pulled apart from each other and Christine wiped the tears from her face.

“How about we finish off what Blue hasn’t already destroyed?” Zack said, stooping to lower his eyes to look right into Christine’s for encouragement.

She nodded with a half-hearted laugh and used her arm to dry the rest of her face.

XIV

Zack and Christine finished off the last three zombies together as Blue snorted and settled, trotting off down another aisle. She hadn’t noticed during the fight, but Gretchen was not on the horse’s back anymore. That sent her stomach plunging downward into a spiral of panic. Before Blue could get too far she jogged after him, speaking softly to calm him.

The spotted shaggy horse looked around wide-eyed, darting back and forth in a frenzy. His ears were flat against his head and hot breath came out from his nostrils in bursts.

“It’s okay, boy, calm down,” Christine cooed as she inched closer. She grabbed hold of his reins gently and brushed her hand softly against his neck. “See, it’s okay. It’s all over.” Christine stroked the horse’s face slowly. “You saved us, boy, you know that?”

Blue gave another snort, though deeper from his chest and drawn out, as if to sigh in relief or exhaustion. His coat was slick with sweat and his mane wildly tossed about on either side of his neck.

“Let’s find Gretchen, what do you say, boy?” Christine tugged on the reins and asked Blue to walk on with her as she searched the aisles for a thrashing tied up zombie.

“Over here!” she heard Zack call from the next aisle.

Together, Christine and Blue followed Zack’s voice. On the ground was exactly what Christine expected to see; her sister with her hands held together behind her back and her feet bound at the ankles, throwing herself around like a mad-woman, hissing and growling and spitting as she tried to right herself or break free.

“Let’s get her onto this horse and out of here before any more of those things stop us,” Zack said, lifting Gretchen up from under her arms to stand her up.

She still was trying to bite her way through the air and into his flesh. Christine wondered if Gretchen could smell Zack, hear his heartbeat, and if it drove her crazy with hunger.

“Hold on a minute,” Zack said as he darted off down an aisle after setting Gretchen down again. When he came back he had a dog bed cover clutched in his hands. “We can throw this over her head, make it harder for her to bite Blue.”

Christine looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“Look, I don’t like it either,” he assured her.

Finally, Christine nodded her head in agreement.

Slowly and carefully, Zack covered Gretchen’s head. Together they lifted the thrashing zombie onto Blue's back, face-down again. At first, the anxious horse resisted, trying to side step away from its dangerous cargo, but in the end he knew it was his destiny to carry it. He gave in and steadied himself, though he made sure his long and hardened face reflected how unhappy he was about it.

They left the store and stepped back out into the cool breeze and fresh air. The sun was still hidden behind a blanket of gray clouds, not ominous looking, not darkening into a storm at all, but still blocking out the only source of warmth they had on their journey.

“Only a little further up this road,” Christine said with optimism. “Less than an hour and we’ll be there for sure.”

Zack took his place at Blue’s middle next to Gretchen. She had calmed down with the rocking of the horse’s gentle slow gait and was only growling and snapping when Zack moved within her reach, or what would have been her reach if she wasn’t tied up.

They passed another Starbucks after thirty minutes, but Zack didn’t bother hinting at a stop this time. He was worn out and in pain, and all he wanted was to get rid of this journal so they can check it off their to-do list and go back to the bunker. He hoped everything was running much smoother there than it was out here.

“I think that’s it!” Christine practically shouted, sending Blue into a spooky side jump. “Sorry, boy,” she said absently. “Yeah, that’s it! Come on!”

She started to jog ahead with Blue trotting beside her. Gretchen bounced up and down on the horse’s back, throwing her into a hissing frenzy. Christine knew it had to be uncomfortable for her sister, but then again she didn’t know if her sister could feel anything right now besides hunger. Getting her better was all Christine could think about and that was worth a few bruises to her sister’s abdomen.

The building was not as impressive as either had been expecting. It was only five stories high including the ground floor. The entire thing was covered in windows laid out like a grid and reflecting the little bit of blue still found in the cloudy sky above them. Where there weren’t shining windows, the building was cold and gray, surrounded by young trees and parking lots.

Christine walked up to the door and stopped. “This is it,” she said, holding her breath.

She reached out and took hold of the door handle and turned it downward. When she pulled to open it, she was met with resistance.

“It’s locked.”

“Did you expect it to be open for business?”

What an idiot she felt like. Of course she didn’t expect it to be unlocked. But she had been so eager to get there, she didn’t want to deal with another roadblock in her sister’s recovery.

“What do we do then? We can’t shout for someone or the dead might hear us.”

Zack stood in thought for a moment, his hand hanging limply by his sheathed sword. Blood still ran down his arm to soak his shirt and drip onto the sun-bleached pavement.

“Let’s knock, I guess. Quietly. Doesn’t look like they have any cameras set up out here.”

“We do,” a far off voice said out of nowhere. “We’re just really good at hiding them.”

The soft sound of a lens zooming in and out could be heard once they froze in place and strained their ears.

“Can you let us in?” Christine asked meekly, not wanting to scare them off with how desperate she was feeling inside.

“Sorry, no can do,” the young man’s voice replied. “We can’t just letting every Tom, Dick, and Harry in here, can we?”

“We’re not just anybody,” Christine said, panic rising in her voice. They didn’t come all this way to be rejected and dismissed. “We have something that might help you.” She paused and reached her hand out to Zack. Her fingers closed against her palm and opened again several times in urgency. Finally, he handed her Liam’s tattered leather-bound journal. “We have this.”

“What is that? Your diary?” the voice sounded as if he were on the brink of laughter.

“No,” Christine replied with a roll of her eyes. “It’s the answer to the cure.”

