When Women Pray: 10 Women of the Bible Who Changed the World Through Prayer
Author: T. D. Jakes
Date: 2021-09-28 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Post-Apocalyptic
Description: Find power in your prayer like never before with this inspiring guide from #1 New York Times bestselling author Bishop T.D. Jakes. In a time when women carry more influence than any other generation, the power of prayer has never been more important to remind us that we do not have to bear our crosses alone. We need prayer to stand guard over our hearts and minds and over the hearts and minds of our families. Women today are shattering glass ceilings and forging new paths in the world. When Women Pray is a clarion call for women to continue their progressive march of empowerment by dreaming li
Publisher: FaithWords

Z-Burbia 7

Sisters of the Apocalypse

Jake Bible

Copyright 2016 by Jake Bible
www.severedpress.com

Chapter One

Damn, if there ain't nothing to make you feel more alive than wading through the undead and lopping heads off left and right. Up and down too. Not just left and right. Those heads go everywhere. I love that. Nothing like it.

Yeah, sure, there's sex. I got me a nice piece of Special Forces ass back at the Stronghold. His name is John. That's not his real name. A nickname. I forget what his real name is. Who cares? He's a fine piece of ass. I am so going to get me some of that when I get back to the Stronghold.

First, I gotta lop off more Z heads.

"Elsbeth! Pay attention, dammit!"

Sorry. Got in my head. Easy to do. Knew a guy that was always in his head. He wrote all that stuff down. I'll do the same. Makes for good stories for the kiddies. They love to hear about lopping off Z heads and whose ass is mine.

Kids like Z-lopping, ass-owning stories.

"Right flank! Clear that path," Steph shouts at me as I duck a pair of nearly stripped hands, all sinewy and gross, that reach for my face. I take the Z out at the knees with one of my long blades and let it fall over my back. Straighten up and bam, that Z goes a flying.

"Got it!" I shout back at Steph and cover the right flank of our little group as the horde of Zs moves in tighter on us.

Steph isn't in charge or anything. None of us are in charge. We're sisters. Sort of. Long story. I could tell it all to you, but my long dead friend, Long Pork, wrote it all down. I already said that.

"Who's on overwatch?" I yell at Antoinette as she pushes past Steph and stabs a Z right through the eyehole. I try to count all of us, but there is too much craziness. Chaos and shit. Lots of it. Chaos, chaos, chaos and shit, shit, shit.

"Audrey!" Antoinette yells back. She slices a Z's head right off and it falls to her feet. A quick kick and it hits another Z in the head, knocking that undead shitfucker to the ground. She stomps on that one's head, making sure the piece of crap doesn't get back up.

I'm glad Audrey is on overwatch. Chick is good with a sniper rifle. I wonder what one she's using today. I can't remember what firearms we brought. I like my blades, one in each hand. Two feet long and sharp as shit. Curved blades, thick at the ends. Strong stuff that I had a guy make when I lost my other ones.

I've lost a lot of blades in the zombie apocalypse. They're like disposable razors. The ones you use for your legs. Not that I shave my fucking legs. Who's got time to do that? Fuck that shit. I live to kill Zs and cannies and crazies and shit. I don't live to keep my calves smooth for John. The boy can deal with some hairy calves if he wants any of what I got going on.

Two cracks and two Zs that are about to tackle me lose their heads. Black and gross brains splatter all over me. I glance up at the closest building and make out the reflection from Audrey's scope. Oh, right, she has the Barrett today. Nice. Fifty calibers of heavy death raining down on these undead assholes. Bam, bam, bammity bam!

Heads go sploosh.

I'm bumped from behind and turn about, but it's only Marcie. She wasn't supposed to come along on this trip. She and Charlie have been having some issues. Mostly the shouting at each other kind because he doesn't want her to go out of the Stronghold anymore and she tells him to go fuck himself because she ain't his kept bitch so fuck you Charlie.

My house is right next door. I hear all the fights. And all the making up. Kinda gross because I think of Charlie like the little brother I never had. I think I never had one. Hard to remember sometimes. Maybe I did and my brainpan has wiped that clean. Brainpan do-over and shit.

"We have a break there!" Steph yells, pointing at a weak spot in the horde. Zs ain't too bright. They really don't know how to keep prey contained. Stupid Zs.

I know I grew up Carly Michelle Thornberg, but that was a long, long time ago pre-Z. What? Keep up. I stream my consciousness. Get used to it. So, grew up Carly, but that shit all changed when my bitch ass mom sent me off to be experimented on with some other rich girls so we could be turned into sleeper agents and ultimate killing machines and sexbots and whatever that Dr. Kramer asshole was going to do to us.

Fuck that guy. He's why we're in this stupid Z-horde. Out hunting his ass down so we can bring him to justice. Or that's what Greta says we have to do. Bring him to justice for being a lying liar pants liar shitfucker. I'd rather string him up by his half-inch dick and let the Zs pick him apart. That's motherfucking justice, motherfuckers.

Where was I?

Right. Don't really remember if I had a brother or not. Or if I had a sister. A real one. I have lots of "sisters" now, but they have quotation marks around the name because we ain't related by blood. Okay, maybe we are related by blood since we're spilling a shit ton of it from these Z heads. Bam! That's a Long Pork joke right there!

Yeah, yeah, so we're with Kramer and he's mindfucking us and shooting us up with serums and drugs and training us to kill, kill, kill. Then some parents regret what they did and send in Ms. Foster and her crack team of shooters to rescue us. Kramer escapes, people get killed. Then they come back to life.

Z-Day!

"We wedge through here and make it to the alley over there!" Steph shouts. "Get up the fire escape and regroup on that roof! Do not slow! Keep your asses moving, ladies! You hear me?"

We all shout that we hear her. Hard not to, even over the groans and moans of the Z-horde. Steph has some lungs on her when she wants. She takes her machete to three Zs and they fall as she clears the point of our wedge for us. Then she's off and we're following fast behind, keeping it tight so the Zs can't separate us and pick us off one by one. Not that I'd let some undead pussies pick me off. That is not how I intend to go down.

So, Ms. Foster comes along and rescues us from Kramer, but Z-Day hits and we're trapped in that mad scientist bunker for weeks. Until the company that Foster works for sends in some troops to rescue the rescuers. We're all super trained by that point, what with Kramer's conditioning and then weeks with Foster and her people. Making a break for the rendezvous point ain't too hard.

Except it's the fucking zombie apocalypse, so, yeah, shit gets hard.

We get ambushed by scraggly survies and I end up in a river, my head getting clonked by rock after rock. I'm separated from my sisters, from Foster, from the rescue team. Just floating down the river like a dead log, ten seconds from being a drowned rat.

Except I don't drown. I get washed up a ways away and wake up with a zombie boy trying to pick at my brains. I'm a total badass, even back then, so I should have taken him out. But my head was all swirly swirl and I couldn't think and shit hurt and I thought I was dead.

Then Pa came along and killed the zombie boy.

Pa.

Goddamn cannibal, rapey fucktard piece of shit.

After that, I was Elsbeth. No Carly no more. I didn't even know Carly had existed. My brain was a blank slate of blankness. I was mentally shitfucked. Pa took advantage and turned me into his special girl.

We killed people. A lot of people. People that just wanted to survive and thought we could help. We did help. We helped ourselves to their tasty, tasty flesh.

NOT TASTY!

Not tasty to me anymore. Been a lot of years since I ate me some people thigh meat. A lot of years. Never going back to those canny ways. I kill cannies now. Kill them fucking dead.

"Up! Up! Up!" Steph shouts when we reach the bottom of the fire escape.

There's a dumpster already pushed over to it, so it's easy as pie to hop up, grab the bottom rungs of the ladder, and climb our asses to the roof. A few shots ring out when we reach the top and the few Zs that had been making camp up on the roof go splattery splat all over the old tarpaper or whatever roofs are covered with. I don't know. I'm a lean, mean, killing machine, not a roof-making person. Fuck off.

Quick check behind the hut shack thing that leads to the stairs to make sure no Zs be hiding there and the roof is clear. We all lean over the edge and look down at the couple hundred Zs that have filled the alley. A lot of Zs. Not even close to the most we've faced. Shit, man, I've faced this many by myself before and lived. But a lot of these guys are strong ones. Faster than your normal Zs.

I see a few of the strong ones start to eye the dumpster like they want to climb up and get to us. I bet they do. Hungry little bitches.

"Frag out!" I yell as I drop a grenade down onto the dumpster. "Two frags out!"

I drop a second one and turn around, covering my ears as the grenades go off, one after the other. A quick looky loo and I see the dumpster is now in a thousand pieces. A lot of those pieces are sticking out of Zs. Some of the Zs are moving, some aren't, but don't matter. The strong ones aren't climbing up after us any time soon.

I'd love to say that I got away from Pa on my own, but that ain't the truth. Truth is, I captured a hunk of people meat named Jace Stanford. Me and Pa was gonna carve him up and eat him, but that Jace just made me laugh. I called him Long Pork, because that's what human meat is: long pork. But the name fit that guy. So he's always been Long Pork to me.

Then his friends, Jon and Stuart, came to get him. They killed Pa and I got away. Followed them for a while until they got themselves into a little rotten pickle of a situation. Jon took off. Stuart took off. Long Pork was left alone in a dump truck. He was wearing pink and purple yoga clothes. It was funny. Long Pork was always making me laugh.

I saved his ass, he took me back to Whispering Pines, I became family because that's how the Stanfords roll, and the rest is history. A lot more happened, but that ain't my story. That's Long Pork's story and he's already written that shit down. Go bug Greta. She'll read you his journals. I ain't got time for moron review. I got Zs to kill, remember?

"Killin' Zs, killin' Zs, huntin' cannies, killin' Zs," I hum to myself as we all walk the perimeter of the roof and figure out our next move.

"The Humvees are ten blocks that way," Steph says, pointing to the east.

"Nope," Marcie says. "They are ten blocks that way."

She points to the south. Steph glares. Marcie keeps pointing. Steph pulls a radio from her pocket.

"Audrey? Which way are the Humvees?" Steph asks into the radio.

"Ten blocks south of your position," Audrey replies, her voice crackling and popping over the radio. "Why? We making a break for it?"

"Not yet," Steph says, rolling her eyes at Marcie. "We should rest up and eat first. Maybe make a run when the sun sets."

When she says that, we all slip our kits off and toss the packs to the ground. Or roof. Or whatever the fuck. We set our packs down and start rummaging for the rations we brought. Time for a post-fight picnic!

I fucking love post-fight picnics. Fucking love them.

"I've got apples and some of that really brown bread that one chick makes," Marcie says.

There's just me, Marcie, Steph, Antoinette, and Audrey a couple roofs over. Belinda and Brittany stayed back at the Stronghold to help Charlie with getting that big, huge wall of his built. The two Bs know a thing or two about how to fortify a place. Don't know how. Probably some of that conditioning Kramer gave us. We all have our specialties. Mine is being the baddest bitch on the fucking planet. Fuck with me and you get shitfucked back. I will shitfuck you into next month then schedule a follow-up shitfucking for the month after that.

"I have the salami," I say as I pull a long roll of meat out of my bag. "Deer. Spicy too."

"Did anyone bring that goat cheese?" Antoinette asks. "The blueberry kind?"

"All out," Steph says as she pulls out her own hunk of brown bread and a jug of apple juice. "I looked."

It's early September, I think, so plenty of apples to be had even up in dry Colorado.

"It's September, right?" I ask.

"Yes, El, it's September," Steph replies. "Try to keep up, will ya?"

They don't call me Carly. Carly Thornberg is long dead. I'm Elsbeth. It may have been a name that Pa gave me when he made me his ick slave, but I kept it because that's what the Stanfords call me. Even though Long Pork and Stella are gone. Don't matter. I'm Elsbeth Stanford. That's my name.

My sisters never had their heads smacked around by river rocks, so they know who they are and who they've always been. Must be nice for them to not have the fuzzies in your brain. I wouldn't know. Shit gets jumbled. Jumbled, jumbled, jumbled.

"You good, El?" Marcie asks.

"I'm good," I reply. "Just telling a story in my head."

"You gonna write it down when we get back to the Stronghold?" she asks.

"Probably," I say. "Greta wants a record of what we do out here. She says that future generations need to know who we are and how we fought to rebuild the world."

"We aren't rebuilding the world," Steph says. "Not unless you consider Boulder, Colorado to be the world."

"It is for now," I say.

"Gotta start somewhere," Antoinette says and hands me a hunk of thick zucchini bread. "Might as well start with the Stronghold."

The Stronghold used to be Boulder. It used to be the campus of the big school there. University of Colorado or some shit. Now it's an almost walled-off area where people are learning to live and grow in the apocalypse. We seen some babies being born already. Pretty cool to see. Kinda sad though. None of us sisters can have babies.

Motherfucking Kramer and his mad scientist conditioning. I swear I'm going to slice his scrote open and make him suck on his balls like jawbreakers when I find his ass.

"How long do we stay on this trail?" Steph turns and asks me, her mouth jammed with apple and salami. "Those blind kids gave us the slip yesterday. This town is either a trap or a dead end."

"We check it out," I say.

No one in charge, but I am the driving motherfucker when it comes to hunting Kramer. That old cocksucker is why Stella died. He fried one of our sister's brains. Cassie. Fried her up good and she killed Stella.

I found her. Don't you worry about that. Brought her back for the Stanfords to go all stabby stabby on. Fucking killed her dead in a shower. Bitch deserved it. No argument.

But Kramer is still out here somewhere. I got a life goal. A five-year, ten-year, however-long-it-takes-year plan. Hunt Kramer, kill Kramer. That's the plan.

"We search the town for the son of a bitching shitfucker," I say. "If he ain't here then maybe there's some clues."

"Clues?" Marcie laughs. "This isn't Scooby-Doo, El. Any clues those blind kids may have left aren't going to lead us anywhere. They never do."

"You quitting on me?" I ask, giving her the stink eye. I have a good stink eye. Makes people squirm.

But she's a sister and shrugs it off. Sisters don't give a shit about no stink eye.

"You know I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth, El," Marcie says. "I'll never quit."

"Thanks," I say. I drop my stink eye and give her a smile. She deserves a smile. Smiles are good for sisters.

"Three days," Steph says. "That's how long our rations will hold out. It's a five-day drive back to the Stronghold since we have to go cross country to avoid the canny traps and crazies. We have three days of food for here then we try to scavenge what we can and head home. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Antoinette says. She takes a bite of zucchini bread and says something else, but I can't make it out.

"Agreed," Marcie says. "El?"

"Yep," I say. "Can't hunt if we're starving. Agreed."

Steph relays the plan to Audrey. She agrees as well.

"We bunk down on this roof tonight," Steph says. "Audrey is going to stay where she is so she can provide cover for us tomorrow. We'll rendezvous with her and then get to the Humvees. After that, we continue our sweep of this town and try not to get swarmed by Zs."

"Sure are a lot of them for a small town," Antoinette says, zucchini bread falling from her mouth.

"Jesus," Marcie says. "Close your mouth."

"Whatever," Antoinette says and swallows. "I still don't look as bad as El when she eats."

They all turn to me and grin. Fuckers.

"Ha ha," I say. "You should have seen how I ate when I was munching on people meat."

"You had to go there, didn't you?" Steph says and rolls her eyes. She's an eye roller.

"I lived there," I replied. "Don't worry. I ain't going back. You bitches look yummy, but I think you all are a little spoiled."

"Fuck and you," Marcie laughs as she gives me the finger.

I love my sisters.

Chapter Two

The town we're in was called North Valley. That's what it was called when people lived here. Ain't called that now. Now? It's Z-Town. Z-Ville. The Z-Burg. Z-Valley. Yeah, Z-Valley. Should have said that first. I miss Long Pork. He always knew all the good puns and jokes and funny stuffs.

Whatever the fuck it's called, it's someplace north of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Which means we ain't even in Colorado anymore. And it's hot as fuck because it's September and shit is still hot down here in the Southwest in September. Or that's what Charlie says. He's all Mr. Big Thinks, so he knows his weather facts. Not that I need weather facts to know it's hot because it's fucking hot.

Might be hot during the day, but it gets butt-ass cold at night, so we sisters all huddle up together to stay warm as the stars sparkle in the perfectly clear night sky. Audrey calls on the radio a couple of times to tell us we suck since she has no one to huddle with. We tell her we're sorry, but none of us are because we're warm and would rather stay warm. But we tell her we are sorry because that's what sisters do. Lie to make each other feel better.

I'm not as good at the lying as others.

"Oh, God, who farted?" Marcie groans.

"Me," I say. "It's the salami."

"We all ate the salami and aren't smelling like a dead horse," Antoinette says. "You got something wrong inside you."

"That's what they tell me," I say. Then fart again.

"Dammit, El," Steph growls. "We're gonna make you get out of the huddle if you keep doing that."

"Farts are part of life," I say. "Do not banish life because you cannot handle the stink of it."

"That sounds like Greta," Marcie says. "You need to stop listening to Greta. She's constantly fucking with you, you know?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I know. It's our game."

We all drift off to sleep, the sound of the Zs down below like a scary lullaby. Not too scary since I can whoop Z ass when I want to, but it ain't soothing like Stella singing a song or anything.

I miss Stella too. She was kind and strong and smart and kicked Long Pork's ass when it needed to be kicked which was like all the time because he was so annoying and stupid sometimes but other times he wasn't and I miss him just as much.

Whew. That was a long thought. Need to take a brain breath.

I dream. Old times when I was a girl. Standing in a white dress as my mother, that evil bitch, presents me to someone. He's tall and thin and has a long scar from his right eye down to his jaw line. He doesn't smile at me. He doesn't say anything. My mother is talking, that evil bitch, and she's saying something to the man, but I can't hear the words. I know she's talking because you just know stuffs in dreams, but I can't hear the stupid words.

Stupid, stupid words.

He nods to my mother and reaches down for my hand. I don't want to give it to him. His hand is more scarred than his face. It's all warped and gross and the skin looks like it's made of that doughy play stuff that's bright colors. Can't remember the name of it. It's dough you play with. Fuck! What's it called?

He has my hand. I didn't give it to him, stupid dream. Stupid, stupid dream.

We're walking away from my mother, that evil bitch. She waves to me then turns and goes inside our house. It's a big house. Mansion. Not like the Biltmore where I met the sisters for the first time after we were separated. Not that big. But big. Half a Biltmore?

Mother is gone, that evil bitch, and I'm all alone with the scarred man. He's talking to me now, but I can't hear the words. I hate this dream. Stupid, stupid dream. The words are like dumb butterflies that float off in the air. I see them. They don't have wings like butterflies because words can't have wings. That would be weird. Words with wings would be weird.

He keeps talking, I watch the words fly off, he takes me into the garden that was at the end of the backyard at my old house. I see roses and they laugh at me. I'd punch the roses, maybe lop their heads off like Zs, but I can't because I'm not me in the dream, I'm the little girl me. If I was me now in the dream, I'd so kick those laughing roses' asses.

But not me now, I'm her then. Me then. Whatever then. Scarred guy leads me to a fountain and points. Does the ugly bastard want me to get in the fountain? No thank you and please. Not happening. The water is gross and yucky. Dream me has a white dress on. Gross yucky water and white dresses don't go together. Even I know that.

He points again, his scarred face getting angry. Well, fuck him. Not getting in the water. He grabs me, picks me up, but the dream me is too small to do anything. The guy is really strong. I shout at him, but I don't shout because little girl dream me can't shout. Fucking pussy. Before I can stop him, I'm flying through the air, grabbing at the words, hoping they'll help me. But stupid flying words don't help me and I land in the yucky fountain water.

Kersplash.

My head goes under and I sink fast. The fountain is deep because it's a stupid dream fountain. I sink and sink and sink and finally hit the bottom. Everyone I've ever known is there. All the dead people. No living people, just dead people. I know a lot of dead people. They stand up, not caring about the yucky water at all, and walk over to me. Some of the dead people open their mouths. Nasty-looking teeth. Bitey teeth.

So it's gonna be one of those dreams, is it? Fuck that.

I stand up too, but now I'm the now me, not the dream me because fuck this dream and fuck these dead people I know and fuck getting my little dream girl white dress dirty and shit.

I reach for my blades, but they aren't there. That's not like me. I always have my blades. Even when I'm riding John back at the Stronghold, my blades are within reach. Freaks him out sometimes, but that's the price you pay for fun in the sack with Elsbeth. Heeya!

The dead people I know get closer and I ball up my fists. I think for a second that it's strange I can breathe under water, but it's a dream so I guess it's not that strange. The dead people get to me and I let those fists fly. I hit one smack in the jaw and half its face goes away. Just dissolves in the water like honey in tea.

I like honey in my tea.

The next dead person screams at me, but it's all bubbles and shit. I probably wouldn't hear the words anyway. It's a dumb dream. I kick her in the stomach and she rips in half as her belly dissolves away too.

More dead people. More punching and kicking until they are all gone. The bits that don't dissolve float to the top of the fountain, but that's so far up I can't see it anymore. Just a bright dot, way, way, way above my head. Stupid bright dot.

"Elsbeth."

I spin about.

"Who's there?" I ask.

"Oh, knock it off."

I feel a slap and my eyes pop open.

Marcie.

"You were dreaming again and you punched Steph in the tit," Marcie says.

I rub at my eyes and look over at Steph. She's rubbing her left tit.

"Sorry," I say.

"You are on overwatch tonight," Steph says. "Audrey gets to huddle with us if we're still outside. I am not getting punched in the tit by you anymore, El."

"I said I was sorry," I say and stand up. "Gotta pee."

"Over there," Antoinette says and points to a corner of the roof. "We've already gone. Don't step in the pee."

"I know how it works," I say.

"You don't have to wake up grumpy every morning," Antoinette says and starts rummaging in her pack for breakfast. "Be nice or no apples for you."

"Got my own apples," I say.

"Nope," she smiles. "I snagged all the apples because I knew you'd be grumpy."

"Sneaky twat," I say, but I'm smiling.

Sisters call each other twats. It's funny.

I drop my pants and have a wonderful piss. Nothing beats a good piss first thing in the morning even if it is cold as hell and my butt cheeks start to shiver. I do that little ass shake thing and pull up my pants. This is important. Pay attention. My belt buckle won't buckle right, so I start getting mad at it and stomp around the roof. I almost step in my piss then almost step in my sisters' piss and end up doing this hop jump thing over the puddles.

When I land, my foot goes through the roof and I'm stuck up to my knee.

"Shitfuck," I bitch as I forget my stupid belt and yank at my leg. "Hey! I'm stuck!"

"Keep it down," Steph snaps. "You'll get the Zs riled up."

Everyone comes over to me and I see them start to laugh. Then I see them stop starting to laugh. Then I see them hurry backwards as a crack in the roof spreads from my leg all the way across to the far side. Their eyes go wide, my eyes go wide, everyone freezes for that little second.

Then they jump into action. Antoinette flings herself at me, forgetting about the piss puddles between us, and reaches out as far as she can. I grab her hand as Steph grabs Antoinette and Marcie grabs Steph. They pull, but the roof is already cracking too much and my other leg drops down into the building. Antoinette is shouting at me, but like in my dream, I can't hear her words.

Why?

Because all I hear are Zs growling and moaning and hissing. A whole bunch of asshole Zs right below me. In the building I'm about to fall into. Stupid asshole Zs.

I reach for one of my blades with my free hand and then the dream shit gets real. My blades are sitting by my pack where we'd all slept. All the way across the roof. Stupid asshole blades.

"Hold on!" Antoinette shouts.

"I'm doing that!" I shout back. "Say something helpful!"

"Fuck you!" she yells.

"You too!" I yell back.

The roof cracks more and I start to fall. I can see the crack spreading to Antoinette. If I go down and she doesn't let go then she goes down with me. Can't have that. Sisters don't let sisters go down. She's probably thinking the same thing because when I let go, she grabs me with her other hand.

"No," I say and shake my head. "I got this. Get off the roof and help me from below."

"There are too many Zs below!" Antoinette shouts. "I'm not letting go!"

"Come in from one of the windows," I say, all cool and casual because what else are you gonna do when you're shitfucked like this. "Let. Go."

"Do it," Steph says.

Antoinette starts to argue, but the roof buckles and the crack hits her right in the chest. She lets go.

I fall fast and hit hard. Nothing broken, I know that right away. You don't live in the zombie apocalypse without being super aware of your body. Plus, all that secret conditioning and whatever else Kramer did to us.

I get to my feet and spin about, the morning light just gloomy bullshit through the dirty windows of the room. It's an apartment. Was an apartment. I'm in a bedroom. With a few Zs.

Five Zs. Two women, two men, and a little girl. In a white dress. Was a white dress. All gross now. They come at me, but they're slow and barely held together by spit and shit and goo.

The first woman reaches me and I punch through her head. My fist squishes her rotten brains right out the back of her crumbly skull. That Z drops and I kick out against the first man that's near me. My foot sinks through his chest instead of knocking him back. Great. Now my foot is stuck in a Z's ribcage.

No matter. I can handle this.

I wait for the second woman to reach me and I rip her arms off then jam one into her brain and the other into the brain of the guy holding my foot hostage in his stupid ribcage. She falls, he falls, my foot comes free, and I stand there staring at the last man and the little girl.

The last man shuffles so slow that I yawn. I do. He's boring. I rip his arms off and stab him in the head with one then start to stab the little girl, but stop.

Her skin is grey and just strips falling off her face and neck, but she's got this cute little waddle. I bet she wasn't even six when she died and came back.

"El!" Marcie calls from up on the roof.

"Yeah!" I reply. "I'm good!"

"We're going down the fire escape to find a window we can use to come get you!" she yells.

"Don't bother!" I yell back. "Only a few Zs here! I killed them! I'll find a way out and meet you on the fire escape!"

"You sure?" she asks.

"I'm sure," I say.

"Okay," she says, but doesn't sound convinced. "Hurry. The Zs in the streets are getting thick again!"

"Yeah, yeah, thick Zs, got it," I say and take a deep breath.

The air is dusty and smells like dead shit. The little girl is almost to me, her arms out like she wants to be picked up. She doesn't really want to be picked up. She wants to eat my ass. I stare at the arm still in my hand and the splintered bone at the end. I should jam it right in her eye socket and call it a morning.

But I don't. I can't. What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm Elsbeth. I kill Zs. It's what I fucking do. Why can't I kill this one?

"Fuck you," I say and let the arm drop.

I go to the bedroom door and start shoving away the furniture and stuff that's piled in front of it. I hear her little feet scraping across the floor, but I don't turn around. I'll know when she's too close. I always do.

The furniture is out of the way and I grab the door handle. Then stop. Noises. Groaning noises. Shuffling noises. Are there more Zs in the apartment? Did they trap these people in here and then stick around even after the people died? That's dick. Zs are dicks.

I pull the door open, take a look around, see what I'm up against, then close the door.

I pick up the dropped arm, kick the little girl in the face, she falls on her ass, I jam the bone into her brain, and that's that. I ain't got time to deal with sentimental bullshit like some little girl Z. It's sad and shit, but fuck her anyway. I have real problems.

Like about fifty Zs out in the apartment that now know I'm in this bedroom.

I throw the furniture back up against the door as the old wood starts to splinter and crack. It's not really wood, but that fake wood shit they made doors out of in cheap apartments. How many people got killed because of cheap assholes that couldn't be bothered to buy real doors? Fucking assholes. People suck. I hope those assholes got their dicks eaten off.

The roof above me splits even more and quite a few chunks of it come falling down around me. One chunk hits my shoulder and I cry out as some spike or something jabs itself into my arm. Great. Just great. I probably have the tetanus now and will get lockjaw. I won't get night vision because I already kind of have that from Kramer's genetic cocktails and shit. But lockjaw will suck. I hate drinking through straws.

I pull my shirt aside and look at the wound in my shoulder. It's a nasty gash. Deep and ragged. I take my shirt off and tear one of the sleeves into strips. I wrap the gash and stand there in my tank top, looking from the broken ceiling to the bedroom door and back.

Windows.

I move to them and try to open one. It's stuck tight. I break the fuck out of it then jam my head and shoulders through. No fire escape. Wrong side of the building. But lots of Zs in the street below. I flip them off then move back into the bedroom.

The door is giving way and I can see Z hands shoving at the furniture barricade. The Zs are all so thin and scrawny that it takes all fifty pushing at once to even move the furniture an inch. But the fuckers have all the time in the world. One inch will be two inches will be three inches and so on and so on and shit.

What to do, what to do…

I close my eyes and think for a second, visualizing where I am.

The roof above split open at the corner. I fell into a bedroom. A corner bedroom. Two walls face the street. One wall has a door with a bunch of Zs trying to get through. What's up with the fourth wall?

There's a heavy floor lamp in the corner, one of those brass and iron things with a base filled with sand or something. I pick it up and test the weight in my hands then swing hard against the fourth wall. It goes right through and plaster dust and mold yuck stuffs poof out around my head. I keep smashing until there is an Elsbeth-size hole. I almost throw the lamp away, but keep it because it's a heavy lamp made of iron and brass. Only stupid people throw away a heavy lamp made of iron and brass in the zombie apocalypse.

I get through the hole and stop fast. It's a bathroom. A bathroom with no floor. I look down and see all the way to the bottom of the building. By the smell and all the black mold stains still hanging out, it looks like the plumbing leaked and the floor just rotted out. Took the toilet with it.

I can see that all the apartments are the same in the building because it's nothing but broken bathrooms all the way down. Bathrooms with holes. I take a step and I'll go for a big fall.

The bathtub is across from me. Maybe four feet? Five feet? I say five feet. I can jump five feet. Shit, I can jump way more than five feet.

I throw the lamp into the tub and it clangs really, really loud. The moans outside the bedroom shift and Z hands start hitting the bathroom door. That's a door that doesn't have a furniture barricade. I don't have much time. I got to get into the tub and break through the next wall before they break in and get in my way.

I jump and land hard in the tub. The lamp jams me in the side and I cry out as I feel a rib bruise. I heal fast, it'll be nothing in a day or so, but bruised ribs suck and now I have one plus a gashy arm. It's a shitty morning so far.

The bathroom door cracks open and like six Zs go falling through the hole in the floor as their buddies shove them from behind. I'm out of reach in the tub, so I do what feels natural. I raise both hands and flip them off. Then I pick up the lamp and get ready to swing at the wall and get through to the next room.

Before I can swing, the tub starts to tilt. I look down and see some of the Zs clinging to the edge, trying to pull up and get at my sweet ass. I slam the base of the lamp into their faces and they go tumbling away. Bye bye, Zs. Dumb fuckers.

I get back to work, start to swing, but stop again as the tub tilts more. There is a really loud groan and it's not from the Zs. The tub lurches, shakes, lurches again.

Then breaks off from the wall and falls. With me in it.

Shitfuck.

Chapter Three

I scream. Anyone would scream when they are standing in a falling bathtub that is slamming through rotten apartments all the way to a very dark basement. A very dark basement that has quite a few Zs in it. I know they're there because I watched them fall through the bathroom hole.

Can't worry about them now. I gotta worry about me.

I collapse into the tub as it hits the next floor. It almost flips, but bangs against the far wall and stays upright with me in it. I hit another floor and another floor, tearing through the wood studs like they are paper. Which they kind of are. I don't know science like Charlie does, but I know that if wood gets really wet then gets really dry, it's gonna turn into shit. This whole building is shit.

The tub smacks through two more floors then hits the basement floor. Which is concrete. That shit hurts. Really hurts.

I gasp and gasp as my lungs fight for air. All the wind got knocked out of me when the tub hit. I don't know where the wind goes, but it sure as fuck doesn't stay in my chest. Fuck. I finally get some breath in, but it tastes like Z and dusty rot. I choke and cough then push myself up and look around.

Yeah, it's a really dark basement. I can only see for a couple of feet around me. There are some Zs, but they are all broken. My bathtub crushed a few. Good for the bathtub. I hear the sound of shuffling feet and know right away that Zs are already down here. Some assholes didn't get crushed by my bathtub and didn't fall five stories and break all apart.

They are whole and they are hungry and here they come!

I jump from the bathtub, my heavy lamp in hand and brace myself.

"Come on, you fuckers," I snarl. "You want a piece of Elsbeth? You want some El hell? Just keep coming and I'll give it to you."

They come at me and I get my lamp ready. Gonna smash some Z skulls with this beauty. Gonna smash, smash, smash… Uh…

They aren't coming at me anymore.

Then I hear it. Chains. The Zs have chains on them. Why the shitfucking hell would Zs have chains on them? That ain't right.

I step from the bathtub and move a little closer. Good thing, because a whole shit ton of Zs come falling down the bathroom hole and slam into my tub. Z guts and parts explode all over the place and I duck to avoid most of it. Not all of it, but most. I still get some Z guts all over my ass and back of my legs. Asshole Z guts.

I crush a few skulls and turn back to the chained Zs. The closer I get, the weirder shit gets. There's like a couple dozen Zs all chained together in front of one badass looking door. All iron and shit with some heavy-duty bracing. It's like something Long Pork would design if he wanted to make sure Zs couldn't get in a room.

I search for a way past the Zs, but that ain't happening. They close ranks and come at me, only the chains keeping them from getting my ass.

More Zs fall from above then more. It's starting to get crowded in the stinky basement. I do my crush, crush, smash thing and sit down for a breather. Don't know where my sisters are right now. Probably searching for me. If they came in through the fire escape then they are totally on the wrong side of the building.

I watch as more and more Zs crash into my tub, making it a soft landing for the ones that follow. A few don't even break when they hit.

"Fucking Zs," I say and get up, ready to get back to killing Zs. I get so sick of killing Zs. I love it too. I don't know. I love it, I hate it, whatever.

There's a quiet sliding noise behind me and a voice says, "Pssst. Lady. You bit?"

I turn to the iron door and squint. Can't see shit in this stupid, dark basement.

"I ain't bit," I call back. "Are you?"

"What? No," the voice says. It's a woman. Can't tell how old. "Stand over there by that barrel. I'll let you in before more of the undead fall down at ya."

"Thanks," I say and look for a barrel. There's no fucking barrel. "There's no fucking barrel."

"Oh, right, sorry," the woman says. "Hold tight."

I hear the chains start moving then the Zs are pulled all the way back to the wall where the door's at. They are yanked tight to the old brick, leaving a path for me to get to the door.

"Sure you aren't bit?" the woman asks again.

I can make out a spot in the door where some hatch thing has been opened. Two bright eyes are staring out at me.

"I told ya, I ain't bit," I snap. "You gonna let me in or what?"

"You aren't going to hurt me, are ya?" she asks.

"Hurt you? Why the fuck would I hurt you?" I growl. "If I wanted to hurt you, I'd pull my knife from my belt and toss it through that little hole. I'm that good, lady. I'd pop your eye before you could blink."

She don't say nothing back for a while.

"That, uh, doesn't make me feel safer," the woman finally says. Finally.

More Zs hit my bathtub, so I spin about and knock some heads loose. When I'm done, I turn back to the door and it's open. A small woman, older than me, but not like old old, is standing there, her mouth hanging as open as the damn iron door.

"You're pretty good with that lamp," she says.

"I'm fucking great with this lamp," I say. "You should see me with my blades."

"You got blades?" she asks. I point up. "Oh."

Half the horde from above comes tumbling down the hole and she squeaks like a little mouse.

"Get in, get in," she hisses.

I shrug and get in. Might as well. She may be a canny or she may be crazy, but I've been both, so who gives a shit, right? Right.

She slams the door behind me and locks it with like a hundred locks and a dozen fucking crossbars. Then she shoves six bracing bars against the door and wipes her brow.

"Hard work," she says and scoots past me. "Come on. I was making lunch."

She smacks a lever thing as she walks by and I hear chains start rattling outside.

"You keep those guys there to scare off Zs or people?" I ask as I follow her down a gloomy ass hallway to a small room with a comfy chair and a big desk.

"Both," she says. "Haven't had one person or undead get inside here since it all started. Some tried, but none made it."

"You been in here since Z-Day?" I ask.

"That what they call it? Yeah, I guess I have," she nods and goes to the desk where there's a little camp stove and some cans of food. "You like lima beans? I got lima beans."

"I like whatever ain't gonna poison me or make me have to shit all day long," I reply.

She laughs. "Same here," she says and puts a pot on the stove then starts opening one of the cans.

The smell smacks me in the face and I wave my hand in front of my nose.

"Bad beans," I say. "Toss those, open another can."

"Oh, they's fine," she says. "May taste a bit strong, but won't kill ya."

"Yeah, they will," I say as I go and grab the can from her. I give it a close up sniff and almost lose my cookies. Not that I have cookies. I got puke. Not a lot, but enough to make a mess if I sniff those fucking beans again. "Way gone. Open the other can."

The woman watches me for a bit, takes the can back, sets it down on the desk, and opens the other can. It's just as bad. Maybe worse. Here come the cookies.

"Jesus shitfucking Christ," I say. "Where's your trash? Get rid of this shit now. I'm gonna hurl bad."

I go to grab the can, but she jerks away from me, clutching the stinky thing to her tits like it's a damn kitten. A stinky, nasty kitten you don't want to be eating.

"These beans are fine," the woman snaps. "I been eating them for days now. Still standing. Not dead."

"You will be," I say. "You can't figure that out? That's bad beans. Really bad beans."

"Lima beans got a smell to them," the woman says. "You get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it," I say. "I don't want nothing to do with those beans. You wanna eat them then eat them. I'll pass, lady."

"Inez," the woman says.

"You nez what?" I ask. "What does that mean?"

"That's my name," the woman says. "Inez. My name."

"Oh," I reply. "I'm Elsbeth."

"Elsbeth," she says it a couple more times and nods at me. "Elsbeth."

"Yep, that's what I said," I say and give her a smile. I look around. "Only the one door?"

"There's another," Inez answers. That's all she says.

Jesus...

"Can I use it?" I ask. "I appreciate you wanting to feed me and all, but I got to go find my sisters."

"Sisters?" she asks. She forgets about the beans and almost lets them fall, but sets the second can down with the first. "You have family with you? Family that has supplies and stuff?"

"I have my sisters, yeah," I say. "We slept on the roof then I fell and now I'm here. I gotta find them so we can keep doing what we're doing."

"What are you doing?" she asks. "Maybe I can help. I know this town. Know every inch of it. If you're looking for something, I bet I know where it is."

She starts looking around the room and I see her eyes get all wide and shit. She looks back at me and her smile gets as wide as her eyes.

"Take me with you," she says. "Please."

"Listen, you've been nice and all, but we aren't taking on any new folks," I say.

I try to sound all casual, but I don't think it works because she starts tearing up and then the tears start falling and then she starts crying full on and then...

"Shit," I say as she falls to her knees and curls up in a fucking ball. She's crying hard. Baby in a ball crying. "Shit. Lady? Inez? Listen, it ain't up to me, see? We sisters, we make decisions together. I can't just tell them you're coming with us. Anyway, we ain't planning on going home for a while. We've got a mission."

She wails like I just kicked her or something. I didn't kick her. Just so you know. I didn't touch her at all. Not even a nudge with my boot. Fuck, she's got some lungs on her.

"Inez? You gotta stop," I say as she gets louder. I ain't sure, but I think I hear the Zs outside her door start to get riled up. "You're making the Zs freak out. Inez? Inez! INEZ!"

I pick her up off the floor, she weighs nothing, and shake her. Hard.

"You gotta shut the fuck up, you hear me?" I shout. "There's a lot of Zs out in that basement and they're gonna want in here if you keep crying like a shitfucking baby! So stop crying like a shitfucking baby!"

"Take me with you!" she screams at me.

I'm holding her like two feet from the floor and she's doing nothing except blubbering and snotting everywhere. I could so snap her fucking neck and just be done with her. But that ain't me. Not gonna snap her neck. Don't snap her neck. Snapping her neck is bad.

"Where's the other way out?" I ask as Zs begin to scrape and claw at the door.

Her crying brought them all to it and I can hear the steel groaning almost as loud as the Zs. It's locked, and barred, and braced, so it should hold, but…

"Inez, where's the other way out?" I ask again. "Just tell me where it is and I'll be gone and out of your hair forever, okay?"

She grabs my shirt and pulls her face up close to mine. She ain't exactly got the best teeth. Bad teeth equals bad breath and, shit, here come my cookies again.

"I ain't telling you where the other way out is," she says as I drop her and keep from puking. "Take me with you and I'll tell. Only way you're getting out of here is with me."

"Why do you want to leave?" I ask. I scan the place for a sign of a door or something. "It's a pretty nice place, ya got here. Look at that comfy chair. Can't bring that comfy chair with you."

"Fuck that comfy chair!" she screeches. "I ain't been with folks in years! I been alone! All alone! I don't want to be alone no more! I don't wanna be alone!"

"Okay, okay, you don't wanna be alone," I say. "I get that. I do. But, dammit, I can bring you with me, but like I fucking said, we ain't going home. We're on a mission and shit gets dangerous when sisters are on a mission. You'll probably just get killed. I can bet right now you'll get killed because you ain't a sister."

"I could be," she says. "I could be a sister. What's it take to be one? You got a code or some ritual I gotta do?"

"What? No. There ain't no stupid ritual," I say. "Why the hell would there be a ritual?"

"Because that's how sororities work," she says. "I was in one in college. I can be your pledge and then, when you know I'm worth it, you can make me a full sister."

"Sorority? Jesus," I sigh. It's a long sigh because now I know for sure this chick is crazy as batshit. "We ain't a sorority. We ain't got a ritual or nothing like that. We're sisters in a different way and you can't be one of us because there ain't no more of us left. It ain't something you'd understand."

"I could," she says. "I could understand. Take me with you and I promise to understand."

I pull a knife, flip it about my hand then throw it against the wall, nailing some crawly bug right in the back.

"Can you do that?" I ask. "Can you do that to a Z while also hacking another one to death with your other hand? Can you knife a Z, hack a Z, and kick two more dead with your boots? You know how to shoot? You know how to rappel or fly a helicopter? You ever killed a hundred Zs on your own?"

She stares at me. Doesn't say a word, just stares at me. Then her head turns and she looks at the bug smear on the wall.

"I can learn," she says. "Please. Take me with you. I know those beans are bad. That's all I got left. Once those cans are empty then so is this town. There ain't a scrap of food left. I already found all that hasn't been stolen or scavenged. Used to be more hidden away, but it was stolen."

"Stolen?" I ask. "Are there others around here?"

"It was strangers," she says. "From out of town."

"I'm looking for strangers," I say. "How long ago was this? Were any of them kids?"

She sniffles hard and nods. "Yeah. Kids."

"They were? What kids?" I snap and grab her again.

She squeaks and tries to get away, but that ain't happening.

"What kids?" I snarl.

"I don't know," she squawks. "Some kids. About six of them, maybe. They're, uh, creepy. Slink around like lizards."

"Are they blind?" I ask. "Did you see their eyes?"

"No," she says. "They wear sunglasses or goggles. But they sure don't act blind."

"No, they wouldn't," I say. "But they are. Well, not all. Some of them are just deaf. I think. Not sure no more since we can't find the little fucks."

"I can take you to them!" Inez shouts. "I know where they are!"

Dammit.

That goes on for like forever before I finally give in. It's either that or kill the crazy, whiny bitch. She's annoying as all shit, but not enough to get a knife to the temple.

"Okay," I finally say. "I'll take you with me. But I'm only gonna keep you safe until we find those kids. After that you are on your own."

"You don't need to worry about me," she says, jumping around the room and clapping her hands. "I've survived this long. I can survive just fine on my own."

"Yeah, right," I say and sneer. "Now, where the fuck is the other way out?"

Chapter Four

Turns out there's another room. You wouldn't know it when you first look at Inez's little shitbox. I guess you'd call it a bathroom? I ain't got no clue.

Yeah, there's a toilet and a shower stall, but those only take up a small part of the space. The rest is all shelves with cleaning stuffs on them. They ain't doing no cleaning anymore, just collecting lots of fucking dust. Lady got a room of cleaning supplies, but she don't clean a thing.

"Through here," Inez says and points at the shower.

"We going down the drain?" I ask. "Because I can't fit. You can't either. You know that, right?"

I got to ask. Inez is cuckoo pants and I ain't got no plans on hanging with a cuckoo pants lady that thinks she can fit down a drain. That's just fucking nuts.

"No, no, not the drain," she says and gives me a smile as she grabs onto the side of the shower stall. "Help me shove it out of the way."

I grab the other side and we pull. The damn shower comes away from the wall like it's made of nothing. We get it a few feet back and stop.

"I'll be dipped in Z shit," I say as I check out the huge hole in the wall. "Where does it go?"

"Under everything," Inez says. "Under the streets and other buildings. Connects to lots of places, but most places aren't worth being connected to. Most is overrun with the undead, anyway. Don't want to go in those places."

A thought hits me in my brainpan and I frown.

"Why do you have Zs chained up outside your place?" I ask.

"Keeps the undead and other people away," she says.

"What other people?" I ask. I turn to her and put my hands on my hips. The only weapon I have on me is my knife on my belt. I left the lamp out there. "You mean other than the strangers you mentioned?"

"What? Uh, no, no, just the strangers," she says. "People coming into town like you. Scavengers and cannies. Got to watch out for cannies around here."

I narrow my eyes because Greta says I look scary as shit when I narrow my eyes. Inez don't flinch. She gives me an uncomfortable smile and points at the dark tunnel that was hidden behind the shower stall.

"This is why I stayed here," Inez says. "Back way out. In case too many cannies come and break into my place."

"You don't know that the undead are called Zs, but you know that cannibals are called cannies?" I ask. "Why's that?"

There's a loud groaning of metal from the other room. The front door ain't doing so well. Reinforced or not, you put a whole shit ton of Zs up against anything and they will eventually take it down. Charlie has some big, fancy, sciencey name for it, but I just call it "duh."

Inez grabs a short metal bar from the floor and walks into the tunnel. She bangs on some exposed pipes in the ceiling and steps back.

"Making sure there aren't any undead in the tunnel," she says. "They'll come to the noise and then we can bash them over the head with the bars." She points at a pile of bars in the corner. "Grab yourself one. They're good and solid."

She waits then steps back into the tunnel and bangs on the pipes again. While she does that, I pick up two bars, one for each hand. They ain't sharp like my blades, but they got some good heft and I know I can do some major damage with them.

Inez bangs again.

"Stop that," I say. "If the Zs ain't heard the first banging then all you're doing is giving away our position."

"Giving away our position?" Inez laughs from inside the tunnel. She's gone a ways in and it's too dark for me to see her anymore. "Are you in the military, Elsbeth?"

"Not quite," I say. "But close."

I wait for more banging, or for her to speak again, but there's nothing. Just the Zs from the basement smacking the metal door and groaning their asses off. I take a step into the tunnel.

"Inez? Where you at?" I call out. "Hey! Inez!"

She doesn't call back. I tilt my head, but can't hear her footsteps or anything. Still too much noise from the Zs out in the basement.

I ain't stupid. I got some problems in my head, no joking about that, but stupid ain't one of the problems. I got a couple choices. I can follow Inez and see where the tunnel leads. Or I can wait for the Zs to break down the metal door and fight my way back into the basement then find my way out from there.

That first choice, the one where I follow Inez, ain't so good because I am beginning to think she ain't what she says she is. Gut feeling. Like those beans. She says she's been eating them, but ain't no way a person can eat those bad beans and still be walking around. Not without shit dripping from her ass. And the not knowing what Zs are called, but knowing what cannies are. That don't fit either.

But fighting a basement of Zs don't sound like a good choice at all. I can hear a lot of them out there. Probably every Z in the building fell down that bathroom hole and is knocking to get inside. They want my tasty Elsbeth flesh. Long Pork used to joke like that and I see why. Shit be true. Zs want tasty meat and I am the tastiest they've seen in a long time.

Got to make a choice here. Tunnel or basement?

Fuck me.

"Hold up," I call as I hurry into the tunnel after Inez.

I get a few feet then skid to a stop. I look back at the opening where the shower stall goes. Hey. Look at that. The back of the shower stall has handles. Like for pulling.

So I pull. Don't have to worry about the basement Zs coming after my ass now. That way is closed.

"Inez?" I whisper, but there ain't no answer.

The metal bars are gripped tight in my hands and I take a few deep breaths to center myself. This is something the sisters have taught me to do. I can get worked up and sometimes rush into things. They say to breathe deep and get centered so you don't make no mistakes. I probably already made one by following Inez, so I don't need to be making any more.

My eyes adjust to the darkness. So do my ears. The tunnel gets louder as I tilt my head one way then the other to pick up as many sounds as possible. I tune out my own footsteps, which ain't so loud since I can walk like a cat, if I want to. But right now, I don't want to. I want Inez to hear me coming. I also want anything else in here to hear me coming. It'll draw out any Zs.

And it'll make any humans careless because they'll think they're hunting me, not me hunting them. And I'm always hunting them. Always and shit.

No Inez. No weapons except for a couple metal bars. No idea where my sisters are or if they are trying to find me. No clue where this stupid tunnel leads. I don't like it.

After about fifty yards, I see small pricks of light spill out from above. I squint up at them and smile. I'm under the street. It's about twenty feet above me and the light is coming down through cracks in the pavement. No idea what street it is, but I'd hate to be driving on it with a heavy truck. That shit'll fall right through.

The light is messing with my eyes, so I close them and walk a few feet before opening them back up. Gets me adjusted to the gloom again. A few more feet and I hear water running. That's different. This is New Mexico. Water ain't easy to come by around here. But you never know what's under the ground.

I come to a junction and look at five different ways to go. Six ways, if you count where I'm standing. There's a stream of water running from one way to the other, but the rest are bone dry. The stream ain't so big, maybe four feet across and probably a foot or two deep, running in some man-made trench.

Is this a sewer? Am I in a sewer? That'd be dumb if it was because then sewer stuffs would flow down the tunnel and into Inez's place.

Where the hell is that crazy bitch? Yeah, I've gotten to the calling her a crazy bitch point. If she wants to play hide and seek in sewer tunnels then she's getting called a crazy bitch.

I walk the entire junction and listen at each opening. The only noise I hear is water running from the two that have the stream. The rest are silent. No footsteps, no Inez. Crazy bitch has led me into something that I ain't liking so much and she is going to regret it.

I have no idea where the other tunnels lead, but water usually has a way out, so I decide to follow the water. There's about two feet of walking space on each side of the stream. It's like a sidewalk, but with moldy-looking gunk on it and slick as shit. Gotta watch my footing as I follow the stream down the dark tunnel. And it is fucking dark. No points of light from above in this stupid ass tunnel.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Get my shit centered.

Even with pretty good night vision, there's still a trick to walking around in the dark. The trick is you turn your head. I learned this from Foster back in Kramer's mad science lair, after he was driven out. Your eyes can see better from the side. Charlie explained it to me once that it was because of cones and rods. I made a joke about his rod which he didn't like. Greta laughed, though, so I got points for that.

I count off my steps in my head. I almost count them out loud, but that would let the folks know I'm coming. What folks? The folks that are waiting for me because Inez has led me into a trap. I totally call bullshit on the crying and begging to be taken with crap. This is a stinking trap. Someone is going to try to grab me or tackle me or sneak up behind me and hit me with a baseball bat.

I don't think anyone's gonna shoot me. This trap don't feel firearmsy. I don't how I know, but I do. Just trust me.

Football field. That's how long I'm walking before I hear the first signs that I ain't alone. Someone is close. They ain't up on the sidewalk with me. No. They're in the stream, swimming under the surface, pacing me. I can hear them pop up now and again.

Another half a football field and I'm bored.

"Just come on out," I say. "I know you're there. You make drippy drippy sounds when you come up to breathe."

They don't respond. I don't expect them to. Creepy people in water ain't gonna respond. Not their way. They'll just wait me out and attack at some point. I bet there's like three or four of them up ahead. The frog guy following me is probably a distraction. Too bad for all these people that I don't give a shit about distractions or traps.

I'll just throw down when it's time to throw down.

I walk another half a football field length and wait for it. I can feel air breezing by. There's an opening somewhere close and that's where they're waiting. Drip drip behind me and air in front of me. It's gonna go down soon and gonna go down fast.

The metal bars in my hands are slick with my sweat and the damp from the tunnel. I stop and tear off a couple strips of my shirt and wrap them around the ends so I can get a better grip. Ain't no fun to have your weapons go slipping out of your hands when you're killing some crazies. And that's what these folks are. They're crazies, for sure. Luring people down tunnels and following in sewer streams. That's crazy.

Light.

I can see it ahead. Maybe that's where the air is coming from, not from some side opening. I keep walking and soon come to a bend in the tunnel. I'd have missed it and stepped right into the stream if there wasn't more light to see by. When I get around the bend, I stop and blink a few times.

The tunnel ends. Ends with a heavy grate that's pouring water right into some culvert thingy. Looks like a lot of concrete outside the tunnel. Man-made, not a natural stream.

Drip drip, scrape. Froggy is coming out of the stream. I grip my bars tighter and keep moving towards the grate. I gotta know what I'm dealing with.

The grate is solid. Half-inch iron bars with just enough room to stick an arm through. I don't do that. No point. The grate's on hinges, so I know it can open, but the rusty lock on it tells me I ain't opening it anytime soon. Not with Froggy coming at me fast.

I spin and land a solid blow to Froggy’s head. She screams and falls into the stream. It's a girl. Teenager, from the quick look I get before she goes under. I stand on the sidewalk ledge, my back to the grate, and wait for her to come up. I keep waiting. Teenage girl don't come up.

"What the shit?" I mumble and step closer to the stream. I know, I know, this is where she leaps out and grabs me.

But she don't do that. I don't know where she is.

I step away from the stream and put my back to the grate again. My eyes are all messed up because of the light from outside, so trying to see anything down the tunnel is impossible. Maybe there? Way down there I see a glint of light off metal? Maybe. Can't say for sure.

Is that a scuffle of shoes? The stream is loud as it empties into the culvert, the water dropping a few feet before hitting the new stream outside. Makes it hard to hear anything else.

Nope. There. Yeah, there. I see a shadow. Someone's standing down the tunnel. A couple of someones.

"Come on then!" I yell. "This is stupid! Come at me or fuck off!"

No answers.

I'm about to say more, but it gets hard to when a rope goes around my neck and squeezes tight. I drop the bars and grab the rope. Some son of a bitch is outside the grate! They snuck a rope in and dropped it down around my head! Shit fucking asshole shitfuckers!

My fingers dig at the rope as the rope digs at my neck. I feel my nails tearing into my skin as I squeeze them between the rope and my throat. I yank as hard as I can and gasp as air fills my lungs before a heavy weight pulls back on the rope and the air is cut off again.

The shadows down the tunnel rush at me. They are a lot closer than I thought since they are dressed all in black. Tunnel ninjas! Fucking tunnel ninjas!

I want to yell that at them, since that's what Long Pork would have done and I miss him, but I can't squeeze out no words. I barely get my head turned and I can see Froggy Girl behind me, her whole body braced against the grate, her arms pulling the rope tight, tight, tight.

Well, I still got a trick up my sleeve. Not really up my sleeve. It's on my belt.

I pull my knife and slash at the rope just as the shadows reach me. I take a blow to the gut from a table leg that's been made into a club. I grunt, but fall to my knees and avoid the next hit as the rope around my neck is sliced away by my knife. It's a sharp fucking knife.

Froggy Girl cries out as she's sent falling into the culvert outside. That's what happens when you put all your weight in one place. That place being my throat. There's a loud splash and one of the tunnel ninjas looks past me and cries out.

"Inez!" the tunnel ninja shouts.

Huh? Inez? That wasn't Inez. I saw Inez and she was a lot older than Froggy Girl. Which is what I'm going to call her because I ain't calling her Inez when she ain't Inez. That's stupid talk.

The first tunnel ninja, the one that hit me with the table leg, brings it up high like she is going to smash me. Yeah, it's a she. I can see boob mounds under her black shirt. She's also a total rookie when it comes to fighting. With that table leg up high, she's left herself wide open.

Wide open for me to slash her belly and let her guts spill out all over the sidewalk ledge. She screams and drops the table leg which I catch in my free hand. As she screams, I sweep her legs with the table leg and send her into the stream. The other tunnel ninja, the one that shouted at Froggy Girl, screams too and reaches for her ninja buddy. Yep, she's a girl too. I know that not just because I hear her screechy voice, but because I can see more boob mounds.

Boob mounds. That's funny.

The second tunnel ninja gets a knife to the side of her neck as she reaches for tunnel ninja one. Blood spurts across my face and she falls into the stream after her friend. Her body gets pushed up against the grate then goes under. Not just under the water, but under the grate. I watch as her body falls into the culvert and joins her friend's.

Neither of them is moving, so I guess my knife did the trick. I wipe it off and slip it back into its sheath then find my metal bars and tuck those into my belt. Once I know they're secure, I take a deep breath and jump into the stream. I was right, it's only two feet deep.

I grab onto the grate as the stream pushes at my legs. I let my legs get swept away and I feel them go under the grate without a problem. The bars have been cut loose below the water line. More of those amazing deep breaths and I swing my legs under, duck my top back, and let the stream carry me out into the culvert.

It would be nice if it was an easy drop, but this being the apocalypse and shit, there's debris in the culvert. My ass hits hard on something and I go all the way underwater. A quick twist and I see an old car upside down at the bottom of the culvert. My ass hit a rotten tire.

There're two Zs inside the upside-down car, still strapped into their seats. They ain't got no eyes left, but the thump from my ass must have woken them up because they're reaching out the broken windshield at me. Keep reaching, Zs, keep reaching.

I let the culvert stream carry me for a while. It's good to rest the bod. My gashy shoulder hurts and my throat is sore from Froggy Girl's rope. Time to just relax and go for a ride.

My head is above water and I constantly spin myself around to make sure I ain't being hunted. I don't see a soul. Don't mean there ain't somebody watching, just means they ain't close enough for me to see them.

The sun is hot as shit and it starts to cook my head. I pull off my tank, which ain't easy to do when you're floating down a culvert stream, and wrap it around my skull so I don't get fried. Feels nice and cool.

The tunnel ninja bodies have washed up along the side of the culvert, caught on some sticks and shit, so I paddle over and pull myself up onto the concrete edge by them. The heat sucks at the water on my body and I figure I'll be bone dry in less than an hour the way the sun is cooking.

It takes me a couple of minutes to pull the bodies out of the water, but I'm glad I do. One of them has a sweet pocket knife in her black pants. Thumb-flipper kind. Sharp as shit. I tuck that away and search the other tunnel ninja, but she's got nothing on her. Well, except for her guts. She's got that shit all over her.

The tunnel ninjas aren't as old as Inez. They're older than Froggy Girl, but not by much. Maybe late teens? Early twenties? Younger than me. I think. Pa always celebrated my birthday, but it wasn't my real birthday. My sisters say they know my real birthday, but birthdays don't mean shit anymore. Why the hell would they? Ain't no cake left.

Done searching the bodies, I stand and stretch. Heat feels good on my bare skin. Got my shirt on my head, so my torso is all naked and shit. I keep stretching and turn around, ready to climb up out of the culvert.

"Hello," Inez says from the top of the concrete. She's got a few friends with her. They all have firearms. No more table leg clubs.

Well, shit.

Chapter Five

"You're a good actor," I say.

"Community theatre for ten years before the Zs showed up," Inez replies.

"You want me to clap, bitch?" I ask. "Because I ain't." I glare at her. "What you gonna do now?"

"It was supposed to be easier than this," Inez says.

"Why the hell would you think that?" I ask, crossing my arms. Not because I want to cover my bare tits, but because I'm annoyed and I cross my arms when I'm annoyed. I could give two fucks who's staring at my tits. Stare away, shitfuckers! "You saw me take down those Zs outside your place. With a fucking lamp. You think some living flesh is going to be harder? You're dumb as a Z if you think that."

"She's a strange one, Inez," one of the other women says. They are all women. All of them. The talking one has a shotgun aimed at my belly. "Too independent. Dangerous. We should leave her."

"No, Inez," Inez says. "She is a fit for us. I had hoped she would submit to Inez and we wouldn't have to be here."

Huh?

"Hold the shitfuck on," I say. "Which one of you is Inez?"

"We are," they all say together.

I do not like it when crazies talk like they're one person. Freaky shit. Super freaky.

I take my tank off my head and shake it. I make a long show of this, hoping all eyes are on the shirt. I glance up, but all eyes are on me, waiting. I put my tank on and give them a thumbs up.

"I'm leaving," I say as I clamber up the edge of the culvert and stand right in front of the first Inez. The one I met in the basement. Inez One. "You chicks is nuts and shit. Adios. That means goodbye in Spanish."

"No," Inez One says, a rifle in her hand, the barrel jammed into my hip as I try to squeeze by. "You are staying."

The others—all Inezes?—move in close and there's no way I'm getting out of here without taking a few down. I don't want to take any of them down. Too easy. Not fair for them.

"Take her knife," Inez One says. "And those bars. I shouldn't have let her have them."

"No, you shouldn't," Inez Two says, the one with the shotgun that spoke before.

A different Inez grabs my knife from my belt and I start to grab for her, but end up with six shotguns in my face. Okay, maybe not too easy. But not hard.

A stand of scrub brush rustles and two chicks dressed as tunnel ninjas walk out with Froggy Girl between them. They are helping her walk as she coughs and gags.

"She almost drown," one of the women says. "Barely got her out of the river in time."

I look behind me. "That's a river?" I laugh. "That's not a river."

"We call it a river," Inez Two says. "So it's a river."

"Whatever, Heather," I say.

"What? My name is not Heather," Inez Two says.

"It was a rhyme," I reply.

"Shitty rhyme," she spits back.

I shrug. "I don't make the rules."

"We should kill her," Inez Two insists. There are more than a couple agreeing voices. "She killed two Inezes and almost killed this one. We cannot take her with us."

"We will bring her around to our ways," Inez One says. "We always do. She can help take the town back."

I shake my head and Inez One frowns. Well, the bitch was already frowning, so I guess she scowls. Is that it? Scowl? Or is that something you wear on your head? No, that's a cowl. Right. Words. They're hard.

"You do not have a choice in this," Inez One says.

I snicker. It pisses her off.

"Stop that!" she yells and shoves me with the barrel of her rifle.

Looks like an AK-47 knock-off. Probably taken from one of the gun shops around here on Z-Day. Civilians don't know the difference. Doesn't matter. She won't keep it for long.

"Ow," I say and push the barrel away from me. Inez swings it back into place, which I knew she'd do, and I use the momentum to grab the rifle and wrench it out of the woman's hands.

I spin it around and have the tip of the barrel up Inez One's right nostril before anyone can even take a breath. Inez Two moves at me, her shotgun going for my head, but Inez One holds up a hand and she stops.

"I want to leave," I say. My voice is soft and sweet. Okay, it's not really, but I don't yell at her. No yelling from me means soft and sweet. "I am going to leave. That's what's going to happen. It's happening. Yes, it is. I am leaving. You all can fuck off and stay here. Do not follow me, do not try to take me down. You make a move and I kill you all."

"We have more guns!" Inez Two barks.

"Oh, shit, do you?" I laugh. "I give up."

The women are confused. None of them know who is calling the shots. Inez One is busy staring me in the face, ignoring the rifle barrel up her nose. Inez Two is trying to be a tough bitch and intimidate me. Neither of them are giving the others any help on how to act or what to do next. Chaos.

I like chaos.

"Listen up, bitches," I say loudly. "I can blow this bitch's head off and turn and kill half of you before you sorry sacks of shit even pull the first trigger. That's a bunch of dead bitches. Even if you get a shot off, you won't hit me because I know exactly which one of you is going to fire first and I already have my sights set on you."

They all twitch and shuffle their feet. A few of them look around as if they can figure out who I've pegged as the first shooter. No way for any of them to do that because I'm full of shit. How the fuck would I know who is going to shoot first? All I care about is taking down as many as possible in the first second before I dive to the ground and let them tear each other apart.

Which is exactly what they'll do. There are a couple of other rifles, but mostly shotguns. I hit the dirt and they pull those triggers? Inez soup is all that will be left.

"If any of you fire, you'll hit one of our own," Inez One says.

Dammit, she ain't completely stupid. Ruins all the fun.

She focuses back on me and tries to smile. It's worse than when I try to fake smile. I made a little girl cry for two days with nightmares when I fake smiled at her back at the Stronghold. Her mom still won't talk to me.

"Put the rifle down, please," Inez One says. "Then we can talk."

"If I put this down then one of your freaky clones is gonna blast me," I say.

"We aren't clones," Inez Two snaps. "None of us even look the same."

"Those two do," I say and point at two chicks standing by the edge of the group. They really do look the same.

"They're twins!" Inez Two shouts. Man, she gets angry fast.

"Oh," I say. "Well they should color their hair or something so they don't look so much alike. It's confusing."

"This woman is insane," Inez Two says to Inez One. "Let's blast her and—"

Her forehead explodes all over me. Blood, brains, bone. It just splatters across my face and I start spitting out gunk as I hit the ground. The sound of the gunshot reaches me just as I reach the dirt. Then a whole bunch of gunshots ring out and I cover my head as more brains and blood spray everywhere.

The Inezes are screaming their heads off, the ones that still got their heads, and running this way and that. Dumb broads. They should have just dropped to the ground. Better chance at living. The gunshots continue, the screams start to go away. When there is only a few sobbing Inezes left, I lift my head to see the damage.

"Shitfuck me," I say as I stare into an Inez's lifeless eyes. She got a bullet through the neck and it tore her voice box right out. I can see through her throat and out the back of her spine, which ain't there no more. "Damn."

"El!" Steph yells from far off. "You good?"

I lift my hand and give her a thumbs up. Makes me think of Long Pork.

I feel footsteps, but barely hear them as my sisters sprint from their hides to get me. I'm already up on my feet when Antoinette reaches me and gives me a big hug.

"You hurt?" she asks.

"All good," I say. "But they ain't."

I turn in a circle and look at the dead. Most were taken out with one shot, some with two. Out of all the Inezes, only three are still alive. One of them is Inez One, the dumb bitch that thought she could trick me. I kneel next to her and slap her on the cheek. Her eyes turn to me and try to focus, but there's really just pain left in there. Half her right shoulder is no more. Goodbye, right shoulder.

She's bleeding out fast.

"Why?" she asks. "You could have joined us. We didn't want to kill you."

I pick up her rifle and show it to her.

"These are for women, not girls playing at army," I say. "You pointed them at the wrong sister and paid the stupid price. Next time, just ask a bitch if she wants to join your crazy Inez club. I'd have said no and there wouldn't have been any hard feelings."

"Or mass murder," Audrey says as she comes up to us.

"You okay?" Steph asks, following right behind Audrey.

"I'm okay," I say. Inez One ain't breathing anymore. Bye bye, Inez.

The second Inez still living tries crawling away, but Audrey puts a .45 slug into her back and she doesn't do no more crawling. That just leaves one Inez.

"Help me," a weak voice pleads from a few feet away.

"Froggy Girl," I say and move to her. She's got a gunshot wound to her left bicep, but that's all. "You'll live."

"Don't leave me," she cries as I start to walk away. She's boring and she ain't gonna live on her own anyway. "I won't survive out here. Not with the Doyles everywhere."

"The Doyles? What the hell are the Doyles?" Steph asks. She puts a boot toe against Froggy Girl's arm and the chick pisses herself right there. "Jesus."

"I got this, I got this," I say and push Steph out of the way. "You gotta be gentle."

I grab Froggy Girl by the shoulders and shake her ass hard.

"Who the fuck are the Doyles?" I shout in her face.

She screeches and tries to get away from me, but she ain't gonna be able to do that. Even without a shot arm, she ain't even close to my league.

"Doyles," I snarl, my nose almost touching hers. "Who the fuck are they?"

"Men," she says. "They're like us, but men. A lot more of them than us. We've been fighting for years. They find us and take—"

"Why does this matter?" Steph asks. "Gut her and let's go. We don't have time for crazies, El. We have to track those kids."

"The kids?" Froggy Girl asks, her eyes shifting from mine to Steph's. I don't think she likes what she sees, so she looks back to me. "Blind kids? A couple deaf ones?"

"Yeah," I say. "You know them?"

"I know where they're hiding," she says. "They ran into the Doyles and messed a couple of them up, but they got away. The men have been hunting them for days."

"She's full of shit," Steph says. "The kids are probably long gone by now."

"No, no!" Froggy Girl cries. "They aren't! The Doyles have the town sealed off. No way for anyone to get in or out."

"We got in," Audrey says.

"Easy," Antoinette says. "Except for all the Zs."

"The Zs," Froggy Girl says. "The Doyles control the Zs. If you ran into trouble with the undead, it's because the Doyles sent them after you."

"Did they now," Steph says and crouches next to me and Froggy Girl. "How the hell did they do that?"

"They've been training them," Froggy Girl says. "Like dogs. They use fresh meat to make them go where they want then ring a bell. Anytime the Zs hear that bell, they start shuffling that way."

"And you just let them do that?" Antoinette asks. "Why not kill them? Or leave?"

"Too many Doyles," Froggy Girl sighs. "Always too many Doyles. They hunt us too. Use us as the fresh meat and other things. Some of us tried to escape the town, but the Doyles found them and…"

"We get it," Antoinette says. She smacks her rifle and gives Steph a nudge. "Rapists. Killers. Z users. I think we should check these Doyles out."

"Forget the Doyles," Steph says. "We find the kids. They're why we're here. Stick to the mission."

"Our job is not to save the wasteland," Audrey agrees. "We go find those damn kids."

"Doyles will find you first," Froggy Girl says. "They're on their way now. You made too much noise. They'll be here any second."

I look over at Steph, but she's busy glaring at Froggy Girl. I look up at Antoinette and she gives me an exaggerated frown.

"Where's Marcie?" I ask.

"Overwatch," Audrey says. "She's got the Barrett covering our asses."

"Call her," I say. "See what else she sees. Tell her to look for Doyles."

"What the hell do Doyles look like?" Audrey asks.

"Men," I say. "You know what men look like. Cock and balls and shit."

"You got the shit part right," Audrey laughs. She pulls out her radio and walks off so we can keep talking to Froggy Girl. Nice of her.

"You know where these kids are?" Steph asks.

"Yes," Froggy Girl says. "I'll take you there. But we have to go back into the tunnels. The Doyles stay out of the tunnels."

"Fine," Steph says and yanks Froggy Girl up off her ass. The girl whimpers when Steph smacks her arm, but she doesn't try to run or anything. Steph looks at me and Antoinette. "Grab a shotgun and go through their pockets for shells. We may need as much firepower as we can get."

"Don't bother," Froggy Girl says. "They're all empty. We haven't had ammo for over a year."

"Let me guess, the Doyles took it all?" Steph asks.

"Yes," Froggy Girl says. "And they took all the ammunition-making gear from the gun shops. They make all their own bullets."

I laugh. What else am I going to do? It's funny to find out you had nothing to worry about even though you were never worried about nothing anyway. Funny. I guess that's why Inez Two was going to try to smack me with her shotgun instead of putting it to my head and pulling the trigger. No boom boom left.

"Which way?" Steph asks and gives Froggy Girl a shove.

"Back into the river," Froggy Girl says. "It'll be safer down there. We'll be fine once we're in the tunnels, but we're dead if we stay out in the open."

"You're dead, not us," Steph says.

Audrey comes running up to us and she don't look happy.

"Marcie says we have two teams of eight coming from the east and the west," Audrey reports. "Heavily armed. M-16s and M-4s. Not ARs, but military. A couple tactical shotguns. Everyone has a nine on their hip or a .45. Tight formations and disciplined. They have training."

"Probably National Guard or Reserves," Steph says. "Maybe old police, but with M-4s, I'd say there are at least a few soldiers in the mix."

"National Guard?" Antoinette scoffs. "We can take down SpecOps. The Guard won't be a problem."

"Two teams of eight converging on us from different directions is the problem," Steph says. "Bad numbers and bad position. We follow this chick into the tunnels and track down the kids. Then we slip out of here and say goodbye to this shit town."

"Take me with you," Froggy Girl pleads. She's holding her arm and blood is pouring from between her fingers, but she ain't crying. "You killed all my family. I have nothing left here."

Steph sighs and shakes her head. She ain't a fan of Froggy Girl.

"Here," I say and tear her shirt open. "Antoinette?"

Antoinette comes over and takes a look. She's got medical skills. We all do, sort of, but she has a way with gunshot wounds. She grabs Froggy Girl's arm and turns it this way and that.

"Through and through," Antoinette says. "Audrey?"

Audrey fishes out a shotgun shell from her belt and cracks it open. Before Froggy Girl can fight, Audrey pours the black powder into the gunshot wound while Antoinette pulls out a lighter.

"Gonna hurt," Antoinette says and lights the powder, cauterizing the exit wound which was the nasty one. She packs some gauze in the entry wound and winds a roll of tape around Froggy Girl's arm. "That'll keep you from slowly bleeding out. I'll clean it and do it up right when we stop."

"Are you gonna take me with you if I help?" Froggy Girl asks, her eyes full of tears. Her bottom lip is all chewed up and bleeding. She bit the shit out of it when that powder went off. "I won't help if you leave me here."

"Then we kill you," Steph says.

"Steph," Antoinette says. "Come on."

"You prove you're not a waste of resources," Steph says, "and if you don't slow us down, then we'll think about it. Pull your weight, make good on your promise, and you have a chance. It's a small chance, got it?"

"Got it," Froggy Girl says.

"Ladies, we need to get the fuck out of here now," Marcie says as she comes jogging up to us with the Barrett in hand. That is one gorgeous gun. "We have sixty seconds before these Doyles reach us."

She tosses me my pack when she gets close. I hug her tight because I have my blades back. Yay, blades!

"Get off me," Marcie laughs as she pushes me away. "You wanna carry the Barrett? This thing is a heavy bitch." She eyes my shoulder. "Never mind. That doesn't look good."

"I'm fine," I say and take the .50 caliber rifle from her. "Where are the Humvees?"

"We hid them in a garage about two blocks from here," Marcie says. "The Zs thinned out a lot after we lost track of you. I think this girl is right about the Doyles having them trained."

"Shit fuck," I grumble.

"What's your name?" Steph asks Froggy Girl as she motions for us to get moving.

"Inez," Froggy Girl replies.

"Froggy Girl," I say. "That's what I've been calling her in my head. No way I'm calling her Inez. They was all called Inez. Fucking crazies."

"Okay, Froggy Girl," Steph says. "Are you ready to earn your keep?"

"Yes," Froggy Girl replies and starts walking to the edge of the culvert and the "river." "Follow me. Stay close. You have flares?"

"We have flares," Audrey says.

"We'll need them once we're in the tunnels," Froggy Girl says. "Get them ready so you ain't trying to strike them in the dark."

"Oh, we're good in the dark," I say.

"Yes, right, okay," Froggy Girl says and gives me a scared little grin.

Then she hops into the river and we follow just as we hear the sound of men's voices.

Chapter Six

Getting into the tunnels is no problem. I could have led us back into them without a problem. But once we get to that six-point intersection thingy, that's when it gets tricky.

"Why so many tunnels?" I ask. "This town is too small for sewers like this."

"Storm drains," Froggy Girl says. "This area gets flash floods. It all runs down from the other towns and hits us. They built this last century to stop the town from getting flooded all the time. Only need it a couple times a year, but when we do I'm glad these are here."

"But you live down here," I say. "You don't get flooded?"

"We live far enough away," Froggy Girl says and shrugs.

"Like Inez? In that basement?" I ask.

"That's not a home," Froggy Girl says. "That's a hiding place in case one of us gets cut off from the rest. It's safe there. The Doyles don't try to get in because of the Zs outside that door."

"Speaking of," Antoinette says and pulls her machete from her pack. She points at one of the tunnels. "Hear that? At least twenty heading this way."

"Can't be," Froggy Girl says. "There's never that many down here."

I see where Antoinette is pointing. "I know why," I say. "They got through that door. There was a lot of them and even metal ain't gonna hold out that many Zs forever."

"Oh," Froggy Girl says. Her shoulders slump. "That's too bad. I liked to go to that place sometimes to be alone."

"You didn't eat the beans, did you?" I ask.

"What does that mean?" Steph asks.

"Nothing," I say.

"We standing and fighting or just moving on?" Audrey asks, her own machete out too.

I pull my blades, very happy they are back in my hands, and look at Steph. We're all happy to let her make the final call.

"We go this way," Froggy Girl says, pointing to a tunnel opposite of where the Zs are coming from.

There's a loud hiss and growl and three Zs come sprinting out of the tunnel right at us. Fast ones. Stupid, fast Zs.

Audrey slashes one across the neck and it keeps running for a couple of feet before its head tumbles right off. She drops to a knee and slashes at a second one, slicing its legs in half. Before it can fall to the ground, she takes its head off and shoves the body away from her

The third one heads my way and I duck as it dives at me. I shove my shoulder up into its guts, sending it flipping over my back. Its arm gets caught in the Barrett's straps and I fall right on my ass. Right on top of the Z. The thing grabs me and tries to bite my arm, but I flip my blade around and give the Z the old reverse thrust to the forehead move. The fucker dies fast.

"We cool?" Steph asks as I get to my feet.

"Cool," Audrey says.

"Cool," I say.

"Wow," Froggy Girl says. "That was incredible. The Doyles don't even move that fast."

"How the hell did any of you live this long?" Steph asks, but it ain't really a question. She shakes her head and lights a flare as she steps into the other tunnel. "This way, right?"

"Yeah," Froggy Girl says. She hurries up next to Steph and points down the tunnel. "Two miles this way. That's where the kids are. But we have to be careful halfway, alright?"

"Alright," Steph says. "Why do we have to be careful?"

"Because a mile in and we'll be right underneath the Doyles' camp," Froggy Girl says. "They sometimes keep guards by the storm drains to listen for us. We usually only send the Inezes in black this way. If they hear us, they'll grab us for some Doyle fun."

"I doubt it's fun," Steph says. "You hear that, sisters? A mile in and we go silent. Not a clatter or clank. Make sure your gear is taped down before we get there."

"I'll do you," Marcie says to me as she pulls a roll of duct tape from her pack. "You do me next."

"Deal," I say as we get walking.

I hold a flare while Marcie follows me and tapes down anything on me or my pack that's loose. She even tapes the Barrett to my pack so it doesn't rattle. Audrey is doing the same to Antoinette while Antoinette holds the flare. Froggy Girl keeps looking back at us, her eyes wide with some emotion I can't make out in the red light of the flares.

"Here," I say and toss her a roll of duct tape. "You do Steph. Do it right, Froggy Girl. You do it wrong and it could get us into a fight we don't want to be in."

"I'll do it right," she replies. "I don't want us to get killed."

"I said get us into a fight, not get us killed," I say. "Pay attention. Doyles ain't gonna take us down."

She nods, but the look she gives me I do recognize. She don't believe me. She still thinks these Doyles are hot shit. They ain't. I haven't met one, but I can say they ain't as hot as my sisters. Hells yeah to the sister heat.

All strapped down and walking in the middle of the tunnel, since there's no stream in this one, and it only takes us about ten minutes to make it a mile. We let the flares go dead so we aren't spotted by any guards and move as quiet as mice. Or rats. We're in a sewer, so we're rats. Although, Froggy Girl says it's a storm drain tunnel, but that's just a fancy sewer for rain water, right? Right.

There are cracks of light from somewhere, so the tunnel ain't all dark. One foot in front of the other, careful steps, is how we go. All it takes is a twig snap, and if there are guards, they'll know someone's down here. Shit echoes in empty tunnels.

The cracks of light are coming from an alcove on our left side. Steph steps to it and lifts her carbine. She has a nice M-4 that's tricked out. The great thing about the Stronghold being in Boulder is we have a few military bases within driving distance to pillage. Yeah, other folks had the same idea, but not many of them made it very far inside. Too many Zs stuck behind those chain-link fences.

But us? Yeah, we can get in and out without a problem. That means tricked out M-4s and a fine Barrett. I don't have an M-4, it's not my style. I do have a nice Sig Sauer P220 Combat .45 with a threaded barrel. I lied. I have two, one on each hip. I usually don't get them out of my pack because my blades work better with Zs. Less noise.

But we aren't just dealing with Zs now, so my babies are on my hips and ready to shoot some Doyles if those asshole shitfuckers get in my way. Or get in any of my sisters' way. Just talking about my .45s makes me want to get them out and shoot somebody. Where the Doyles at?

"Door," Steph whispers as she eases past the alcove. "Shut, but not sealed well."

"Stairs," Froggy Girl says. Her voice is so quiet I almost don't hear her. "They lead up to the Doyles' camp."

"Where's that?" Audrey asks.

"Up above us," Froggy Girl says.

"No shit," Steph says. "But where is the camp? In a store? In an apartment complex? On the street? Where?"

"Sports complex," Froggy Girl replies. "Indoor soccer fields and basketball courts. That kind of place. I used to play soccer there when I was real little. You know, before…"

"You know any of the Doyles?" Steph asks once we are all past the alcove. "You're from around here. Are they from around here too?"

"Some of them," Froggy Girl answers then shuts right up.

She doesn't want to talk about if she knows any of the Doyles. We all see that right quick. Steph wants to push her, but Marcie gives her a look and she stays quiet. Froggy Girl is already spooked to shit, ain't no need to make her more spooked.

"How much farther?" Audrey asks.

"Another mile," Froggy Girl says. "The kids are hiding in the courthouse. There's an access door down here."

"Courthouse? Good place to hide," Audrey says. "Easy to secure and always has good visibility for the sighted ones on the rest of the town. Nice choice."

"The kids ain't dumb," I say. "They fight Zs while blind. Nearly trapped us when we first got to Denver."

"That was a few years ago," Antoinette says. "They're even better now."

"Who are they?" Froggy Girl asks. "Why do you want these kids?"

"It's not about the kids," Steph says. "It's about the guy they follow. He's a slimy bastard called Kramer. He's all we care about."

"Bad dude," Marcie says. "Really bad dude that needs to die."

"Die hard," Audrey says.

"I like that movie," Froggy Girl says. "My dad used to watch it every year. You know. Before…"

"Before the Zs came and ate everyone," I say. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get it. That's how the world is now. No more before."

"True dat, sister," Steph says. "Now double time it, ladies. I want to have these kids bagged and tagged so we can get to the Humvees before dark. I have no plans to stay in this shit town one more night."

"We keep saying that, yet we've been here more than one night already," Audrey says.

"That's because Elsbeth got herself lost," Antoinette says, but she's grinning so I don't have to kick the shit out of her. Sisters like to joke.

"I ain't lost," I say. "I'm right here with you bitches. And it wasn't my fault we had to stay over last night. "

"Sounds like it was the Doyles' fault," Steph says." My guess is they sent all those Zs to trap us in that apartment building."

"That means they know we're here," Marcie says. "That's not good."

"No, it's not," Steph agrees. "Maybe we should triple time it."

We all groan because triple time is pretty much running and running in a dark tunnel that smells like moldy underwear ain't no fun.

Takes us like five minutes to reach the basement door to the courthouse. Froggy Girl looks like she's going to puke. So she pukes. It's bright red. That's easy to see even down here in the tunnel.

"Hold up," Antoinette says once Froggy Girl is done with the puking. "What's wrong with you? Why are you puking blood?"

"Not blood," Froggy Girl says. "Candy. I ate some candy this morning. I'd been saving it for a special day and wanted to eat it all before any of the other Inezes took it from me."

"Special day? What special day?" Steph asks. She's busy standing over Audrey as she checks the access door for booby traps. "What's so special about today?"

"It's my birthday," Froggy Girl says. "I'm seventeen."

"Jesus shit," Steph says. "You're only seventeen?"

"Happy birthday," Antoinette says. "Should we sing—?"

"No," Audrey growls as she stands up and gives the access door a shove.

We all jump back, even Froggy Girl, and wait for an explosion or poison darts or a shotgun blast. Nothing. The kids didn't set anything. That's good. Means they don't expect to be found.

"They could have been in too much of a hurry," Audrey says like she's reading my mind.

We all nod because we're pretty much thinking the same thing.

"Why were they in a hurry?" Marcie asks. "Were they being chased?"

"Stay tight and watch all angles," Steph says, her M-4 up to her shoulder. She sights through the scope and takes point. "No time to be sloppy, ladies. We do this by the numbers, sweep the building floor by floor, room by room. I want every closet searched and desk drawer opened."

"There's nothing in the desks," Froggy Girl says. "We've been through them all. Not even paper. We used that all up to burn."

"Good for you," Steph says and steps inside the courthouse.

It's only a few feet before we hit the rear access stairs. Metal stairs that ring out and vibrate as we walk up them. Even going slow they still make noise. Steph grumbles, but we don't stop. No point in stopping. If the kids are listening then they already know we're coming. The blind ones do. The deaf ones are probably staring out a window or something.

We hit the first door and Steph kicks it open. She steps through, still on point, while Audrey follows and takes the right with Marcie behind her taking left. Antoinette is next and is sweeping her rifle back and forth, while I give Froggy Girl a shove and bring up the rear. No way I'm letting an Inez stay behind me. That's how you get yourself killed.

"Which way?" Steph asks once we're certain the hallway we've stepped into is clear.

"What?" Froggy Girl asks.

"Which way are the kids?" Steph asks.

"I don't know," Froggy Girl says. "I just know they came here. You said you were going to search for them."

"We are, but it would be nicer if you knew where they were at," Steph says.

Froggy Girl shrugs.

Steph points at Audrey and then at a door to our right. Audrey moves fast and kicks open the door then hurries in and calls out, "Clear."

Marcie takes the left door and Antoinette moves ahead to the next left door while Steph takes the next right door. I keep my eye, and one of my .45s, on Froggy Girl. I don't think she's fucking with us, but she's a crazy Inez.

We clear the rooms in the hallway and move to another one then another one. It takes us an hour to clear the bottom floor. It's just an old basement with rooms filled with empty filing cabinets and shit. Froggy Girl was right, no paper anywhere.

We move up to the next floor, which is the first floor, and find Hell. It used to be Hell. Bloodstains everywhere, covering most of the wood floor. On the walls, on the doors, even on the ceiling. Half the doors have been broken apart and the other half are hanging by a hinge. Some folks tried to make a stand on the first floor and failed like suckers.

"Why didn't they go down into the tunnels to get away?" Antoinette asks as she nudges a skeleton with her foot.

"Maybe the problem was the tunnel," Audrey says, looking at Froggy Girl. "Might not have been Zs that did this. Could have been people that came up from below."

"That the case?" Steph asks Froggy Girl.

"I don't know," Froggy Girl says. "Could be. Lots of bad stuff has happened since the Zs showed up."

"People killing people," I say. "Humans suck shit balls."

"It was awful in the beginning," Froggy Girl says. "I didn't leave my house for two years. Mama wouldn't let me. Then I got to go out and that's when the Inezes found us and kept us from getting taken by the Doyles."

"They've been around that long?" I ask.

"Yeah," Froggy Girl says.

"Next floor," Steph says once we clear the first floor.

We move past the heavy barricade blocking the front entrances and take the stairs to the second floor. The stairs ain't much better than everywhere else. A lot of bloodstains. And a Z.

"Got it," I say and stab it through the head with one of my blades. It was a woman before it died. Old woman, maybe. A grandma. I don't remember my grandma.

The second floor is all offices, kinda like the first floor. We sweep, we clear, we move on. The courthouse is starting to get boring. Good thing there's the third floor.

The second Steph steps through the stairwell door and into the third floor, she drops. Not because she's been hit with anything, but because she sees the axe coming at her head. She rolls herself across the hallway and comes up firing. The kid with the axe screams then falls face first onto the stained tile. Half his face is gone from Steph's shots.

"On me!" Steph yells as she takes a knee and spins in the direction the kid came from.

We hurry into the hallway and take up positions, making sure every single direction is covered. No other kids come for us, but we stay still. We wait and we listen. Froggy Girl starts to say something, but I smack her on the back of the head and she shuts up.

"I don't think there are more here," Audrey whispers after at least twenty minutes go by. "We'd know. My gut says they're gone."

"This one was a distraction," Steph says, nodding at the dead kid. "So where are the others?"

There's a clang and a shout. Then screams. All coming from outside.

Steph kicks in a door and we hurry to a window in time to see a kid get buried under a pile of Zs down on the street. They start ripping him apart, yanking out guts and tearing off his arms and legs. He lives through all of it until his throat gets shredded by two Z mouths.

"The roof," Steph says. "That one fell from the roof."

We don't need orders and we don't need directions. We hit the stairs and sprint up to the roof. The sun is starting to go down by the time we get to the edge and see a cable stretching from the courthouse building to a different building across the street. The cable is just above a window and looking out of the window is one of the deaf kids.

She points up at us and claps her hands together, letting the blind kids know where we are. Then she's gone. Lost in the shadows of the building.

"Shit!" Steph shouts. A bunch of Zs below moan and groan up at her. "Oh, fuck off!"

"We have to go," Froggy Girl says. "Those Zs. Those are Doyle Zs. They sent them here. The Doyles followed us."

"Great," Audrey says as she scans the street for signs of living humans. "We know what that means."

"They have the tunnel cut off," Marcie says. "They're going to try to drive us out into the street."

"We can take those Zs," I say after a quick undead head count. "Not a problem."

"Then we better get to it," Steph says. "Time to bug out."

"You mean we're leaving?" Antoinette asks as we sprint to the stairwell door. "Getting the Humvees and going?"

"What about the kids?" Audrey asks.

"Fuck the kids for now," Steph says. "We don't have time to play games with crazies named Doyle. We get the Humvees, get out of town, and wait. Maybe the kids will leave soon and we can catch them out in the open instead of playing hide and seek in this shitass town."

She yanks open the stairwell door and we all hear the shot as it hits her.

Steph falls back, a large hole in her forehead, blood flying everywhere.

We scream. As one, we sisters scream.

Then we hit the stairs and open fire.