There was no reply after that. The camera had stopped moving and the voice they’d been talking to went silent. Christine still held the journal up, though her arm was starting to weaken. She lowered her arm and looked back at Zack. He shrugged his shoulders before she turned back around to face the doors.

With a huff of disappointment, she gripped the journal so tightly in her hand that her fingernails left marks in the brown leather. This wasn’t it. They weren’t defeated. They came all that way and it wasn’t for nothing. Something led them there, Christine was sure, and they were there for a reason. They had to save Gretchen and this was the way, it had to be!

Suddenly the front door opened.

“Come on,” the same voice they heard on the camera urged them.

With horse in hand and a zombie on its back, Christine and Zack walked through the doors of the Illinois Prevention Research Center.

“Sorry to give you the cold shoulder back there, but you know, times have changed. Can’t just let strangers in the house anymore, if you know what I mean,” the young man said.

He looked a little younger than Christine would have expected, even younger than Liam. There was no way he was a graduated scientist. It was possible the kid didn’t even work there, but was simply taking refuge. It was possible no one there would know what to do with Liam’s journal and all his notes.

Christine held out the journal to the young man anyway, her lips pursed and brow furrowed in determination.

“Oh, we don’t need that,” the kid said with a casual wave of his hand.

It was so nonchalant that the urge to slap him came over Christine. This was serious, not something to be brushed off. The answer to the world’s problems could be in that journal and this kid was acting like she’d offered him a bag of chips. Her face must have reflected her impulse because the kid quickly waved his hands in front of him.

“No, no, not like we don’t want it. We appreciate it very much. It’s just that…we’ve already found the cure. At least we think we have.”

Christine’s mouth hung open as she turned to look at Zack. His face reflected hers. She turned back to the kid scientist.

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering her question, he walked over to Blue with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and stopped at Gretchen’s head. “I’m guessing this one means something to you?” He pulled a hand out and gestured to Christine’s sister with his thumb.

“Yes, she does,” was all Christine could muster.

He gently untied the string around Gretchen’s neck and took off the cover, bending down to examine her face. When he was done he stood up and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “She hasn’t been one of them long, has she?”

“Only a day.”

He nodded his head as a cheeky smile spread across his face. “We can save her, then.”

Christine’s knees almost buckled right out from under her. Was this kid for real? Did he just say they had a cure and could save her sister? Bring her back from the side of the undead to the side of the living? How was this possible? She was so sure Liam’s journal was the only thing out there with an answer to it all, but it turns out they didn’t even need it. Gretchen was going to be herself again. Tears started to roll silently down Christine’s face.

“Why don’t you follow me,” the young man said as he turned and walked away.

Zack grabbed hold of the ropes that bound Gretchen’s hands together and forced her to walk in front of him. Christine followed the kid to a set of large marble stairs, leading to what she had no idea.

Leading to hope her heart told her quietly.

TO BE CONTINUED IN “DEAD WORLD” COMING SOON

For more works from the “Dead Soil” world, check out the novella series “Dead Beginnings” and see how the characters survived their first days of the zombie apocalypse:

-Volume 1: Lonnie Lands

-Volume 2: Lee Hickey

- Volume 3: Olivia Darling (coming soon)

And the Zooey Zombie series to see how the zombies are brought back to life with the cure and what life is like for them afterwards:

-It’s an Undead Thing (book 1)

-So Over the Undead (book 2- coming soon)

Afterward

Thank you for taking the time to read my book. I truly appreciate your support. None of this would be possible without wonderful readers to support us independent authors. So first and foremost, I want to thank you! I also want to thank my family for their support; my mom, my dad, my daughter, and my long-time boyfriend, John.

I also want to thank God for placing the passion of writing stories and sharing them with others on my heart. When I wrote “Dead Soil”, the first book in this series, I was not a believer. This fact came out in my writing. Though I still hold “Dead Soil” and all the books I wrote before I was a believer dear to my heart, there are things about them I would do differently now. I apologize for any foul language that can be found in them. I do plan to do a re-edit to adjust this so believers and nonbelievers alike can read my stories and enjoy them. “Dead Road” is my first fiction book written since I became a believer over a year ago. I struggled at first writing this book. I had no idea how to write a horror zombie novel while still upholding my beliefs, but I felt strongly God telling me to finish what I had started before moving onto new series and books. So, of course, I followed and God provided. I am extremely happy with how the story of “Dead Road” developed. It is still scary, somewhat gory, but upholds the values I now hold deep in my heart; such as healing from hurts, rejecting evil, overcoming struggles, having bravery and perseverance in the face of things we fear, charity, generosity, hospitality, and above all—love. The way I see it, we all have our struggles. It’s just the struggles of Christine, Zack, and the characters of the “Dead Soil” series are zombies while ours are no quite so dramatic and fantastical. Hopefully you came to love the characters of this book as much as I do and took delight in seeing them develop as they figured out how to survive another book, and mourned with those who didn’t. I hope, even though you are not living in the woods and fighting off the undead (at least I hope you’re not), that you related to the characters I’ve created and that in seeing them overcome they have inspired you to overcome as well.

Thank you again for your support! Please, leave a review on any of the book websites; Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, BookBub, etc. I would truly appreciate it. Good word of mouth is essential to the survival of an author. And if you enjoyed the book, keep your eyes open for the next and final novel in the series, “Dead World”.

If you would like to follow my mailing list so you never miss a release or giveaway go to writeralexapostol.com and sign up. In doing so, you’ll receive a free eBook copy of “It’s an Undead Thing (Zooey Zombie book 1)”

Thank you endlessly and keep on reading!

Alex Apostol

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- “It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”