Chapter Seven

With a sister dead behind us, you'd think we'd go all crazy and shit, but we don't. We hit those stairs and do what we do best: kill some shitfucking assholes. This is how sisters deal with death. We make more of it.

The Doyles have no idea what hits them.

It's like surgery. That's what John always says. Surgeons don't just hack away at a body, they have to target the exact spot for the first cut then be thinking ten steps ahead to the next cut and the next. Your mind is locked onto what you're doing in that moment, but your subconscious is planning the next step. You go on skill and let instinct guide that skill.

His words, not mine.

My words would be: you shoot the first shitfucker then shoot the next shitfucker then shoot the shitfuckers after that and don't get yourself shot while you are shooting shitfuckers. It's pretty simple.

That's what we do.

I'm on point with both pistols up and firing. I have a bead on the first shooter, probably the one that took down Steph, and I put two slugs in his chest then one between his eyes. My attention moves to the next guy, but I don't have an angle so I dive to the floor and roll out of his line of fire.

Audrey comes in after me and she takes down the next guy, moves out of the way for Antoinette, and she takes the third guy. I'm back up and leaning over the railing, my pistols searching for guy number four. He pops his head out to see what's up. Guess what? I'm up and he's down because I blow his shitfucking head off.

Fifth guy makes an appearance and this guy has a shotgun so shit gets messy. 12-gauge buckshot. Stupid in a tactical situation, but not a bad idea in a defensive situation. And this shitfucker is on the defensive since he's now all alone and has four very, very, very pissed off rage chicks coming for him with automatic weapons.

And blades. If I catch this shitfucker alive, I am so gonna use my blades on his ass. I will also use my blades on his cock and balls. Possibly his toes and fingers, but mainly on his cock and balls. Snip, snip, motherfucker.

He is firing wild, just pointing the shotgun behind him as he races down the stairs.

"There'll be more down there waiting!" Marcie shouts as we sprint down the stairs, our feet only hitting every third or fourth step.

"That means more to kill!" Audrey shouts back.

"Roger that!" Antoinette yells.

"Fuck yeah!" I scream as we keep chasing the shotgun Doyle.

I assume they're all called Doyle. If this town is fucked up enough to have a bunch of Inezes then it is gonna have a bunch of Doyles. That's how crazies work in the apocalypse. Stupid, shitfucking crazies.

Second floor door bursts open and a shirtless man that has to weigh like four hundred pounds comes out like that Rambo guy from that movie when I was a kid. He's got an M-60 machine gun in one hand and he's feeding the belt of cartridges into it with the other. The concrete around us turns into shrapnel and we all throw ourselves over the railing and fall the last few feet to the ground floor.

The fat guy stops shooting and actually says, "Huh?" before he looks over the railing to see where we've gone. He does that. He looks over the railing. Doesn't shoot at us, just looks. Hard to say which one of us fires first, but it don't matter in the end. His head turns to mist and he tumbles down after us, machine gun gripped in his dead hands.

"Dibs!" Audrey yells and slings her rifle as she yanks the M-60 from Dead Fat Boy's hands. She checks the action, makes sure the belt isn't tangled, and aims at the door to the first floor. "Ready!"

Marcie yanks the door open and Audrey opens fire. She walks slowly from the stairwell, spraying bullets everywhere. Marcie was right, they are waiting for us. Close to a dozen men, all with automatic rifles or shotguns, start to dance and scream as they are ripped apart by heavy caliber slugs.

Once there is room, we follow after Audrey, laying down some backup fire, making sure the ones that didn't go down right away for sure go down next. Blood splatters everywhere. The first floor is nothing but a pool of red by the time Audrey's M-60 clicks empty and she throws it aside.

"Where's Froggy Girl?" Audrey snaps, spinning about with her rifle back in her hands.

"Here," Froggy Girl whispers as she peeks her head out from the stairwell door. Her eyes go wide as she sees the corpses. "Oh…"

"Fucking A yeah, oh," Audrey says and points down the hall to the basement door. "How many Doyles are coming?"

"What?" Froggy Girl asks. "I don't know."

"How many Doyles are there?" Audrey snaps, her rifle pointed at Froggy Girl.

"Lots," Froggy Girl says. "More than I can count. There's always Doyles around. Can't ever get away from the Doyles."

"Fucking useless," Audrey says.

I think she's gonna shoot Froggy Girl, but she lowers her rifle and looks over at the rest of us.

"We gonna leave her here?" Audrey asks.

"Please don't!" Froggy Girl says. "You killed all the Inezes! If you leave me—!"

"Shut up!" Audrey shouts. "I'm not talking about you!"

I stop what I'm doing, which is stabbing Doyles in the brains. Just in case, you know. I look at the other sisters then we all look up at the ceiling. Up at Steph.

"If there are a ton more Doyles then her body will only slow us down," Marcie says.

"But it's Steph," Antoinette says.

"It's Steph," I say.

"It's Steph," Marcie agrees and nods at Audrey.

"Antoinette? You and Marcie go up and get her. Take the kid along," Audrey says.

She's taken over for Steph. None of us argue because it's how things work for us. One falls and another steps up. No questions. No egos. We ain't dumb guys. We don't measure dicks and puff up our chests. Shit needs to be done so shit gets done. Audrey is getting shit done.

"El? You're with me," Audrey says. "We make sure these Doyles stay down and cover the ways in and out of this floor."

Antoinette, Marcie, and a reluctant Froggy Girl, head back upstairs to get Steph's body as I continue stabbing the shit out of some Doyle skulls. Audrey falls in behind me.

"I don't like the idea of going back down into that tunnel," Audrey says.

I look up at her after jamming my blade through a Doyle's left eye and nod.

"They're waiting," I say and tap my nose. "I can feel it."

"Me too," Audrey says, her eyes locked onto the hallway that leads to the basement door. "We step one foot through there and they'll tear us apart."

"Maybe not," I say and point my blade at the bodies around us. "We're pretty good at tearing too."

"They'll have position and I'm guessing they'll have numbers," Audrey says.

"One way to find out," I say and smile. It's my Elsbeth Has Gone Crazy smile.

"El, no," Audrey says as I start walking down the hallway. "El!"

"Just gonna have a looksee," I reply and put fresh magazines in my .45s. "Not gonna start anything, just a little looksee."

"Shit," Audrey growls and follows me.

We get to the basement door and listen, each of us on one side of the door. No way we're putting our ears right to the door. That's how dumbasses get shot. Make too much noise and anyone on the other side starts in with the bang bang bang.

Audrey frowns at me and shakes her head. I don't hear shit either. I tap the butt of one of my .45s against the door and we both cringe back, ducking and covering our heads, ready for the bang bang bang. Nothing happens.

My turn to frown and shake my head. I reach for the doorknob, but Audrey grunts and I pull my hand back. She smacks the door as hard as she can with the butt of her rifle.

Oh, here comes the bang bang bang.

The door is shredded by automatic gunfire. Shredded. Shred. Ed.

We run.

The door is nothing but splinters behind us and we sprint into the lobby, getting around the corner as fast as possible as the bullets coming through the door keep on flying and tear up the hallway. I start picking up as many weapons as possible and piling them next to me as Audrey drags bodies to the head of the hallway, tossing them on top of each other like a dead flesh barricade.

A bullet whizzes past her and she cries out. Not in pain, but in rage. Audrey can get really pissed off if she wants to. It looks like she wants to.

The door to the stairwell opens and we glance over to see Antoinette giving us a What The Fuck Is Going On look.

"We knocked!" I shout at her over the gunfire. "I think they are coming in!"

She hits the ground and drags Steph's body out of the stairwell with Marcie and Froggy Girl on the ground behind her. They crawl their asses over to our flesh barricade and stay low as the bodies jump and jitter from the hundreds of bullets coming at us.

I count in my head and it's five minutes of non-stop shooting before the last shot goes quiet. My ears are ringing and I can tell by the way the sisters yawn and shake their heads that theirs are too. Froggy Girl just looks like she needs to take a shit. Her face is all bunched up and her eyes are filled with tears.

"We use theirs and save ours for the street," Audrey says as we pick up the Doyles' weapons and get ready. "Empty everything down that hall then make a break for it out the front doors."

"Steph?" Marcie asks. "We going to leave her here now?"

"No," Audrey says. "Yes."

"That's confusing," I say. "Use your words."

"We're leaving her here, but not as some corpse," Audrey says. "Decoy."

We know exactly what she means. I get to work on it and grab Steph's corpse. I sit her up, put a rifle in her hands, and then set the grenades. It's tricky to prep grenades to blow without blowing yourself up too. I'm good at it. I know how to set traps. Not because of Foster's training, but because of my years hunting people as a canny. Use what you know and move on. No guilt.

"Ready," I say.

We look up over the flesh barricade and see men start to come through the annihilated basement door. Some are dressed in fatigues, some in just normal clothes. They all have automatic rifles up and aimed at us.

We open fire.

The three men on point lose their heads right off. We drop them fast and take aim at the second row, but those guys don't wait around, they dive to the floor and roll into the empty offices along the hallway. The third wave take a knee and return fire, making us duck back behind the flesh barricade.

The barricade bodies shudder against us and some nasty fluids start pouring out onto the floor. Blood, shit, piss, whatever else. Probably stomach yucks and that crap. I think the guy right by me had burritos for lunch. Bad burritos.

When there's a break in the shooting, I'm ready. I prepped a surprise for the Doyles.

"Don't shoot!" I yell in a deep, man's voice. Kinda. It sounds like a woman doing a deep, man's voice. But that's cool. "Don't shoot!"

I have a dead Doyles' head on the end of one of my blades and I stick it up over the barricade for his bros to see.

"Put the guns down, bros!" I shout. "They's just lonely old women looking for some long-time lovin'! No threat at all! Come and get some, bros!"

"Really?" Marcie whispers at me, looking shocked.

That makes me happy. They've known me long enough that I didn't think I could shock any of them anymore. I wiggle the puppet head at her then turn it back to the Doyles.

"Come on, bros! Can't have a party if you kill all the pussy!" I shout.

"Jesus," Audrey says. "You are fucking sick in the head."

"Thanks," I whisper.

"You fucking cunts!" one of the Doyles yells down the hallway. "You're gonna pay for that!"

"No need to pay, bros! These bitches be giving it away!" I yell in my man's voice. I bob the head up and down, moving it back and forth. "Ooh, baby! Yeah, that feels good! Give it to me hard!"

"You got that backwards," Antoinette says. "He'd be giving it to you hard."

"Oh, shit, right," I reply and clear my throat. "I, uh, mean, I'm giving it to you hard!"

"You fucking whores!" another Doyle yells. "We're gonna hurt you! Hurt you right where it hurts!"

"That guy sounds like you, El," Audrey says. "Hurt you where it hurts. You two should hang out later."

"Fuck you," I laugh then flick the head off my blade and let it roll down the hallway at the Doyles. "Best head ever!"

They open fire again, but we're already crawling to the front doors. They're all boarded over and shit, but that doesn't mean a damn thing to us. If boarded-over doors were really a problem then no one could get in or out of a building in the apocalypse. We'd all just be standing in the streets and on sidewalks with our tits in our hands. Shit be boarded up everywhere.

Antoinette pulls a small pry bar from her pack and gets to work as we turn around and give her some covering fire. The hallway is at an angle to the front doors, so our bullets really just tear up the wall, but it lets the Doyles know we're still in the game. They're firing back at us and tearing up a wall a few feet from the front doors.

"Got it," Antoinette says as she yanks the last board free and puts her hand on the first door. "Ready?"

Audrey empties the rifle she's using and throws it across the room. I do the same with mine, so does Marcie. Antoinette is already strapped and good to go.

"Where's Froggy Girl?" I ask and look back towards the flesh barricade. The dumb Inez is shitting herself and frozen against the bodies. "Girl! You better move your shit over here now or you're getting left behind!"

I'm done babysitting Froggy Girl. She led us to a dead end and Steph got killed because of it. I ain't blaming Froggy Girl, but I ain't gonna carry her ass anywhere either.

Froggy Girl looks at us, her eyes wide with pussy-ass terror.

"It's the zombie apocalypse, bitch! Get over that shit and move your tits!" I yell at her.

She flinches, but doesn't move.

"Fuck her then," Audrey says and nods at Antoinette. "Go!"

Antoinette yanks the door open and we bust ass out into the street. Tons of Zs come at us right away, all drawn by the noise of gunfire. There are at least three times as many as before. Not surprising.

We have blades out and guns secured. No need to add to the noise by coming out shooting. Best to stab and hack our way through the horde so that the Doyles are the only ones making noise. The Zs will want our delicious lady flesh, but they are dumb as shit and the gunfire still going on inside the courthouse will draw a lot of them that direction and away from us.

I slash at a Z and take her head right off then spin and cut down a second and a third, chopping their legs off so they're just flailing dipshits. Hands grab at me and I send a few of those falling to the ground as I stab Z after Z through the eye sockets. Always aim for the eye sockets. Less resistance. There's some skull at the back, but not enough to matter and it's soft bone. Foster taught us that to use on the living. Works just as well on the dead.

The sisters are keeping things tight. We're a swirling unit of brutal violence. Heads are popping off like those dandelions that are everywhere in the summer. Pop, pop, pop. If we can't reach heads then we take off legs. If legs aren't easy to get to then we take off arms. But no matter what, every slash counts for something. No wasted energy. Can't afford that when you're fighting through a Z-horde.

"How many are we looking at?" Audrey shouts.

Antoinette is tall and gets on her tiptoes just after slicing three heads off with one stroke. Bitch is badass.

"Lots!" she yells and comes down in time to keep her balance as six Zs lunge at her.

I step in and take down four while she deals with the other two. It's just a pile of undead limbs and torsos at our feet. The heads have rolled off somewhere. Heads will do that when they ain't attached to necks no more.

"We have another block of Zs before we can get clear!" Antoinette announces.

We nod at each other and keep pushing through.

Audrey is on point and keeps us headed in the right direction while Antoinette handles left and I handle right. Marcie is on our six and she keeps the horde from closing in on our backs and taking us out from behind. But the Zs try. They're Zs. Those sons of bitches never give up.

"Alley!" I yell as I see an opening coming up to our right. "Use it or keep going?"

"Could be a dead end!" Audrey shouts. "Keep going!"

We move another few feet and another, constantly spinning, always moving, our blades slashing and cutting and chopping and—

"WAIT!" Froggy Girl screams from the courthouse as she comes out of the doors with a rifle in each hand. "WAIT!"

She opens fire on the Zs in front of her. She's firing from the hip and both rifles are barking lead into Z bodies. She has shit for aim that way, but downs enough Zs to get through part of the horde before she's surrounded. What the fuck did she think was going to happen? She's an Inez, not a sister.

"Help me!" she screams as one of her rifles jams and she tosses it aside. "Help me!"

"Fuck her," Audrey snarls as she cuts a Z in half right down the middle.

She kicks the halves out of the way, spins and chops off some Z legs then hacks two more Zs' arms off before stabbing them in the heads. Nice.

Froggy Girl is yelling at us to help her. She keeps saying please like that word means shit when you are smack dab in the middle of a Z-horde. What, I'm going to die because she's being polite? Fuck that shit.

"Move ass!" I yell back at her. "Do it yourself or die!"

She's screaming at me, but I ignore her. I have Zs to kill.

Five reach in at me, but Marcie spins around and hacks the arms off of three below the elbows before they can grab me. I stab, stab, stab them in their heads and they fall as the other two slam into me. I can't afford to go down, so I let them back me up against Antoinette. She knows what to do and does her own stabbing as I push the two Zs back far enough for her to have a shot.

With her attention on me, that means the Zs on the left are closing in fast. I return the favor and help Antoinette cut them back enough that we both have a little breathing room.

"Shit," Marcie says and laughs. "The girl is making it."

Froggy Girl empties her last rifle into the horde and kills enough Zs that she's got almost a clear path to us. I ain't big on crazy chicks shooting rifles in my direction, but I'll let it slide this time since she's in trouble.

"Use it like a club!" I yell at her as she starts to drop the empty rifle. "Beat some Z ass!"

She flips the rifle around and smashes her way through the horde. A Z grabs her by the hair, but she yanks herself free. Not without a price. That Z takes a huge hunk of hair with it and Froggy Girl screams as blood starts pouring down the back of her scalp and neck.

Shit. That's a lot of fresh blood.

"Faster!" I yell at her.

We're next to the alley and I glance over and see it's not a dead end. It opens up onto the next street over.

"This way!" I yell and hack to the right. "It's clear!"

Zs are stupid. They follow each other in hordes and herds and packs and shit. If Zs are walking on the street then other Zs join them and it turns into a stupid Z parade. They don't wander off like tourists. Alleys mean nothing to Zs unless there are noises coming from them saying it's food time.

I slash through eight Zs and I'm in the alley. I hold my position and give the sisters time to follow me. Yeah, now that we're in the alley the Zs are interested, but they don't have us surrounded anymore.

Froggy Girl screams. It's a healthy rage scream, not a pain scream. Easy to tell the difference.

"We leave her," Audrey says as she jams her blade up through the chin of a Z. "She had her chance."

"No shit," I say and drop three more Zs. "But don't mean we can't help."

I pull a grenade from the side of my pack, yank out the pin, and toss it into the horde.

"Frag out!" I yell and we move ass down the alley.

The grenade goes off and I kinda hope it hasn't ripped Froggy Girl into a hundred chunks. If she was smart then she ducked down when I yelled. If she wasn't smart then the Zs will be distracted by her fresh meat that's all over the street.

That rhymes. Meat and street.

We don't stop or look back until we're at the next street over. There are a few Zs in the street, but not even close to enough for us to worry about. I glance over my shoulder and Froggy Girl is running her ass off down the alley to us. Good for her.

"She keeps up on her own from now on," Audrey says as Froggy Girl reaches us. She's all covered in Z gore, but I don't see any bite marks. "You hear that, girl? You keep up or get left behind. We aren't gonna save your ass again."

"I hear that," she says.

That's not all we hear.

"Engines," Marcie says.

"More Doyles," Froggy Girl says and looks up and down the street. "We go this way. We can cut through that building. They'll pass right by us."

"That the direction we need to go?" Audrey asks. "To get to our Humvees?"

"You left them in a garage back by where you killed all my friends, right?" Froggy Girl asks. Ain't no anger in the question. Sounds like she's made peace with us taking out the Inezes. Not like she has much of a choice, really. "If you left them back that way then yes, this is the way to your Humvees."

"Good," Audrey says. "Lead on."

She does.

Chapter Eight

"What the fuck is this place?" Audrey asks as we squeeze between some boards after Froggy Girl. "What the hell?"

It is a weird place. There's lots of bright-colored shit. Yeah, it's got dust all over it, but you can still see the bright colors. Looks like…

"Indoor playground," Froggy Girl whispers. "I used to play here as a little girl. I liked the tunnel up on the ceiling."

We all look up at the bright orange tunnel that's bolted to the ceiling. Every few feet there is a plastic window. A tickle at the back of my mind tells me I've been in one of these places before. Maybe when I was a kid too? I bet my nanny brought me here. Not my mother because she was too busy and too much of a cold bitch to do that. But, my nanny, for sure.

My nanny? That's a weird memory. Did I have a nanny?

"Why are you whispering?" Antoinette asks Froggy Girl. "This place hasn't been cleared?"

"No," Froggy Girl replies quietly.

She points back up at the tunnel on the ceiling. We all squint in the gloom and then gasp as Z faces show up against the plastic. Little Z faces. Undead kids.

I fucking hate undead kids.

"Don't worry," Froggy Girl whispers. "They're stuck up there. They aren't smart enough to figure how to get out. They get jammed in a bend, go back the way they came, then get jammed in that bend. Back and forth."

"But we don't want them moaning and groaning," Audrey says. "They'll bring more Zs."

Froggy Girl nods.

"This way," she whispers and leads us around old play equipment to a door across the room.

It's a big room. The whole ground floor is one giant room with support beams here and there. There are plastic slides. Some small, some big. Plastic houses, plastic animals to ride, plastic picnic tables. A lot of plastic.

And a lot of bloodstains. Most of the plastic shit is covered in it. Might have been kid blood, might have been mommy blood. Ain't no way to tell now. It's all dried and brown. No bodies around to know for sure.

We keep moving, our eyes glancing up at the tunnel now and then. The Z faces are gone, but we can hear them scurrying around like hamsters. The tunnel shakes a bit as they move and we give each other a look when we see what's gonna happen.

"Shit," Audrey says.

There's a far-off boom and we all jump. Hard not to.

"Steph," I say. "Took them long enough to move her body."

"I hope she took out a bunch of those Doyle assholes," Marcie says.

It's good that the grenades I set finally went off. But it's bad because the sound gets the kid Zs even more active and dust starts falling from the ceiling as the tunnel begins to creak and pull at its bolts.

"Here," Froggy Girl says as she shoves open a door in the back wall. "There's another alley behind this building."

We run for it as the tunnel gives way. The bolts pop, pop, pop and half the ceiling just lets go, sending the bright orange tubes falling to the ground. The kid Zs groan and hiss at us as they try to get free of their tunnel, but Froggy Girl was right, they're all jammed up inside there. But they're loud enough, along with the noise the crashing tunnel made, to bring Zs to the front doors.

It's the sound of Z hands slapping at boards that echo in my ears as we get through the back door and into a storeroom. No Zs here, just lots of boxes and some old sleeping bags where someone had bedded down at one point. Froggy Girl leads us to a last door with a dead exit sign hanging by a couple wires over it. She pushes the heavy bar in the middle and sunlight streams into the dark storeroom.

We get outside and stop. Engines. Close engines.

"Up against the wall," Audrey says just as two Humvees go driving by the mouth of the alley.

We flatten up against the wall. I have to yank Froggy Girl with me because she just stands there, her head cocked.

"Those were Humvees, right?" she asks.

"Yep," I say.

"Doyles don't have Humvees," she says. "They have panel trucks, pickup trucks and Jeeps. No Humvees."

"Are you shitting me?" Audrey snaps and stares at the mouth of the alley. "Did those assholes jack our rides?"

The engines get loud again and the two Humvees come back into view as they reverse up the street. One of them must have seen us before we got up against the wall. At least Audrey's question is answered.

Those are our Humvees.

"God dammit!" Audrey yells and starts to pull her rifle from her back.

"Those are ours," Antoinette says, putting a hand on Audrey's arm. "We shoot them up and we don't have a way back to the Stronghold."

"Not cross country," Marcie says. "We'll have to use roads which means twice as long to travel with crazies and scavengers waiting to ambush us."

"God dammit!" Audrey shouts again. Men are yelling and getting out of the Humvees as she whirls on Froggy Girl. "Where can we go from here?"

"We can't," Froggy Girl replies. "That's the only way out."

We look down the alley at the blocked mouth. Doyles are coming at us with rifles raised.

"Shit, shit, shit," Audrey says. "Back inside?"

"Don't have much of a choice," Marcie says.

"We could try to shoot it out," Antoinette suggests.

"El?" Audrey asks me.

I look up and see how the light is changing. The sun is going to set soon. No fun running and fighting Zs or Doyles at night. But if we go back inside then we're trapped.

"El!" Audrey snaps.

"We stand and fight," I say. "See how that goes. If we don't make no ground then we go back inside and barricade the door. Wait until morning to make another move."

"Shit," Audrey says. "Get the Barrett ready."

Shots ring out and we hit the ground. I pull my .45s and fire at the Doyles coming at us. They scatter to the sides of the alley, hiding behind piles of old trash and a couple dumpsters down by the mouth. We don't have shit to hide behind except tossed out old play equipment and that shit is plastic. Plastic don't stop bullets worth a crap.

Antoinette is getting the Barrett off my pack as I keep firing. Audrey and Marcie join in while Froggy Girl just lies flat on the ground, her hands over her ears.

"My turn," Antoinette says as she sets the Barrett onto its bipod and flips up the scope's covers. "Dumpster."

That's all she says as she pulls back the bolt, takes a deep breath, and fires. A hole the size of my fist opens in the dumpster and a man screams. Only the one scream. You get hit by one of those .50 caliber slugs and you don't do much more than scream once and then fucking die.

There's some shouting and a couple Doyles lean out from behind their cover and open fire on us. We return the fire and they duck back fast. We may not have cover, but we have accuracy. One of the men cries out as he takes a bullet to the leg. Might have been my bullet, might have been Marcie's or Audrey's. Wasn't Antoinette's or the leg would be nothing but mist.

The Barrett barks again and another Doyle screams. Just the once.

Two Doyles jump out from their hides and run at us, yelling and shouting while they fire their rifles. Shit. Doyles is suicidal. They fall fast under our fire, but it gives the others time to regroup and come at us too. Antoinette turns a Doyle's chest into mulch, which makes the others pause, but it's easy as shit to see how things are gonna go.

Bullets ring out around us and I take some concrete chips to my cheek.

"Inside," Audrey orders. "If reinforcements come, we'll be overrun."

"Idiots ain't afraid to die," Marcie says as she puts down two more.

"I'd rather not," Antoinette says, her cheek resting against the Barrett's stock. She fires again and one of the dumpsters lurches out into the alley. She fires three more times, using the force of the slugs to move the dumpster so it blocks the alley mouth. "Go!"

I grab Froggy Girl and drag her to the playground's back door. I pull it open and shove her inside then step back out and provide cover fire for the other sisters. Marcie is first up and over to me. She takes up my place and I eject the magazines from my .45s so I can slap in fresh ones.

I have a fresh magazine in one, but don't have the other loaded before I see Froggy Girl jump back from the door that goes from the storeroom out into the playground. She tries to slam the door closed, but Z hands are reaching through the gap and blocking her.

"Shit!" I yell and run over to her. I jam my .45 into the gap and fire until it's empty. "Move!"

Froggy Girl falls back on her ass and I slam the door closed. It shakes and rattles in the frame as the Zs shove against it.

"They broke in through the front!" I yell over my shoulder as Marcie and Audrey hurry into the storeroom. There's another bang from the Barrett then Antoinette joins us. "Did you hear me?"

"We heard you," Audrey says as she slams the back door closed and makes sure it's locked tight. "Doesn't matter now. Two more trucks pulled up. That alley is full of Doyles."

"Dead Doyles," Antoinette says, setting the Barrett down, careful not to touch the smoking hot barrel.

"Still plenty of live ones," Audrey says.

We all turn and look at the door to the playground. It ain't gonna hold long. The back door to the alley is made of heavy-duty metal so folks couldn't break in back when that was a worry pre-Z. But the door inside, the one to the playground, is just wood. And it's shitty wood.

I look around and see a ladder off in the corner.

"Roof," I say. "Only chance."

Audrey nods in agreement and races over to the ladder. The storeroom is a couple stories high since it's the same height as the big room where the playground is. It takes Audrey a lot longer to climb the ladder than we'd like, but she gets up there and shoves on the hatch in the ceiling. It doesn't move for a few seconds, long enough for the door to the playground to splinter and crack.

"Audrey," Antoinette warns.

"I fucking know," Audrey says and shoves harder. The hatch pops free and goes flying out onto the roof.

Stupid design. It should have hinges.

Audrey puts her head up through the hatch then yells and pulls a pistol from her belt. She fires as a Z shows its face. The body tumbles past her and splats on the floor at the base of the ladder. Audrey holds the pistol on the hatch for a couple more seconds then quickly climbs through and rolls out of sight.

"Clear!" she calls.

The door to the playground splits down the middle and none of us hesitate. We run for the ladder and start to climb. Antoinette is last as she grabs the Barrett up, ignoring the hot barrel, and throws the strap over her shoulders so it's braced against her back.

I climb halfway up the ladder then hook an arm in the rungs and swing my body out flat against the wall so the others can get by. I fire down at the Zs that rush at Antoinette, giving her enough space to get a few rungs up and out of reach. It ain't easy climbing a ladder with a full pack and a Barrett on your back. I've been there.

"Thanks," Antoinette says as she passes me on the ladder.

I drop a couple more Zs just to trip the others up then swing back onto the ladder and follow Antoinette up onto the roof.

When I'm up there, Audrey shoves the hatch top back on and closes it tight. No way to lock it, but it don't matter. Anyone opens that hatch and tries to come through, they'll get a couple bullets to the face.

"Spread out and report," Audrey says.

We each take a side of the building and look down below. My side is the alley and I see a whole ton of Doyles running to the back door. They have rifles aimed and look like they are debating who's going in first as one of them pries at the door with a crowbar. A couple of them get to arguing, but finally one yanks open the door and opens fire without even looking inside.

Fire all he wants, one rifle at close range against a horde of Zs don't mean shit. He's buried in Zs before the other Doyles know what's going on. But they're survivors, so they figure it out fast. Every one of them starts shooting while they back away from the door. But, damn, if the Zs don't keep coming.

"Three trucks on the north side," Antoinette says as she comes up next to me.

"Nothing on the west side, but no way down either," Marcie says, joining us.

We watch the Doyles flee back down the alley and back to the Humvees.

"One truck on the south side," Audrey says. "Long-haul semi. I only see a driver and a passenger. Got a heavy wedge welded to the front. But it's way down the street, just watching the Zs pour inside this building from the front."

"They use that to smash through hordes," Froggy Girl says.

"Yeah, I figured," Audrey replies. "But they aren't smashing through the one below. Probably letting as many as possible get inside before they make their move."

"Burn us out?" Marcie asks.

"That's what I'd do," Audrey replies.

"They're gonna burn the building?" Froggy Girl asks.

"If they have any brains in their heads at all," Audrey responds. "We've shown them we can hack our way through a horde of Zs. We've also tipped our hand that we have a Barrett .50 caliber. With all the Zs already in the building, they'd be the stupidest crazies in the world if they try to come in for us. Toss some diesel around the sides of the building and light a match. Poof."

"Poof," I echo.

"Oh," Froggy Girl says. She plops down on her ass. "That's no good."

"No, it ain't," Audrey says. "But we have some time until they light the place up. They're still running scared from the horde."

"They'll draw as many away as possible so they have more room to move," Marcie says.

"Yeah. They'll set up vantage points on all sides so they know we don't get away," Antoinette adds.

"Maybe an hour?" I ask.

"Maybe an hour," Audrey says. "Probably less."

"Thirty minutes," I say and take my pack off.

"Reload and do a quick inventory," Audrey says. "We'll need to move fast which means we need to move light. Ditch the packs and only take what you can comfortably carry while running your asses off."

"Wait, what?" Froggy Girl says, confused as shit. "We're running? How? We're up on a roof."

"We'll figure that out," Audrey says.

"We always do," Marcie adds.

"Yep," Antoinette agrees.

"You women are crazy," Froggy Girl says.

"True dat," I say and smile at her. "Make yourself useful and go watch what the Doyles is doing. If they start moving towards the building, you give a holler."

Froggy Girl just sits there and stares at me.

"Or, I could throw you over the edge and let the Doyles and Zs fight over your broken body," I say. "That sound fun?"

She gets her ass up and creeps over to the north edge.

"We're gonna have to ditch her at some point," Audrey whispers low enough for only us to hear.

"That sucks," Marcie replies, but doesn't argue.

"Maybe she'll pull her weight," Antoinette suggests.

"Maybe," I say. "But, probably not with how fast we'll need to move. We're sisters. She's not."

Antoinette nods.

"You okay with that?" Audrey asks me.

I look over at Froggy Girl as she sneaks a peek at the street below. She ducks her head back fast then takes a second look. Her entire body is shaking from fear.

Yeah, we're going to have to leave her behind at some point. Ain't no way a girl shaking like that can keep up with us. Still…

"No, I ain't good with that," I say. "We find a way to take her with."

"Why the change of heart?" Antoinette asks.

"No change," I say and shrug. "Just don't want to be like a Doyle."

"I get that," Antoinette says.

"We'll see," Audrey says.

She's right. We will see.

Chapter Nine

We're stripped to the essentials. Water, a little food, med kits, knives, long blades, rifles, pistols, as much ammo as we can stuff into our belt pouches, and a couple other things we'll need. I have the Barrett with me. Audrey offered to carry it, but I really don't mind. I like the weight of it strapped to my back and I don't have a rifle like the other sisters, just my two .45s.

"Grab some sleep," Audrey says.

"Sleep? You said they'd try and burn us out within an hour," Froggy Girl says, all shocked and shit.

"Yeah, I did," Audrey says. "So we sleep until then."

"How can you sleep?" Froggy Girl asks, looking from one of us to the next.

"Easy," I shrug and lie down on the hot-ass roof, what's left of my pack tucked under my head. "You close your eyes and sleep happens."

The others laugh and do the same as I close my eyes and let sleep happen.

Internal clock says I get about twenty-five minutes of shut eye before the Doyles come for us. But when I open my eyes, the sun has set and it's nothing but dark sky and twinkly stars above me. I ain't happy with my internal clock.

"What we got?" Audrey asks, stretching next to me as I get up and crack my back.

"They're using the alley," Antoinette says. "Easier to control that way and there's still lots of Zs inside and out front. I think they figure we'll try to escape that way when the building really catches."

"They're predictable, at least," Marcie says, still lying on the roof, her legs outstretched. "That works in our favor."

"Don't assume," Audrey snaps.

It's funny how much she sounds like Steph now. Being in charge, even though she's technically not in charge, makes a sister get all tough and snappy. I've mentioned it to Greta and she says it's the stress. I just think the sisters like to get their butch on when they take charge. It's fun. Sisters like fun.

"We doing it their way or our way?" I ask.

"What do you think?" Audrey replies, all happy smile and killer grin. "When do we ever do it someone else's way?"

"When we've got a Froggy Girl," I say.

"What?" Froggy Girl asks. She's huddled against the north edge of the roof, her knees tucked to her chin. "What about me?"

"We have to do some things that aren't easy for normal folks," I say. "We're gonna have to climb down the wall fast and kill a bunch of Doyles before they know they're already dead. Easy for us, pretty much impossible for you."

The smell of smoke hits us, but it's blown away by the breeze fast so we all know the flames aren't nearly at the get the fuck out of here level yet. Close, but not yet.

"Are you gonna leave me?" Froggy Girl asks. She hugs her knees tighter. "You can. It's okay. All the Inezes are dead. I got nowhere to go."

"You can come to the Stronghold with us," I say.

"El," Audrey warns. "We have a mission."

"I know," I say. "I was being kind. That's a thing, right? Being kind? Charlie says I should try it. I'm trying it."

"Charlie says a lot of things," Marcie says. "He also stays back in the Stronghold while we go out into the wasteland and hunt for Kramer. Easy for him to talk."

"Trouble with the boyfriend?" Antoinette asks.

"Shut up," Marcie says. "I'm just saying it's easy for Charlie to be kind while he's behind that huge wall he's finishing. Out here we have to break heads and gut people. That's how it is."

"Oh," Froggy Girl says. "You gonna gut me?"

"Jesus," Audrey sighs. She moves fast and kneels down in front of Froggy Girl, making the girl jump a little. "You can come with us. That's not a problem. But we can't save you anymore. You keep up or you fall behind. That's the deal. No more hand holding."

"You haven't been holding my hand," Froggy Girl says. "I led you to the courthouse, remember?"

"Where our sister got killed," Audrey snarls.

Froggy Girl yips and scoots her ass right against the small wall that rims the roof.

"You haven't helped us at all," Audrey continues. "You've gotten us into more trouble with every suggestion. The courthouse, this building. What's next? You gonna just make it quick and put a gun to our heads?"

"She can't put one gun to all of our heads," I say.

"You know what I mean, El," Audrey snaps.

"Just saying," I reply. "Leave her be. She makes it or she don't. No need to torture the girl."

"I'll make it," Froggy Girl says.

"You think so?" Audrey asks. "El? Give her one of your pistols."

"What?" I ask, my turn to snap. "No way. I need my pistols."

"You have the Barrett," Antoinette says.

"Shut up," I reply. "I need my pistols."

"She's gonna need something," Audrey says as she stands up. "And you have the Barrett."

"I can't whip the Barrett out and kill Zs with it on the run!" I growl. "You guys are being assholes."

"I don't need it," Froggy Girl says. "I won't hit anything. I can just run and keep up."

"See?" I say. "She can run and keep up."

"Then we're all on the same page," Audrey says. "We go in five. She's on her own and either runs and keeps up or falls behind and gets eaten by Zs."

"Or taken by Doyles for their breeding farm," Froggy Girl says.

That stops us dead like a headless Z. Shit…

"Okay, hold on," Audrey says and takes a deep breath. "Breeding farm?"

"Doyles catch Inezes and use them to make more Doyles," Froggy Girl says. "If a girl baby is born then they grow her until she can carry a Doyle to term. To term? That's what it's called, right?"

"Yes, that's what it's called," Antoinette says.

"Sister meeting," Audrey says.

"Fucking A right, sister meeting," I agree.

We walk to the other side of the roof and huddle close. It's hot and we stink and shit is sweaty, but we lean in, our heads almost touching.

"Breeding farm," Audrey sighs. "Fuck."

"We can't let that shit keep happening," Marcie says.

"No way," Antoinette says.

"Changes the game," I say. "We have a new mission."

"I hear all of that," Audrey says. "But this is the closest we've been to the blind kids. We know Kramer has something to do with them. If we switch our focus now then it could be months, or years, before we catch Kramer's trail again."

"We all hate Kramer," Antoinette says. "But the Doyles have a breeding farm."

"Yeah, I fucking know they have a breeding farm," Audrey snaps. "But we're also talking about a bunch of women that all call themselves Inez."

"No, we killed them," I say. "Shot 'em dead back by the river. These chicks probably ain't Inezes anymore. They're just women."

"Does it fucking matter?" Audrey asks. "What I'm trying to say is what the fuck do we do with these chicks when we save them? Doesn't sound like they're the brightest stars in the sky."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Marcie asks. "We've got ex-cannies back at the Stronghold that aren't rocket scientists."

"One of them is," I say. "Or was. I talked to him. He used to be a rocket scientist. Like for reals. Then Z-Day hit and he had to start eating peoples."

"Really? Who is it?" Antoinette asks.

"You know, that one guy with the red mark on his face," I say.

"Shut the fuck up about the canny rocket scientist," Audrey says. "We vote now. Keep on with the mission as it is or go try to save some stupid bitches that are probably all pregnant and can't be saved anyway."

"Way to sell it," Marcie says.

"Just being realistic," Audrey says. "Say we do find this breeding farm. Say we do kill enough Doyles to get the women out. How many are like full-on pregnant? How many are even going to make the trip to the Stronghold before popping?"

She makes a good point. It's a point Stella would have made, back in the day. But Stella wouldn't have hesitated.

"We save the women," I say. "That's what sisters do. All sisters. We save each other."

"And if one of them, or a few of them, give birth on the way back to the Stronghold?" Audrey asks. "What then? Babies make a lot of fucking noise and noise brings Zs. It also brings crazies and cannies and all the pieces of shit out in the wasteland."

"We deal with that then," I say.

"We deal with that then," Marcie agrees.

"Yep," Antoinette responds and nods.

"Fine," Audrey says without hesitating.

I knew she was gonna agree. No way Audrey would let some Doyles keep a breeding farm. Fuck that shit.

"We need a new plan," Audrey says. "Thoughts?"

"Hey! Froggy Girl!" I call.

Froggy Girl looks over at us, but doesn't get up.

"Come the fuck over here," I say. Probably harsher than I need to, but the bitch needs to get her ass up. She brought up the breeding farm. What? She thinks she can just drop that shit bomb on us and then sit on her ass? More fucking of that shit.

Froggy Girl gets up and walks to us like she's in a daze. If she was planning on keeping up, it sure as fuck don't look like it.

"What?" she asks. Her eyes are checked out. She already thinks she's dead.

"We're gonna save the ladies and the Inezes from the breeding farm," I say. "Right, sisters?"

"Right," they say.

A little of the death leaves Froggy Girl's eyes.

"You are?" she asks. "Why?"

"Because breeding farms are wrong and Doyles need to die for even having one," Audrey says.

"The Inezes said that," Froggy Girl responds. "But we couldn't fight the Doyles. Too many of them and they have all the bullets. So we'd hide."

"That's why they wanted me," I say. "Inez One was gonna use me to take out some Doyles and free the preggers ladies, yeah?"

Froggy Girl shrugs. "Maybe. We just needed a fighter. None of us can fight like you sisters do."

"Not many people can," Audrey says. "So. New plan. Who wants the Barrett?"

"I already have the Barrett," I say.

"Yeah, but only the person that doesn't get captured can keep the Barrett," Audrey says. "No way we let the Doyles get their hands on it."

"Hold the shit on," Marcie says. "Are you saying we let the Doyles get us? Let them capture us and take us to the breeding farm?"

"You know a better way to get there?" Audrey asks.

The smoke has started to get thick and I can hear shit popping as it burns.

"What if they kill us instead of capture us?" Antoinette asks. "They are pretty pissed off."

"They won't kill you," Froggy Girl says. "You're too healthy. They need you. Most of the girls are sick and starving. They give them enough food to give birth then…"

"Jesus," Audrey says. "If there is any guy named Doyle back at the Stronghold, he's gonna have to change his name when we get back."

There's a loud crack and we feel the roof shift.

"Shitfuck," I say. "I'll take the Barrett. I'm the best fighter and almost best shot. You need me to get you out."

"She's the better tracker too," Marcie says, "in case we get separated from her."

"Can you carry a duffel with the rifles?" Audrey asks.

"I have to," I say.

"Don't fuck around, El," Audrey says. "Be real here."

I give her my hard-ass look and she nods.

"Good," she says and grabs a folded duffel bag from her pack.

She tosses it on the ground and none of us need her to tell us what to do. We fill that fucker with all the rifles and pistols and weapons and shit. It's going to be heavy as shitfucking hell, but I can do it. Ain't got a choice.

"Where's the breeding farm?" I ask Froggy Girl as I test the weight of the duffel bag. Ugh. "In that sports complex?"

"No," Froggy Girl says. "It's a real farm. A ranch north of here. They don't keep the women with all the Doyles or bad things happen."

"No shit," Audrey says.

A louder crack and the part of the roof we're standing on starts to buckle. There's smoke and a lot of heat coming up through the tarpaper and shit.

The sisters toss me all of their gear. I stuff as much as I think I can carry into one pack then set that on top of the duffel bag. I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. That's something normal people say, right? Right.

Audrey pulls her knife from her belt and frowns at it.

"We show up down there with even these and they'll shoot the shit out of us," Audrey says. "We have to look weak and beaten. That's how we get taken to the breeding farm."

"Yes, yes," Froggy Girl says. "That's how."

More cracking and some flames come up through the roof. The sisters give me their knives. Damn. They're going in naked.

"We'll go down the side," Audrey says. "There's a drain pipe that looks strong enough. It's right where they'll see us." She pauses and gives me her hard ass look. "You'll have to wait up here until we're all gone then get off this roof and follow fast."

I tap my head. "Already thought of that," I say. "I'll get down. And I'll keep up. No worries, sugar bumps."

"You are one crazy chick," Audrey says and smiles.

She hugs me. Marcie hugs me. Antoinette gives me a huge hug which cracks my back and feels great. Froggy Girl just smiles at me and follows the others as they walk to the corner of the roof where the drain pipe is.

"You take the shots you need, but wait until you see us make our move before you help get us out of there," Audrey says as she hooks a leg over the edge of the roof. There are shouts down below from the Doyles like right away. "You hear me, El? Don't jump the gun. You'll know when we're ready."

"Me? Jump the gun?" I laugh. "Come on."

They laugh too. Sisters like to laugh.

Then Audrey is gone, followed by Antoinette. Marcie waits until Froggy Girl is over the ledge then turns to me as I secure the gear pack to my back and heft the duffel bag.

"Make sure Charlie knows how much I care for him," Marcie says. She hooks her leg over. "Just in case."

"He knows," I say.

"Just in case," she repeats. "Okay?"

"Okay," I say and she's gone.

I stand there and wait. Ain't nothing else I can do. I wait and wait. It ain't easy. I hear shouting and a couple of gunshots. But I still wait. Probably warning shots. There's more shouting and Antoinette cries out. Someone hit her. One of those shitfucking Doyles hit her. I hate Doyles so fucking much.

But I wait. It's what I do. It's my mission. Wait then follow.

The Humvees start up and drive off. I can hear that over the crackling of the fire. I count to thirty, my head turned so I know which direction they go. When I hit thirty-one, I sprint as fast as I can towards the edge of the roof.

My foot touches the small wall that rims the roof and I throw the duffel out into the alley as I jump. I stretch out as far as I can, my arms in front of me like I'm Super Elsbeth. I'd already memorized every inch of every building next to this one. The smoke hits my face and I'm blind, but I don't worry. Five, four, three, two, one.

My hands slam into the window ledge of the building across the alley. Second story. Still a long ways up and a long ways down. I cry out then bite my lip as one of my fingernails bends back. My shoulder ain't feeling so hot neither. But I don't let go. I grip that fucking ledge with every ounce of strength I have.

I pull myself up and elbow the window, shattering the glass. I don't have time to clear it, so I suck it up and roll inside. I'm able to get the Barrett through and it and the gear pack protects most of me, but I still take some shards in my side and backs of my arms. Fuck it. New mission, new energy. New El.

I'm in some office. Lawyer or accountant or one of those businessy types. I don't fucking care. Quick check to make sure I'm not bleeding out (I'm not) and I sprint for the office door. Kick hard, door goes down. Two Zs in the hallway. Fuck the Zs. I chop some heads off then run for the stairs.

Down the stairs, into a lobby. More Zs. Six. I kill five and shove the sixth out of my way. Burst from the front door.

Taillights far off down the street. Then they turn right and are gone. Lots of Zs in the street. Doesn't matter. I kill a dozen or so then fetch the duffel from the alley. I'll check the weapons later. Not now.

Now? I run.

My pack is heavy, the Barrett is heavy, the duffel is heavy, but I have a mission. Save the sisters. Save the preggers ladies. Kill all the fucking Doyles.

Yeah. I smile. I fucking love a good mission where a bunch of shitfuckers die.

Chapter Ten

I'm five blocks away when I hear the playground building collapse. I glance back and see sparks fly high up into the air like fireworks, but ugly. Smoke glows from the flames. The buildings next to it are gonna catch too. This town is gonna burn to the fucking ground.

Good. Fuck this town. It killed Steph. It deserves to fucking die too.

The duffel bag keeps getting heavier, but I don't care. Got a mission. Got to save my sisters and the ladies at the breeding farm.

Breeding farm. Where do these shitfuckers come up with this shit? Where do any of these assholes come up with any of it? Cannies? Who fucking decides one day they'll eat people? Pa decided. He seemed to like it. I never liked it, but Pa made me pretend I did. I pretended hard enough that I believed it. But I never really did believe it. Fuck Pa.

Cannies and crazies and scavengers just shitting on an already shitty world. They strip out the good and the fun and leave nothing but evil ass bullshit. It ain't hard to be good. But it's easier for some to be bad. Fuck them.

I switch the duffel bag to my other arm as I jog down the street. Side street to my right and I take it. I won't be able to keep up with the trucks and Humvees, but I can make my trip easier by using whatever shortcuts I can find.

Seven Zs lurch out in front of me, coming out of the shadows for my yummy people meat. I grip the duffel bag tighter and slash at the first one with one of my blades. His head tumbles to the feet of the others and they stop and stare down at it. Ain't never seen Zs do that before. They just stare at the head.

And all the blood. A lot of blood. Bright red blood. Not thick and gooey like Z blood, but bright red like people blood. Living people blood.

Shit. Not Zs. People.

Speaking of crazies…

"Hey!" one of the people hisses. "You killed Larry!'

"Get the fuck out of my way or I'll do the same to you," I snarl. "I don't wanna, but I will."

"Nice blade you got there," one of the others says. "You got a matching one on your hip. And a couple of pistols. We'll take those from ya."

"No, ya won't," I say and move to dodge around them. They fan out and block the street. I sigh. It's one of my exaggerated sighs that's really loud and really long. "Move. I ain't asking again."

"And we ain't asking again either," the first one says. "Gives us your stuff or we kill you."

They've done a good job at looking like Zs. Even smeared Z guts all over themselves to blend in. Probably how they can walk around without getting eaten.

"You all with the Doyles?" I ask.

"Shut the fuck up and gives us your stuff," the first guy snarls.

"You the leader?" I ask.

"I said to shut the fuck—" he starts saying.

He don't get to finish as I drop my blade and pull a .45, sending a bullet between his eyes. I turn the pistol on the others. They flinch. A couple run off, arms flailing like they're one of those puppet things on TV. I remember those things from when I was a little girl. A frog and a pig get it on, I think. Nasty stuff.

"You," I say to what I think is a woman underneath all the Z guts and grime. She's frozen with fear, her eyes on my pistol. "You know the Doyles?"

"I know them," she says. "But we ain't part of them. We're just folks trying to get by."

"You know where their breeding farm is?" I ask. She nods. "Good. You got a vehicle? A car or truck?"

She shakes her head.

A man stayed with her and he grabs her by the hand.

"Don't kill us, please," he says. "We just wanted your stuff. We didn't want to hurt you or eat you or nothing."

"I ain't gonna hurt you unless you try to hurt me," I say. The duffel bag feels like ten tons of shit and I grunt as I get a better grip on the straps. "You two know where I can find a vehicle? One that runs? The Doyles have any stashed around town?"

"Just let us go, please," the man says.

"Answer my fucking question first," I reply and give my pistol a little shake. I think he pees himself. "Jesus. Do you know where I can get a vehicle?"

"Not one with an engine," the woman says.

"Marjorie!" the man hisses. "No!"

"Hush, David," she snaps.

"What do you mean not one with an engine?" I ask, making sure I focus only on Marjorie. Fuck this David guy. "You got something without an engine?"

"No, we don't," David says and pulls at Marjorie's hand. "Come on. The Zs are coming. We need to hide."

"We have a trike," Marjorie says. "We use it sometimes to haul supplies when we know the Doyles ain't out on the streets. Why do you need a vehicle?"

"This shit is heavy," I say and lift the duffel a few inches higher. My shoulder is singing the song of angry muscles, but I try not to let them see that. "I need to save my strength for when I get to the breeding farm."

A shot rings out and the pavement at my feet splinters. I don't even think, just return fire with the .45. A man screams then falls over from his crappy hiding place behind a broken trash can down the street.

"Stop killing us!" David shouts. "Just stop it!"

"Well, stop being stupid and thinking you can take me!" I shout back.

"You gonna kill the Doyles and save the women from that farm?" Marjorie asks.

"She's just one woman," David says. "She can't do that. Nobody can save those women. They're goners."

"My baby sister is on that farm," Marjorie says. "I can show you where it is."

"No!" David yells. "Marjorie! Stop this! We keep our heads down! We keep hidden! It's how we live!"

"That ain't living," I say to pissy-bitch David. "That's being dead, but still breathing."

"If you promise to save my baby sister, I'll show you where the farm is," Marjorie says. "I'll take you there on the trike."

"What the fuck is a trike?" I ask.

"It's a bike with three wheels," David said. "Duh."

He almost gets shot.

"Follow us," Marjorie says and eyes the .45. "But can you put that away."

"I don't think so," I say. "David's kind of a dick and I don't trust him. I'll just hang onto it."

"This is ridiculous," David says. "The woman can shoot, but no way she can take on the Doyles by herself."

I hook my toe under my blade and kick it up into the air. I tuck the .45 in my belt, catch the blade, slip it into its sheath, then pull the .45 and have it aimed at David's nuts before he can blink.

"I can do a lot more than shoot," I say. "So can my sisters." I lift the duffel. "I show up with all this and we can take down the Doyles. Maybe not all of them, but the ones at the farm."

"Follow us," Marjorie says again and gives David one nasty look as she pushes by him. She waves at me over her shoulder. "Come on. Gunshots are bringing the Zs. We'll be surrounded in minutes."

"You got a lot of Zs in this town," I say as I hurry up next to her.

I let David get behind me, but I'm keeping an eye on him. I almost want him to make a move so I can put a bullet in his head. Almost. It'd be a lot of wasted energy. But then again, bullet in David's head. Hard choice.

"Doyles bring in the Zs and use them," Marjorie says.

"That's kinda what I heard," I say. "So why ain't you part of the Inezes?"

"They're useless," she says. David snorts, but she doesn't argue with him. "No ammunition and no hope to keep away from the Doyles. We stay hidden, so the Doyles leave us alone."

"But they know you're here, right?" I ask. "Eventually they'll get to you. Crazies always do."

"Yeah," Marjorie says. That's all she says. Just a yeah.

We make it a block and I swear my arm is gonna fall off. I want to ditch the duffel, but that can't happen. Marjorie takes us down a small alley and knocks on a metal garage door. It bangs loud in the night and the sound echoes everywhere.

"Sorry," Marjorie says.

"Why you saying sorry to me?" I ask.

Then David makes his move. Goddammit. Fucking crazies. Just when I think maybe I've met someone that ain't totally batshit nuts, I get double crossed and set up.

He swipes at me with a machete. Where the fuck did the asshole get a machete? Did he have it all this time? Was he hiding it up his ass?

It ain't hard to dodge his swipe. He's an idiot that don't know how to fight worth a shit. I duck low and put a bullet in his belly then holster my pistol and pull both blades as I drop the duffel bag. That's what Marjorie was waiting for.

The metal garage door slides open and she grabs my bag then ducks inside the garage as four men come out at me. They ain't much, mostly rags on skeletons, but they have that crazy look in their eyes that the ones that are really out there get. These men like to kill just because it's all that's left that makes them feel more alive than the Zs.

I get that. Been there. Not there anymore. I only kill because stupid shitfucker crazies keep pushing me.

Even being gutshot, David is crazy enough to swipe at me again. So I lop his arm off. The machete clangs on the ground and he starts screaming as he grabs his stump. Blood is spraying everywhere and it gets all over me. Great. Fucking David. I hate this guy.

The four men rush me. No firearms, just heavy chains and lead pipes. They should have brought firearms.

I slice open one belly and spin on my knees as I slice open a second belly. Hot guts spill out into the alley and I move out of the way. I already have David blood on me, I don't need more gunk on me.

The two gutted guys fall fast and I come up and stab a third in the thigh. I twist hard and yank even harder. His whole leg turns into a waterfall of blood and he's bled out and dead before he hits the concrete. The fourth guy swings his heavy chain at me, but I let it hit my forearm and wrap it tight. I yank the chain and the asshole on the other end is pulled right into my blade. I push up and he gasps as the blade pierces his heart.

I pull my blade free and wipe it on his dirty clothes as he falls onto his dead friends' bodies. They have nothing of use to me on them, so I leave the corpses in the alley and head for the garage. I don't run inside, not with a stupid Marjorie having my duffel full of weapons. She could take my head right off.

So I creep close and duck my head inside quick before pulling it back out. Zs moan from the street and I turn to see a shitload of them coming my way. Gunshots and fresh blood. That's how you bring the Zs.

No time to waste.

I'd dive roll into the garage with my .45s out, but I can't really dive roll with a Barrett and a gear pack on my back. So I stay low and crouch walk my way in. My eyes adjust to the dark and all I see are old cars and other shit everywhere. It really is a garage. Like a mechanic's place. Parts and tools and shit. Off in the corner, I see what Marjorie was talking about. A trike. There actually is one.

The bullet hits the wall right next to my head and I jump up and sprint for cover behind one of the broken cars. Two more shots hit the floor where I was running. Marjorie can shoot. Or someone can.

"Knock it off!" I yell. "You're wasting my ammo! I'm gonna need that!"

"Ain't yours no more!" Marjorie yells. "Ours now! Leave or I'll kill you!"

There's the scuff of a footstep off to my left and I turn and fire. A man crumples as his chest blows wide open. Not as wide as if I'd used the Barrett, but he's only about five feet away and a .45 slug will do a lot of damage at five feet.

"Call your people off, toss me my bag, and I'll let you live!" I yell.

Another footstep and I fire again. A woman starts screaming and falls out from behind an old, rusty barrel. I shoot her between the eyes to shut her up.

"Who are you really with?" Marjorie yells. "You part of some outside force coming to take this town from the Doyles? That it? You invading us?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I yell. "Who the fuck would want to invade this town?"

God, people are dumb.

"I am taking back my duffel bag!" I yell. "You can stay alive when it happens or you can die! Your fucking choice!"

"You one of the Heavies?" Marjorie yells. "Is that who's coming to take this town? You people finally gonna make your move on the Doyles?"

I have no idea what she's talking about and I don't fucking care. There's a wrench on the floor by the front tire. I pick it up and chuck it across the garage. It clangs on the wall and Marjorie opens fire. Fucking moron. She can shoot, but she can't think.

I stand and fire, emptying the magazine where I think she's hiding. The rifle fire stops and there's a loud grunt then a soft thud. I can hear Zs out in the alley and I know I only have a couple minutes to make my escape.

I pop out the spent magazine and slap in a new one. I have both .45s out and pointed at where Marjorie is slumped and bleeding. A shadow moves in the corner behind her and I kill it. Don't know if it's a man shadow or woman shadow, but it's now a dead shadow.

"Anyone else want to fucking die?" I yell. "Then go ahead and keep making moves on me!"

No one answers. No one moves.

Marjorie is still breathing, but not for long. Her eyes find mine and I shake my head as I crouch and fetch my duffel bag back. She's lying on one of the M-4s, so I leave it. I think it's Audrey's, but not sure. She'll be pissed, but I don't feel like rolling a dying Marjorie off it. It'll just get blood on the other guns when I toss it in the duffel bag.

"Fuck you," I say and put her out of her misery with a hard stomp to her skull. Her neck snaps and her eyes go empty. I hear a gasp from the shadows, but that's it. No one comes for me.

I heft the duffel and run to the trike. Might as well get something out of this bullshit. The trike has a rusty wire basket on the back. I think it's rust. Maybe blood. Can't tell. Don't care. I throw the duffel, Barrett, and gear pack into the basket then roll the trike to the garage door.

Shit ton of Zs outside munching on the corpses of David and his idiot friends. They don't even notice me as I wheel the trike by them. The Zs, that is. They don't notice me. I guess David and his idiot friends don't either because they're dead, but I was talking about the Zs.

A lot more out in the street and they see me as I hook my leg over the trike and hop on. I haven't ridden a bike in a long time, but it's like they say and it all comes back to me. It ain't easy with all the weight in the basket, but it ain't as hard as it would be with two wheels. I like this trike.

My .45s are in their holsters, but I have my blades out, gripped tight against the handlebars of the trike as I pedal towards a horde of Zs. Nothing else I can do. They're between me and the direction I need to go to get to the breeding farm. I think. The Doyle trucks and our Humvees are long gone. Ain't no thing, they'll be easy to track. But I got to get past these Zs first.

The trike is moving pretty fast when I hit the horde. I expect the Zs to try to knock me off, but they just reach out with stiff arms. I chop those off. Hey, if Zs are gonna reach out like that then they deserve to get their arms chopped off. Stupid Zs.

I keep pedaling, pushing the trike through the horde as I slash and chop, slash and chop. A Z falls in front of me and I push hard with me feet, sending the trike up over its body. That's fun. I almost lose my balance and get toppled over when the rear wheels come down, but I keep it all together.

The Z-horde is thick and I know I can't keep pushing the trike through. So I do what I should have done at first, but didn't think about it because I was too busy remembering how to ride a bike. I pull two grenades from my belt, pull the pins with my teeth, and lob them into the horde. That shit is loud. Real fucking loud. My ears are ringing by the time the Z parts stop raining down.

What's left of the horde just starts wandering off as I get back to pedaling. I'm coated in Z guts and gunk, so they don't give a shit about me no more. To them, I'm just some stinky trike rollin' on down the street. Fresh meat don't smell like I smell.

I'm way off the Doyles' trail. Way off. It takes me most of the night to find any hint of where they might have gone. I don't know if they thought they were being followed or not, but they did a good job of hiding their route out of town. I pedal into at least three more heavy hordes before I'm able to get on the right road.

The sun starts coming up in the east by the time I think I have them. The sky is a bright pink and purple, but early morning purple, not evening purple. There's a difference. With those colors at my back, I turn off a broken road and onto what's just barely more than a dirt trail. Fresh tire tracks in the dirt. Easy to spot now that I have some light and I'm not trying to dodge Z-hordes.

I pull the trike over to the side of the dirt road. Wide open ahead of me. If they have spotters then I'm already spotted. No sign of any breeding farm, but there is a rise in the road about a half mile away that blocks my view. I bet they have that farm tucked between a couple of hills, all nice and snug and safe and easy to protect.

Not sure if they stand a chance protecting it from me, but then I guess they didn't expect me or my sisters to show up. Who did they expect? The Heavies? Those guys don't sound good. They never do.

The place is wide open. Ain't nowhere to hide the trike or the duffel and gear pack. But I can't rightly roll on up to their front gate and wave. They see me coming, they're gonna put a bullet between my eyes. I look about and see a ditch a few yards off. It ain't a big ditch, but it's big enough.

I hate what I have to do, but circumstances ain't ideal. And I'm tired as hell.

The trike won't fit in the ditch, but I will. I roll the trike halfway down the dirt trail and leave it lying on its side. If some Doyles come by, they'll be looking at the trike in the road, not at the ditch they pass with me in it.

I jog back to the ditch, hope no one has been watching me, and jump down in. I wrap myself around the duffel and gear pack then pull some dead scrub brush over me and close my eyes.

I need some sleep so I have energy to do what needs doing.

Chapter Eleven

It's hot as fuck in the ditch. I don't so much sleep as lie there and sweat. Still, not running and fighting lets my muscles recover a little while my brain goes over every scenario it can think up. It can think up a lot and I grumble at my brain. Stupid brain.

Doesn't matter what it thinks up, there are only two options when I get to the breeding farm. Either there's a way to sneak in or there isn't. If there is then I go all stealth and kill as many Doyles as possible then find my sisters. Once they are armed then we kill a whole bunch more Doyles and free the ladies held prisoner. That's one option.

The other option is there is no way to sneak in. The farm could be heavily guarded or there's just no cover for me to sneak up on it. That's very possible. Especially if the Doyles have some enemies out here. They'd want all approachable angles to be clean lines of sight. If they aren't total morons. I'm hoping they are, but odds says there are a couple smart ones in the bunch.

So what the fuck do I do if I can't sneak up on them? That's the problem my brain locks onto while I lie in the ditch with sweat pooling between my ass cheeks. What do I do? I have a few ideas, most of them include blowing shit up and causing a distraction while I pick Doyles off with the Barrett. But that don't free the sisters. They could be chained up by now or stuck in cages or whatever happens to women on a breeding farm.

I ain't heard no explosions or men screaming their lungs out, so I know the Doyles haven't tried to force themselves on the sisters yet. Yet. But they are bound to.

My throat is dry as fuck, but I save my water for later. I just lie there and let my clothes get damper and damper with my sweat as I try to figure out stuff that I have no way of figuring out without more intel. The more I think about it, the more I realize we may have fucked up. We didn't plan anything out, just went for it. Gave ourselves up thinking we could beat the Doyles whenever we want.

But what if the reason I ain't hearing screaming Doyles or an exploding farm is because they killed my sisters right off? Great, now I have that idea rolling around my brain. Too many shitfucking unknowns.

The sun is high in the sky when I say fuck it and grab the gear. Sleep isn't coming and waiting for night may not make a damn bit of difference. I need information. I need to do some recon on the Doyles' breeding farm. I need to find out what is happening to my sisters.

I got sand in my craw, but I ignore it as I gear up and start the long, slow crawl to the farm. On my belly, I go hand over hand, my ass barely sticking up enough to keep me moving. I shove the duffel in front of me and grunt under the weight of the gear pack and the Barrett. It takes me thirty minutes to go maybe a quarter mile. Maybe.

Four stretches like that and I'm over the slight rise and crawling across more empty desert before I catch sight of the farm. It's not tucked between any hills, just out in the open for everyone to see. I ease out a pair of binoculars and take a gander.

Shit.

Big fence. Double fence. Chain link with razor wire angled outward and inward. The Doyles don't want folks escaping or trying to get in. They also don't want people sneaking up on them because they have guards patrolling the fence line every twenty yards. And the guards don't look sleepy or bored. They're on alert. No idea if they're on alert because they think someone is coming for my sisters or if they're always like that. The way the guards are doing their jobs, I say they are always like that. Definitely got some military folks in their ranks. It all looks too orderly to be just crazies running the show.

But the guards and the fence ain't the big problems. It's the gun nests and watchtowers. Eight watchtowers. One at each corner of the farm and one in the middle of each fence. Plus a guard station at their big rolling gate. Two riflemen up in each watchtower with heavy-duty scopes. Six guards on the gate. Then you have the gun nests. They're dug into the earth with only a slit of black shadow showing above a bunch of sand bags. And the barrel of a big machine gun. That's showing too.

My guess is they have a gun nest on each side of the farm. At least two Doyles in each nest, one to fire and one to feed the belt ammo into the machine gun. That's bad news.

We did not think this through very well.

So what's my play? I'm lying in the dirt with a bunch of dead scrub brush and twigs woven into my back so no one can see my pack or the Barrett. I have a duffel bag full of weapons in front of me, coated in dirt and dust so it's hard for anyone to see me or it for anything other than a big lump of dirt. I've been watching the Doyles for twenty minutes and no alarms have gone up.

That is the good news. The only good news.

It takes me another thirty minutes to study what's inside the fence. Eight rows of eight tents. Big tents, like for weddings and shit. Not that I've been to a wedding. Maybe I have. I don't know. But the tents look like the ones used at outdoor weddings I've seen in magazines. What? I look at old magazines. I like the pictures of the world pre-Z.

Sixty-four tents. No other buildings. Some of those tents have to be where they keep the ladies. Some have to be where the Doyles sleep. Some have to be for supplies and for medical reasons when the ladies give birth. One of those tents has to be where the commander is.

Oh, yeah, they have a commander. I don't care if they're all called Doyle, you don't have a set up like this breeding farm and decide shit by everyone raising their hands. Someone is in charge, and by the looks of things, that person is a hard ass. I need to find that hard ass. Cut off the head of the snake and the body starts to flail about.

Speaking of snakes, I hear a rustle next to me and a big, fat rattler slithers by. He don't pay no mind to me. I'm just a big heat signature in a desert filled with more heat. Not that he gets too close. He's within striking distance, but far enough away that he can escape if I make a move for him. Snakes is more afraid of us than we are of them. That's the simple, natural truth.

More afraid of us than we are of them…

What are the Doyles afraid of? What gets them scared and feeling all weak in the knees? That's what I need to figure out if I'm going to beat them. Because a straight-ahead assault ain't going to do it. And considering how tightly locked down they got their farm, a sneak attack won't even work. They're waiting for that.

What do they fear?

Wait… Wrong question. The real question is why the fuck do they have so much security around this farm? The Inezes weren't strong enough to take them on. Those crazies I killed in the garage were just a rag tag group of idiots surviving on scraps. No threat there. So what is the threat they are worried about?

The Heavies? The group that stupid (and dead) Marjorie mentioned? Is that the other force in the area? Maybe. Maybe not. Even if they are, so what? How do I use that to help get my sisters out of the farm? Oh, and get the preggers ladies out too. That's why we're in this mess. The preggers ladies be needing some saving.

Well, fuck a duck in the butt. I ain't got a clue of what to do next.

Good thing life is funny and decides to hand me an answer. Maybe not a full answer, but enough of one for me to pay attention.

One of the tents opens and about six guards come out with their rifles pointed at Audrey. She's pretty bloody, her face all swollen and shit, but she's walking just fine, even with heavy manacles on her ankles and wrists. I have a feeling one of the Doyles got a little fresh and found out the hard way what happens when you try to stick your hand in a sister's pants when she doesn't want you to. I wonder if she killed the shitfucker or just made him rethink his life choices. Probably the last part or she'd be dead.

Audrey keeps her head down, but I can tell she's scanning the area. Her eyes are darting left and right. She stumbles and half the Doyle guards look like they're going to shoot her. Maybe she hurt more than just one of them. They're scared shitless enough.

None of them touch her. They wait until she gets to her feet. Then she does something that surprises even me. She looks right at me. No way she can see me, but it sure as fuck looks like she can. Then she turns her head and stares off to my right before one of the Doyles gets the balls to give her a shove with the barrel of his rifle.

Audrey stumbles a bit then shuffles along towards the middle row of tents. I bet that's where the commander is. They've tagged her as the leader of my sisters and now she's being taken to chat with their leader. I don't know if that buys me more time or if her time is about up. You never know with crazies. I sure as shit hope it buys me more time.

The image of her staring at me makes me shiver. Why the hell did she do that? Did she somehow catch a reflection off my binoculars? No way. Not these things. Anti-reflective surface. All of our binoculars and scopes have it. What the fuck? And what was she staring at after she locked onto me?

I slowly shift my body and turn my binoculars on the landscape around me. I instantly see movement about fifty yards away to my right. Not much movement and I probably wouldn't have even noticed if I wasn't so hyped up and super aware of every damn thing going on around me. Not a snake and not a critter. I see a person doing exactly what I'm doing, aiming a pair of binoculars on me. We're staring right at each other. Uh-oh.

Right now, in this moment, I wish Long Pork was telling the story. He'd have something funny to say about what goes down. That guy had a way with words. Me? I ain't got fucking time.

Fucking time or not, I can't exactly hurry away from where I am without the farm's guards seeing me. So I slowly tuck my binoculars away and start scooting backwards across the dirt. I have to go slow so I don't poof up any dirt clouds. It is about to drive me crazy how slow I have to go.

I glance over at the other person and see they're doing the exact same thing. We're in a slow-motion, backwards race to get away from the farm. If I wanted the person dead, I could totally take them out from here, but that'd make noise and noise would bring guards and then shit gets fucked and blah blah blah.

Slow-motion race. Yay.

My heels dig into the slight rise in the dirt and I crawl up over it, my eyes locked onto the farm. Spy guy to my right is a worry, but not as much as the heavily armed Doyles. I spook him and maybe Audrey doesn't come out of the commander's tent.

Once I'm over the rise and have some cover, I roll onto my side and pull a .45. I take aim at Mr. Mystery, but he's gone. I don't see the dickhead anywhere. I am assuming it's a guy. Not quite sure. I couldn't tell from the angle and distance between us.

A cloud of dirt poofs up by my left foot and I jerk it back. No crack of a gunshot, so the guy must be using a suppressor. Pussy. My eyes scan the area, and at first I don't see him, then I see a tiny flash before another poof of dirt kicks up by my belly. Half an inch higher and he would have gutted me.

Fuck this shit.

I roll and roll and roll until I am sure he can't get a bead on me. Too much scrub brush and crap in the way. I yank the Barrett from my back which isn't easy when you can't fucking stand up.

Man, I got so much sand in my holes, it ain't funny.

With a .50 caliber rifle in my hands, I feel a fuck-ton safer. I open the scope and start hunting. Yes, yes, I know if I fire the Barrett then everyone from here to Mexico will hear me, but fuck it. Mystery Dickhead took some shots at me. If I play this right, I'll take him out and then be able to scramble back down the dirt trail and away from the farm before the Doyles can get their trucks started.

They'll find his body first and maybe get confused enough to not come searching for me. What? It could happen.

Finally, I get his position and I place my finger on the trigger. Slow breaths. Don't pull, just squeeze the trigger at the moment between breaths. Let the gun do the work. I start to feel the action on the trigger then stop. I see him, but something's wrong. He's moving too much. Shaking around.

Then a big gust of wind hits and he splits in half. His top half stays put, but his bottom half starts tumbling like one of them desert weeds. Those legs are gone on a little trip. I track them with my scope and see they ain't legs. They're just pants. Empty pants.

Shitfuck.

"Slow," a man whispers from my side. "Very slow."

I turn my head and slowly take my hand off the Barrett. There's a man in his boxers and a tank only a couple feet away. He's covered in dirt and has a .45 of his own aimed at me.

"You're quiet," I say. "Really quiet."

"I am," he says. "Now, how about you take those .45s off your belt and toss them to me. Then those blades. You can leave the Barrett right where it is. I doubt you could swing that around and get a bead on my before I put a bullet through your eye."

"You sure?" I ask as I take the .45s and toss them to him. "Want to bet?"

He eyes me and I eye him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks. "You with those other women the Doyles brought in?"

"I'm just a scared wanderer person that got lost," I say. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Jack," he says. "Jack Heavy."

"Heavy?" I ask. "Like the Heavies? They your people? You got a group of crazies around here fighting with the Doyles?"

"How have you heard of the Heavies?" he asks. "Who told you that name?"

"Some crazy bitch in town," I say. "She's dead now because she tried to steal my duffel bag."

He looks at the duffel bag.

"What's in there?" he asks.

"Dolls," I say. "I like dolls."

"Bullshit," he says and his hand tightens on the pistol. But his finger is to the side of the trigger, resting on the guard. He doesn't want to shoot me.

"You hate the Doyles?" I ask. "Because I hate the Doyles. Maybe we can make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" he asks.

"You and your people help me get my sisters back," I say. "We help you kill every last Doyle in this whole place. The Doyles at the farm and the Doyles in town."

"I like that idea," Jack Heavy says. "But there's one problem with that."

"What's the problem?" I ask. "Seems easy enough. You and yours help me and mine. All the Doyles die. No problem."

He sighs then starts to respond. He sighs again and starts to respond again, but just shakes his head back and forth.

"You have guns in that duffel?" he asks.

"Maybe," I say. "You willing to have your people help me?"

"No," he says.

"No?" I ask. "Why the fuck not? I'm not a friend of the Doyles. I hate the Doyles! You look like you hate the Doyles too. Why won't you have your people help me?"

"Because that's the problem," he says. "I don't have any people. I'm it. I'm the Heavies. All of them."

"Oh," I say. "Well, shitfuck."

Chapter Twelve

I'm a little disappointed. I can admit that. A little disappointed.

No Heavies. Just a heavy. A Jack Heavy. If that's his real name.

"Is that your real name?" I ask. "Jack Heavy? Kind of a funny name."

"What's yours?" he asks as he slowly puts his .45 away and tosses mine back to me. Nice guy. A little too trusting, but nice.

I think for a second then say, "Elsbeth."

"Elizabeth?" he asks.

"No. Elsbeth," I say again.

"And I have the funny name," he says.

The guy is older than me by about ten years. He's fit and knows how to use a pistol. Easy to see by how he handles it. I don't even need to see him shoot to know he probably hits his target every time. Those missed shots earlier were on purpose. I know a shooter when I see a shooter.

"Why would that chick say there are lots of Heavies?" I ask him.

We're both scooting backwards, staying low as we move our butts farther away from the breeding farm. We aren't heading to the main road, but in a different direction. Jack says he has a Jeep we can use to get away. But it's a bit of a hike. Or crawl. More of a crawl until we can get over the small hill just a few yards away then we hike.

Not going to be fun once we're up on the hill, too much visibility from the farm. But if we can make it over without being seen then we can stand up and walk the rest of the way. I am looking forward to that.

"I'm good at what I do," Jack says. "The local crazies, and the Doyles, all think I'm a team of men when I'm obviously just the one."

"Just the one," I say. "This sucks ball shits."

"Does it?" he chuckles. "Ball shits. Nice."

"Why would they think you're a bunch of men when you're just you?" I ask.

"Because I always shout 'Come on Heavies! Kill them all!' when I hit them," he says. "And I'm fast, so I move around a lot and pretend to have different voices."

"Oh," I say. "Different voices are fun."

He gives me that look people give me when they first meet me. He thinks I'm one of the crazies.

"Yeah, different voices are fun," he says. That surprises me. "I can do a good falsetto, so the Doyles think there are some women in the Heavies. It drives them nuts because they believe all women are inferior to men and need to be captured and controlled."

"And bred," I say. "Fucking Doyles."

"Yeah," he chuckles. "Fucking Doyles."

We get to the base of the hill, which means we're pretty fucking exposed, but there's enough brush around to keep the Doyle guards from seeing us right away. Once we crawl up that hillside, though, I expect to feel the sting and hear the buzz of bullets. I like the buzz, it's a nice sound, but the sting ain't so nice. Nope. Not nice at all.

"Ready?" Jack asks and nods to the hillside. "We should go one at a time."

"Same time," I say. "We need to move our asses. Can't waste the day. If they see us, they'll pause to pick a target. Gives us a half-second lead."

"A half-second?" Jack chuckles. "You're that good that you think in half-seconds?"

"Yeah," I say. Not gonna lie to the guy.

"Your friends inside that good?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say and nod.

"Then why are they inside still?" he asks. "I'd think they'd have busted out by now."

"They're waiting for me," I say. "I come in from the outside and create some chaos so they can tear shit up inside."

"But you didn't expect the level of security the Doyles have, did you?" he says and chuckles again.

Usually, I'd smack an asshole that chuckles at me so much. But, like I said, he's a nice guy. Ain't no mean chuckle. He just thinks I'm in over my head. I may be, but fuck it, I don't care. I just care about getting my sisters out of there and freeing the preggers ladies.

"I didn't expect all the security," I say. "Why they got so much security?"

"Part of that is my fault," Jack says. "I've hit them a few times and they've upped their game. There's also the cannies over in the next valley. They make plays now and again, looking for some quick meat. They never get inside, but they've hit trucks as they come and go."

"Trucks come and go," I mumble. "Can we—?"

He cuts me off. "Easier to hit the farm than try to take a truck as it's going inside. They put everything they have at that front gate. And they search every truck from front to back, top to bottom. I tested it once by taping a bouncy ball up underneath. They found it. If they can find that then they'll find either one of us."

"I fucking hate Doyles," I growl.

He chuckles again and pats my shoulder. "Yep," he says. "I fucking hate Doyles too." He looks at the hillside and gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Ready?"

I like how he squeezes my shoulder.

"Ready," I say.

We go. No waiting or hesitation. No crawl a few feet then wait. He takes the duffel while I carry my gear pack and the Barrett. We're almost at the top when the first shot rings out. From that distance, the bullet would have already hit by the time we heard the shot, so they missed on the first try.

"You good?" he asks as we move faster.

"Good," I say.

Dirt kicks up by my face and I wince. The sound of the shot reaches us just as we reach the top and roll to the other side, safe and covered.

"You good?" I ask him.

"Good," he says. He gets up into a crouch, the duffel bag slung across his back. Guy is strong to move as fast as he does with that much gun weight on him. "Come on. We get down in this gully and follow it for a quarter mile. My Jeep is there."

"Is it gully or gulch?" I ask.

"What?" He frowns at me. "What are you talking about?"

"Is it a gully or a gulch? What's the difference?" I ask.

"What does it matter?" he replies.

"I don't know," I say and shrug as we hit kinda level ground. "This is like the Wild West, so I thought ditches like this are called gulches."

"I honestly don't know," he says. "I'm from San Diego. We have fish tacos and some nice waves out there. I don't know shit about gullies or gulches."

"Okey dokey, just wondering," I say as we follow the gully (gulch?) for a while.

We have our .45s out and take the path nice and easy, watching for Doyle scouts or whatever else might come for us. I ain't happy to hear there are some cannies close enough to make trouble. Yeah, it's great they're making trouble for the Doyles, but cannies don't discriminate who they fuck with. They'll fuck with anyone they think they can eat.

We hit a bend in the gully and Jack holds out a hand. I stop and wait, listening hard against the wind. It's blowing strong and ain't doing my ears no favors. Nor my eyes. Lots of dust and grit swirling around.

Jack whistles low and I hear something I ain't heard in a very long time.

"We're good," he says and straightens up.

We get around the bend and I just stare. Not at the Jeep, which is a sweet ride, but at what's sitting in the front seat. A dog.

"That's a dog," I say. "You got a dog."

"I do," Jack says.

More of that chuckling. I give him a smile. Between the chuckles and the dog, I feel like a girl. I don't quite remember being a girl, other than those stupid nightmares I get, but this feels about right. No worrying whether I'm going to get killed. No worrying about who I got to kill. Just a nice guy chuckling and a pretty dog.

"What's his name?" I ask.

"Muffin," he says.

"Muffin?" I laugh.

"Yeah," he says and his face turns to storm clouds.

"Sorry, I wasn't making fun," I say. "Just wasn't expecting that name."

"My daughter named him," Jack says. "My oldest daughter."

"You have more than one?" I ask.

"I did," he says then points at the Jeep. "Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here." He snaps his fingers. "Muffin! Backseat!"

The dog jumps into the back as we hurry to the Jeep. It's one of those Wranglers. Not tricked out like Critter's, but it has some modifications. Lots of heavy-gauge wire-screen bolted to the roll bars and frame to keep the Zs out. The tires are big and look pretty new and the suspension is lifted pretty high, so I have to climb in by grabbing a roll bar and hauling myself up. When I sit down, I notice there're a couple of weird hooks here and there that I can't figure out.

"What are these for?" I ask.

"Rifles," he says as he starts up the Jeep. It's quiet. He's got a pretty damn good muffler on the thing and must have the engine insulated somehow. "I can rest the barrels there and it steadies my shots."

"You shoot from the passenger seat?" I ask, patting the hook by me.

"I wire in rifles and use lines to pull the triggers," he says as he backs us up a bit then swings the Jeep around and heads right up the side of the gully. He floors it and we're moving fast across the scrubland. "I have to keep up the image of lots of Heavies with lots of guns."

"Right," I say and smile.

I look back over my shoulder and Muffin is staring right at me. His eyes are bright blue and he's about fifty pounds. Not a huge dog, but no small yapper. He's a funky blue/grey color with black spots all over him. He looks like a stormy evening.

"Blue Heeler," Jack says. "That's his breed. I think. He's probably a mix with some pit and maybe Australian Shepherd. Not that I care."

Muffin gets tired of staring at me and looks out to the side, his mouth open and tongue hanging out. I start to turn away too, but he perks up and that tongues goes right back in his mouth as his ears stand up straight.

Jack sees all this in the rearview mirror.

"What is it, Muff?" he asks.

I look the way the dog is looking and see a Z stumbling along the desert, chasing after a much faster rabbit. The Z looks like one of the fast ones, but it ain't faster than a jackrabbit. Not much is.

"Oh," Jack says. "Yeah, we're getting more and more like those around here lately. The fuckers can climb too, if they want to."

"Yep," I say. "I've met a few."

"Where?" Jack asks. "Where are you from?"

"North," I say.

"There's a lot of places north," he replies. "Where exactly?"

"Colorado," I say.

He smiles and nods. "Okay. I'll let you tell me when you know you can trust me."

"That could be a while," I say.

"You're already in my Jeep with me so you must trust me some," he says.

"I trust that I can handle myself around you if you make a move. That's my life," I say. "But I don't trust you with the lives of my friends or my family."

"Fair," he says. "I wouldn't either."

We're quiet for a while. I think I see a road a ways up, but Jack doesn't head for it. He turns the Jeep parallel and stays cross country for a good fifteen minutes before he aims for a dark stain on the horizon. I squint into the sun until I realize we're heading for trees.

"Lunch time," he says as we get closer to the trees. It's a small forest of pines all bunched together. Must be some creek close by. "I like to stop here and wait. That way I can be sure the Doyles haven't followed me."

"I could eat," I say.

"I bet you could." He laughs and looks back at Muffin. "You hungry, pal?"

Muffin gives a short bark and starts smiling again, his tongue hanging out.

We get to the trees and Jack weaves through them until he sets us next to a nice mound of rocks. With rocks to our backs, he turns the Jeep around so we can face the way we came. The trees aren't super tall, but they give us some shade and some shadows to stay hidden in while we eat and wait.

"This is egg salad," I say as I shove half the sandwich in my mouth. So good. Soooo good.

"Yeah," he says and gives me a strange look.

I chew for a while then think about what I'm eating. I swallow and think about the flavor.

"Not chicken eggs," I state. "What kind of bird are they?"

"Nope," he says. "Not bird. Tortoise eggs. You have to find them right away before the embryos develop. Not so easy, but I got lucky this time."

"Yummy," I say. I've eaten way worse things than turtle eggs, so I ain't gonna complain. And it's soooo good.

"Tastes like farts," he says.

"What?" I ask and nearly choke. Those words bring back memories. Memories of my first days with the Stanfords…

"My youngest daughter used to say egg salad tastes like farts," Jack says. "She'd still eat it, but she always made a point of telling us that."

"Kids are silly," I say.

"You have any?" he asks. "Or did?"

"No," I say. "Can't have babies. Sisters can't have babies."

"What does that mean?" he asks.

"My sisters and me," I reply. "Our insides got messed up with gene therapy and drugs and conditioning and shit. Can't have babies ourselves. Bummer. Marcie would be a good mom. Antoinette would be a good mom."

"Not you?" he asks. I shrug. "What do you mean by gene therapy and conditioning? What's that about?"

"Doesn't matter," I say. "Long story. Old news. Blah blah blah."

"You're a weird one," he says and chuckles.

I don't like being called weird, but that chuckle makes it better.

"No offense," he says. "You just aren't like anyone else I've met. You seem crazy, but I know you aren't. You're not like any of the women in the Navy or like my wife, either."

"I'm Elsbeth," I say. "Only one of me."

"I hear that," Jack says.

He opens a thermos and takes a swig then hands it to me. I sniff and smile.

"Bourbon?" I ask.

"The good stuff," Jack says. "That shit was two hundred dollars a bottle back in the day. I like a little shot after lunch. Calms me down and helps me focus."

I take a sip and let it slide down my throat. It don't burn at all. Smooth.

"Time to go," Jack says. "No one is following us. It'll be about an hour before we get to my place."

"An hour? We're going a long ways away," I say. "I ain't comfortable with going that far."

"It's not far," Jack says. "I just don't take the same route each time. We'll be zigzagging and doing some double backs. Just to make sure."

"Just to make sure," I say and nod.

He starts up the Jeep and we're off. Once we're out of the pines, I kick my feet up on the dash and relax a little. A little. Not too much. Just enough to let my shoulders go slack so I don't get a headache.

The sun is hot, but the air whips around me and I almost fall asleep from the soooooo good sandwich and the bourbon. I don't fall asleep because that would be stupid, but I let my eyes droop some.

We turn this way and that way and it's kinda fun. I like the Jeep better than riding in one of the Humvees. Humvees is for war, Jeeps is for fun.

"Why are you here?" I ask. "You said you were from San Diego. That's California, not New Mexico. Why are you here?"

"You only need to ask the question once," Jack says.

He twitches a little, but not enough that makes me worry. I can tell he wants to lie or let the subject drop. But he also wants to talk. I don't think Jack has many friends.

"My ex-wife lived down in Albuquerque," Jack says after a couple minutes. "She had custody of my girls. They all lived together with her new husband when everything went to shit."

"New husband," I say. "He a good man?"

"He wasn't me," Jack says. "So, yeah, he was a good man."

"You seem like a good man to me," I say. "You could have tried to kill me, but you missed on purpose. I call that good."

"Who says I missed on purpose?" he asks.

"Please," I say and laugh. "I know a missed shot."

He eyes me quickly then turns back to the road.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks then shakes his head and keeps talking. "When the Zs started going after folks, I knew I had to get to New Mexico. Luckily, I was home when it all fell apart. They tried to call us up, but SoCal went down hard and fast and even if I had tried to get to the base, I wouldn't have made it. I grabbed my kit and bug-out bag and hopped in my Jeep." He nods his head backwards. "Found Muffin along the way and knew the girls would love him. He was a tiny little thing that someone had ditched on the side of the road."

"They ditched him? A puppy?" I ask. "Shitfuckers."

"Shitfuckers for sure," he says.

"You make it in time?" I ask.

He winces. And shakes his head.

"No," he says. "My ex-wife and two of my girls were already gone. The new husband."

"Not such a good guy," I say.

"He was when he was alive," Jack says. "When he died, he killed them and ate them while my oldest daughter hid up in the attic crawlspace." He swallows hard and wipes a tear from his eye. "Goddammit. I should be used to this."

"You don't have to say no more if you don't want to," I say.

"No, it's good," he replies. "I haven't told this story in a long, long time." He takes a deep breath. "When I got to Albuquerque, I had to fight my way to their house. I killed a lot of Zs. A lot. Had a huge horde on my ass when I burst through that door. It looked like they'd held out for a couple of weeks before he turned and killed them. I cracked his skull open without hesitating then started to search the house."

He turns the Jeep onto a rocky trail and we start heading for a small ridge.

"I almost left. Almost," he says. "Then I heard her. I heard my Kimmy crying for me. I tore that house apart before I realized her voice was coming from above me. She was almost dead, had heat stroke bad, and was so dehydrated that she barely weighed more than a pillow. Teenage girl, but light as a toddler."

"You got out," I say.

"I got out," Jack echoes. "I tucked Muffin in her arms, strapped her tight into the backseat, and I drove as far as I could."

We drive up over the ridge and stop right next to a couple of huge boulders. The Jeep fits between them perfectly.

"We were on the road for weeks and weeks until I found this place," he says as he hops out of the Jeep. He moves quickly to a pile of rocks between the boulders and shoves a few out of the way. He comes back with a gas can and fills the Jeep's tank, gives me a smile, and returns the can to its hiding spot. "I like to be prepped and ready."

"Me too," I say.

"Come on," Jack says and waves to me. "I'll show you the place. It ain't much, but it's safe and secure."

I get out and Muffin hops down. The dog stays right behind me. Good dog.

Chapter Thirteen

It's a big cave. A cavern? I don't know, but it's big.

The entrance isn't. It's just a slit in the ridge and you have to walk on a trail barely wider than Muffin to get to it.

We get through the slit and the whole place opens up inside. Enough room for all the sisters and more. Boxes are stacked all over and there're two beds pushed up against one side of the cave. Two beds.

"Where's your daughter now?" I ask. "She out?"

"The Doyles have her," Jack says as he tosses his gear on a plastic folding table. He sits down and starts pulling out the weapons then reaches under the table and grabs a cleaning kit. "They've had her for a few years. Fucking years. That's why I was at the farm."

"You haven't been able to get to her in years?" I ask. He looks mad so I hold up my hands. "Not judging. That just says a lot about the Doyles."

"Yeah, it does," Jack replies. "It took me a while to track her down. I didn't know what happened to her for most of the first year. I refused to believe she became one of the Zs or that she was dead. My father's intuition said she was alive and someone had her."

"I get that," I say and pat my belly. "Good to trust your gut."

"I was scavenging in North Valley when I saw some Doyles heading out of town with women trussed up in one of their trucks," he says as he strips his .45 and begins to clean it.

The smell of gun oil is strong in the cave. Smells good.

"I hung back and went in at night," Jack says. "Like I said before, they didn't quite have as much security then as they do now. I was able to slip past some guards and get a good look around. One thing I saw was my daughter. She was in a bed and she was already pregnant."

He keeps cleaning, but stops talking. Muffin gives a whine and lies down at Jack's feet.

"Fucking Doyles," I mutter.

"Fucking Doyles," he says and sighs. "I saw her. She was maybe ten meters away from me. Know why I couldn't get her out? Because one of the other pregnant girls started screaming for help. She woke up and saw me then just started screaming her head off. I tried. I tried to get to Kimmy, but there were too many Doyles. I knew if I didn't get out then I wouldn't get out at all. So I left her and ran like a coward."

"Can’t save no one if you're dead," I say. "Simple math."

"Right," he says. His chuckle is sad. "Simple math."

"You take some Doyles down?" I ask. "Kill a few on your way out?"

"I killed a lot," he says. "Fifteen, at least. They were sleepy and didn't expect someone like me coming at them. If I'd had my team with me, we would have cleared that place and saved every last one of those girls, including my Kimmy. But my guys were off trying to survive with their own families. Or dead because they followed orders and left on suicide missions."

"Who gave you orders?" I asked. "What team did you have?"

"At that time?" he says. "The President of the United States was giving the orders. But even the POTUS couldn't come between me and my daughters. Not once I saw what was happening. I made the right call!" He smacks himself on the chest. Hard. "I made the right fucking call! Kimmy would have been dead if I'd gone off with my team."

I cock my head and frown. "You said the Navy. You're saying team. You a SEAL or something?"

"I was," he says. "Not Team Six, but close. We were the alternative if Six was busy. At the end there, they were very busy. No idea what happened to them. No idea what happened to any of my teammates. It kills me not to know."

"Sorry," I say. "Brothers. Just like sisters."

He sets the .45 aside and stares right through me.

"Tell me who you are," he says. "What's this sisters shit? You've had training, obviously. Were you in the Army? Marines? Where'd you train?"

"North Carolina," I say.

"Ah, Fort Bragg," he says and nods. "Army then."

"Nope," I say. "Asheville. Not Army. But I know some of the guys from Bragg. I screw a sniper back home."

He doesn't know what to say to that. Most people wouldn't.

"Uh, my sisters, we're special," I say. "Off the books. Covert shit that wasn't exactly legal or patriotic. Messed-up spy stuff. We got rescued and then Z-Day hit. Got trained by a woman named Foster and—"

"Hold the fuck on," Jack snaps. First time he's gotten angry with me. "Foster? As in Tersch-Foster security?"

"Yep," I say. "That's her. You ever meet her?"

"Met her father once," Jack says. "Creepy fucking guy, but he knew his stuff."

"Yeah, they're good folks," I say.

"They are? Is Foster still alive?" Jack asks.

"No, she got her head cut off," I say. "But some of her folks live back at the… Live back where I'm from. They helped keep good people alive. They're good people."

"Okay," Jack says. "If you say so."

He picks the .45 back up and continues cleaning it. He has that done in seconds and puts it all back together, checks the action, and sets it aside so he can work on his rifle.

"Kimmy is on the farm," I say. "My sisters are on the farm. We'll get her out."

"Not that easy," he says. "Most of the Doyles are dumb as paint, but some are former National Guard with even a couple of ex-Marines and ex-Army regulars. I'm better than all those assholes, but they have the numbers."

"And the fences and gun nests," I say.

"Those too," Jack says and nods.

"Good thing my sisters are inside," I say. "They can do what they do while we do what we do. In the end, we'll kill all the Doyles and save all the preggers ladies."

Jack shakes his head. "If your sisters are so good then why are they inside and not outside?"

"Strategy," I say. "They'll rip the Doyles apart, inside out."

"I doubt that," Jack says. "That one woman I saw looked pretty bad. They beat her hard."

"And she still made you out from half a mile away," I say. "We sisters can take a beating and keep on killing. We heal fast. It's part of our conditioning."

"You keep saying conditioning," he says. "That's starting to freak me out a bit."

"Sorry," I say and shrug. "It freaks everyone out."

He finishes cleaning the rifle while I walk around. Lots of cans of food, bags of dried food, containers of water and other liquids, probably oils and vinegars. Couple crates of different alcohols. Some cases of canned beers.

Plenty of ammunition and weapons.

"Where'd you get all this?" I ask, pointing at the ammo. "Inezes said that the Doyles had it all."

"Inezes," he snorts. "What the fuck? I almost think those crazy bitches turned my Kimmy in to the Doyles."

"Maybe," I say. "Don't have to worry about that no more. The Inezes are all dead. Except Froggy Girl. But she could be dead. She's stuck in the farm with my sisters."

"The Inezes are dead? All of them?" he asks.

"All of them," I say.

"Huh. Never thought the Doyles would finally kill them," he says and starts putting the rifle back together. It's a nice piece.

"MK 12?" I ask.

"Close," he says. "SEAL Recon rifle. This baby has been by my side for years. It's based on the MK 12, but custom built. We all had them custom built after more than a couple in-op jams with the MK 12s. That shit don't fly with frogmen."

"Frogmen," I laugh. "Funny."

"That's what we're called," Jack says. "Hooyah."

"Hooyah," I say and smile. "I always like how that sounds. Sisters don't say it, though. No hooyah or hooah or hoo-anything. We just say whatever."

"I guess if you aren't military then no reason to say any of it," Jack says.

"Oh, and Doyles didn't kill the Inezes," I say. "We did. Or my sisters did. They were pointing guns at me. That's not something anyone should do to a sister. Even though the guns weren't loaded. No way for my sisters to know that. So they shot all the Inezes and that was that."

"Obviously that wasn't that because now you're here and your sisters are on the farm," Jack says. He holds out his hand. "Want me to clean your .45s?" He nods at the duffel bag on the ground. "I can clean whatever's in there too. New Mexico is dry and dusty. That shit gets in the guns fast."

"I'll clean them," I say.

"I don't mind," he replies. "Really. I like cleaning guns. Gives me something to do. Helps me think."

"No more thinking," I say, but pull my .45s from my hips and set them on the table. I nudge the duffel with my foot. "I saw the farm. We just need to hit it hard and try to get this bag to my sisters. We do that and we'll have enough people to take out the Doyles."

"I keep trying to tell you that they're stronger than you think," he says, taking one of my .45s apart.

"So are my sisters," I say. "They are a lot stronger than you even know. Way stronger than the Doyles know. Audrey was beat up because Audrey let them beat her up. She's playing like a possum. They all are. We strike and they won't be possums no more. They'll be wolverines and shit. Tear those Doyles apart."

"And maybe get some of the girls in there killed," Jack says. "Including my Kimmy. You think I haven't thought of the head-on, brute-force approach?" He points at the stack of crates by the wall. "I have enough explosives to blow the Doyles sky high a hundred times over, even have an RPG launcher in that stack, but they're animals. They'll kill every last woman and girl in those tents before they let them get taken."

"Then how do we get in?" I ask.

"I don't know," he snaps. "That's what I've been trying to figure out every single day since I got away that first time. I haven't figured it out yet. Not when the farm's security was weaker and certainly not now."

"Maybe you shouldn't have let them build all those fences and gun nests," I say.

"You know what? Fuck you," he says and pushes my .45 away. "Clean your own fucking gun."

"Sorry," I say and hold up my hands. "That was rude. I was rude. I can be rude sometimes. My bad. I'll watch the rude. No more rude."

"Okay, okay, shut up," he says. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph you are weird."

I shrug. He's right. Nothing I can say to that.

I look at one of the beds. "Can I take a nap? I want to get some rest before we go back."

"Go back?" he asks. "Lady, we aren't going back today. They spotted us. They'll have tripled the men on hand by now."

"Tripled the men?" I ask. "How? From where? The sports complex where they live?"

"Exactly," Jack says. "Anyone even tries to mess with the farm and they bring the heat."

"What about the sports complex?" I ask.

"What about it?" he replies.

"If anyone messes with that, do they bring the heat?" I say. "Do they pull men from the farm to go help in town?"

"No," Jack answers. "I tried it once. Rigged a couple of bombs with timers. When they blew, I expected men to go rushing from the farm to help. They didn't. Men came from town to watch the farm. They know what they have and they plan on keeping it."

"But you don't give up," I say. "So one day you're going to have to make your move. Why not today?"

"No," Jack says. "Today isn't the day. Neither is tonight."

"No," I counter. "We go tonight. We rest now and go back tonight. It'll be too late tomorrow."

"Why will it be too late?" Jack asks.

I can tell he's starting to get tired of me. It happens. Eventually everyone gets tired of me. I'm exhausting. Not as exhausting as Long Pork was, but I can wear a person down. It's good to be self-aware. Self-awareness keeps the crazy thoughts away. Or off to the side. More like off to the side where they can watch the good thoughts do good things and maybe learn from them.

What?

"It'll be too late because that's a lot of men around a lot of women," I say. I make an OK sign with one hand then stick a finger through the hole over and over like my hands are doing it. "Men like to fuck women. All those new men around those women means some of those women are going to get raped. Doyles are rapey. When that starts to happen then my sisters will kill some of those rapey Doyles. If we stay here then we miss the killing of the rapey Doyles. I don't want to miss that. Do you?"

Jack blinks a couple of times.

"Shit," he says finally. "You and your sisters have really made a mess of things."

"Don't see it that way," I say. "I think we just put a boot in your ass and kicked you into gear. You been waiting in fear instead of acting. You think your daughter is being left alone in there? She ain't. The longer you wait, the longer she gets tortured. Best to be dead than raped and tortured by Doyles. Fuck the Doyles."

Muffin gives a sharp bark.

"He thinks so too," I say.

"Quiet," Jack says. I think he's saying it to me, but then I see him put his hand on Muffin's neck. "Hush, boy."

"Company?" I whisper. I didn't hear anything. I usually always hear something.

Jack puts a finger to his lips and picks up his rifle. He slowly, quietly pulls back on the action and chambers a round then walks towards the cave entrance. Muffin gets up and follows right behind, his body low to the ground, his hackles raised, and teeth bared.

I get one of my .45s and take a shooting stance, covering them both.

Muffin growls low then I hear something so wonderful I almost cry out and scream.

"Hey, twat? You in there?" I hear Audrey call from outside. "I can smell your ass from here."

"In here," I say and smile as Jack looks back over his shoulder at me. "Put down the rifle. It's Audrey."

He doesn't put down the rifle, but he also doesn't shoot Audrey as she shows her face through the cave entrance.

"Uh oh, look who has a new boyfriend," Audrey says as she comes into the cave and gives Jack a nod. Then she stops and stares and I think she's about to cry. "Is that a dog?"

"It's a dog," I say. "His name is Muffin."

Her hands go to her mouth and she drops to her knees. "Oh, my fucking god. It's a dog."

"Who?" Jack asks, rifle still trained on Audrey. "How?"

She pries her eyes away from Muffin and glances up at Jack. "Put it away, soldier. I'm friend, not foe."

"How the fuck did you get away?" Jack asks. He still doesn't put the rifle down.

I can see Audrey tense and I step forward.

"Nope," I say. "He's a SEAL. He'll take you before you can take him."

"I will," Jack says.

"Maybe," Audrey says and slowly gets to her feet. "But stop pointing that fucking thing at me or we are going to find out for sure."

Jack hesitates for a long time then lowers the rifle and takes a few steps back.

"How the fuck did you get off the farm?" he asks.

"Oh, that's easy," she says. "I played dead. They threw me out with the other corpses and medical waste. Good thing I found a creek on the way and got all washed up. Damn if clothes don't dry fast in this desert."

"How is it a desert if there's a creek?" I ask. "I've been trying to figure that out. You stop at the creek by those pine trees?"

"Yeah, exactly," Audrey says as her eyes scan the cave. She locks onto the stack of weapons and ammo. "Ooh, nice."

"We stopped at those pines for lunch and had egg salad," I say. "Damn fucking good egg salad. Tortoise eggs."

"Shit, really?" Audrey says. "Got any left?"

"Got any left?" I ask Jack.

He looks from me to Audrey and back then chuckles.

"I can't believe there are even more of you guys out there," he says. "The Doyles are fucked."

"Fuck yeah the Doyles are fucked," I say. "But not until tonight. Now we get Audrey some of that tortoise egg salad. Where do you keep it?"

"That was all," he says. "Sorry. No refrigeration. It only keeps for a day."

"Goddammit," Audrey mutters. "Oh, well."

"He's got bourbon," I say. "We can have some of that while you tell us what you know and we plan the assault."

"That I can live with," Audrey says. Then she lifts her shirt and shows us a really nasty wound in her side. "But can I get some bandages first? Had to let a Doyle stab me in order to play dead. Fucking hurts like a bitch."

"Jesus," Jack says and sets the rifle aside as he walks to a workbench and picks up a med kit. "How many of you are there again?"

Chapter Fourteen

"You're saying you let one of those guys stab you with a knife so you could play dead?" Jack asks as he pours us each a fuck ton more than just a shot of bourbon. "And they were stupid enough to actually believe you died?"

"Yep," Audrey replies as she takes her cup of bourbon from Jack and sips with a smile. Sisters like bourbon and like to smile while drinking bourbon.

"Fucking Doyles are fucking dumb," I say and sip my bourbon before I get to work on her knife wound.

"Not all of them," Audrey says. "Some are average. There's one or two that are above average, but not far above."

"You do that trance thingy?" I ask. "Slow your heart beats and shit?"

"That's exactly what I did," Audrey says. "They didn't know the difference. Good thing none of them are into necrophilia or I would have come back to life and ripped their dicks off."

Jack cringes. He should.

"Hold on," Jack says and refills his cup. He's about to take a drink, but I take the cup from him and set it aside.

"Need you sober," I say.

"I wouldn't argue," Audrey says as Jack thinks about protesting. "Now, what were you holding on about?"

"How the hell did you track us here?" he asks. "I am very careful about the routes I take. Doyles haven't found me yet."

"Doyles haven't come to kill you yet," Audrey says. "But they know where you are. You picked a good spot, hard to approach from any direction without being a sitting duck."

"You made it here," Jack says, his face red. I think he's a little angry.

"I'm not a Doyle," Audrey says.

"They know he's been watching them?" I ask.

"Oh, they know and they think it's funny as hell," Audrey replies. She finishes her bourbon and sets the cup down. "They have a betting pool on where you'll show up next and how long you'll watch them before you leave." She leans forward and puts her arms on her knees. That's her serious as shit posture. "They give your daughter an update each and every day."

"What?" Jack shouts and jumps to his feet. Muffin starts barking and growling. He makes a move at Audrey, but she snaps her fingers and snarls. Muffin sits his ass down and leans against Jack's leg, a little whine escaping from his lips. "Jesus."

"My folks were in agribusiness," Audrey says. "They made billions of dollars off corn and soybeans and all that shit. I've been around farms, and farm dogs, my whole life. One day I'm wearing a skirt at prep school, the next I'm wearing rubber boots and stomping through sheep shit. I can probably tell your dog to do things you didn't know he could do."

"I fucking doubt that," Jack says. "Muffin, down and set."

Muffin lies down, but I can see his haunches quivering with pent-up energy, ready to spring.

Audrey fixes him with a hard stare.

"Knock that off," Jack says. He looks around but his .45 is ten feet away on the plastic folding table.

Audrey keeps staring then clicks her tongue and gives a shooing motion. Muffin jerks and scrambles back a few feet. The poor thing looks shitfucking confused. So does Jack.

"Leave the pup alone," I say then focus on Jack. "Ignore her and listen to me. Tonight is the only shot you're going to have to save your daughter. You watch us leave and that's that."

"You said you were going to save all the girls," Jack says. "So, what, if I don't go with you, you'll just leave my daughter?"

"No, I didn't say that," I snap.

"She won't go with you," Audrey says. "You know why they give her an update every day? You think it's to torture her? Nope. It's because she ordered them to do it."

"What?" Jack asks.

"What?" I ask.

We stare at Audrey.

"She's not a prisoner of that farm anymore," Audrey says. "She runs it. She runs it for and with Doyle. The Doyle. The first one. Those two are sort of married with two kids, Jack. You're a grandpa."

"I know," he says. "That I'm a grandpa. I figured that out. But I didn't know about the other stuff." He sits his ass back down. I give him back his bourbon. "Thanks. She's barely in her twenties now. Two kids? Jesus fucking Christ."

"I thought Doyles didn't like ladies running things," I say.

"Oh, they don't," Audrey laughs. "They do not at all. But Kimberley is an exception. Turns out she may have learned a thing or two about how to take care of herself. If what I heard is right, after she had the first baby, they tried to take him from her, but she killed five of them before they could restrain her. Just gave birth and ripped some Doyles' throats right out with her bare hands. If what they say is true."

"That got the first Doyle to take notice," I say.

"It did," Audrey replies. "Way I hear it, he's got more than a few kinks in his closet. One of them is he likes to get beat up by the ladies. None of them could do it right until Kimberley came along."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jack says again. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because if you want your baby girl back, and your grandkids, you'll need to be prepared for the worst," Audrey says. "It's called Stockholm Syndrome."

"I know what the fuck it's called!" Jack yells. Muffin gives a short bark, but stays right where he is. "Sorry. Sorry, you're just trying to help."

"Here's the good news," Audrey says. "I think she's faking it. I think she has been from day one. She's smart and she's strong and she knows that if she tries to get away, they'll take her second kid, the girl, and hand her over to the pervert Doyles that like them little and young."

"A girl? I have a granddaughter," Jack says. "Do you know her name? Do you know my grandson's name?"

"No," Audrey replies. "I'm just telling you what the sisters were able to piece together before they took me away to try to beat info out of me. Then they killed me and you know the rest."

"We go tonight?" I ask. "That's still doable?"

"It's doable and needs to be done," Audrey says. She looks at Jack. "Can you drive in the dark?"

"Sure," he says.

"Without headlights? Because that's the only way we'll make it even close to there," Audrey says. "They have sentries for miles around here. How you never noticed them before, I don't know."

"I noticed a few," he admits. "But since no one ever came here, I figured they never noticed me."

"You are the reason they have the sentries," Audrey says. "The smart ones know it's a one-man operation, but the dumb ones still think there are Heavies everywhere. The smart ones let the dumb ones keep thinking that. They stay alert and ready to fight that way."

"Fucking Doyles," I growl. Muffin growls too.

Jack looks into his cup of bourbon and sets it aside. He stands back up and nods towards his gear. "How much should we bring?"

"All of it," Audrey says. "We load everything that will fit into your Jeep and we go hit them hard right before dawn. Bring whatever else you can't live without because you aren't coming back here."

"I'm not?" Jack asks.

"No, you fucking are not," Audrey says. "What did you think was going to happen? You'd rescue your daughter and bring her back here? They know where this place is, Jack. We're hitting the farm and freeing the women there. But there are still a fuck-ton of Doyles in town. We aren't hitting them. Fuck them. We hit the farm and we're gone. You'll need to take charge of getting the women to safety."

"What about the kids?" I ask. "Where are the kids?"

"Girls stay at the farm and boys are in town," Audrey says. "But we're only dealing with the farm. You've seen the town, El. It's a shit show. Too many Zs and it's the Doyles' home turf. They're dumb, but they know that town way better than we do. We already lost Steph, we aren't losing more sisters. The farm and then we're gone."

"Where the hell am I going to take a bunch of women when most of them are pregnant?" Jack asks.

"Good thing you asked that question," Audrey says and smiles. "Because I know just the place. It'll be a bit of a hike, but the Doyles have plenty of trucks at the farm. We'll load you and the ladies up in them and drive north with you to make sure you get there safely. Then we're gone and back to our mission."

"What place?" Jack asks.

"New Mexico State Penitentiary," Audrey says.

"It's overrun with Zs," Jack says. "I've been there. The buildings and fences are sound, but we're talking thousands of Zs trapped inside."

"Not anymore," Audrey says. "The Doyles cleared it last year apparently. Sounds like they've been talking about moving the women there anyway, but the first Doyle doesn't like how far away it is."

"There's a lot of road between here and there," I say. "Lot of crazies and cannies in between."

"Exactly," Audrey says. "That's why they need us to get them there."

"I can't leave my grandson with the Doyles," Jack says.

"That's between you and the Doyles," Audrey says. "Listen, Jack, I'm not in charge, but I'm going to speak for the sisters here, okay?"

She looks at me and I nod for her to go ahead.

"We have a mission to complete," Audrey says. "It's more important than any of this shit we've fallen into. There is a very bad man out there that does very bad things to people. He changes them. If we let him change more people then one day the Zs will not be our nightmare. Neither will the crazies or the cannies. He'll make something even worse and try to kill us all."

"He's a shitfucker supreme," I say.

"That he is," Audrey says. "I promise we will get your daughter and her daughter safely out of that farm, along with the rest of the women. We'll get you to the penitentiary, but after that, you'll need to figure out if you want to take on the Doyles to get your grandson. You let the women rest and heal and you'll have one serious fighting force to train."

"Jesus," Jack says. "This morning I was just a guy in a hide watching some Doyles. Now I'm a going to try to lead a bunch of traumatized and brutalized women to the state pen? Fuck me."

"Shit sucks in the zombie apocalypse," I say. "Sucks full on shit balls."

"Full on," Jack says.

"We on the same page?" Audrey asks.

"Do I have a choice?" Jack replies.

"Not really," Audrey says and shrugs. "Ow. That pulls on my stitches."

"How are you going to fight while you're wounded like that?" Jack asks.

We laugh. That was funny. What he said was funny.

"Just a scratch, trust me," Audrey says. She points at her face and all the swelling and bruising. "This looks worse than it is."

"I meant your side," Jack says.

"I know," Audrey replies. "But don't worry about my side. It's just fine. May slow me with the hand to hand, but I can still shoot straighter than both of you."

"Fuck you, you can," I say. "I'm just as good as you are."

"You're better with blades," Audrey says.

"Well, yeah, that's true," I say and look at Jack. "I am. I'm the best with blades."

"I believe it," he says. "I believe everything you two are saying. I know bullshit and I don't think either of you could sling bullshit if you tried. You're obviously so far past that point in your lives."

"You have no idea," Audrey says.

Jacks rubs at his eyes and face for a long while then rests his head back on his neck. He stares up at the dark roof of the cave and sighs.

"We better get to work if we're going to load all the gear up," Jack says. "We can't fit it all in the Jeep, but we won't need it all. Just the weapons. We'll snag food and water from the farm. Right now, we take only what is needed to kill Doyles."

"Now you're talking," I say. "I love killing me some Doyles! Fucking ass shitfucking Doyles need to die! Fuck yeah!"

They both stare at me and Audrey laughs.

"Yeah, she can get excited," she says. "But we love the shit out of her."

"Fuck yeah, you do," I say.

"Let's get to work," Jack says.

It takes a couple more shots of bourbon to loosen up my muscles and keep my body from just quitting on me. I've been going hard for quite a few days. Audrey looks worse than I do. I can tell she's being strong for Jack because we need him to make this all work, but she's not going to last long.

"You'll have overwatch," I say to her while Jack separates what we need to bring and what can be left behind. "I'll go in with Jack for the full assault."

"I know the farm, you don't," Audrey says.

"And I only have a shoulder wound," I reply. "You have a knife stab to the side and look like pure shit. I'll last longer in a head on fight." I sigh. "You're better with the Barrett anyway."

"That hurt to say, didn't it?" she laughs.

"Fuck you," I reply and laugh with her.

I give her a big hug because sisters like to hug. She groans as I squeeze. I may have given her a big hug because I wanted to prove my point too. Sisters like to prove points.

"Bitch," she says as she pushes me away. "Okay, I'll take overwatch. Hey, Jack, you got any coms?"

"I do," Jack says as he starts hunting through the pile of boxes and crates. "The question is if any of them still work. Not so much the coms as the batteries needed to power them."

He finds a small box and tosses it to Audrey. She catches it easily and pops it open. Inside are a dozen earpieces and throat mics. There are also about four dozen tiny batteries tucked into a pocket.

"You'll need to check them one by one," Jack says. "We only need three, so hopefully three sets still work. Don't toss the rest. They could come in useful later and we may be able to charge them up if we reach the prison."

"When we reach the prison," I say. I say it because that's what you say when people say if. I have no fucking clue if we'll actually pull this off and reach the prison. A lot of things can go wrong between now and then.

"The sisters know we're coming?" I ask. "Or do they think you're dead?"

"I didn't blow half the farm up trying to fight, so I think they know I played possum," Audrey replies.

"That's probably true," I say.

"Okay, this gear is ready to go," Jack says. "There's a cart over there with heavy-duty rubber wheels. I use it to haul supplies from the Jeep. Haven't had to haul supplies from this cave back down to the Jeep, though, so be careful on the trail."

"You ain't gonna help?" I ask.

"I'm going to sort through my personal items," Jack says. "See what I can't leave behind."

"Okey dokey," I say. "Take your time."

"Not too much time," Audrey says as she fetches the cart.

"Give me that," I say, noticing how she strains with the cart being empty. "You head out and make sure we ain't being watched. Don't need no Doyles spoiling our surprise."

"You can't coddle me forever, El," Audrey says. "Eventually, you'll have to let me fight like a sister."

"Eventually," I say. "But hauling shit down a trail ain't fighting, is it? So go be lookout and rest your ass so you're up to snuff when we start killing Doyles. Got it?"

"Got it," she says and picks up the Barrett. "Where's the night scope?"

"In the duffel," I say.

She finds it and heads out to cover my ass while I load the Jeep.

It takes us a couple hours to get the gear loaded and strapped down. It took Jack a lot longer than I wanted for him to get his personal shit together. But I wasn't gonna bitch at him. I didn't mind hauling most of the shit down the trail to the Jeep. It was kinda nice to just do something boring. Sometimes killing and fighting gets old.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? Killing and fighting never gets old.

But I still didn't mind doing the hauling.

"Muffin, in," Jack says and the dog jumps into the Jeep then crawls back into a small open spot I left him with the gear.

"Want me to drive?" I ask Jack. "I can drive at night without headlights. Done it a million times."

"I got it," Jack says. He looks up at the clear night sky. So many fucking stars. "You'd be surprised how much light the night has when there aren't any city lights to mess things up. Between the stars and the moon, I can see just fine."

"Good," Audrey says. "Then let’s go. El, you take shotgun. I'll ride back with the dog and keep the Barrett ready. I can scan the area with the night scope and make sure Doyles don't try to pop out at us."

"What if they do?" Jack asks. "That rifle makes a lot of noise and noise carries. You have to break a round and Doyles will hear you for miles."

"Let's hope I don't have to break a round," Audrey says. "Keep the driving even and try to stay to as much cover as possible. I know where a lot of the Doyles are and I'll steer you away from them. But not all of them. We'll lose too much time playing hide and seek with these assholes."

"That's fair," Jack says. "Let's go."

We load ourselves in and Jack starts up the Jeep. It's loud in the quiet, but not as loud as it could have been without the sound dampening he's put on the thing. He gets us down off the ridge and out into the open. I keep my eyes peeled from the passenger's seat, an M-4 in my hands with a night scope of its own. Audrey is behind me and scanning back and forth with the Barrett.

Even Muffin's in on it, his ears perked up and eyes flitting this way and that, looking for Doyles. Or looking for jackrabbits. I don't know. I can't read dog minds.

Chapter Fifteen

The day ride in the Jeep was hot as fuck. The night ride is cold as fuck. But the Jeep has heat. Good heat and my toes are nice and toasty.

"I'm freezing my tits off," Audrey says from her spot in back.

"There should be some cold weather gear in a pack right on top," Jack says. "The winters here suck, so I have plenty of thermals and some heavy parkas. There's also shooting gloves in there."

Audrey hands me the Barrett and I hang onto it while she rummages around. She pulls out a heavy fleece coat and some gloves. It takes her a bit to get the coat on. She struggles a lot more than she should. That ain't good.

"Thanks," she says as I give her the Barrett back once she has the parka and gloves on. She takes a look around with the scope then taps Jack on the shoulder. "Slow it up. Doyles at two o'clock. It's a pair of them up by those rocks."

Jack slows the Jeep and looks at the large pile of boulders about half a mile away.

"Hard not to see us from there," Jack says. "They call us in to the farm and we'll have every gun there ready to blow us apart."

"They won't see us," Audrey says. "The ones they send out this far are stupid as shit. Desert duty is a punishment for these guys. Nobody expects you to do shit, so they're probably both asleep."

"Probably is how you get killed," Jack says. "I like certainty."

We hit a bump and the whole Jeep shakes and shudders. Audrey hisses.

"You want certainty then go back in fucking time and stop the dead from rising," Audrey snaps. I look back and she hides the look of pain on her face. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," I say. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she snarls. "I said I'm fine."

"You tear your stitches?" I ask. "Or is there something else?"

"I'm fine, El," she says. "You watch the road and take care of yourself. I'm a big girl and got this shit handled."

"Okay," I say. I pretend to turn back to the road, but jab the barrel of my M-4 into her ribs. She hisses and jerks back.

"Dammit, Audrey," I nearly shout. "How many are broken?"

"One or two," she says. I raise my eyebrows and even in the dark she knows the look on my face. I ain't letting her lie to me. Sisters don't lie when they're hurt. Not tonight. "Okay, okay, fuck off. I have four broken ribs. But I'm good to go."

"Which side?" I ask. "Your right? The side you shoot from?"

"I am good to go," she insist.

"Dammit, Audrey," I growl. Muffin growls too. I ignore the mutt. "How the hell are you going to work overwatch if every time you shoot the Barrett your ribs come apart?"

"I can work it just fucking fine," Audrey says. "It's gonna hurt, but I have been injured way worse than this. You know that, El. You've been there. I'll do my job and no ribs are going to get in my way."

"They better not," Jack says. "Because this plan is shit to begin with. We lose you and it gets even shittier."

"I'm fucking fine," Audrey says. "Back the fuck off, both of you."

I nod and then give Jack a look. He starts to argue, but stops and nods too.

We drive.

We pass two more Doyle lookouts and I have to laugh. One of them has a campfire going. Right there in the open. A fucking campfire. I'll bet that Doyle is nice and toasty. I'll also bet he can't see shit fifteen feet from that campfire. We could drive the Jeep right up on his ass and he wouldn't even know it.

Fucking Doyles.

Jack takes us way around the farm to the far side and parks it. No way we can park the Jeep where he usually does since the Doyles know all about him.

"You two will come in from here," Audrey says, drawing in the dirt with a stick. "You use the RPG to take out this watchtower on the corner first. One of their better shooters is up there. I watched him nail rattlers with some really good shots. You reload and take out the watchtower on the opposite corner. The one in the middle is manned by complete morons. They'll probably panic and shoot themselves before they even see you coming."

"I only have the one launcher," Jack says. "We're gonna lose time between reloads."

"I'll do some time-killing with the Barrett," Audrey says. "I can dial in on one of the other watchtowers away from you all. They'll think the attacks are coming from more than one direction that way."

"You sure you can handle it?" I ask. She glares at me. "Just asking."

"Well, stop," Audrey says. She draws in the dirt some more. "We're here. I'm going to head to this ridge and get set. It'll take me about five minutes. I'll call you over the com when I'm ready."

We all check the coms in our ears and the mics on our throats. We found enough working batteries for the three of us.

"Don't make a move until I am in place," Audrey says. "Five minutes to get there and maybe another thirty seconds to take out the Doyles in that spot."

"There are Doyles there?" I ask.

"There are Doyles everywhere," Jack says. "Apparently, a lot more than I knew about."

"And we're gonna stop them from making more Doyles," Audrey says. "You two clear on what needs to happen?"

"Not a hard plan," Jack says.

"Blow shit up then shoot shit after we blow shit up," I say. "If it's got tits, don't shoot it. If it does have tits then get it to help or at least follow. Get the sisters, get to the garage and the trucks, load people with tits into the trucks, drive like a motherfucker out of there."

"That's about it," Audrey says. "And don't get shot doing any of that."

"We'll try not to," Jack says. He looks over at Muffin. "You stay with the Jeep, boy. We'll be back to get you."

"Once I know you are in the trucks and getting away, I'll bust ass back here and get the Jeep," Audrey says. "Muffin will be safe with me."

"He better be," Jack says. "He's been my only friend all these years."

"Got it," Audrey says.

I go to hug her, but she winces and I just give her a thumbs up.

"I'm off," she says and hefts the Barrett. More wincing, but she deals. "Five minutes. Listen for my cue."

"Five minutes," Jack says.

She takes off running and all we can do is wait. From where we're at, we can't even see the farm. Too risky to try to get a view. If a Doyle sees us then the surprise is over and they'll probably start shooting the sisters. Just gotta wait in the rocks.

"This guy you're after," Jack says, "Kramer? Hunting him isn't just about stopping whatever he has planned, right? You and your sisters are looking to even a score."

The last part ain't no question. Jack's not stupid so I don't lie to him.

"Yeah, it's about that too," I say. "More for me than the other sisters."

"Why?" Jack asks.

So I tell him. Why not? I tell him how Kramer brainwashed Cassie and turned her against us. I tell him how Kramer set up conditioning in almost everyone's heads. I tell him how Cassie came and killed Stella then rescued Kramer. I also tell him how I tracked Cassie down and brought her back to the Stronghold so the Stanfords could stab the fuck out of her. I don't specifically say the Stronghold, but he gets the idea

"Jesus," he says. "These Stanfords sound like something else. You're telling me the two kids run the place you're from?"

"No, they don't run it," I say. "We got lots of other people that run things. Stuart and Melissa and Critter. But Critter's getting too old and I think Stuart just wants to handle security. Melissa is a good leader, but her heart hurts. She lost brothers and a daddy."

"We've all lost people we love," Jack says. "Everyone's hearts hurt."

"Yeah, but she's been tough as nails for a long time," I say. "She gets to have a vacation. Charlie and Greta are young and they are Stanfords. People expect them to step up. Charlie's got a big brain like his dad. Everyone just lets him think. Greta's got brains, too, but she's also got a will like her mom. Charlie gets tired, Greta never does. With the two of them, we got things covered for a long while."

"Sounds nice," he says. "But not nice enough for you to let us come with you?"

"Ain't our call," I say. "That's something we have to ask the others about first. We get survivors knocking at our gates all the time. Most of them we let in. Some of them we don't."

"What's your criteria?" Jack asks. "How do you decide?"

"You can tell," I say. "If it was just you showing up then we'd let you in. But we don't know anything about these ladies. They could have their brains all washed and be ready to kill us if we let them in. That's why you're going to the prison."

"I get it," Jack says and smiles. "I get the women to the prison and see who lives and who dies."

"I ain't said nothing about anyone dying," I reply. "But it'll be better if you weed out the crazies. We'll be back through to check on you. If y'all aren't dead then we'll tell you where our place is and you can decide if you want to come live with us or stay put."

"If we aren't dead," he says.

"If you aren't dead," I echo and nod. "So don't die and it'll all be good."

"Sure it will," Jack says and chuckles. "What could go wrong?"

Our coms crackle.

"Fuck me," Audrey says over the com. "That wasn't as easy as I'd hoped."

"You hurt?" I ask.

"Nothing new," she answers. "But one of the Doyles just didn't want to fucking die. I nearly had to slice his fucking head right off to get him to stop fighting. There's blood everywhere and most of it is right where I have to sit."

"Sorry," I say. I am sorry. I've had to sit in pools of blood before. It gets sticky and starts stinking fast. "You okay to keep overwatch?"

"I am," Audrey says. "You two ready to go in?"

"I think so," Jack says. "Let us know when to fire."

"You go right ahead," Audrey says. "I'm in position. Let's get this party started."

"You ready?" Jack asks me.

"I'm ready," I say.

He grabs the rocket launcher and two tubes from the Jeep then starts walking. I'm right behind him with his rifle and kit. We clear the rocks and start walking towards the farm. Lights are on everywhere which is good for us. Makes it easier to see where we're shooting and harder for them to spot us out in the darkness.

Jack pops open one of the tubes and loads a rocket into the launcher. He puts it on his shoulder and flips a couple switches. There's a high-pitched whine then lights start blinking on the sides. I hear a shout from the farm.

"Shit," I say. "Somebody is paying attention. Fire that thing."

"It's still warming up," Jack says. "Give me five seconds."

"Dammit," I say and take a knee next to him.

I get my M-4 up and take a look at the farm. I already switched out scopes since I knew the place would be all lit up and shit. No need to go blind looking through a night scope at spotlights.

"First target is staring straight at us," I say. "Audrey was right. They must have a good shooter up there if he saw the lights on the launcher."

"Ready," Jack says and pulls the trigger.

The night goes away as fire lights up a flight path from us to the first watchtower. I keep my scope on the shooter and see him start yelling and waving his hands at the other Doyles. He shoves one of them out of the watchtower just as the rocket hits. I don't think it helped the guy.

The watchtower goes up in a ball of flame then the top half just topples. It falls right over, crushing the fencing below it and opening a huge hole for us to go through. But we ain't going through yet. Still gotta kill another watchtower.

If the Doyles don't kill us first.

Puffs of dirt explode around us and I have to yank Jack to the side so he doesn't take a slug to the chest.

"Get the other rocket!" he yells as he readies the launcher.

I reach out for the tube the rocket is in, but yank my hand back as a bullet nearly takes off my fingers.

"Audrey!" I shout into the com. "A little help!"

"I'm already on it," she responds. "But it's not just one guy. They're all firing like wild men. I don't think any of them are aiming, they're just emptying their magazines at you."

"Shit," I say.

I grab the tube and toss it at Jack as I roll onto my belly, my M-4 to my shoulder. There are so many Doyles running around that I barely have to aim. I squeeze the trigger over and over, dropping a Doyle for every two shots. I'm good, but there's a lot of distance between my M-4 and the Doyles. And like I said, they're running all over the place and won't stay still long enough so I can kill one with every shot.

Fucking Doyles.

The loud hiss of the second rocket gets my attention and I turn my head to watch it shoot towards the next watchtower.

"Come on!" Jack shouts as he grabs me and helps me up on my feet. "We finish this now!"

By the time the rocket hits the watchtower, we're halfway across the ground to the farm. I duck my head when the fireball explodes into the air, but I don't keep it ducked for long. I want to see what's the damage. The second watchtower fully explodes. Jack hit it just right and the entire thing ripples apart from bottom to top.

More fencing goes down and I can see tent flaps opening up behind the carnage. Women are running out into the dark and Doyles are torn between going for us or going after the women. They go after the women, probably because some parts of their lizard brains know that there's no reason to fight us if they lose all their ladies.

I put four Doyles down and Jack puts down six before we hit the broken and mangled fences. I jump over scorched razor wire and point my M-4 up at the center watchtower once I reach the perimeter. Three shots and two Doyles come falling down to the ground. One splats open like a melon. The other gets impaled on a jagged tube of a fence post.

That makes me happy.

Women are screaming and running around ahead of us, but we still have a lot more Doyles to deal with. Jack spins to his left and takes down three Doyles while I push on ahead and blow the chests open of two more.

A bullet whizzes past my head and I dive to the ground, rolling up into a kneeling stance. I turn in the direction of the shooter and put two rounds into his chest then focus past him and drop another Doyle with a shot to the forehead. I may not be the best shot of the sisters, but I sure as shitfuck ain't bad.

I'm up on my feet again and getting close to a tent when about ten Doyles come out at me. I open fire and leap to my left, hoping I can take cover by a portable outhouse. Long Pork would've made some joke about taking shitter cover, but I ain't Long Pork, so I just get behind the outhouse and empty my magazine at the Doyles.

Four fall, but six are still firing and rushing towards me. Then two drop, one after the other, as their chests turn into mist while I slap a fresh magazine into my carbine.

"I got you, El!" Audrey shouts over the com. "Get your ass up and head for the second tent from your right! The sisters are in there!"

I get up and do what Audrey says as she rips apart two more Doyles. The last two get the hint and dive to the ground. I put a bullet in the backs of their heads as I sprint past them. Stupid fucking Doyles.

Second tent on my right, second tent on my right...there! Second tent on my right!

I burst through the flap and I feel the punch of a bullet nail me in the right thigh. I'm on the ground fast, more from instinct than from the impact. My M-4 decimates the Doyle that shot me, just shreds him.

There's a muffled shout as I get to my feet and I whirl about and use my carbine like a club, smacking a Doyle in the nuts as he rushes me from outside the tent. I flip the barrel back at him and fire, sending a round up under his chin and through his face. His skull explodes and I end up with Doyle all over me.

"Fuck you," I spit as I back away from him.

No more Doyles come in at me, so I turn fast, sling my M-4, and pull a knife from my belt. I have Marcie cut free before I even realize she's the only one in the tent. No Antoinette.

"Where?" I ask.

"I don't know," Marcie yells as I hand her the M-4 and pull my .45s from their holsters. "They took her right after dinner. Didn't say anything, just came in here and grabbed her. I got a hard knock to the face when I protested."

I can see the knot on her left cheek, but she's smiling at me.

"You protest by hurting one of them?" I ask.

"Broke the fucker's kneecap," Marcie says as she checks the carbine and then snags two extra magazines from my belt. "He cried like a little girl."

"Probably worse," I say. "Because little girls don't cry where we come from."

"Damn fucking skippy," she says and looks down at my leg. "How bad is it?"

I stretch my leg and wince, but nod to her.

"Ain't that bad," I say. "Didn't hit anything serious and it was in and out. I'll feel it later, but it'll hold me for now."

"Don't bleed out on me," she says and starts for the tent flaps.

Before we can get more than a couple of steps, the sides of the tent are ripped apart by gunfire. We hit the ground and return fire as we belly crawl our way to the flaps. Two of the tent posts snap and half the tent comes tumbling down just as we get outside. A couple of Doyles are standing right there, looking pleased with themselves. I think they forgot their job was to kill us, not the tent. Fucking idiot Doyles.

I let Marcie put a few rounds in their bellies and crotches. There's a lot of Doyle blood flying everywhere as they dance and shudder before falling to the ground screaming like little Doyles.

There's also a lot of lady blood flying everywhere. The women running from their tents are getting chopped apart by stupid fucking Doyles shooting at anything that moves. We have them so spooked that they're firing at anyone with tits. I don't think they've figured out that Jack is a guy and doesn't have tits. Maybe that'll give him some camouflage.

Marcie helps me up and we take down six Doyles before we have to dodge between two tents to avoid getting our asses blown off as some crazy Doyle with a sawed-off shotgun comes running at us. I may hate his shitfucking guts and want to blow his shitfucking head off, but I do like his shitfucking style. Running mad wild with a sawed-off shotgun firing non-stop is pretty badass.

He chases after us and bits of tent explode around us like confetti as we race to the other row of tents. We get to the next row and run right into Jack. He almost blows our heads off, but stops himself then shoves me out of the way as a tent pole bursts apart. He puts two slugs in the sawed-off Doyle and that is that.

"Jack!" he shouts at Marcie.

"Marcie!" she shouts back.

"Elsbeth!" I shout because no one else was going to. That's totally a Long Pork move and I get a glare from Marcie for it.

"Where's the other one?" Jack asks as we get moving again.

"Don't know!" Marcie says. "They took her!"

"Shit!" Jack says. "How about my daughter? Kimmy? Do you know where she is?"

"Ask her where the main tent is," Audrey yells into our ears.

"Where's the main tent?" I ask.

"This way!" Marcie shouts. She eyes me then looks at my ear. "Who else do you have with you?"

"Audrey," I say as we start running as fast as we can. Or as fast as I can. My leg is slowing us down. "She's alive."

"I had a feeling," Marcie says.

She spins and takes down three Doyles with a wide spray of bullets. Normally, that's frowned upon because it wastes ammo, but you gotta do what you gotta do when you're in a firefight in a Doyle breeding farm. We make the rules up as we go.

More Doyles go down, but so do more women. I don't know how we'll wrangle them all up and get them out of here. They're as scared of us as they are of the Doyles. Some of the women are running to the Doyles for help. It's sad as shit.

We reach what looks like the largest of the tents and Marcie skids to a halt. We all skid to a halt. I more stutter to a halt because skidding hurts my leg, but I stop.

Standing at the tent opening is a whole bunch of Doyles and a woman right between them. The woman sees Jack and her eyes go wide. Then they narrow and she raises a very big pistol at us. I ain't shitting you. It's a very big fucking pistol.

"Kill them!" she yells and pulls the trigger.

Chapter Sixteen

I take out the left Doyles, Marcie takes out the right Doyles, Jack ignores the big fucking pistol and dives right for the woman, tackling her around the waist. There's a scream behind us and I have an idea the big fucking pistol's slug found a target. It ain't the original target, but I don't think the big fucking pistol gives a shit.

With my Doyles down, I drop to a knee and spin about to give Marcie cover while she finishes off hers. One of the bastards won't die, just keeps getting up and trying to point his rifle at her. Asshole Doyle. Just die already.

Finally, she puts one between his eyes and he stays down.

"Took ya bit," I shout over my shoulder.

"Body armor under his shirt," Marcie calls back and joins me. We start killing anything without tits that looks our direction.

I can hear the crack, crack, crack of the Barrett dropping unlucky Doyles here and there. Audrey is making her shots count. A group of Doyles rounds one of the tents and freeze as they walk directly into our line of fire. Okay, they don't freeze, really. Hard to freeze when you're getting ripped apart by bullets. They dance. Dance like little bloody monkeys.

A second group comes around the tent and uses the first dancing bloody monkey group for cover. Stupid fucking Doyles using other Doyles to keep from getting ripped apart by my bullets. Dicks.

The Barrett cracks three times, and just before I hear each crack, I see a Doyle head turn into splashy mush. Splat go the Doyle heads. They may be stupid fucking Doyles, but they have a lot of brain stuffs that fly everywhere. Just everywhere. It's all over the place. Doyle brains is messy.

The second group of Doyles splits into two smaller groups. One group turns to see who is blowing their heads off and the other group rushes me and Marcie, their rifles barking fire at us as they charge. Marcie shoves me out of the way as a line of slugs tears open the dirt between us. I roll to my side and keep firing until my magazine is empty.

I grab a fresh magazine and slap it home. Then I jump to my feet to take some cover by the side of the tent. I fall on my ass. I forgot I'd been shot in the leg. Totally forgot. Adrenaline and all that stuff is pumping in me hard and pain is just a stupid thing. My leg doesn't hurt, but it has decided it doesn't want to work like it should. Stupid fucking leg.

There's a shout and a grunt from behind us and I glance back quick to see Jack go sprawling on the ground as his daughter whacks him upside the head with the butt of her pistol. Like I said, it's a big fucking pistol. I wouldn't want to get whacked upside the head with it. That would hurt like a mofo.

Daughter bitch takes aim and is gonna pull the trigger, but she hesitates as Jack rolls onto his back, his hands to his head, blood gushing from his scalp. She scrunches up her face and bares her teeth like a rabid dog. I think I see foam. She's a foamy bitch.

"Put it down or I put you down!" I yell. Seems like the right thing to say.

"No!" Jack shouts at me and holds up a bloody hand. "Don't you fucking dare shoot her!"

Foamy daughter bitch turns to look at me and her scrunchy face turns into a smiley face. She whips the pistol around at me and I have no choice. She isn't going to hesitate with me. That big fucking pistol will blow a hole right through some Elsbeth.

I fire.

The bullet tags her in the left shoulder, spinning her away from me as she fires. A hunk of dirt kicks up by my face and I look over to see a hole about half a foot wide and just as deep. Big fucking pistol.

Jack forces himself to get up and jump at his daughter before she can regroup. He kicks the pistol from her hand then grabs her by the arm and drags her inside the tent. Not that the tent gives any cover. Canvas and shit ain't gonna stop all the bullets flying around, but it keeps him and his foamy daughter bitch from being direct targets. Although, I guess foamy daughter bitch isn't really a target.

"El!" Marcie shouts as she keeps firing, sending Doyle after Doyle to Doyle Hell. "You okay?"

"I'm good," I reply and crawl my ass over to her. Her rifle clicks empty and I hand her mine. "Take it. I'll reload."

We're exposed, but Doyles are stupid idiots. They hide behind tents, thinking they have cover. They don't. Marcie shoots right through the tents. Doyles scream.

I reload Marcie's rifle as mine clicks empty. She takes the rifle and tosses me mine. I'm out of magazines. Time for .45s.

I pull my pistols and whip them to my left as five Doyles come from that direction at us. I hear a shout and look right and see four more. Marcie has our front covered and Jack has our back from the tent. That leaves the sides to me. I point a .45 left and point one right then open up.

Three of the five Doyles on my left fall before the other two realize they probably shouldn't keep running at me. They dive to the ground and cover their heads. Cowards.

All four on my right end up with slugs in them. Two die because the slugs take a liking to their foreheads. One lies there all whiny and shit, his hands clutching his gut. The fourth one is screaming and screaming. I think I caught him in the junk. He's screaming and bleeding everywhere like I caught him in the junk, so I probably did. Bummer for him.

The two cowards on my left decide they have guts. I decide to show them they are right and empty my .45 into their bellies. They both get to see their guts first hand. Or try. They can't seem to keep the guts in their hands as their intestines and shit tumble through their fingers to the ground.

He he. Intestines and shit. That's funny. Intestines have shit in them. He he.

"I'm on the move," Audrey calls over the com. "This side is clear of Doyles. You want me to come in and help clean up?"

"Yeah," I say. "I took one in the leg and can't move so well. Wish Antoinette was here to patch me up."

"Where is she?" Audrey asks.

"Marcie don't know," I say. "They took her."

"I'm coming in," she replies. "Do you have a fallback position with cover?"

"Nothing but tents," I say.

About half a dozen women come screaming into view, their arms over their heads, hunks of wood and tent poles raised. I forget to keep talking to Audrey as I watch them brain the fuck out of some Doyles. They just start hitting and hitting. Tent poles is scary when they're used like clubs. The Doyles find that out the hard way.

"Holy shit," Marcie says, lowering her rifle as the remaining Doyles get their skulls cracked like walnuts. "Damn."

There are a few more shouts from Doyles, but the voices are getting farther away, not closer. The Barrett cracks a couple of times then I hear an M-4 squeeze off a few even bursts. Audrey must already be in the farm and mopping up the last few Doyles.

The crazy club ladies look over at us and I can tell they ain't sure if we're friends or foes. I'd like to be friends, but they are some scary-looking bitches and I'm not sure how friendly they want to be to me and Marcie.

"We're here to help," Marcie calls out as she holds her rifle out to the side. "We want to get you all out of here."

They just stand there, covered in Doyle brains and goop, and stare at us. I move my .45s so I have clear shots. Marcie waves a hand at me as the ladies' eyes shift to me.

"Put those away," Marcie says.

Two shots from a rifle ring out and a puff of dirt hits the ground by the ladies. They whirl around then take off running at the Doyle that shot at them. He just stands there between a couple of tents with his mouth open. I can see his hands working the action on his rifle, but looks like tough shit for him. It's obviously jammed and his hands get more and more frantic as the ladies get closer and closer.

"Fuck," Marcie says and winces as they reach him.

He's a pile of pulp in seconds.

"Hey!" Jack calls from the tent. "You two okay?"

"We're good," I say and carefully get to my feet. My leg throbs and almost collapses, but I snarl at it and it behaves enough for me to limp towards the tent. "You good?"

"I'm good," Jack says, showing himself in the tent opening. His hair is matted with blood and half his face is sticky and red. He sees me eyeing him and smiles. "It's worse than it looks, trust me."

"If you say so," I reply and shrug. "You got your daughter secured?"

"As much as I can without being a cruel son of a bitch," Jack says. He winces, but it ain't from the pain in his head. It's a sad wince. "She says she thinks I'm the enemy and that the Doyles saved her from me."

"Her brain is washed," I say. "We need to dirty it up."

He smiles and shakes his head.

"You are one trip of a woman," he says.

"I am," I nod.

There's a whistle from our right and Jack lifts a pistol, but I wave him off as Audrey comes jogging up to us.

"That was too easy," Audrey says.

"Fuck you it was," I say and point at my leg.

"You fucking up and getting shot doesn't mean it wasn't too easy," Audrey says and grins at me. "Just means you don't know how to get out of the way of a bullet."

"Bitch, you want me to punch you in the ribs?" I laugh.

The club ladies are done turning the Doyle into paste and turn back to look at us. Marcie is standing and waving at them.

"Hey there," she says. "We're going to load you all up in the trucks and get you somewhere safe. Can you help us find the other women?"

The ladies stare. None of them move. They just stand there with bloody, pulpy clubs in their hands and stare. I'm getting tired of the stare.

"El, let me handle this," Marcie says before I can say something stupid and scare the ladies. Marcie knows me.

"You can help me," Jack says. "Maybe one of you can get through to her."

"I'll let El handle it," Audrey says looking at my leg. "She needs the rest."

"You're loving this, ain't ya?" I ask. "Now I'm more wounded than you."

Audrey pats her side. I see she don't do it too hard, though. "Feeling fit and ready to keep killing. You?"

"I ain't running no marathons, but I can handle myself," I say.

"Sure you can," Audrey snorts.

"Hey," Marcie growls. "Can you two measure dicks somewhere else? I'm trying to talk to these ladies."

"I'll help," Audrey says. "Some of them saw me here. They don't know El."

I nod to her and follow Jack inside the tent. His daughter is tied to one of the tent poles, her shoulder packed with a towel and wrapped with duct tape.

"That'll work," I say as I eye the crude bandage. "Hey there, Kimmy. I'm Elsbeth. Came here with your dad to save you. You want to be saved or not?"

"Maybe a more gentle approach," Jack says. "Woman to woman stuff."

"You asked for my help," I say, "and I don't do gentle. I also don't do woman to woman. What the fuck is that? Ain't no different talking man to woman or woman to man or man to man or—"

"I get it, I get it," Jack says. He crouches close to Kimmy, but out of kicking range. "Kimmy? Baby? I am here to help you."

She spits in his face. It's nasty runner of a glob. He wipes it away and looks back over his shoulder at me.

"See?" he says.

"See what?" I ask and limp over to Kimmy. I plop my ass down right next to her, my shoulder pressing against her shoulder. She winces as I lean hard against her wound. "You don't believe the Doyles is right."

She slowly turns her head and glares at me. "You don't know what I believe," she says. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I think I do," I say.

"Doyle saved me," Kimmy says. "He kept me safe from the savages that live out in the wasteland. He kept me fed and clothed and happy."

"By putting his dick in you and making you pregnant with his shitty Doyle spawn," I reply. Jack winces. Tough shit. He's gonna have to face this shit sooner than later. "Did you want him to? No. Did he do it anyway? Yeah. Because Doyles are fucking assholes. He didn't save you from shit. He took you captive and used you. Washed your brain and made you trust him."

"We are in love," she says.

"Oh, for tit's sake, no you ain't," I say and laugh. "That's the washed brain talking. You don't know a fucking thing about love."

"I know everything about—" she starts, but stops as I jam my shoulder into hers. "Ow!"

"Yeah, shut the fuck up," I say and pat her on the leg. I point at Jack. "See this guy? This guy knows love. He's been watching and trying to figure out a way in for a long time now. He ain't never given up on you."

"He gave up," she says, but it's quiet.

"Nope," I say and shake my head. "Nope. He knows love. He's a daddy. Daddies know love. Real love. Love that aches and burns and makes you want to rip apart the world."

"Doyle loves me like that," Kimmy says.

"He does?" I laugh some more. "Where is Doyle? The real Doyle. The first Doyle. Where is this guy, huh? He hanging out around here? Or did he leave you to go be safe in town?"

"We share duties," Kimmy says. "The farm is mine to run. That's how much he trusts me. You don't trust someone with this responsibility unless there's love."

I slap her across the face.

"Hey," Jack protests. I point a finger at him and he backs off.

I slap Kimmy again.

"Stop that," she snaps.

"I'm gonna tell you a story," I say and shift my weight so my leg is more comfortable. "Gonna tell you a story about a man named Pa. He said he loved me. He weren't my real Pa, but he tried to act like it. He said he loved me like a daughter. That weren't true. But he washed my brain so I thought it was true. I thought all the things he did to me, all the nasty, nasty things he did to me, were because he loved me. I killed for him. I caught peoples for him. I cut them up and roasted them for him. Because he loved me."

Kimmy doesn't say anything, but her breathing changes. She's listening to my story. She's listening hard. So is Jack. He's watching me closely, his eyes narrowed. I give him a wink and keep talking.

I talk about how Pa found me and how he kept me as his prisoner until my brain were all washed. I talk about the people we tricked into trusting us just so we could ambush them and eat them up. I talk about all the stuffs Pa did that daddies don't do to daughters. I talk about all the things I did to people that normal humans don't do to other humans. I talk and talk and talk.

I don't know when, but at some point I stop. My face is all wet and I got snot dripping from my nose and down my chin. Jack is sitting on his ass, his hands on his head. Kimmy has her head turned and she's staring at me like she's just met me. Which she kinda has, but the stare is like she didn't try to shoot at me before.

I can see in her eyes that she believes me. I can see some of the washing in her brain get a little dirty.

"Jesus," Audrey says from the tent flap. "You've told us a lot, El, but never that much."

I look over at her and see Marcie with her. Plus a hell of a lot of ladies all standing around behind them. I guess they heard me talk too. I wipe my eyes because I gots tears and shit. I blow my nose on my tank top and try to smile, but I ain't got the smiles in me. Not right now.

"We need to find trucks," I say and get to my feet. I wobble a lot and grab the tent pole to keep from falling over.

"Vivian?" Kimmy barks. "Get the med kits and get your ass back here now."

"Yes, ma'am," a woman in the crowd says and takes off running.

I look down at Kimmy and raise an eyebrow.

"You fakin'? Or are you gonna stop being all washed in the brain and realize that Doyle, all the Doyles, is pieces of shit that need taking down?" I ask.

"I'm going to have Vivian sew up your leg and sew up my shoulder," Kimmy says. "After that, I don't know."

"Then I guess you stay right there," I say and limp away.

"Hey, hold on!" Jack says. "I'm not leaving my daughter tied up to a tent pole." He looks at Kimmy and his eyes are so sad. Just so sad. "Kimmy, please. You know that Doyle isn't in love with you, right? You know that this farm is all wrong and that you've been held against your will, right?"

"I know I have a job to do," Kimmy says and looks past him at the women milling about outside the tent. "And you have ruined that job. You've destroyed my life, before this farm and now after."

"Before this farm…?" he asks quietly. "Kimmy, I…"

He can't finish. Don't blame him. Heavy shit going down. Ain't easy to find words when shit gets so heavy.

"Where's Antoinette?" Marcie asks, moving from the tent opening so she can stand over Kimmy. "Where's our sister?"

"She has been taken," Kimmy says.

"No shit, Sheila," Marcie growls.

"Kimmy," I say. "Her name is Kimmy."

Everyone ignores me.

"Doyle took a liking to her," Kimmy says. "When Doyle takes a liking to a woman then that woman goes with him to town. She will be tested to see if she's strong. If she passes then she will have a special place amongst us. If she fails then she will be thrown to the dead."

"I'd like to see a Doyle try to throw her," I say. "Antoinette ain't petite."

Jack starts to say something, but closes his mouth. I have a guess at what it is.

"Where are your kids?" I ask Kimmy. I look out at the other women. "Where are all the kids? I ain't seen no kids here at all."

"Children live in town," Kimmy says. "The boys are trained to become men and the girls are trained to serve them. When the girls have learned properly then they are allowed to come here for a full, rich life."

There are quite a few snarls, but then there are some nodding heads. Ain't all the ladies happy with being trained; ain't all the ladies unhappy with it. This shit ain't gonna be easy.

"We need to get everyone loaded up with as much supplies as we can and get the fuck out of here," Audrey says. "We head to the prison and lock things down then figure out the next steps."

"I can't leave here without my family," Jack says. "I can't leave them behind."

That makes me think of something.

"Where's Froggy Girl?" I ask, looking at Marcie and Audrey. "You seen her?"

"Yes," Marcie says. "I'll show you."

Chapter Seventeen

I sigh. That's all I can do. It's just so damn shitty.

"She was an Inez," Marcie says as if that's an explanation for what they done to Froggy Girl. "Doyles don't deal with Inezes. That's what they said when they started pounding in the nails."

"That what they said?" I ask, my eyes studying every inch of the poor girl's body.

Two posts stand about four feet apart. Froggy Girl's hands are nailed to the bottom of the posts and her feet are nailed to the top. They done flipped her upside down to crucify her. But that ain't all. The fucking Doyles split her from her cooch to her neck. They let innards spill out to the ground. Looks like someone stuffed some of those innards in her mouth.

"They made us watch," Marcie says. "Audrey was already separated from us, so me and Antoinette were the only familiar faces she got to see at the end. All the Inezes are dead, so we was it. I wanted to look away, but they held me steady and made me look. They held us both steady. Threatened to cut off our eyelids."

I look at the women that followed us to the posts. They nod at me. Some of them is crying, some of them is frowning, some of them look lost and stare out past Froggy Girl's body to the fences.

"How many Doyles?" I ask.

Marcie gets my meaning.

"Almost all of them," she replies. "I couldn't have fought them. Just too many."

"They'd have killed her and then killed some of us," one of the women says.

"They always kill a couple of us at once so we know they mean business," another woman says.

"Stupid fucking Doyles," I growl. "I'm gonna show them business."

"You're gonna go with the trucks up to the prison," Audrey says as she comes up behind us. "Jesus Christ. Someone cut her down and put her body to rest. We don't have time to stare."

"What the fuck do you mean I'm going with the trucks?" I ask. "I'm going with you all to  town to get Antoinette back."

"And to get my grandkids," Jack says as he joins us. I raise my eyebrows. "She's still tied up, don't worry."

"She'll come around," I say. "It takes time, but she will. Trust me."

"I do," Jack says. "How the fuck can I not after that story you told?"

"That real?" a woman asks me. "You really go through that?"

"And worse," I say, looking at Marcie and Audrey. "That's just what happened after Kramer."

"Who's Kramer?" another woman asks.

"Long fucking story," Audrey interrupts. "A long fucking story we don't have time for. El, you are going with the trucks to the prison. Between your shoulder and your leg, you are not even close to 100%. You'll do more good keeping the women safe on the drive."

"That ain't true and you know it," I say. "Give me the Barrett and I'll take overwatch. I get set up and put down some Doyles from a distance. Shit, I can put down Doyles close up. Even wounded, they ain't good enough to take me."

"The ones in town are," one of the women says. "There's some idiots, but the smarter ones live in the sports complex. They stay there and send out the dumb ones to scavenge and patrol the area. It's like a little kingdom in there."

"I want to see this kingdom," I say. "I want to get a chance to put a bullet through King Doyle's fucking brainpan."

"We all want that," Audrey says. "I bet some of these women want that more than you do, El, but I ain't bringing them with. Too many variables. I need you and Jack to get the women up to—"

"Hey, what?" Jack snaps. "Are you kidding me? I'm going into town with you."

"You're too close to this," Audrey says. "I need you with El. I need you to handle your daughter on the drive up."

She steps in close to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"If you don't think your daughter isn't going to try to turn some of these ladies back against us then you aren't paying attention," she says. "All she needs is a couple and she can take it all back."

"She won't be with the trucks," Jack says. "I need her to come to town so she can point out my grandkids." He gets a little choked up, but swallows the hurt. "I don't even know what they fucking look like."

"We're gonna save all the kids," Audrey says. "So you won't have to worry about that. We'll get them sorted when we get to the prison."

"That won't work," Vivian says as she comes up behind us. She's an older woman. Or older than the sisters. Maybe in her late forties or something like that. She has a bright red plastic med kit in her hand and she points at me. "You're next, miss."

"What do you mean it won't work?" Audrey asks. "What won't work? Saving all the kids?"

"Yes," Vivian says as she kneels on the ground and motions for me to sit my ass down. I do. "These are kids. They've only known this life and they aren't going to see any of you as saviors. They're going to see you as enemies that have come to attack their fathers, their brothers, their cousins. You break into that sports complex and start killing Doyles then you're gonna have a riot on your hands."

"Shit," Audrey says.

I slip my pants off and grunt in pain as Vivian starts prodding my wound. Hurts like a motherfucker now that all my adrenaline is wearing off.

"You'll have to take some of us with you and you'll also have to take Kimmy with you," Vivian says. "The kids know her and they'll listen if she tells them to do something."

"How do we know she won't tell them to attack?" Audrey asks. "She isn't being very cooperative."

"She will be," Vivian says. "I reminded her that this is all happening whether she likes it or not. There's no going back." She looks around at us sisters and at Jack. It ain't exactly a nice look, but it ain't mean either. "What it all comes down to is Doyle does not tolerate failure. Kimmy failed in keeping the farm together. She failed spectacularly."

"Ow, fucking careful," I snarl as Vivian pours some alcohol into my wound and then presses the flesh together so she can stitch it all up.

She ignores me and keeps working while still talking. Lady knows how to talk and I can see the other ladies are paying attention. If Kimmy don't want to get on board then Vivian is gonna to be our next best thing to keeping the ladies under control and from giving in to their washed brains.

"Doyle is going to want to make an example out of Kimmy," Vivian continues. She nods at the body of Froggy Girl. "Will someone get her down, please?" A few ladies start working on getting Froggy Girl down, but it don't look like it's gonna be easy. "But if Doyle can't make an example of Kimmy then he'll make an example of her children. He will spit 'em and split 'em, as he likes to say. Kim's time with Doyle is over. Her only chance at survival, and her kids' only chance, is to team up with y'all and make sure this ends now."

"Who the hell are you?" Audrey asks.

"I used to be chief of surgery at the local hospital," Vivian says. "I've delivered the majority of the babies born in this place. I know each of these women, and I know each of the Doyles, better than anybody else."

"You related to Doyle?" I ask. "He like your son or something?"

"What? No. Why would you think that?" she asks.

"Because there's always that twist," I say. "That's how things are. Always a stupid twist."

"Yeah, uh, no twist," Vivian says. "This is life, not a movie of the week."

"Just asking," I say. She tugs the ends of the sutures tight and I know she's put a little extra force into it. "I can bandage it up. I'm good at that."

"I don't mind," she says.

"Nope. If you're a doctor lady then you need to check out all these other ladies," I say. I look at Audrey. "I'm coming with you to town. We're bringing Kimmy to make sure the kids fall in line. We save Antoinette and then we get the fuck out of this shit hole forever."

"I'll go with the trucks," Marcie says. "I can handle that. I'm not at full strength, but better than El and we'll need someone strong to go with all the women."

"I'll come with you," Vivian says. "If you're going to the prison then you'll want me there. I used to go there once a month with some of the doctors and do wellness checkups. I know the lay out of the buildings."

Audrey looks like she's gonna argue, but there ain't nothing she can say to that. It makes sense.

"I'm going into town too," Jack says before Audrey can get in his shit about that again. "End of conversation. El can be on overwatch since her leg is messed up."

"I can still kill the shit out of Doyles even with my leg," I say. "Audrey's got broken ribs. She's weak as shit."

"Kiss my ass, gimpy," she says. "I can at least still run."

"You'll be better at killing them if you are in one spot and behind the Barrett," Jack says to me. "That's just smart use of manpower." He clears his throat. "Womanpower."

"I know what you meant," I say.

"Then we better get moving," Vivian says. "It won't be long before Doyles come to check out what happened here. I am sure somebody called it in over the radio."

She ain't lying about that because in the next second we hear barking. Muffin is around somewhere and he sees something he don't like. A lot of the ladies freak out when they hear the bark. I don't blame them. Always thought all the dogs was dead and eaten. Kinda exciting to know they ain't.

"Shit," Jack says. "They didn't waste any time."

"They never do," Vivian says. All the other ladies agree. "Doyle is a doer. He likes to say that a lot too."

Muffin keeps barking and we move to find him. It doesn't take long since half the farm is pretty much shitfucked. I'd say that was our bad, but fuck that shitfucking shit. This farm needs to be burned to the ground.

We reach the main gate and see a cloud of dust heading our way down the dirt road. Audrey still has the Barrett strapped to her back and she brings it around so she can look through the scope. Muffin sees us and comes trotting over to Jack, his hackles up. He gives a sharp back and Jack kneels down to pet him.

"What do you see?" Jack asks Audrey.

"Three pickups," she says. "Beds open and full of men. They are armed and ready to fight."

"Shit," Jack says. "We need to gather up all the weapons and get ready to make a stand."

"Nah," Audrey says. She hands Jack the Barrett. "You put a slug right in their engine blocks while I go get what we need to end this bullshit here today."

"Okay," Jack says.

He doesn't argue, just takes the Barrett and walks over to a beat-up old car. Some small thing that probably went all fast and furious pre-Z, but now looks like it couldn't backfire without dying. He sets the Barrett up on the trunk of the car and takes aim.

Audrey takes off jogging and I want to follow, but damn my leg hurts, so I just lean up against a post and reload my .45s. Marcie gives me a look and I smile at her.

"You'll see," I say.

"You know what she's doing?" Marcie asks.

"I got a pretty good idea," I say. "It's gonna be fun."

Jack breaks and the Barrett barks loud enough for some of the women that had followed us to the front gate cry out in surprise and slap their hands over their ears. It is loud, but I'm used to it. I'd worry about going deaf when I get old, but I got a feeling that Kramer worked his mad science on my ears so I can handle a lot of gunfire. Same with the sisters. We'll probably be able to hear a cricket fart even when we're ninety.

There's a loud grinding noise then we hear men shouting and cursing. Gunfire erupts from the cloud of dust and most everyone hits the ground. I just keep leaning against the post. Sure, maybe a stray bullet could get to me, but those trucks are still pretty far off.

Jack fires again then one more time and there's more far off grinding and shouting and shooting of rifles.

"That takes care of that," Jack says and stands straight. He ejects the magazine and looks inside. "Gonna need to reload. One cartridge left."

"Audrey is probably bringing more ammo," I say. "Along with the fun surprise for the Doyles in those trucks."

The shouting doesn't get louder from the men by the trucks. That tells us all they're hunkering down and taking cover. Which is exactly what we want them to do. It's fun to use people's instincts against them.

Audrey shows up after about five minutes and tosses a pack to Jack so he can reload the Barrett. She carries the rocket launcher on her shoulder and nods at her back to the two tubes strapped there.

"Nice," Marcie says and smiles so wide I'm afraid she's gonna split her damn skull. I can't really tell her not to because I'm smiling just as wide.

"Load me up," Audrey says as she walks towards the gate.

There's more rifle fire, but it's just too far away to make a difference with what's about to happen.

I follow Audrey and holster my .45s so I can pop one of the tubes open and load the launcher.

"Good to go," I say and pat Audrey on the shoulder as I get the fuck out of the way.

She barely takes the time to aim before she sends a rocket streaking at the trucks.

"One more, just to be sure," she says as the lead truck explodes in a ball of fire.

The Doyles that aren't burning and dying start to scatter from the trucks. But it's just too damn late. Audrey fires the second rocket and another truck goes up big time, sending fiery shrapnel flying this way and that. She sets the launcher down on the ground and takes the Barrett back from Jack.

"How's it look?" I ask.

She fires once, reloads, fires again, reloads, and fires a third time.

"All done," she says. "Still a couple more alive, but they won't be for long. They must have had fuel cans in the back of one of the trucks because there's burning shit everywhere. Anybody still alive is about to be a crispy critter."

The ladies that followed us up front all stare in wonder. They look from us to the burning trucks to the almost destroyed farm and back to us. I don't know if they are surprised it's all happening or just surprised that three women could do so much damage. Yeah, we got a Jack too, but let's face it, the sisters made it all happen.

"There'll be two more teams like that," Kimmy says from behind us and some of the women that had been staring in wonder, look down at their feet like they were caught touching themselves or something. "Doyle always sends at least three teams. If the third team doesn't come back then he'll send everyone."

"I thought you was still all tied up and cuffed to that tent pole," I say and look over at Jack.

"She was," Jack says.

"A couple of the more loyal women set me free," Kimmy says. "But don't worry about me. Everything Vivian said was true. I failed. If Doyle can't take it out on me then he'll take it out on my children."

She looks at Jack and the defiance she had before is kind of gone. Kind of. Not totally. Just kind of.

"We need to get the children," she says.

"Maybe we should wait," Marcie suggests. "Dig in and take as many of the Doyles out as possible with the rocket launcher. Whoever's left we can pick off with rifles. Two more teams then a full assault. That's gonna take time to prep and that gives us time to do our own prepping."

"Won't work," Kimmy says. "If Doyle has to send everyone this way then he's going to assume we helped you all. There were at least six men that got away when you attacked. I know because I sent them. I told him to send help and that not all the women were falling in line like they were supposed to."

"Sounds like you signed your own death warrant," Audrey says.

"I didn't know you'd win," Kimmy replies. "Look at you. There's only four of you. We've been attacked by hordes of Zs and by gangs of crazies and never lost a man."

"Zs don't have RPGs," I say. "And crazies is shit shots with a Barrett."

"How do we do this?" Jack asks. He walks right up to his daughter and is about to take her by the shoulders, but we all see the look in her eyes. He stops. "Tell us how you think we can stop Doyle and save the children."

"I don't think we can," Kimmy says. "Not unless we move now. If Doyle feels threatened enough to send everyone here then he's going to destroy everything behind him. He'll go somewhere else and start over. That's the kind of person he is."

"That's crazy," Audrey says. "Are you saying he'll kill all the children and torch the town? Just because he lost the farm?"

"Yes," Kimmy says. "You had it right the first time. He's crazy. He's talked about something like this for a long while. He will burn the place to the ground without blinking."

"All the kids?" I ask. "He'll burn all the kids?"

"He will," Vivian says as she joins us. "I think he's been looking forward to this day from the beginning. It justifies everything he's done."

"And he's done so much," Kimmy says. "So very fucking much."

"Do I need to say it?" I ask Marcie and Audrey. They shake their heads. "Well, I'm gonna say it anyway. I fucking hate Doyles."

Chapter Eighteen

We get to moving. No time to come up with a plan right away, we'll have to do that on the fly. What we gotta do right now is get all the supplies that can be salvaged and load them up on the farm trucks. We also have to get all the ladies on those trucks and get them the fuck out of here.

Marcie is still going with them and she and Vivian take charge of the supplies and evacuation while Jack and Audrey take charge of gathering all the weapons we can find. And ammo. Gotta have ammo. No point in having weapons without ammo. Yeah, I can kill quite a few Doyles with just my bare hands. Or a rock. Yeah, I could totally kill Doyles with a rock.

But weapons with ammo are better.

Someone whistles and I look up. One of the women is up in a watchtower with a pair of binoculars. She points out at the road and I squint into the bright sunlight. Dust clouds. Bigger this time. Looks like Doyle sent more idiots in the second team. Ain't no thing. I have nothing against killing more Doyles.

I want to use the rocket launcher again, but we all agreed to save the RPGs for when we absolutely need them. I'd use the Barrett too, but we're low on ammo for it. Jack had a lot of gear, and so does the farm, but not a single .50 caliber cartridge in sight. It's all good, though. I'm totally fine with doing it the hard way and putting a couple rounds from an M-4 between their eyes.

"How many, you think?" Marcie asks as she walks up beside me. She hands me a canteen of water and I down it fast. No time to waste. "You want me to get Audrey?"

"Nah, we got this," I say and look at her. "Right?"

"You know we do," Marcie says. "Vivian has the trucks about ready. She's getting the women loaded up right now. We're going to head out the back and double around to the main road after a mile or so. But we still need these assholes gone so they don't radio back to town about what we're doing."

"Yep," I say. "So, we just gonna walk out there and ask them to stop?"

"We could," Marcie says and racks the action on her rifle. She pats her belt to make sure her extra magazines are there then gives me a big smile. "Or we could just start firing and see what happens."

"I like the last option," I say. "Just start firing is my favorite. Most of the time you all tell me to think first, fire second."

"Well, now's your chance to use your method," Marcie says. She nods to the main gate. "Shall we?"

"Oh, we shall," I say, trying to do a British accent.

"Nope," Marcie says and laughs. "Don't ever do that again."

"Long Pork liked to do voices," I say.

"Long Pork was a fool and didn't take anything seriously," Marcie says. "Don't get me wrong, he was a great man, but he was fool, for sure. We're sisters, not fools."

"If you say so," I reply and shrug. I put my M-4 to my shoulder and walk to the gate. "Time to kill some Doyles. It's like early Christmas."

"Aren't you Jewish?" Marcie asks.

"Carly Michelle Thornberg was," I say. "Elsbeth is whatever the fuck she feels like being. And I like Christmas stockings. I like the candles with Hanukkah, too. Oh, and I like little Buddha statues! We should look for those sometime. I want to get a collection."

"Uh, okay," Marcie says. "We'll do that. But right now we're going to kill Doyles."

"Yep, going to kill Doyles," I reply.

We walk out onto the road and just keep walking. No trying to take cover or set up some trap for the Doyles. We just walk straight down that dirt road, our M-4s up and ready.

The dust cloud gets bigger and I can see about four pickup trucks. Two are the little ones and two are the big ones. You know the ones with four wheels in the back and sound all growly loud and shit? Yeah, two of those.

Not that it matters how big the trucks are. Unless they got bulletproof glass then they're equally dead.

Marcie takes a knee and I do too then wince as the stitches in my leg pull.

"Gonna have to stand for this," I say.

"Makes you a bigger target," Marcie replies. "You want to head back inside the farm and let me handle this?"

"Nope," I say and put my eye to my scope. "It won't take long."

We fire.

My scope is centered on the driver of the truck in front. The windshield of his truck spiderwebs and shit and his head goes pop. Marcie gives a small, happy yell and I look down at her.

"That was my kill," I say as we watch the truck lose control and swerve to the side, cutting off the path of the others.

"What?" Marcie says. "No, that was my kill."

The truck skids then stutters then flips onto its side, rolling about six or seven times before it comes to a stop.

"No way, Jose," I say. "I put that bullet in the driver's head. Me."

"I don't think so," Marcie says. "I had him lined up perfectly. Easy squeeze on the trigger and he was dead."

One of the smaller pickups slams into the crashed one. I hear Doyles scream as they go flying from the truck bed and out into the dirt. A couple aren't that lucky and their screams stop when they hit the crashed truck with their heads. Stupid Doyles.

The other two trucks whip around the wreckage and keep coming.

"I take the big one, you take the small one," Marcie says.

"Why do you get the big one?" I ask as I line my crosshairs up once again. "I rescued you, so you should let me have the big one."

"How does you rescuing me have anything to do with which targets we take?" she asks. "That's crazy, El."

"You calling me crazy?" I ask and fire.

Marcie fires at the exact same time and I yank my M-4 from my face so I can glare down at her.

"Not cool!" I shout.

"I told you I was taking the big one!" Marcie shouts back. "Now look! The small one is still coming at us!"

The other big truck is slowly rolling to a stop as the smaller one whips around it. The Doyles open fire, thinking they are close enough to hit us. We watch the bullets kick up dirt a good hundred yards away. Stupid fucking Doyles. Wasting ammo as usual because they're dumbshitfuckers.

"Tires?" I ask Marcie. "How about we both shoot for the tires this time, leave the driver alone."

"Why?" Marcie asks. "We're going to have to kill the driver anyway."

"Look," I say and nod at the second big truck. We'd taken out the driver, but the truck is moving again. "New driver. Still have a moving truck to deal with."

"Good point," Marcie says.

We take aim at the little pickup coming for us and fire. The right front tire explodes.

"You missed," we say at the same time then, "Dammit!"

"I was going for the right tire, El," Marcie says.

"So was I," I reply.

The little pickup jerks to the side and skids to a stop. The Doyles in the bed jump out firing, but this time their bullets are a lot closer.

"I take the Doyles and you take out the big truck that's coming at us again," Marcie says.

"Why do I have to shoot a truck and you get to kill Doyles?" I ask. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, El," Marcie says.

"Life ain't, but I heard that all's fair in love and war," I reply. "This is war, right? So all is fair."

"That doesn't mean war is fair it means all of the actions in war are fair," Marcie says. "It's the opposite of what you're saying."

"So, what?" I snap. "It means the sky is the limit in love and war?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it means," she replies.

A bullet whizzes past us. We frown at the Doyles and open fire.

There are eight rushing us. Then there are eight lying on their stupid Doyle faces and bleeding into the dirt.

"I didn't know it meant that," I say. "So, all's fair in love and war actually means nothing is fair and you're fucked?"

"Yes," Marcie says. She fires twice and puts down two Doyles that try to get back up. One of us missed their kill shots. The Doyles drop as the tops of their heads are ripped open. "It basically means that fairness applies to everything except for love and war."

"That's just dumb," I say. I fire at the big truck that is still moving at us. "They shouldn't have even used the word fair then. Totally shitfucked. People are dumb when they make shit up."

"I won't disagree with you there," Marcie says. She opens fire too.

Neither of us stops firing until our magazines are empty. The truck stops. I don't think there's anyone inside alive to replace the driver that had replaced the driver. No more Doyle drivers.

"Reloading," we call out at the same time and laugh.

Sisters are fun.

"Let's go clean up," Marcie says and gets to her feet. She grins at me. "You want to ride piggyback and rest that leg?"

"You want to eat shit and die?" I reply.

"Come on, Limpy," Marcie says and she starts walking towards the carnage.

I do love me some carnage. Especially if it involves Doyles.

A shot rings out and I lift my foot just before the bullet hits the ground. I return fire and a Doyle screams. Marcie fires and his scream ends. Nice.

We get to the first couple of bodies and roll them over. Dead. Dead Doyles. Yay for dead Doyles. Marcie puts a slug into each of their heads. Nobody wants a Doyle coming back as a Z.

Another gunshot and we both hit the dirt. There's a Doyle hiding behind the second big truck. I see him stick his head out and I squeeze the trigger, but the little fucker is too fast. He ducks back and is lost from sight.

"He's smart," Marcie says. "He's hiding behind the tires. I can't get a bead on him."

"You think we could blow it up?" I ask.

"Blow it up? How?" Marcie replies. She fires off three rounds. "You know that doesn't work, right?"

"What doesn't work?" I ask.

"Shooting the gas tank to make a vehicle blow up," she says. She fires again as the Doyle tries to move from his spot. She misses as he ducks back behind those damn wheels. "Unless you get super lucky and create a spark with the round, you will never blow up a vehicle by shooting the gas tank."

"Okay," I say and smile over at her. "That is good to know. Not that I'm planning on shooting the gas tank."

"Then what are you going to do?" she asks.

I get to my feet and take a deep breath. My leg hurts like a little bitch. I think I ripped the stitches when I dove to the ground. Don't matter, though. I'm good. I pat at my pockets until I find what I'm looking for.

Marcie sees what I pull out and nods.

"Well, yeah, that'll do it," she says.

"Frag out," I say in a fake whisper.

Then I toss that grenade and let it do its beautiful work. The grenade lands in the truck bed and I hear the Doyle give a startled yell. It's his last yell. The whole truck goes up in a fun to watch boomy explosion of metal and fire and black smoke.

"Nice shot," Marcie says and stands up next to me. "Can't hide from that behind tires."

"Nope," I say. "Let's clean up."

It doesn't take us long to go through the trucks to make sure everyone is dead. And that they stay dead. Fifteen minutes and we're walking back to the farm, dead Doyles behind us and a very nice new rifle for me.

"Why do you get to keep that?" Marcie asks as she looks at the Steyr AUG I hold. It's pretty.

"I found it and I get to keep it," I say. "I've always wanted to shoot one of these."

"Where the hell did it come from?" she asks. "How would some idiot Doyle get a Swiss rifle?"

"It's America," I say. "Or it was. Plenty of crazy guns still around. I think this one is cool looking."

"You only have one extra magazine for it," she says.

A truck behind us blows up and we duck our heads, but don't even bother looking back. Gas tanks may not blow up when you shoot them, but they do blow up when they are covered in flaming hot wreckage from another truck. That's just science.

"I only need the two magazines," I say. "Takes the same NATO cartridges as the M-4. I can always reload the magazines."

"Not if you're in the middle of a firefight," she says.

I sigh and sling the rifle across my back so I can pat both my .45s then pat the hilts of my blades. "I got backups."

"If you say so," she says then laughs. "That was fun."

"Yeah, that was lots of fun," I say as we get back to the gate.

There's a line of women waiting for us. They stare like we're circus freaks.

"What?" I snap.

"You just stopped four trucks and killed all those Doyles by yourselves," one woman says.

"Yeah, so?" I ask. "Somebody had to do it." Then I think I get it. "Oh, sorry, did you want to kill them?"

"What?" she asks.

"Did you want to kill the Doyles?" I say. "Sorry, we didn't ask if you ladies wanted in on the Doyle killing. That was rude. You can have the next assholes that come for us."

"Is she serious?" the woman asks Marcie.

"She is," Marcie says and pats the woman on the shoulder as we start to walk by. "Don't worry. We'll take care of the next ones, too."

"Maybe she wants to do it," I say.

"No, uh, we're good," the woman replies and the others nod.

"Okey dokey," I say and shrug. "Your loss."

"Ready?" Vivian asks as she comes jogging up to us. "Trucks are loaded and we need to get out of here before the next team of Doyles arrives."

The women at the gate rush past us and towards where the trucks are parked. I guess they really don't want to wait and kill the next set of Doyles.

"You all will have to handle things without me from here on out," Marcie says and gives me a hug. "See you soon. Try not to die."

"I like how you said for me not to die last," I say. "Because even if I do, you'll probably still see me soon because I'll be a Z and you'll have to put me down."

"Let's hope that doesn't happen," Marcie says.

Vivian looks at me like I'm crazy. I'm getting tired of people looking at me like I'm crazy, but it ain't like I don't know why they do. I say crazy things. But that don't mean I'm crazy in my head. Just crazy in my mouth. I'm mouth crazy. Gotta remember to tell Critter that when I get back to the Stronghold. He likes funny sayings like mouth crazy.

I walk Marcie to the trucks and she hugs Audrey then hops up into one.

I can see all the women's faces and they is terrified as shit. Every last one of them.

"Ya'll are gonna be fine!" I call out to them as the trucks start up. "Just listen to Marcie and most of you will live!"

"Jesus, El," Audrey says.

"Hold up!" Jack shouts. "Hold up!"

The trucks come to a stop and Marcie sticks her head out the window.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing," Jack says then points at the back of one of the trucks. "Muffin, in!"

The dog easily makes the leap up into the truck then turns around and whines.

"No, you stay," Jack says. "I want you safe for when we get back."

He whines again, but quickly forgets about it as the women all lean over to give him some serious scratches and pets.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Audrey laughs.

"Good to see you care more for your dog than you do for your daughter," Kimmy says as she comes up behind us. "Come on. We don't have much time."

"I'd tell you two to go to therapy, but I think the Zs ate all the therapists," I say.

"Jesus, El," Audrey says again.

"What? Why do you always say that to me?" I ask.

"Kimmy's right," Jack says and walks away towards our vehicles. "We need to go."

Chapter Nineteen

I ride shotgun in the Jeep while Jack drives us towards town. I have the Barrett across my lap, but my new Steyr in my hands. It's pretty. I really like my new Steyr.

"I had to use one of those for a week when I was in Serbia," Jack says, nodding at my rifle. "Good gun, but you have to watch the pull to the left."

"Mine don't have a pull to the left," I say as I pat it gently. "It's perfect like a Swiss watch."

"It's Austrian," Jack says. "Probably why one of the Doyles had it. Some of these assholes came from the local militias which were really just Neo-Nazis pretending to be patriots. They loved all the Germanic shit. Thought it made them true Aryans."

"It's Swiss," I reply.

"Nope, it's Austrian," he says. "Trust me. But, like I said, it's a good rifle. I'm not partial to the bullpup style, but I think it fits you."

"I like it," I say. I ain't gonna keep arguing if it's Swiss or Austrian. I don't really care, even though I think it's Swiss.

Audrey and Kimmy are behind us in an old Ford Bronco. The kind without the top that has big, heavy roll bars welded to it. I knew a guy that had one of those Broncos once. He was a dick. He died. Shot to the head. Not by me. I was busy getting choked by him when his head went sploosh. But he had a nice Bronco.

I look back over my shoulder then over at Jack.

"Having a daughter is hard," I say.

"I thought you don't have kids," he says.

"I don't," I say. "But I watched Stella and Greta and it looked hard. Daughters can just be mean sometimes."

"They can," Jack says. "But I don't care. She's been through Hell and back. Or I hope she's back. We'll find out. When I get my grandkids to her safe and sound then we'll see just exactly who she is."

"She may put a bullet in your brainpan," I say.

"Jesus," he replies then shakes his head. "Yeah. She might."

"But, like you said, we'll see," I say.

"True," he says.

"You want me to shoot her in the brainpan if she shoots you in the brainpan?" I ask.

"What?" he says. "Why the fuck would I want you to do that?"

"Because of the murder and shit?" I reply. "You know, her murdering you. Usually when someone gets murdered then the murderer has to be killed too. That's how it works. It's justice."

"There would be zero justice in killing my daughter," Jack says. "Justice doesn't exist in this world anymore. There's right, there's wrong, and there's survival. You have to do a little of the right and sometimes a little of the wrong to keep surviving. That's the way it is after Z-Day."

"Okey dokey," I say. "So, that's a no on putting a bullet in her brainpan."

"That's a no," Jack says. He chuckles. "They just let you walk the streets back where you come from?"

"Ain't nobody to stop me," I say. I know he's playing with me. "My sisters could try, but that wouldn't be fun for none of us."

"I expect it wouldn't," he says. "Shit."

"I see it," I say.

Big dust cloud coming down the road. Big dust cloud. Doyle has sent a lot of Doyles after us. Good. That means there's a lot of Doyles to kill.

"Have I mentioned I like killing Doyles?" I say to Jack.

"A couple hundred times," he replies. "I don't blame you."

He pulls the Jeep off the road and we hop out. Audrey pulls up behind us and she and Kimmy join us by the Jeep. Only those two are with us. A lot more of the women wanted to come, but none of them would have lasted very long. Kimmy grew up military, she has some training. More than the others. Probably not enough, but we need her. The other ladies would have just gotten themselves killed.

Or one of us killed. That happens too. People getting killed or getting people killed. The circle of life. Or is it the circle of death? Circle of life and death?

"RPG?" Audrey asks. "We put it right in front and that will slow them down."

"We only have three rockets left," Jack says. "I don't want to waste them. We'll probably need all three when we get to town."

"I can distract them and get them to slow down," Kimmy says. "They won't risk shooting me."

"They might," Jack says. "I don't want to—"

"They won't," Kimmy snarls. "I am Doyle's woman. The Doyle, not these wannabes. They shoot me and they have to answer to him."

"Fuck," Jack says.

"I'd rather we waste an RPG," Audrey says.

"We don't need to waste anything," Kimmy says. She steps out into the road.

"Hey!" Jack snaps and rushes out to grab her. She has a pistol up and under his chin before his fingers can completely wrap around her arm.

"Don't touch me," she says. He pulls his arm back. Slowly.

"Where'd she get the pistol?" I ask.

"I didn't give it to her," Audrey says. "Shit."

"I know these men better than any of you," Kimmy says. "Some of them I know intimately. But that was before Doyle took me as his. Doyle saw something in me and knew I was special. He won't give an order to kill me. He knows that I am the only one that can reign in the chaos when you all are dead."

"Not liking how that sounds," Audrey says and lifts her rifle.

"Hold on," Jack says. He puts out a hand at us, but his eyes are locked onto his daughter's. She doesn't move the pistol an inch, just keeps it jammed up under his chin. "I got this."

"You don't got shit," Kimmy says. "I'm the one that has got this. I'll go talk to them, calm them down. I'll say we've worked things out and the women are joining me and you are joining the Doyles. Hard for them to pass up a chance at having an ex-Navy SEAL as a Doyle."

"No way in hell I'd take the name of Doyle," Jack says.

"I know that," Kimmy nearly spits. "None of it is real, Daddy. These women aren't going to join me and you aren't actually going to join the Doyles. Just pretend. Trust me. I am very, very good at playing just pretend. I've had to for years now while I waited for you to show up."

"Ouch," I whisper.

"Fine," Jack says after a couple more seconds. "Talk to them."

"Put your weapons down," Kimmy says. "Don't give them any excuses to shoot."

"Not like they can hit anything," I say. "Doyles is shit for shots." I giggle. "Shit for shots. That's funny."

"El, not now," Audrey says.

"But it is funny," I say.

"Yes, it is, but you can laugh about it later," Audrey says. "Right now we just be cool and see if Kimmy here is able to deliver on what she promises."

"Worst-case scenario, we still get to kill a bunch of Doyles, so I'm good," I say.

"Back against the Jeep and just wait," Kimmy says as she takes the pistol away from Jack's chin. "Don't move or even look mean at them. This is the third team which means it's the best Doyles we have."

I snort, but don't say anything. The best Doyles they have. Now that is funny.

We lean up against the Jeep and let Kimmy walk down the road at the trucks coming at us. She gets about fifty yards before the trucks slow down. They do some macho skidding and then a Doyle jumps out of the back of one of the trucks and rushes up to Kimmy.

"He didn't shoot her," Audrey says. "That's a good sign."

"Yeah," Jack says, but his voice tells us both that he doesn't think any of this is a good sign.

The Doyle and Kimmy talk back and forth. She turns and points to us then shakes her head as the Doyle laughs. She jabs a finger up under his chin the same way she'd stuck the pistol up under Jack's chin. He doesn't like that and shouts at her. She shouts back. The Doyle gives her a shove with the side of his rifle and Kimmy slips and falls on her ass.

"This isn't feeling right," Jack says. "You two ready to get to it?"

"Yep," I reply.

"Of course," Audrey agrees.

We shift our bodies so we're within reaching distance of our weapons. Half a second is all I need to get my pretty Steyr up and firing. I can't wait to kill some Doyles with it. Yeah, yeah, I'm better with pistols and blades, but the Steyr is just so damn cute. Its bullpupness makes me grin.

"What's so funny?" Audrey whispers.

"Gonna kill Doyles with my new rifle," I say.

"Jesus Christ, El," Audrey says, but she's smiling so I know she gets it.

Kimmy gets back to her feet and is raging pissed off. She is yelling at the Doyle so loud that we can clearly hear what she's saying.

"I will make sure Doyle slices off your balls and feeds them to not just you, but to all of these men that are refusing to obey my command!" she shouts. "Do you hear what I'm saying? Do you, you moronic piece of—"

She doesn't get to finish. The Doyle puts two slugs in her belly then one between her eyes. Kimmy's body slumps to the road and all eyes turn to us.

"NO!" Jack yells.

He's got his rifle up and he's running and firing before Audrey and I can even flinch.

"Shit!" Audrey yells and grabs at the rocket launcher in the back of the Jeep. "Cover him while I get this loaded and ready!"

"On it!" I yell and run after Jack, sending bullets flying from my Steyr.

The Doyle that shot Kimmy dives to the ground, but he's not fast enough. Jack sends a wave of bullets into him and he's mostly blood and guts when his face slams into the road.

My leg screams at me to stop so I stop because I have to listen to my leg since it's part of my body and not really separate at all and it hurts. All of that.

I kneel and take careful aim. The Steyr has one sweet-ass scope on it. I don't know if it's Swiss or Austrian and I don't care. It lets me dial tight as Doyles jump out of their trucks and start shooting at Jack. One, two, three, four Doyles lose their heads. I don't mean they go all crazy. I mean I shoot their heads right off. Pop, pop, pop, pop. Off go the Doyle heads.

A bullet slams into Jack and he goes flying, landing hard on his back on the road. I watch him gasp and struggle, but there ain't a damn thing I can do about it. I have to focus on shooting Doyles or they will focus on shooting me.

I drop five more before I feel the heat of a bullet graze the top of my head. Better not have ruined my hair. I'm having a good hair day. I look fine.

Jack sits up and starts firing again. He takes a couple of Doyles down before I hear the shout behind me. I shout at Jack in case he isn't paying attention. He isn't.

"HEY! FROGMAN!" I yell. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

He flattens himself back on the road as the RPG goes screaming over us at the Doyles. Some of the morons know to run. Most of them just stare at the fire coming at them. Then they stop staring as one of the trucks explodes and is launched high into the air. I shield my eyes, but don't stop looking. I want to see the burning Doyles running around. They don't disappoint.

As soon as the burning truck comes back to earth, Jack is up and running at the team of Doyles. He empties a magazine, drops it, and slams in a new one without breaking stride. The few Doyles that ain't burning and ain't running away try to stand up to him, but they do a piss poor job at it.

I'm telling ya, the only reason the Doyles was able to run this area is because of numbers. They are shitty-ass fighters and so fucking dumb. Just dumb.

Audrey gets to me and helps me up. We walk towards the Doyles, sending a shot here, a shot there, mostly focusing on the running Doyles and ignoring the burning ones. Fuck the burning Doyles. Let the sons of bitches burn!

One of the other trucks catches and blows. Jack is sent back to the road and we duck down fast. A hunk of metal whips by us and I swear, if it fucked up my good hair day more than that fucking bullet, then I'm going to hunt down every last man named Doyle left in this world and rip open his old one so I can rip him a new one.

Jack is coughing hard and rolls onto his stomach as he looks back at us. His face is pain. Nothing but pain.

We get up again and walk slowly to him, our eyes looking for stray Doyles and watching the other trucks that haven't caught fire and blown up yet. Audrey helps him to his feet and opens his shirt to pluck out the two rounds that are embedded in his body armor.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He doesn't say anything, just nods with tears in his eyes.

He looks back at the burning trucks, but we can't see Kimmy's body. It's covered in truck or it's been burned up. Not sure which. Doesn't matter because dead is dead. Well, sort of.

"She won't be coming back," I say to Jack. I point at the Hell we brought to the Doyles. We can feel the heat come at us in boiling waves. "Not with this shit. If it ain't made of rock then it's gonna melt."

"Fuck," he whispers. "I just…"

"We need to go," Audrey says. She tries not to sound cruel, I can tell, but hard not to when you're talking to a guy that lost his daughter after just rescuing her. "Jack? We can't stay here. Doyle will know his third team didn't make it. He's going to kill everyone and torch the town if we don't get to him first."

"Maybe we should let him," Jack says. "What's the fucking point to any of this anymore? My baby girl is dead. I spent years trying to figure out how to get to her then I do and now she's dead. Just scorched meat on a road, surrounded by dead assholes."

I start to say something, but Audrey frowns at me and I shut up. Probably a good idea.

"The point is you still have grandchildren in that town," Audrey says. "Grandchildren that you can save and love. You quit now and they are as good as dead."

"They're probably dead already," Jack says. "It's all over. We're too late."

Audrey's frown ain't gonna stop me now.

I slap Jack across the face. When he doesn't react, I slap him again.

"You try that one more—" he starts to say. I stop him with a third slap.

He grabs my hand before I can land the fourth slap.

"Knock it the fuck off," he growls.

"You knock it the fuck off," I say. "So, your daughter is dead. Whoopty shit, dude. People fucking die. It's the zombie apocalypse. Our sister Steph died back in that town and you don't see me going all pussy and wimpy and nutless, do you? No, because shit has to get done. Doyle needs killing and there ain't nobody left to do it but us."

"That is a shitty fucking pep talk," Jack says. "And it isn't working. We're just going to get ourselves killed if we go into town. We need to cut our losses and go back to the prison. Maybe I can help save the women there."

"They don't need saving," I say. "They need their kids back. Life is shit without family. You still have family. Be a fucking man and save your grandkids, asshole."

He glares at me. I cock my palm back like I'm gonna slap him and he shoots out a hand and grabs me by the wrist.

"Fine," he says. "We go in."

"Not so sure about that," Audrey says. She's squinting past the burning trucks and shakes her head. "Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I am."

"What?" I ask and look where she's looking. I see something, but I'm not sure what the hell it is.

"Use your scope," she says.

I put the Steyr to my shoulder and sight through the scope, through the smoke and flames, and focus far off down the road.

Well, poop my pants and call me stinky.

"How many you think there are?" I ask as I try to tally them all up in my head. I keep losing count and grunt as I take my eye away from the Steyr's scope and look at Audrey. "Rough guess."

"Rough guess? Three, maybe four hundred," Audrey says. "Maybe. Could be more or it could be less. Hard to tell from this distance. Might only be a couple rows of them or it could be a dozen rows deep."

"Let me see," Jack says and I hand him my Steyr. He takes a look, whistles, then chuckles. "You still want to go to town now?"

"Are you fucking kidding?" I chuckle back at him. "I want to go now more than ever. No more Doyles to kill here, might as well put down a few hundred Zs. Got nothing else to do today."

"And we have to get Antoinette," Audrey says. "There was never a question of us going in, just if you are going to be with us when we do."

Jack hands me back my rifle. My pretty, pretty rifle. He scratches his chin, right where Kimmy had jammed the pistol, and lets out one sad-ass moan. He sounds like a depressed Z.

"Okay, I'm going in with you," Jack says. "I feel like dying anyway, so killing a bunch of Zs before they overrun us and eat our faces off is just as good of a way to go as any."

"That's the fucking spirit," I say and slap him on the shoulder. "We walking or driving?" I get the crazy look from both of them. "What?"

"We drive," Audrey says. "We leave the truck and take the Jeep. It'll give us more mobility."

"Works for me," I say. "Come on, Jack, let's go die, okay?"

"Okay," Jack says.

We walk back to the Jeep, none of us in any hurry. My leg hurts like fuck. Audrey keeps looking over her shoulder at the huge herd of Zs coming at us. And Jack looks like a Z himself as he shuffles along with us.

"I'll drive," I say.

"No, I'll drive," Audrey argues.

Jack doesn't say shit.

He clambers into the backseat and shoves a few boxes of ammo and the rocket launcher out of the way. Audrey takes the driver's seat and I take back my passenger's seat which the Barrett has been nice enough to keep warm for me. That's a lie. The Barrett is made of metal, so the seat is colder than if I'd just left it empty. That's not a bad thing since the sun is beating down pretty hard.

Chapter Twenty

Audrey likes the Jeep. She's smiling from ear to ear as she drives us way off the road and across the dry dirt that is goddamn everywhere. I thought there was dirt in Colorado, but there is way more shitfucking dirt in New Mexico. At least around these parts. Probably because there ain't humans around to water everything down no more. Just dust and dirt now.

"This isn't getting any better," Jack says as Audrey takes us along the edge of the Z-herd. He's finally not acting like a Z no more. "I'm counting a lot more than three hundred. Look at them all. Has to be at least a thousand."

"More than that," I say. "Two thousand Zs, easy."

"Where the hell did they all come from?" Audrey asks.

"Doyle must have herded these together from Albuquerque," Jack says. "Only place close by where there could be these numbers. The Doyles have been using groups of Zs to keep the town under their control, but I haven't ever seen numbers like these before."

"We have," Audrey says.

"Lots more than this," I say. "Hundreds and hundreds of thousands. But we took them down, stayed safe. We can handle this many. No problemo."

"El, you have a hard enough time with the English language," Audrey laughs. "No need to start butchering Spanish."

"I butcher what I want to butcher," I say and smile. "That's the Elsbeth way."

Audrey has to whip the Jeep to the right to avoid sending us into a drainage ditch. It takes us directly towards the herd and I can see hundreds of the shitfuckers start to notice our little four by four. Groups break off and begin that ugly shamble shuffle dance thing Zs do. They got their arms outstretched and mouths wide open.

There was an old movie I saw once where Zs all cried out for brains. These Zs don't give two shits what part of us they eat as long as they get to jam as much into their shitfucking mouths as possible. I hate Zs almost as much as I hate Doyles.

That should say a lot about how much I hate Doyles.

"Audrey? Aren't we getting a little too close?" Jack says.

"We're good," Audrey replies. "Don't you worry that frogman head of yours."

I look back over my shoulder and see Jack shaking that frogman head of his. He's also got tears streaming down his frogman cheeks. Shit. I keep forgetting that he just watched his daughter get killed. Death is just part of being a sister, so it's hard to remember that other folks ain't wired like us.

Sisters handle death. It's part of our major skill set. That's a thing, right? A skill set? I heard someone say it once. Probably Long Pork. He always said something about everything. Couldn't help himself.

But, I will say that Audrey is cutting it a bit tight here.

"I think we can cross the ditch there," I say and point to a low point on our left.

"You scared, El?" Audrey asks.

"No, I ain't scared," I say. "I just don't want to ram a Z-horde if I don't have to. Turn the fucking Jeep, Audrey. Stop being a twat."

She don't respond, just turns the wheel and takes us down into the ditch then up the other side. I glance back and watch as some of the Zs that had been interested in tasting our yummy flesh try to follow, but just end up falling into the ditch. A dozen, two dozen, fifty, a hundred of them fill the ditch. It gets so full that after a couple hundred fall in, the others are able to walk right across their backs and shoulders and get to the other side.

That ain't good.

"Now we have a ton of Zs following us back into town," Jack says. "Good one."

"I know," Audrey says. "I want them to follow us. If you haven't noticed, there are only three of us and who knows how many Doyles. We can't just hit the sports complex head on and hope all those kids survive. We need to create a diversion, make some chaos, and I think bringing Doyle's Zs back to him is the perfect way to do that."

"Next time maybe ask our opinion," Jack says.

"That's optimistic," Audrey replies. "You're thinking there will be a next time. Good for you."

"It was a figure of speech," he says. "I don't hope there is a next time. I just want to get my grandkids and get the fuck away from North Valley. Get up to the prison in Santa Fe and try to build something for us."

"Should be fun," I say. "Just you and all those women. Good luck with that."

"No shit," Audrey says. "Better start cutting sheets into strips because that's a whole lot of cycles that are gonna synch right up. I hate to be you when the full moon hits."

"What's the full moon got to do with it?" I ask.

"We all cycle together on the full moon," Audrey says. "Haven't you noticed that?"

"Do we? Huh," I say. "Nope. Hadn't noticed. That's funny. We're like killer werewolves with periods."

"Okay, okay, we can end this conversation right now," Jack says. "I've heard enough."

"Oh, brother, you haven't even begun to hear enough," Audrey says and laughs. "Trust me. You better start getting used to it."

"Great," Jack says.

"I don't think Jack likes it when women talks about their periods," I say.

"No guy likes it when women talk about their periods," Jack replies. "Jesus."

"Like I said, Jack, you better start getting used to it," Audrey says. "Stop being such a whiny bitch. You a badass or some douche that gets all weak from talking about nature? Get over yourself, frogman."

"Whatever you say," Jack replies. "Now, how about you get us away from this herd? It's spreading out again and it's gonna cut us off before we can get to town."

He's right. The herd is starting to spread out and cut us off. It's like an undead fan, just getting wider and wider every second.

"God, look at them all," Jack says.

I want to laugh, but I don't. It ain't funny the first time you see a herd this size. I've seen plenty. But for Jack, this must be like the apocalypse is happening all over again.

I can see the town far off in the distance as we come up over a small hill. I also see about ten thousand more Zs. We're cut off. Ain't no way we can get to the town without going through the herd. Maybe we could go around, but we don't have that kind of time. We need to get into the town and get to the sports complex before Doyle kills everyone.

"What's that?" Audrey asks as she leans over the steering wheel and squints. "Smoke? Do you see smoke rising up?"

"Shit," Jack says. "You think he's already started torching things?"

"I don't see no trucks leaving anywhere," I say. "It'd be dumb as shit if he started torching the town before he left. That's how you get yourself all burnt up."

"Well, something is burning," Jack says.

"Could be what's left after that playground building burned down," I say. "Maybe a couple other buildings caught and the Doyles just got them put out. Don't look like the rest of the town is on fire."

"Not yet," Audrey says.

She takes us down the small hill then back up another one. It don't make the view any better, just closer. She stops the Jeep and turns in her seat to look at us.

"Okay, we need some kind of plan here," she says. "A plan to get into town, a plan to get the kids and Antoinette away from the Doyles, and a plan to get back out of the town."

"So we need three plans," I say.

"That's good math there, El." Audrey smirks.

"Fuck you, bitch." I smirk back.

"We have a crate of grenades and three rockets left," Jack says. "I also have some Semtex boxed up, as well."

"You have Semtex?" Audrey asks. "Detonators?"

"Plenty. Simple remote," Jack says. "We can set it up then press a button and it goes boom. I already checked the batteries on both the transmitter and receivers. We're good there."

"How much Semtex?" Audrey asks. "How big of a blast area are we looking at?"

"With the Semtex alone, pretty big, but it's a one boom thing and then done," Jack says. "But if we combine it with projectiles, such as ball bearings or nails, then we have ourselves something useful."

I check out the huge herd below us. It spreads out for a half mile, at least. The main highway in and out of the town is blocked completely. Even if we get inside, getting out is not going to be easy. We'll be making a bunch of noise and that's gonna turn the herd around to come after us. Audrey may have wanted that before, but with all these Zs? No fucking way we want that now.

"Where do we get ball bearing or nails?" I ask. "We didn't bring those with us."

Jack thinks for a second then points to the southeast.

"We go around that way," he says. "They were just starting to build a mall on the edge of town. I know there's plenty of nails, screws, bolts, and all of that there. We load it up and make some bombs."

"For what?" Audrey asks.

"So we can punch holes in this herd when it's time to leave," I say. "We're gonna lose time making the bombs and getting them set, but we ain't got much choice." I look at Jack. "You think they got rubber tubing or something at that construction site? Maybe bungees?"

"Rubber tubing or bungees? Why?" he asks.

Audrey laughs. "I see where you're going with this," she says. "Launch the bombs into the herd then blow them when it's time and clear a way out."

"Yep," I say. "We ain't never gonna punch our way through this herd with just a Jeep."

The second I say that, a thought slams into my brainpan. I can see on the others' faces they are having the same thought. Shit.

"We left the truck," Jack says. "How the fuck are we going to get the kids out of town with just a Jeep?"

"We're gonna pray that there are more trucks still at the sports complex," Audrey says. "If we have to, we ditch this and use one of those trucks. Or two trucks, if there are that many kids."

"That's a lot of kids," I say. "I ain't never been around that many kids. They'll need snacks and water. Kids like snacks and water."

"Kids can deal," Audrey says. "We'll worry about snacks and water once we are clear of this shit hole."

"We can let the women handle that when we get to the prison," Jack says.

Audrey turns and glares. I turn and glare.

"No, no, I didn't mean that because it's women's work or anything," Jack replies, his hands up, ready to defend against the beat down he's about to get in three seconds. "I mean that the women will already be at the prison and they have all the supplies. And there's only women. No guys there. Just women. That's all I meant."

"We scared him," I say.

"Yes, we did," Audrey agrees. She puts the Jeep in gear and floors it down the hill towards the southeast side of the town. "Snacks and drinks aren't our worry right now. Building some bombs is."

"Roger that," Jack says.

I think he's glad we ain't talking about the snacks and drinks no more.

The herd is wide enough that we come super fucking close to it to get to the construction site. We're maybe fifteen yards from the edge and that makes the Zs a little pissed. Food is so close, but so far. They can see us, but no way they can catch us. About a good hundred veer off and follow us, but we leave them in the dust. They aren't gonna be a problem for a while. Not until they catch up to us when we stop.

Time is tickety ticking. It's always tickety ticking.

Audrey's lucky because she gets to drive. Her focus is on the way ahead of us. Me and Jack gotta stare at the herd as it comes for us. All I want to do is put my Steyr to my shoulder and blow some Z heads off. I can tell by the way Jack is all jumpy and twitchy behind us that he wants to do the same thing. But it would be a total waste of ammo and just get the Zs more riled up. Got enough of them coming for us as it is, don't need the entire herd turning and aiming for our asses.

"There!" Jack shouts as we crest a ridge and come down fast towards the edge of town. "Shit."

We see the construction site, but it's a damn mess. Looks like the Doyles have already been to it more than a few times and they've left anyone else that swings by a present. There are a hundred Zs easy milling around inside the rusty chain-link fence that surrounds the construction site. It doesn't look like a ton of work was completed at all before Z-day hit, so not like there's concrete block walls we can hide behind. Plenty of piles of trash and crap, but nothing solid to give us cover when we go in.

"Still think we can find what we need?" Audrey asks Jack.

"Yeah, we can," Jack says. "The Doyles have ransacked it, but it doesn't look like they've moved all the supplies. I bet they come and go when needed and have kept the majority of shit here for storage. They don't have to worry about the Zs walking off with any of it."

"And anyone that comes by has gotta deal with all those Zs," I say. "If I were a survy or scavenger or even a crazy, I'd just keep on going and look for a better place to do some salvaging."

"Then we go in," Audrey says. "We hit hard and create some chaos. You two jump out and find the stuff we need." She taps her ear. "I'll drive around and wrangle the Zs away from you. Maybe I can get them jammed up enough that they start tripping over each other. Once you have the shit then I come back for you and we take off to make some bombs."

"Gotta do it fast," I say. "Tickety tock, yo."

"You have got too much Long Pork in that head," Audrey says. "Don't say yo."

"No yo," I say. "Got it, yo."

"Bitch," she laughs.

Audrey doesn't say another word. She aims for the main gate of the construction site and floors it. I duck my head, Jack ducks his head, and Audrey hollers as she slams into the chain-link gate. It doesn't even have a chain around it or any lock, so it flies right open without barely scratching the Jeep.

The Zs come at us fast. Okay, not fast, but they all hear the noise and see the Jeep. Okay times two, some come at us fast. I have my Steyr up and firing as six fast ones shove the others out of the way to get at us. Six squeezes of my trigger and they ain't fast no more, just dead.

Audrey whips the Jeep around and skids to a stop. "GO!" she yells.

Jack jumps out and catches me as I jump out and nearly fall on my face. My leg is burning hot. I can feel the pain burning. Shit. That ain't good. Not good at all.

I wonder if…

Can't think about that right now. Nope. Got work to do.

"There!" Jack shouts and points at a huge container as Audrey speeds off. She's hollering and yelling, trying to get the Zs to follow her, but some of them have already seen me and Jack. "Shit!"

I kill the first four in front of us and Jack takes the five coming at us on our three. I spin and take out the eight on our nine and he turns and clears our six. We do all of that while we carefully keep moving towards the container. It's one of those rusty metal ones that trains haul or you see on big semi-trucks. What are they called? Shipping containers. That's it.

About ten more Zs come shuffling out from around the side of the shipping container as we get to it. I put a bullet in their heads then eject my magazine and slam in a fresh one. I still have about fifteen rounds in the first one, but I can't risk running out if things get shittier than they are.

The front gate may not have a chain or lock, but the doors to the shipping container have both. Jack shoots the lock off and I catch a piece of metal across the back of my neck.

"Fucking ow!" I snap.

"Sorry," Jack says as he yanks the doors open. "Oh, fuck me."

I turn and look inside. I say a lot worse than fuck me.

"They cleared most of it out," I say.

"Yeah, they did," Jack says. He rushes inside anyway and starts tearing open the few boxes that are left. He's muttering and muttering until he says, "Fuck yes! We can use these!"

He holds up a thin piece of metal with holes in it. It's maybe three inches long and half an inch wide.

"What are those?" I ask.

"Brackets," he says. "You use them to secure pipes and wires and stuff against studs in the ceiling or walls. These may actually be better than ball bearings or nails. You send a few hundred of these flying and they will shred anything and everything in their path."

"Works for me," I say. "We got enough in there?"

"We got enough," he says and smiles. He starts pulling out smaller boxes that are inside the bigger box. The smaller boxes are like the size of shoe boxes. That's just the right size for what we need to do. "We have more than enough. We can tear the Semtex into twelve pieces so we have twelve bombs."

"Now we find some bungees," I say. "Otherwise this idea ain't worth shit."

Five Zs come around the shipping container and I put them down. I can see Audrey way out across the site doing donuts in the dirt. Most of the Zs are going after her, but we still got some assholes that think we're easy meals. Fuck these assholes.

"I'm not seeing any bungees," Jack says. "Shit."

"Shit," I say. Then I see something. Off to our right is a panel truck. Just an ugly white thing sitting there. "Truck. Trucks always have bungees."

"Is that a rule you heard somewhere?" he asks.

"Nope, just my experience," I say. "I always used to find bungees in tool kits and behind seats in trucks. Came in handy when tying up fresh meat back when I was a canny."

"Yeah, uh, okay," he says. "Whatever you say. You want to go check the truck while I guard these boxes?"

"You bet," I say. "Be right back."

I sprint over to the panel truck and check the driver's side window to make sure there ain't no dead driver inside ready to bite my tits off. It's clear and I yank the door open. It smells like fresh pine scent inside. There's one of them green trees hanging from the automatic gear shift. I sniff and frown. Why the hell would it still smell so fresh?

"Well, wouldn't this be nice," I mutter as I climb in and see the keys hanging in the ignition. Shiny keys. Keys that have been needed recently, not just abandoned by the last guy that used them. "Come on, come on."

I turn the keys in the ignition and the truck starts right up. Like right up. It's got to be a Doyle truck they left here for moving shit back and forth. Ain't that handy as fuck.

I turn the engine off to save gas then whip around and look back behind the bench seat. All kinds of shit in here. Lots of old sandwich wrappers and coffee cups. A tool kit. I grab that and open it up, but all it's got is tools. No bungees. Shit.

I jump out of the cab and nearly run right into three Zs. No time to shoot them. I slam the butt of my Steyr into one Z face then sweep the legs of the other two. I almost fall on my ass as my leg buckles under me, but I manage to fall against the panel truck and stay upright.

I sling my rifle and pull out a blade. Swipe, swipe, swipe. Off with their heads.

I kick a dead Z out of my way and hurry to the back of the truck. Another lock, but my blade fixes that. Gonna have to sharpen it, but I can worry about that later. I yank the back door up and stare at what's inside.

Bungees. Lots of bungees. And tools. There's a small workbench at the back of the truck, but all along the sides are tools and tools and tools. Those tools are held in place up and down the walls by bungees. We got a running truck full of tools and all the bungees we need.

I shut the door and rush my ass back to the cab. Two more Zs get in my way, but I end them fast. Their bodies don't even have time to hit the ground before I'm up in the truck and have the engine going again. I turn it around and head right for the shipping container.

Fucking Doyles. I say that because I think it's a good idea to back the truck up to the shipping container so Jack can throw the boxes of brackets right inside and climb in after. Except the stupid fucking Doyles never turned off that beep beep beeping noise trucks make when you back them up.

Half the fucking herd of Zs that's chasing Audrey and the Jeep around all stop and turn to look at me.

"Better hurry!" I yell as I lean out of the window and shout at Jack. "We ain't gonna be alone for long!"

"What the fuck, El?" Audrey yells in my ear. I jump because I forgot about the com. "You want every fucking Z to come give you a hug?

"Ain't my fault," I say. "Stupid Doyles didn't disable the beeping. I hate Doyles."

"I'm coming to you," Audrey says. "You're gonna need my help killing Zs more than keeping them away from you."

"Okey dokey," I reply. What else am I gonna say? She's right.

I hear the rear door roll down and shut. After a couple of seconds, Jack pounds on the wall between him and me and I floor it, punching the panel truck right through the Zs coming for us.

Audrey is driving the Jeep while firing a pistol into the herd. I'm driving the truck while firing one of my .45s into the herd. We're driving and firing. That should be one of them country songs. If people were still writing country songs. Not sure if they are. I've been to Nashville. Ain't no country music writers left there anymore. Just Zs in cowboy drag.

Don't go to Nashville. Just don't.

I take the lead and clear our way out of the construction site. We get a good mile away before I slow down and Audrey pulls up next to me.

Jack jumps out of the back and hurries to the Jeep to get the Semtex.

"I'll get the bombs ready," he says. "You two rig up a way to launch them into the herd from the Jeep. We got more than enough bungees to make it happen. You'll just need to secure them to the Jeep's roll bars and make a cradle to launch from."

"Bomb-launching cradle," I say. "Got it."

"Ten minutes," Audrey says, her eyes studying the town's skyline. The smoke is a lot thicker. "We still need to get these bombs into the herd before we go wipe out the rest of the Doyles."

"And get the kids," Jack says.

"Yep, that too," I say. "Wipe out Doyles and get kids. Just another day for the sisters."

Chapter Twenty-One

It really don't take much time at all to get the bungees on the Jeep and make a cradle. We use one of the duffel bags and wrap it in duct tape. The handles are secured to the bungees and the bungees are secured to the roll bars. Audrey can drive and I can launch bombs into the herd.

Then we go get kids and kill Doyles.

Jack waits for us in the panel truck, ready to head into town as soon as we do what we gotta do.

After two misfires, I get the hang of the bungees and can pretty much put the bombs where I want. The first two landed right next to each other, but that ain't a bad thing. When they go off, they'll clear one big spot in the herd we can aim for. It'll give us some breathing room before they start closing back in on us.

Which they will because Zs are assholes.

We pull up next to Jack and the panel truck and I give him the thumbs up.

"You only have the one transmitter?" Audrey asks.

"Yeah," Jack says. "Sorry. I'll be careful with it."

"You better be," Audrey says. "Otherwise we just wasted a shitload of time."

"Ready for the next part?" Jack asks.

"Ready," Audrey says.

"Ready," I say.

"Then follow me," Jack says. "I know the best route to get close to the sports complex without them seeing us."

"How close?" Audrey asks.

"About six or seven blocks away," he says. "It's the closest we'll be able to get. From that point on, we'll be in the shit. There's still plenty of Doyles left to give us trouble."

"Fucking Doyles," I snarl.

"Amen to that," Audrey says and points at the town. "Lead the way."

Jack floors it and we wait until he's ahead of us then follow close behind.

"He hits those brakes and we'll end up buttfucking that panel truck," I say.

"I know how to follow a truck, El," Audrey says. "We have to stay tight so Zs can't get between us. It also gives us more cover from any head on attacks. Don't forget, we're dealing with people now. They start shooting and we don't exactly have a lot of cover in this open-top Jeep."

"I do see why Critter loves his Jeep, though," I say. "Gonna have to get one of these when we get back to the Stronghold."

"Good call," Audrey says. "I may even let you drive it once in a while."

"Fuck you," I say and laugh.

Even with the big truck in front of us, I can still see the huge column of smoke rising up over the town. Whatever fire it's from, it ain't no campfire, that's for fucking sure.

Jack has to take us through some messed-up streets. I can see how much everyone panicked back on Z-Day. That may have been a few years ago, but it still lives in this town. Cars are overturned, skeletons hanging from broken windshields, bodies strung up on telephone poles, some of them still moving, and every window everywhere broken. It's obvious the Doyles just said screw it and walked away from this area. Too much to clean up.

Jack finally gets us to a main street that has Doyle stink all over it. Barricades set up, windows boarded over, cars moved out of the way. My eyes are scanning everywhere, waiting for some Doyle to pop up and take a shot at us. My Steyr is up and resting on the side mirror, but no Doyles decide to play shoot-a-mole.

"Quiet," Audrey says.

"Too quiet," we say together and laugh.

Then we stop laughing. It is too quiet. Where the hell are all the Doyles?

Three more blocks and Jack stops the truck. He jumps out, his rifle ready and sweeping back and forth. He nods at us as we jump out of the Jeep. I more fall out than jump out because my leg is shit.

"This way," he says and nods to the corner at the end of the block. "We take a right then two lefts and it's straight on to the sports complex. This is behind them, but we will need to watch for sentries."

I look up at the column of smoke.

"Right then two lefts and straight on?" I ask.

"Yeah," Jack says.

"Then that's where the smoke is coming from," I say, picturing the route in my head. It ain't a pretty picture. "It's already on fire."

"On fire, but not blown up," Audrey says. "There would be way more damage to the town."

"Let's get closer and see what's going on," Jack says. "Talking here all day won't do us any good."

"And we ain't got much day left," I say as I nod my chin up at the sky. It's September, so we got a couple more hours before it gets dark, but I can already see the blue changing from light to dark. "We need to get a move on or we'll end up driving back out through that herd at twilight. That won't be no fun at all."

"Then let's get a move on," Jack says.

This close to his grandkids and he has a new purpose. The sad Jack has left and frogman Jack is back. He is all business and ready to take that business to the Doyles. Jack takes point and we follow close behind. Audrey watches our side as we move close to a building and I watch our six, making sure no Zs or Doyles sneak up behind us.

They are moving a lot faster than I want to on my leg, but I ain't gonna slow them down so I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my focus. Don't fall down, don't fall down, don't fall down. I say that over and over in my head. The taste of blood fills my mouth as my teeth go through part of my cheek. It makes me hungry.

Fuck you. Don't judge.

Jack holds up a fist and we come to a quick stop at the corner of the street. He ducks his head around and back fast then nods to us and waves us forward as he goes right. There are about a dozen Zs milling around on the street, but none of them are paying any attention to us. They are all looking up at the column of black smoke above the town.

It's like kids watching someone fly a kite. When the wind blows the smoke to the left, the Zs all shift a few steps to the left. When the wind blows it back the other way, they all shift back the other way. We get about three quarters down the block before even one sees us.

I make the call. No need to fire and bring more on us, so I let the Steyr go slack on its strap and dangle from my shoulder as I pull a blade. The one that has noticed us goes down first then I move quickly from the next to the next to the next until I drop all twelve of the pieces of shit.

Jack and Audrey nod to me as we take the next left and start down a new street. More Zs, quite a few more, but none of them are looking our way. They ain't looking up at the smoke either. All the Zs have their backs to us and are walking to the corner. As a few go around the left, I realize I can hear something. It ain't loud, but it's loud enough to alert the Zs.

"Voices?" Audrey whispers as she glances back at me.

"Yeah," I whisper back.

We follow the Zs, taking our time so they can all clear the corner before we get there. No need to let them know we're behind them. Better it be a surprise when we lop their heads off.

Jack stops us again, ducks his head around the corner, but then doesn't duck his head back. My gut clenches because I seen this happen once where a crazy stuck his head around a corner and it got chopped off by another crazy. The blade was so sharp that the head fell off like butter and the body just stood there for like five seconds before it finally fell to the ground.

I wait for Jack's body to fall.

Then he ducks back to us and his eyes are wide and he looks like one confused frogman.

Audrey pushes past and looks around the corner as I come up to Jack.

"What is it?" I whisper.

"Check it out," he says and shakes his head. "Fuck. We gotta help."

"No shit," Audrey says then she's on the move.

Jack is right behind her and I'm right behind him. I get around the corner and my jaw drops. Audrey doesn't even pause, just opens fire, taking very slow, careful shots so she doesn't hit any of them.

So she doesn't hit any of the kids.

"What the fuck?" I mutter as I start shooting, taking out Z after Z as they shamble up to the mass of kids walking down the street towards us. It isn't until we have the street cleared of Zs that I see who is leading the kids. "Holy fuck me running with scissors."

Antoinette.

She's covered in blood and gore, but I know a sister when I see one. She has a metal baseball bat in one hand and a fire axe in the other, her hand choked up on the handle for close quarters combat. I'd say by how I can't see a stitch of her that isn't all blood that she has been in the shit big time. Big fucking time.

We stand where we are and let them come to us, our rifles up, eyes watching for more Zs. But no more come. No Doyles neither, but I have a guess as to why there ain't no Doyles.

"How many you take down?" Audrey asks when Antoinette gets to us.

She doesn't say anything, just drops weapons and gives Audrey a huge hug. Audrey cries out from her ribs, but doesn't push Antoinette away. When Antoinette finally lets go, she grabs me up in another hug. It feels good. Sister hugs are good even when they are bloody and gory.

"Antoinette?" Audrey asks, looking past her to the kids. "How many Doyles are left?"

"None," Antoinette says. "Not a goddamn one."

"You're telling me you killed all the Doyles?" Jack asks. "Even the head Doyle? The original?"

"I killed him last," Antoinette says. "He tried to hide, but he couldn't. You can't hide from a sister when a sister wants to find you."

She nods her head to a pack on her back. It's a bit of a drippy pack. Blood drippy. I think we know what's in there, but none of us is gonna say anything because, well, the look on Antoinette's face says everything for us.

"Is that…?" Jack asks quietly. I guess he's gonna say something.

"Yes," Antoinette says. She says it in a way that keeps him from asking anything else. He's learning.

The kids are all mumbling and muttering to themselves. A couple of babies cry out, but even they ain't as loud as they should be.

"We have a truck," Audrey says. "Back a few blocks. It's going to be a tight fit, but we can get everyone inside."

"Good," Antoinette says. "These are all I could save. The Doyles started killing them when they got a message over the radio. That's when I knew I couldn't wait anymore."

She holds up her wrists and we see the huge gouges in her skin.

"I broke free and started killing those assholes," she continues. "I kept killing them until there weren't any more to kill."

"Yeah you fucking did," Audrey says. "Come on, let's get the fuck out of here."

"It won't make much difference," Antoinette says. "He's got it all set to blow."

"We know," Jack says. He isn't even looking at Antoinette. His eyes are scanning the kids, looking for familiar faces. Faces that look like his. "We have a plan to get through the Z-herd and away from this Hell."

"No, you don't get it," Antoinette says. "It doesn't matter. This place is going to be dust soon. I don't know how long we have, but when it goes, we all go."

"Why?" Audrey asks. "We can get away. We can outrun the blast."

"No, we can't," Antoinette says. "No way we can outrun a nuke."

Chapter Twenty-Two

"A nuke?" Jack snaps. "You sure?"

"One hundred percent sure," Antoinette says. "I saw enough to know Doyle wasn't lying. He liked to brag. A lot. Until I cut off his junk and jammed it in his mouth. Then I cut off his head." She nods back again at the bloody pack she carries.

"Fuck," Jack says. He waves at the kids. "We need to get them moving. Now!"

"It's a nuke," Antoinette says. "Where are we going to go?"

"We're going to try," Audrey says. "We're sisters. We don't give up, right?"

I smack Antoinette in the shoulder.

"We're sisters. We don't give up, right?" I say too and smack her again.

"Stop hitting me," she says then nods. "Yeah, we're sisters and we don't give up."

"Where's the nuke?" Jack asks. "I'm trained. I can disarm it."

"I'm trained too, but it don't matter," Antoinette says. "We're all trained. We can't get to it in time. It's in Albuquerque. Too far to travel before it goes off. Too much city to cover to even find it. He never said exactly where it was, just that he was gonna use it if things don't go his way. Things didn't go his way."

"But he set it on a timer, so I guess he thought things would go his way enough for him to escape," Jack says. "That means the nuke isn't big enough to wipe all of this out in the initial blast. The shockwave may flatten the town, but I doubt it'll catch fire right off."

"Then we get the fuck gone!" Audrey snaps. "Antoinette, if I have to slap your ass silly to get you in gear then I will. Wake up, bitch. We have work to do."

"Don't call me a bitch," Antoinette says, but I see some of her sister gleam pop back into her eyes.

A baby cries and I look for it then realize kids are carrying babies. Bigger kids are carrying smaller kids. They are all dirty and look hungry as shit. Their eyes are empty. I know empty eyes. I used to have empty eyes.

"We'll get them moving," I say to Jack. "You run back and get the truck. When you catch back up to us then Audrey can run up and get the Jeep."

Jack is still trying to figure out which of the kids are his grandkids. He's smart enough to know that maybe none of them are and they died when the Doyles started butchering kids. But that don't mean he ain't gonna hope.

"Jack!" Audrey snaps.

"On it," Jack says. He turns and takes off as fast as he can. It's pretty fast. Frogmen run fast.

A baby shrieks then quiets down and Audrey looks at me. I shrug.

"I don't know nothing about babies," I say.

"Just keep us covered," Antoinette says. She leaves the baseball bat, but picks up the fire axe. She holds out her empty hand. "Gimme one of your .45s."

"Promise not to lose it?" I ask.

"Shut up and give me the pistol," she says. I give it to her.

Antoinette looks back at all the kids and gives them a smile. It's weak as shit, but it's a smile.

"These are the sisters I told you about," she says. "They are gonna get us somewhere safe."

"You said the nuke was going to blow us all up," a young boy about eight says.

Most of them is boys. There's some girls, but not a lot. I swallow hard and try not to think of where the girls might have ended up.

"The nuke might," Antoinette says. "But Albuquerque is a long way off. Far enough that maybe we won't die when it explodes. If we can get out of here fast enough then we might make it. So I need you all to stay close to us and to keep moving. I don't want one of you to even think of lagging behind. Do you hear me?"

They nod. All of them.

"You're like Peter Pan," I say, "but with boobies."

Some of the older boys, and a couple of the older girls, the few there are, laugh.

"Missed you, El," Antoinette says and starts walking. "How about you be a smart ass while we walk?"

"We need to jog," Audrey says.

"I ain't jogging," I say. "Leg won't let me."

"And the kids aren't up for jogging," Antoinette says. She looks at my leg. "I'll fix that up nice for you when I can."

"It's okay," I say. "A lady named Vivian stitched it up right."

"Vivian?" one of the girls asks. "That's my grandma."

"Well, you got yourself a nice grandma," I say. Then it hits me. Stupid El. Don't know why I didn't think of it before. "Hey, which one of you is Kimmy's?"

An older boy, maybe twelve, raises his hand. "This little guy I'm holding," he says. "I don't know where his sister is. I don't think she… I mean…"

"I get it," I say. "No need to say anymore." I give the boy a stern look. "You do me a favor and don't you dare let that little boy go, you hear? The man that ran off to get the truck is his grandpa. He's going to very happy to know one of his grandkids made it."

"He's going to be sad as shit to know one of them didn't," Audrey says. "Maybe we don't tell him until we're at the prison?"

I get what she's saying. I do. Jack is walking a tight rope. He's way, way, way up high and ain't got no net. Telling him his granddaughter didn't live might send him falling all the way down until his brainpan goes splat.

"Okay," I say and nod as I drift back and let the kids pass me so I can take our six.

Once they are all about six feet ahead of me, I start walking, keeping an eye on the shadows that are lengthening as the sun gets lower and lower. I watch the alleys. I watch the boarded-up buildings. Antoinette says she killed all the Doyles, but I think Doyles is like cockroaches and just because you can't see any don't mean they ain't hiding right there in front of you.

I ain't wrong.

I hear the window slide up and I'm firing before I even know where to shoot. My Steyr is sending slugs ripping into every window on every second floor all up and down the block. The kids scream and start to panic and run. I hear Antoinette shouting at them to calm down and get down. I don't know if they get down, but from their screams, I do know they don't calm down.

Audrey is firing with me and it isn't until my magazine clicks empty that I even stop to see if I've hit anything. I slap in the half-full magazine and close ranks on the kids. Audrey comes to me, her eyes up, studying the air above us, looking for the attack.

"I caught two," she says.

"You did?" I ask. "I ain't got a clue how many I caught."

"You didn't see your targets?" she asks and laughs. "Jesus, El. I sometimes wonder if Kramer didn't put a little extra in your doses. I'm supposed to be the better shot with a rifle."

Then I see what she means. Hanging out of two windows are dead Doyles. One is missing most of his head and the other has holes all through his chest. Audrey points to a fire escape and I see a third Doyle with only one eye, the other just a gaping, bleeding hole. She points again to a window far down the street and I see brains dripping from the bricks below it. No corpse, but he probably fell back inside.

"Why didn't they shoot us when we first got here?" I ask.

"They're supposed to kill the children, not just us," Antoinette says. "That was Doyle's last order."

"Sick fuck," I mumble.

"Come on," Audrey says. "Let's get these kids up and calmed the fuck down so we can get out of here."

"You should be in charge of the daycare when we get back to the Stronghold," I say to Audrey. "You're so huggy."

"Fuck off," she says. "Come on."

We get the kids all chilled, or as chilled as kids can be when they've been through what they've been through. I can tell some of them ain't gonna recover from any of this. Others will. Even a few may get stronger over time. The apocalypse ain't the end for everyone.

The next street over is clear of Zs and Doyles, but as we take our second right, we see quite a few undead assholes shambling around. They see us too and start walking our way. Not really a problem. Maybe twenty or so. With three sisters, we can take them without breaking a sweat.

"Mine," Antoinette says and tucks my .45 into her belt then grips the fire axe with both hands.

Audrey doesn't argue with her and I don't neither. If a sister needs some Z-therapy then we let her have some Z-therapy. Only way to do it.

We don't let the kids slow down and gawk as Antoinette gets to work. Still have to keep moving. Some of them cringe as Antoinette takes off head after head, but most just let it wash over them.

There are still four or five left when Jack brings the truck around the corner and stops. He hops out and stares as Antoinette finishes her therapy session, adding a shit-ton more blood and gore to what's already covering her.

"Hey," she says to Jack then turns and waves at the kids. "Come on. It's all clear."

They listen. They move. They hurry to the truck as Jack opens the back. He and Antoinette help everyone inside and it is a tight fit. A very tight fit. Audrey takes off running to get the Jeep as Antoinette climbs in back with the kids. Jack starts to close the door, but a few of the kids start screaming.

"Don't," she says. "It's too much like the box."

"Do I want to know?" Jack asks.

"Do you?" Antoinette replies.

"No," he says. "Use the rope over by that bench to create some straps for the kids to hang onto. May even want to tie up some of the smaller ones."

"Okay," Antoinette says.

Jack hurries to the driver's side and jumps back in. I climb into the passenger's side and sigh. It's nice to sit down.

"You good?" he asks. "I heard the gunfire and thought maybe you'd been ambushed."

"The Doyles tried," I said. "Then the Doyles died. Stupid fucking Doyles."

"I hear that," Jack says and gets us turned around.

He pushes the truck as fast as it can go without throwing kids clear from the back. We take the next corner and see Audrey coming at us with the Jeep. She whips it around to my side.

"Jump in," she says. "Gonna need a gunner."

"Only if I get to push the button," I say.

She sighs. "Yes, you get to push the button."

"Woohoo!" I cry and scramble out of the truck and into the Jeep.

Audrey leans past me to look at Jack. "Let me get turned around then you follow," she says. "We'll take point on this. No way we'll be able to blow them all up, so I'll have El improvise and clear our path as we go."

"Sounds good," Jack says. "Lead the way. I'll be right behind you."

Audrey pulls out and zips around the back of the truck.

"What the hell?" she says as she sees the open back.

I tell her why it's open.

"Bullshit. We need to close the back," she says, looking past me to talk to Antoinette. "Too many Zs in that herd. The truck stalls at all and they'll get up in there and eat all the kids. No arguing."

"Okay," Antoinette says. She pulls the door down and we hear kids start crying and screaming right off.

"Jesus," Audrey says. "Antoinette gets a vacation when we get back to the Stronghold. She's gonna need it big time."

"No shit," I say as we race back out in front of the truck and take off for the edge of town. "We're all gonna need one. Maybe we can find a lodge way, way up in the mountains and do some skiing?"

"You know how to ski?" she asks.

I shrug. "Not sure. Probably. Wouldn't be surprised if I do."

"No, I wouldn't be surprised if you do either," she says and laughs.

The laugh doesn't stay for long as we get closer to the edge of town and catch glimpses of the huge herd of Zs before between buildings. It looks a lot bigger than it did earlier. Shit.

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Do not press that button until I say so," Audrey orders.

She actually orders. Doesn't suggest, doesn't ask, just orders. I'd be offended, but I know Audrey and she's got good timing. I do too, but if she's gonna get her order voice on then who the fuck am I to ignore it? Sometimes sisters have to know when other sisters are right.

"Just give me the word," I say as I hold the transmitter in my hand.

It's a one-shot deal. When I press the button, all the bombs go up at once. No way to chain them to go off one after the other. We got to time it right because when they do go off, we're gonna have a very short window to get through the herd before it regroups and closes in on us. That's why Audrey wants me as a gunner in the Jeep. We may have to get a little messy before we see the other side of this herd.

She brings us around the last turn of the last block of the town and there it is: one big shitfucking herd of Zs. Thousands of them shuffling along in every direction. But, not all of them is shuffling. Nope. There are some runners.

I stand up in the Jeep, careful to keep my body braced against the frame since my leg sucks balls. I hold the transmitter in my left hand and pull my .45 in my right. Three shots and I take down three running Zs before they can get to us. The noise draws the attention of the other Zs and the front row, or back row, I don't fucking know, a stupid row of Zs turns to us.

I fire until my .45 is empty then toss it onto my seat and pull my other one.

"Sit your ass down," Audrey says as she aims us straight for the herd. "Buckle up."

"Buckle up?" I say. I haven't worn a seatbelt since forever. "Whatever."

I holster my .45 and buckle up, careful not to press the transmitter button as I fumble around with the latch.

A Z lunges for us and Audrey demolishes it with the Jeep's bumper. Guts and blood spill up over the windshield and I close my eyes as I get sprayed.

"Nice," I say.

"Gonna get a lot nicer," Audrey replies. "You ready?"

"I'm holding the transmitter with my thumb over the button, ain't I?" I say. "Just say the word, dammit."

"The word," she says.

"What?" I ask. "Oh, right. Nice one, smartass."

She looks over and smiles at me then frowns.

"No, really, El, push the fucking button," she snaps.

"Shitfuck," I say and press it.

Here's the thing, we have two choices to make. We can slow down and let what's gonna happen just happen and see what the aftermath is. Or we can floor it and head straight into the herd like crazy banshees and fuck the whole slowing down and being cautious thing.

Guess which choice Audrey makes?

The Jeep lurches forward as she hits the accelerator and sends us flying towards the thick of the herd. But it ain't so thick for long. About half a second after I push the button on the transmitter, the bombs start going off. There's a little delay from one bomb to the next, but that's to be expected since each bomb is a unique boom boom of its own. Just like sisters.

From about fifty yards in front of us to the horizon, small towers of flames go shooting up into the evening sky. They're like tiny mushroom clouds, but minus the end of the world nuke thing. Good thing since we're probably going to be dealing with a real one pretty damn soon.

All through the herd in a zigzag pattern the bombs go off, clearing a way for us to drive through for a good mile. That's just enough space to get the fuck away from the herd. Only problem is the herd had spread back towards the town because of all the noise we made, so we still have that first fifty yards of Zs to deal with.

Not a problem. I'm pretty damn good at dealing with fifty yards of Zs.

"Frag out!" I yell as I pull a grenade from the case, yank the pin free, and toss it out in front of the Jeep.

The avocado of death rips apart two rows of Zs, making it easier for Audrey to punch through. I grab another grenade and another, clearing our way the best I can without blowing us up too. It does a damn good job, but with everything in this stupid world, there's a goddamn downside.

The noise of the grenades grabs the Zs' attention and they begin to close the huge gap that the bombs created. Shit.

"I see it," Audrey says before I can say a word. "How far can you throw?"

"Don't need to," I say and climb into the back of the Jeep. "We still got bungees."

Now, this shit ain't easy. I got to put a grenade into the launch cradle we made for our bomb slingshot, pull the pin, yank the bungees back, and fire that grenade out into the far side of the herd before it goes off. Grenades is courteous in that they give you a couple seconds before they try to kill you. But a couple seconds is still just a couple seconds. All it takes is one stupid bobble and this Jeep goes kaboom.

"El!" Audrey yells.

"Don't push me," I snap.

I put the first grenade in, pull the pin, yank back the bungees, and let 'er rip. Th grenade flies way out to the side of the herd and explodes just before it lands. It doesn't do much damage other than shredding some Z scalps, maybe taking a head off here and a head off there. But the boom and the pretty fire get the Zs' attention and they begin to turn that direction.

I launch another and another until half the grenades are gone. Most of the herd starts going that way. That makes another problem. One side of the herd is collapsing in on our escape route.

Audrey keeps us moving, swerving around the stray Zs that stumble into our path. She has a pistol out and is firing from the window as she swerves this way and that way. I'm all jostled and shit, but I keep it together enough to turn myself around in the backseat and start launching grenades in the other direction.

That side of the herd that had started to cross our empty gauntlet of bomb space begins slowly turning themselves around to go play with their own pretty fire and boom boom noises.

A quarter of the grenades are left when I finally stop and climb back into the passenger's seat. I look back over my shoulder and am relieved to see the truck right behind us. Jack is staring straight ahead with huge eyes. He looks like he's gonna have a stroke. I don't blame him. The guy has been hiding in a cave for years. SEAL or no SEAL, nobody is prepared to deal with a Z-herd. I been through a ton and they still freak my shit out.

Stupid fucking Z-herds.

"We aren't going to make it," Audrey says. "The way is closing."

I ignore her quitter attitude and grab my Steyr. I'm up and firing, taking out Zs in our way with surgical precision. If a surgeon was aiming for the head and trying to blow some brains apart. I don't think that's how surgeons work, but it's how I work.

"Eleven," Audrey shouts and I turn that way and fire, dropping two Zs in a row.

"One," she says and I turn that way. "Two, two, two."

A whole group comes shuffling into the opening from our right. I drop six, but there are easily twenty more to deal with. The way ahead is closing fast. The bombs were a good idea, but we just don't have the speed and room to get through. Great plan, shitty-ass execution.

"Just keep firing," Audrey says. "Fuck it. We'll go down fast and hard."

"That's what a porn star says," I say.

"I don't think that's how the joke works, El," Audrey replies.

"What joke?" I ask. Really, what joke? "That's what a porn star would say in one of those porno movies."

"When have you been watching porno movies?" Audrey asks.

I shrug. "At times. Sometimes, when John is down by my—"

"Nope," Audrey says. "You can keep that to yourself right now, El. I need to concentrate on FUCK!"

I was gonna ask what "concentrate on FUCK" means, but I don't have to as eight fast Zs leap at us. Audrey swerves and takes out two, but that leaves six hanging from the sides and back of the Jeep. Too close to use the Steyr so I toss it to the floor of the Jeep and pull my .45. I never did reload the other one, so I'm looking at limited ammunition.

Good thing I can shoot.

I put down one then another on my side then stand and shoot past Audrey at the others on her side. By the time I take those out, I got two Zs coming at me from the back, their nasty asses getting bloody goo all over our gear. They totally slime the rocket launcher, which pisses me off because I like that rocket launcher, and now it's got Z goo all over it. Son of a bitching Zs.

I blow the head off one Z, but the other is too fast and he tackles me, sending my back slamming into the dashboard. My elbow hits Audrey right in the temple and she grunts. The Jeep swerves to the side and slams into about a dozen Zs. I can't think about what's happening outside the Jeep because I have a Z trying to eat my face inside the Jeep. Its ugly teeth are all black and broken, but they sure look sharp when they are up close.

I jam my forearm against its forehead and push the stupid thing far enough away to get my .45 up under its chin. I pull the trigger and Z brains go everywhere. They especially go all over my face.

"Damn," I say. "That sucked."

I toss the corpse clear of the Jeep and watch it smash into a whole horde coming for the passenger's side. They sure are getting close to us fast. They don't look like runners, so what the hell?

The horn sounds from the truck and I look back at Jack. He's pointing at us and waving his hand for us to go faster. Why would he be doing that? We aren't slowing down are we?

Oh, shitfuck, yeah we are slowing down.

I look over and see Audrey struggling to keep her eyes open. My elbow must have conked her brainpan hard. She's blinking fast, but I can tell her eyes ain't focusing on anything.

"Shit," I say and try to get her out of the driver's seat so I can get in.

It doesn't work so well.

Her hand gets caught in the steering wheel, and when I pull on her, the whole Jeep swerves to the right. I'm tossed back against the passenger's door and barely have time to grab onto something as the Jeep jolts then begins to flip onto its side. My side. Dammit.

I tuck my ass down into the floor of the Jeep as it hits a ton of Zs then rolls right into the herd. I'm screaming like a porn star faking her hoo-hah funtime and doing everything I can not to get thrown clear of the Jeep. That would be very bad. I get thrown clear and I'll be Z feed in two seconds.

The world is all tumbly and spinny and rolly then it comes to a stop. I fall from my spot and hit the road hard. I hit the road because it's right underneath me. The Jeep is upside down and shit is everywhere. My .45s are nowhere to be seen and one of my blades is missing. I look for some firearm, but I ain't got time as hundreds of Z hands start reaching in at me and Audrey.

I get my blade out and stab everything that comes at me. I hack at hands, slice through skulls, lop off heads. I don't even think as I do it, just let the training take over. Audrey is moaning next to me, but I can't get to her without the Zs pulling me free of the Jeep. But if I don't get to her then she's gonna end up as Z-food real fast.

The crack crack crack of gunfire gets my attention and I look back to see two sets of legs coming towards us. Jack and Antoinette. They're blasting away and clearing the Zs from behind the upside down Jeep. I know what to do and slice a Z's head off then slash behind me and cut Audrey's seatbelt. She falls onto me and I ignore all the pain in my shoulder and leg. No time for pain. Pain is for wusses and Doyles.

Jack and Antoinette keep coming and I struggle to drag Audrey out the back of the Jeep. When I'm almost clear, Jack kneels and helps me get her out then hands me his rifle. I scramble to my feet and start firing, helping Antoinette lay down some cover while we fight our way back to the truck.

It's a truck that is being overrun by Zs. Lots of Zs. We're doing a good job of fighting them off, good enough to get us to the back of the truck. But I'm pretty damn sure we ain't gonna make it. There are just too many of them, and as soon as we slide open that backdoor and try to climb in, they're gonna take us down.

"Fight them off!" Antoinette says. "We have to keep them from the truck and the kids!"

"Yeah, good idea!" I yell.

Jack is struggling to move Audrey, shoot Zs, and get the backdoor open so he can toss her inside, but he ain't doing such a great job at it. A Z lunges for him and I barely take its head off before it can rip Jack's neck open.

Then shit gets worse and makes things better.

We're facing southeast as the nuke goes off. It's a long ways away and so silent it's creepy as shit. But even at the distance we're at, we can see the air ripple with shockwaves. Those waves will get to us faster than the sound will.

The good thing is the explosion is so bright and so big it's caught the attention of the Z-herd and almost all of them turn to look at it. The bad thing is we're about to be ripped apart by a blast wave.

"Inside!" Jack shouts and gets the backdoor of the truck up and open enough for us to scramble in. "NOW!"

We don't argue.

Kid hands reach out and help yank Audrey inside as the rest of us roll under the backdoor and then slam it shut. We make it with about a quarter second to spare before the blast wave slams right into everything.

The truck shakes then starts rolling. We're all tossed this way and that. Kids are screaming and I'm screaming and Jack is screaming. Everyone is screaming. My head hits one of the walls and I feel blood start pouring from my scalp. I probably just brained myself on a hammer or something. Ow.

Then the sound of the blast finally reaches us. Even inside the truck it's like someone fired the Barrett right by my ears. I know I'm still screaming and others are screaming, but I can't hear shit.

The truck stops rolling and we all end up in a pile on top of each other. I want to push the kids off me, but my arms just don't want to work. Nothing wants to work. I can feel myself get fuzzy, fuzzy, fuzzy, fuzzy…

Shit…

Chapter Twenty-Four

Crying. I think.

I hear crying and it sounds like it's a long ways away, but some part of my brainpan tells me it ain't. I slowly open my eyes, wince and cry out, and close my eyes again. Lots of pain in my head. Brainpan ain't happy with me right now.

More crying then some shouts. Muffled, hard to make out.

A hand grabs my shoulder, my bad shoulder, and I force my eyes open, ready to kill the dirty Z that wants a piece of Elsbeth. But it ain't no dirty Z. It's a sister.

"El? El, talk to me," Marcie says.

Why the hell is Marcie here? Marcie wasn't here before. She was supposed to be with the women at the prison. The sisters that are with me are…

"Audrey!" I yell, my voice all cottony in my ears. "Antoinette!"

"They're good," Marcie says as she and a few other women help get me from the broken truck.

And I mean it is broken.

Everything is at weird angles and I realize that truck has pretty much collapsed on itself. The side panels and top are a lot closer together than they are supposed to be. Marcie gets me out onto the road and I realize it's night time. But I also realize I can still see pretty well.

Might have something to do with the horizon being nothing but fire. It looks like the earth is glowing.

"That's going to burn for a while," Marcie says to me. "Everything from there to Albuquerque is ablaze. There must have been munitions buried and stored all over the place. That blast scorched the land, but then the land started exploding over and over. We watched it happen as we came for you all."

"Thanks," I say.

That's all I can say. It's all my brainpan will let me say. Marcie helps me walk around the broken truck to the waiting convoy a few yards up the road. Women are standing guard with rifles, ready to take out any Zs that come at us, but they don't have much work to do since it looks like the nuke blast took care of the herd.

Every single inch of ground is coated in goop. Some of the goop I recognize as body parts, but most of it is just goop. Bloody, yucky goop. Goop, goop, goop.

Which we slip in a lot on our way to the waiting trucks.

I hear my name being called and I see Jack standing by a truck holding a boy in his arms. The boy is sniffling and his chest is hitching like he's just had a hard cry, which I suppose he sure as shit has. The boy looks an awful lot like Jack. I try to smile, but the boy sees me and starts crying again, is I guess my smile don't look too happy.

"Yeah, don't do that," Marcie says, her mouth close to my ear so I can hear her clearly. "You ain't looking too pretty right now."

"I ain't feeling too pretty right now," I say and wince. I can't even nail down why I'm wincing. It all hurts.

Marcie gets me loaded into the back of one of the farm trucks and I collapse onto the cool metal. Everything is so hot and feverish. Not just me, but everything. It's like I fell asleep in one of them tanning beds. I ain't ever been in one of them, but I can imagine it feels just like this.

I can hear people talking all around me and I try to focus on what they are saying, but the truck is so cool and I'm so tired. My eyes close and I'm out.

When I wake up, the truck is bouncing along the road. I blink a few times and see kids huddled close together in groups. Each group is huddling around one of the farm women. I wonder if she's their mom. Or at least one or two of the kids' mom. I don't know. Don't really care. I'll care later.

My eyes close again and I let them. My eyes are smarter than me sometimes.

But when they do open back up, I start caring again. Not about kids or women or anything else. All I care about is how fucking thirsty I am. Sisters ain't psychic or nothing, but sometimes sisters is psychic. Marcie is suddenly in my face and she leans down over me. She puts a bottle to my lips and I smell the water before I taste it. I have to pry my lips apart and the skin tears, but fuck if I care because there's water and yay for fucking water!

It hurts to swallow, but I do not give a fuck. I swallow the shit out of that water.

"Careful," Marcie laughs as she pulls the bottle away. "You're gonna puke."

She gives me a little more then I pull back to take a breath. Gotta breathe too. Can't breathe water. Sisters ain't that perfect. Not yet.

When I can breathe and speak I smile at her and say, "What's the situation? How many dead? Where the fuck are we? Where are we going?"

She laughs and pats my cheek. It hurts, but I ain't gonna get mad at a sister cheek pat.

"The situation is you are alive," Marcie says. "All of the kids made it except for one. He died on the way back to the prison. There wasn't anything any of us could do."

"When will we be back at the prison?" I ask.

"Hold on, I'm not done answering your other questions," Marcie says. "We aren't going to the prison. We already left there. You've been asleep for two days, El."

"I what?" I ask and try to push up onto my elbows, but that ain't happening. "Two days?"

I look around the truck and realize that I'm on a pallet of blankets. We're in a good-sized panel truck and there are lots of other pallets with kids and a couple adults on them. The two adults are Audrey and Antoinette. Antoinette is smiling at me as she reads something to a couple kids all up in her lap. Audrey is snoring. Loud.

"Don't worry about her," Marcie says. "She's fine. She's been awake a few times. You were the one we were worried about. You took a hard hit to your head when the Jeep flipped and another in that truck after the blast sent you guys flying. Did you know you went flying?"

"I know we went tumbling," I say.

"You went tumbling through the air which is basically flying," Marcie says. "All of you are lucky to be alive. If you hadn't been packed inside that truck so tightly then you probably would be dead."

"Sardines saved us," I say. Marcie shakes her head. "You know, because we were packed in like sardines."

"Oh, I get it," Marcie says.

I frown at her. "Hold the shitfuck on," I say. "Where—?"

"El, watch your language around the kids, okay?" she replies.

"What? Is that a thing? Since when is that a thing?" I ask.

"These kids aren't Stanfords or from our group," Marcie laughs. "They aren't used to your mouth."

"No one is, El," Antoinette says.

"You look a shit-ton better," I say to her, ignoring my sisters' requests to watch my potty mouth. You live through being a canny and you get the right to say whatever the fuck you want.

"Can I ask where we're going if we already left the prison?" I ask.

"We’re going home," Marcie says. "I told Jack where the Stronghold is and that's where we're taking everyone."

"But we don't know if we can trust all the ladies," I say.

"True, but we don't have a choice, El," Marcie says. "That whole area back there is gonna be radioactive for a while. We have no idea what everyone has already been exposed to. But we do know that if we left Jack and the women at the prison, they'd probably be dead by the time we got to the Stronghold to take a vote and then made our way back to them."

"Even if the women are still loyal to the Doyles, it doesn't matter," Antoinette says. "The Doyles are dead. All of them."

"Right," I say. "Good job with that."

"Thanks," she says then goes back to reading to the kids.

"We'll get folks settled at the Stronghold and the council can decide what happens after that," Marcie says. "I'm sure Critter and Greta and Boyd will be unhappy about this, but I know Charlie will be fine and so will Melissa."

"Yeah, Charlie's a good guy," I say.

"He is," Marcie says and her whole face is one giant smile. She sure does like her some Charlie.

I feel the truck slow and then stop. There's some yelling outside and the backdoor slides up. Jack is standing there with a rifle across his chest, all SEAL-mode and shit.

"Hey there," he says, nodding at me. "You live."

"I live," I say then realize something. "I also have to pee bad."

"Then hop on out and do that," he says.

Marcie helps me out and I sigh as the fresh air fills my lungs. I can tell by the scenery around me that we ain't in New Mexico no more. Nope, it's full-on Colorado.

"How close are we?" I ask as Marcie helps me squat by the side of the road.

"A day more and we'll be there," she says.

"That's nice," I say. "I'm gonna sleep for a week before we go back out."

"Go back out?" Jack asks, looking right at me. He's military so seeing someone piss ain't no thing at all. "What the hell are you talking about? From what I've heard about the Stronghold, it's secure, filled with supplies, and sounds like a goddamn paradise. Why would you want to leave that?"

"Because we have a mission," I say. "Kramer ain't gonna kill himself."

"She's got to be joking," Jack says as he looks at Marcie. "Right?"

"We have a mission," Marcie says. "I think we'll rest up for more than a week, though. We're going to have to. Our last clue led us to Albuquerque, but there's nothing there anymore. That is a dead end in many ways. We'll need time to track the blind kids again and see if some of them can lead us to Kramer. That could be a few weeks of recon before we catch a break."

"Okay, if you say so," Jack says. "I still don't get why he's so important to find. You have a good thing, be happy with that. Good things don't happen often these days."

"We have to find Kramer because we want good things to keep happening," I say. "Good things for our families, for our friends, for you new folks. If Kramer is still out there then one day he is going to come back and try to kill us all. That's how that asshat shitfucker works."

I shake my butt and Marcie helps me stand and get my pants back on.

"You'll understand more when you get to the Stronghold," Marcie says. "Charlie will fill you in on it all. He likes to talk. Not as much as his dad liked to talk, but he does like to tell a story when he has ears around that will listen."

"We've all heard his stories so he's gonna like you a lot," I say to Jack. "New ears. This will be good."

Marcie and Jack help me back up into the truck and I sit on the edge and watch as women and kids tend to their bathroom needs.

"We'll camp here for the night and get going in the morning," Jack says. "You rest up. Dinner will be ready in an hour." He nods to me and Marcie. "I'm going to take some of the women and set up a perimeter around the camp. We have twine and empty cans in case Zs come stumbling across us. We'll hear them in plenty of time."

"Thanks," Marcie says.

I give him a thumbs up just like Long Pork would have then wait until he's gone.

"He's nice," I say.

"He is," Marcie agrees.

"He know about his granddaughter?" I ask.

"He does," Marcie says.

"Okay," I say.

She sits down next to me and we dangle our legs over the edge of the truck.

"We'll find him," Marcie says. "Sisters don't quit."

"Nope, sisters don't quit," I say and lean my head on her shoulder. I relax as much as my body will let me. Feels good to just rest on my sister. "And I ain't got no doubt in the world that one day we'll find him. Kramer can't hide forever and he sure as shit can't hide forever from sisters."

She kisses me on the top of my head and laughs a little. Then we just settle in and watch the sun set far off in the west. Maybe Kramer is out that way. Maybe he headed for the ocean or went to hide in those mountains out in California or Oregon or something. I don't know.

What I do know is his ass is mine, and when I finally catch him, he will pay for everything he has done.

Because there is only one thing I hate more than Doyles and cannies and Zs and crazies and all the other crap in this world. That thing is Kramer. Fuck that shitfucker.

I laugh.

"What?" Marcie asks.

"Oh, I was just thinking that Kramer is just like a Z," I say.

"How's that?" she asks.

"He's already dead, just doesn't know it," I say.

She laughs with me and we stay that way until the sun goes down.

It's nice.

Sisters are nice.

The End

Read on for a free sample of The Dead Walk The Earth

Jake Bible, Bram Stoker Award nominated-novelist, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres.

Jake is the author of the bestselling Z-Burbia series set in Asheville, NC, the bestselling Salvage Merc One, the Apex Trilogy (DEAD MECH, The Americans, Metal and Ash) and the Mega series for Severed Press, as well as the YA zombie novel, Little Dead Man, the Bram Stoker Award nominated teen horror novel, Intentional Haunting, the ScareScapes series, and the Reign of Four series for Permuted Press.

Find Jake at jakebible.com. Join him on Twitter @jakebible and find him on Facebook.

1

The rain continued to fall heavily, cascading down in sheets and saturating the muddy ground and the dark glistening wet figures that trampled through the thick mire. It seemed that it had been raining for a lifetime, tirelessly pouring from the heavens with a rhythmic drumbeat from the heavy droplets that splashed against every surface.

The two soldiers stood at the high wall, staring out into the dark wasteland, squinting through the squalls that blew in at them from all directions, waterlogging their clothing and soaking through to their bodies.

Pushing back his hood, hearing the material crinkle in his hands and feeling the biting cool air and rain sweep across his bare skin, the larger of the two threw his head back, blinking up at the night sky as the cold water streamed across his face and down his neck in rivulets. He watched the dense clouds as they drifted by above him, billowing in their multiple shades of grey.

“You have to love this country,” he said loudly, in an attempt to be heard by the man standing next to him, over the loud pitter-patter of the downpour. He stuck out his tongue and savoured the icy water that splashed into his throat. “Even in the summer, it’s as wet as a Tom Jones groupie’s knickers.”

“Does Tom Jones do many gigs these days?”

“I saw an old CD of him being used to scrape some mildew from the back of the stove in the kitchen the other day, does that count?”

“I suppose it will have to.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” he said throwing his hood back over his head and looking out into the inky blackness. “You see anything out there?”

“Nothing, but I can still smell them,” the smaller man sighed.

Far to the right, a sudden series of flashes erupted from one of the heavy machinegun positions stationed along the top of the wall, momentarily illuminating the long barrel and the men who sat behind it. A second later, the distant low rumble of the discharging rounds reached their ears. They watched as the bright red tracer bullets shot out from the parapet and glided gracefully through the air, far out into the dark landscape. They sailed for hundreds of metres in a gentle arc before finally arriving at their intended destinations.

In the distance, beyond the vision of the naked eye, they smashed their way through their targets, ripping their prey to pieces and ploughing on through to the other side. Some of the projectiles hit hard objects like rock, steel…, bone, ricocheting vertically into the air and soaring high like a glowing crimson rocket, far off in the distance.

The guns fell silent and the rain quickly picked up the same pattering beat again to keep the silent night at bay.

“There must be millions of them out there,” the large man grunted and nodded thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the blanket of darkness that stretched out far beyond the wall.

“When this thing began, there were seven-billion people on the planet. There aren’t many places left with living people, so yeah, I’d imagine that we have quite a few of them on our doorstep.”

The wall had been built early on in the days when anarchy reigned, using the same type of construction method that the American army had used in the early days of the Middle Eastern wars. Mass-produced T-walls, made from thick slabs of high-grade reinforced concrete, were slotted together like giant toy building blocks, creating a one kilometre square impenetrable ring around the base. A second, much higher wall was then built inside of the first, with towers and defensive positions placed at regular intervals along it and large heavy plate steel gates built into the thick six-metre high pillars.

Inside, a network of prefabricated cabins were placed into a strict floor plan, to act as laboratories, operations centres, offices, kitchens and living accommodation. Even during the early days of the chaos, when cities were being overrun and armies were wiped out, the plans had gone to the lengths to make arrangements for a recreation room and even a gym. It was a template taken directly from one of the many Forward Operating Bases that the allies had used in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Originally, it had been intended as an FOB, with soldiers and scientists continuing the fight against the armies of rotting bodies. When they realised that the war was lost, the scientists abandoned the base, but many of the soldiers stayed, keeping their families safe within the walls. During the first years, a steady stream of refugees arrived at the island of life that held out amidst an ocean of death, adding to the growing community.

Beyond the outer wall, for hundreds of metres, the barren wasteland was carpeted with barbed wire obstacles and deep ditches, saturated with anti-personnel mines and low wire entanglements that would snare anything that stumbled into the demarcation zone around the fortress.

The machine gunners and sharp shooters, stationed in the towers, knew the area and the exact range of each and every dip and fold of the terrain. They sat and watched, keeping a continuous vigil on their very own ‘No-Man’s-Land’, chalking up their nightly kills and awarding extra rations of their toxic homemade vodka for the man with the most confirmed hits at the end of each day.

For a vast area around the stronghold, lay a desolate wilderness of death and destruction. Burnt and twisted vehicles, APCs, and even tanks, sat silently rotting away, their occupants still inside and entombed forever.

Countless bodies, dead and undead, mangled and twisted, lay ensnared within the barbed wire, or trapped at the bottom of the deep trenches, unable to work their way free from their eternal bondage while the bones of the thousands of fallen, their tattered clothing stubbornly clinging to their remains, slowly crumbled to dust as countless seasons passed them by. The place was a boneyard with the skeletons of men and machinery, all stirred together in a thick soup of churned mud and decay.

Over the years, there had been many attacks on the base. All had failed, but there were a few times when the brave defenders had believed that they were living through their final moments.

Raiders, rogue army units, and armed civilians wanting to seize what was not theirs from the men and women inside, launched countless assaults against the walls, only to be repelled by a ferocious defence, born from the desperation of the people manning the walls to hold on to what they still had.

Their most valued possession was their life and the lives of their families within the protection of their walls. They had all lost and suffered and were determined to cling on to what remained of their existence.

Their deaths came at a high price to their enemies.

Then there were the others, the dead. No matter how many of them were destroyed, they never retreated. Their sustained onslaught against the walls brought the men and women inside to the brink of defeat. Trapped for years, they watched and battled as the army of walking dead piled up around them, trampling over their fallen to launch themselves at the fortress walls. But the barrier held and when the fires came, the thousands of reanimated corpses were reduced to ash. The flames had almost engulfed the survivors too, but it had been a gamble they had to take, or risk being overrun.

Only the searing flames that consumed thousands of them, forced the dead back. Their mindless attacks thwarted, they had retreated to a safe distance, beyond the wire. Now, they remained at the outer edges of the defences, encircling the tiny island of humanity, watching and waiting, as though the years of innumerable failed attacks had taught them of their own mortality.

The air was thick with their stench. It drifted to the living like a creeping vapour, slowly crawling across the barren ground and permeating everything that it touched. Their sound, the low incessant hum of their voices, moaning and wailing in unison, covered the land like a pulsating blanket, haunting the survivors to their core.

They were always there, crowded together in a dense throng of rot. Their black and decaying tissue slowly fell from their emaciated bodies. Their ravenous, lifeless eyes, always gazed longingly at the high impenetrable walls that protected the living people beyond.

Since the dead ceased their mindless attacks, the people within the base had argued that the billions of corpses that now roamed the earth might possibly be gaining a degree of self-awareness. Many shuddered at the thought and refused to believe that the dead could be learning and remembering.

“Well, I suppose it’s time we got a move on.”

The two soldiers descended the steps, their boots squelching in the sucking sludge as they stepped down into the area in front of the large steel gate. Together, they began preparing themselves for what was ahead. They removed their thick nylon waterproof cloaks, filled with holes and tears and barely capable of withstanding the lightest of showers. They rolled them up tightly and stuffed them in to their small packs along with their supplies of food and water.

They were stripped for battle, ready to move with all unnecessary equipment stored away in their packs. Their weapons, equipped with silencers, were oiled against the elements and their ammunition tucked into the pouches of their armoured vests, accessible and easy to reach. Covering their bodies, they wore thick layers of clothing made from buckskin and denim, topped with greaves and vambraces made from hard moulded leather and ceramic armour plating to protect their arms and legs.

They inspected one another, ensuring that their straps were tight and secure, checking that nothing protruded that could be snagged, or cause them to become entangled.

“Have you two girls finished checking each other out?”

They turned to see a figure striding towards them from across the open space between the wall and the buildings that housed the survivors. They had already recognised the voice, but the dark silhouette and long strutting gait was also unmistakable.

“Shit,” one of them grumbled under his breath, “here comes the Fuhrer.”

She stood in front of them, indifferent to the cold water that ran through her hair and over her pale face. She was tall for a woman, with hard refined features and bright blue eyes. Even now, after all the suffering and horror that they had endured, her eyes sparkled with a brightness that seemed to radiate from deep within her. She was pretty once, and even now with endless hardships behind her, and no doubt, many more to come, she had a natural beauty about her. A beauty that came without effort and was as much to do with her bearing, as with her physical appearance.

“You come to see us off then, Captain?” The large man grinned at her as he began fastening the chinstrap of his helmet. “You’re not going to get all misty on us, are you?”

“Chance would be a fine thing,” the other retorted, nodding at the captain as he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “She has nitrogen in her veins, not blood.”

She smiled fleetingly, and watched the plumes of pale blue smoke from the burning cigarette drifting up into the drizzling rain. It had been years since she had given up smoking, but even after all this time, she still found herself craving for a smoke from time to time.

She eyed the two soldiers for a moment. Thoughts of days that had long since passed came racing to the forefront of her memory.

They were all that was left. These two men, the smiling mountain and his skinny friend with the crooked nose.

Over the years, one by one, the others had been consumed by the cruel new world, until only two of her original group remained. She loved them. They were her family and her men, and for years, they had fought side by side, watching their friends die around them and grieving together for their loss.

As hard and cold as she seemed, the men knew her well and never doubted her care for them. She was a true leader, willing to suffer and endure any hardship alongside them. Unafraid to do what was necessary, they had recognised her abilities very early on and against her own wishes, they had elevated her to the position of their leader.

“Just be careful out there, you two. No heroics.”

The pair turned and tramped across the yard, the wet filth splashing up from their boots as they made their way towards the small concrete alcove that was set into the wall further along from the main gate.

To their right, the cooks busied themselves beneath the canvas roof of their open air kitchen. It was Friday, and despite the atrocious weather, that meant barbeque night. The head chef raised a hand and waved to them through the coils of steam and smoke that filled the area beneath the canopy.

The two soldiers returned the gesture, raising their rifles in salute to the men and women who continued to work their modern day miracles, providing a degree of morale in the form of tasty meals for the other survivors.

“Save us some of that crap that you palm off as chicken, will you? Even if it is a fucking mangy cat, it’s better than nothing.”

“Mangy cat?” The chef hollered back to them. “They’re reserved for Royal visits. Where do you think we are? The fucking Ritz?”

They arrived at the alcove. It jutted out from the inner wall at an upward facing angle, rising out of the ground with a thick steel door set into it. The guard stepped forward from the shadowy recess beside the entrance and nodded to them as they approached.

“How’s things, John?” They greeted him as they stopped and waited for him to let them through.

“Same shit, different day. Bring me back something nice,” John replied as he slid back the heavy bolt in the locking mechanism.

The bolt fell into place with a loud clang that echoed around the compound, causing many heads to turn in their direction and watch with anticipation, knowing that their defences were about to be opened, only slightly, but opened nonetheless.

The door pulled outward with a loud metallic creak as the hinges sang in protest against the rust that attempted to hold them tight. Inside, a blackness so complete that it was impossible to see past the threshold, greeted them. A draft of stale air gust out from the dark passage and brushed at their faces as they peered inside.

The two men, gripping their weapons firmly in their hands, glanced at one another, feeling the hairs on the backs of their necks stand to attention.

“What’s up?” John asked them with a sneer. “You two nervous?”

The large man stepped forward, his shoulders seeming twice as broad as normal due to his equipment and armour. With a cold expression, he stared down at the guard who had already began to retreat towards the comforting shadow of the recess, wishing he had said nothing and kept his mouth shut.

“It’s been over ten years,” the soldier began in a low menacing voice. “I’ve been out there more times than I can count. All my friends are dead, but I am still here. I have killed thousands of them, and never received a scratch. Am I nervous?”

He raised a questioning eyebrow at the cowering guard and suddenly grinned, bearing his white teeth that glowed in the darkness.

“Of course I’m fucking nervous. I’m terrified, John!”

He reached forward and slapped the man on the shoulder, almost knocking him over into the boggy water at his feet.

“Shhh,” the skinny soldier ordered silence, “the rain’s stopped.”

They paused and looked up into the sky. The clouds, still grey but less densely packed had begun to separate, revealing a blanket of stars twinkling high above the atmosphere against the blackness of space.

Suddenly, they realised that they no longer had to raise their voices in order to be heard over the hammering raindrops that drowned out all other sounds. The night was still and silent. Then they heard the distant low, electrifying murmur.

“It’s always there, isn’t it,” John whispered, as he stared up at the top of the wall that protected them and held back the tide of death.

Thousands upon thousands of woeful voices were joined together as one in their lament. The dead crowded the outer perimeter, their haunting chorus creeping across the land and assaulting the wall. It was a resonance that was the one constant the survivors could guarantee, but they could never become used to it. It haunted them, tearing at their nerves and perpetually fuelling their fears.

They knew that the dead would never leave them.

In the tunnel, the two men walked side by side down the gentle slope, headed deeper and deeper underground. It had taken nine years and the lives of over fifty men and women to construct. Now, with their fortress surrounded by the mass swarms of festering bodies, it was their only lifeline.

It had been seven years since the only helicopter they possessed had broken down, and the mechanics despite their skill and toil, had never been able to fix it. Now, it sat rusting away, watching the seasons pass as it slowly turned to yet another relic of mankind and the marvels of civilisation.

The three Challenger-II tanks had been vital to their survival, but they too had succumbed to the ravages of time and the hazards of the new world. One was stranded four-hundred metres beyond the walls, having thrown a track six years earlier.

The dead had quickly engulfed the machine, leaving the men trapped inside and unable to escape. For over two weeks, the people within the fortress still had communications with the tank crew, speaking to them, and promising that they were doing all they could to come up with a rescue plan. Eventually, when every attempt to relieve them had failed and the imprisoned men had run out of food and water, they took their own life, and there they remained.

The rusting tank was their eternal tomb.

The other tanks had been destroyed in the many clashes with living attackers, and now it was down to the tunnel to allow scavenger parties to move in and out from behind the walls.

Thankfully, there were no rogue armies of the living left to fight.

They continued along the gloomy passageway, dimly lit by the few bulbs that could be spared. Rats screeched and scurried along the walls, their claws scratching at the hard packed clay, and the water that seeped through the earth, fell from the thick wooden supports of the walls and ceiling in echoing drops that rang out in the narrow space.

The shaft, wide enough for a man to stand in with his arms stretched out on either side, continued for a long way. Two-point-nine kilometres to be exact. At every five-hundred metre interval, a gate of thick steel bars blocked their path, needing to be unbolted and slid back from the wall and then replaced behind them. At two points, the tunnel was rigged with explosives, ready to be detonated should the dead ever discover their secret passage.

They walked, and soon without realising it, both men found themselves staring up at the ceiling of the tunnel as they continued their journey through the dimness. Neither of them needed to say a word. They both knew what the other was thinking.

Just above us, there’s an army of rotting feet.

At the far end, they reached the final door. It was a hatch that had been taken from a war ship. Made from four centimetre thick steel, and virtually impossible to force open, it was the final barrier that separated them from the danger of the outside.

The construction of the passage had been a work of genius, overseen by an engineer named Michael. He had spent months, years, surveying the area at huge risk to himself and his team, losing many of them along the way. With great skill and patience, he had studied and poured over every map, aerial photograph, and town plan. Anything that could help him with the task ahead. Under the circumstances, it had been a feat of engineering that the survivors considered to be more important than any architectural wonder from the old world.

He had plotted the tunnel so that it came up beneath the foundations of an old Victorian pumping station. The building had still been in use up until the days when the world had crumbled beneath the onslaught of the dead and the strong walls and heavy gates helped to ensure that the hidden passage would remain unseen and protected.

With absolute accuracy, the tunnel had been completed, emerging exactly where Michael had intended it.

Unfortunately, Michael had died the previous year from cancer. It had eaten him to the bone and there was nothing that anyone could do to help him. In the end, he had taken an overdose of morphine to ease his suffering.

At the door, the two soldiers paused and silently read the inscription that had been etched into the wall.

To Michael,

The man who, with a shovel and pick, fought for our survival but lost his own personal battle.

Always remembered.

Sleep well.

On the floor below it, laid a bouquet of wilted flowers and a candle that had burned down to nothing more than a solid puddle of melted wax.

Standing back from the door, they raised their rifles and pulled back on the cocking levers slightly. Just enough to see the shine of the brass case that was sitting snuggly in the breach. Happy that their weapons were ready to fire, they pushed the working parts forward again and conducted a final check of their equipment, weapons, and ammunition.

The larger man covered the door, while the other began slowly to lever the locking mechanism out from its recess in the thick stone wall. The lock was stiff and he winced as he pulled, afraid to put too much of his weight behind it and bring it crashing towards him, making a deafening racket that would alert everything on the surface.

The lock was painstakingly released and the door was free.

Holding the rifle firmly against his shoulder, the big soldier could hear his heart pounding against his chest, and feel the sweat that soaked his brow and running down into his face. He nodded to his friend who then pulled at the bulky hatch.

It fell open with a faint whine, and both men readied themselves to receive whatever happened to be on the opposite side, stepping back and taking up the first pressure on the triggers of their assault rifles.

Nothing but blackness greeted them and both released a sigh of relief.

“Why the fuck didn’t old Mike put a peep-hole in this fucking door?” The skinny soldier hissed through the gloom.

They stepped through the hatch and sealed it shut behind them, locking themselves into a small chamber containing a number of large pipes and valves. Below their feet was a heavy iron grate, running into the sewers. The sound of trickling water echoed around them in the cramped space, mixing with the screech of the rats that scurried through the network of sewer tunnels beneath them.

In the low light, the steel staircase leading up to the surface was barely visible, but they had been here many times and knew it was there, and how careful they needed to be as they climbed the rickety steps.

Slowly and silently, they both began their ascent towards the dead world above.

The Dead Walk The Earth is available from Amazon here.

Table of Contents

- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Jake Bible
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