Date: 2022-10-31 07:00:00+00:00
Description: The end is here. After a raging inferno destroys their home, Theresa and her fellow survivors are left to pick up the pieces. Destitute, distraught, and reeling from the loss of their comrades, they decide to join a small community at a local hospital. Safety is an illusion. At first, all seems well, but behind barricaded stairwells, chained-up doors, and suspicious eyes, they soon realize the hospital holds deadly secrets. Can they find the strength to face the odds once more, or will they succumb to the nightmares within?
Rights: Copyright &#x00A9; 2022 by Baileigh Higgins

Baileigh Higgins

Hold the Line

Heroes of the Apocalypse - Book 4

Copyright © 2022 by Baileigh Higgins

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

1. Acknowledgments
2. Dedication
3. Prologue I - Theresa
4. Prologue II - Zoey
5. Prologue III - Paisley
6. Prologue IV - Nikki
7. Chapter 1 - Theresa
8. Chapter 2 - George
9. Chapter 3 - Amelia
10. Chapter 4 - Theresa
11. Chapter 5 - Mason
12. Chapter 6 - Nikki
13. Chapter 7 - Lt. Kingsley
14. Chapter 8 - Clare
15. Chapter 9 - Leo
16. Chapter 10 - Theresa
17. Chapter 11 - George
18. Chapter 12 - Nikki
19. Chapter 13 - Theresa
20. Chapter 14 - Amelia
21. Chapter 15 - Lt. Kingsley
22. Chapter 16 - Zoey
23. Chapter 17 - Blackwell
24. Chapter 18 - Banks
25. Chapter 19 - Lucien
26. Chapter 20 - Mason
27. Epilogue I - Blackwell
28. Epilogue II - Nikki
29. Do you want more?
30. Your FREE EBook is waiting
31. About the Author

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Alex for the stunning book cover design. You can find him right here on Facebook for more information: 187 Designz

And a shout out to all my family, friends, and fans. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to live my dream. I appreciate all of your support and kindness.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the unsung heroes of the world. The men and women who work tirelessly each day to ensure our comfort and safety. Firefighters, paramedics, policemen, doctors, nurses, operators, and more. You are all amazing human beings.

Prologue I - Theresa

Theresa’s stomach rolled as they drove through the gates of the Virtua Willingboro Hospital. A huge gun guarded the gates, flanked by two watch towers and armed security guards. They were dressed in full gear and carried rifles, sidearms, and knives. Their gear resembled that of a SWAT team, and she guessed it was the SCERT team Frank told her about. More guards, probably civilians, patrolled the walls, but they wore ordinary clothing.

An ambulance stood to the side, waiting to lure away any unwelcome visitors from the gates. It spoke well for the place’s safety, but she couldn’t help but feel intimidated. Especially when the monstrosity briefly pointed at her. It was a relief when it turned back to the street again.

Scraping together her courage, she prepared to meet the leaders of the community, Sophia Ward, the hospital director, and Lt. Kingsley, the man in charge of the SCERT team, before the others arrived. She’d spoken to both in a brief conversation on the radio earlier that day, but most of the communication had passed between them and Frank.

After the fire, Frank stepped up to fill the void left by Robert and became Theresa’s second-in-command. Shell-shocked by their losses, she’d let him handle most of the evacuation, a task he’d performed with admirable efficiency. I don’t think I could’ve done it. I hurt too much, and it clouded my vision.

She still hurt. There was a hole in her heart where Robert’s presence used to be. They’d been colleagues for years, and they’d grown close over time. After the apocalypse, that didn’t change. Instead, they became even better friends, working together to save what they could from the horrors of the undead. Together, they’d shared victories, losses, and triumphs. Losing him was unthinkable, yet it happened.

In the ambulance behind Theresa’s truck lay Amelia. Supervised by Ruby, she was under heavy sedation. Though it wasn’t ideal, they had no choice. They couldn’t afford to have her alert the undead or trust her not to do something stupid.

The latter worried Theresa the most, and she was determined to prevent Amelia from making a rash decision. She owed it to Robert, both as a friend and a firefighter. He’d sacrificed his life for their community, and she’d vowed to see his widow through the worst of her grief. I’ll look after her, Robert. I promise.

The truck drew to a stop, and she looked at Mason, who sat behind the wheel. His expression was stark, and his cheeks pale. He, too, felt the weight of Robert’s death, having lost a friend and mentor. His loss differed from hers and Amelia’s. Edged by guilt, it cut deep into his soul, tainting his every waking moment with useless questions and regrets.

Theresa felt for him. He was too young to know such sorrow, especially after losing both parents in a tragic fire. I’ll look after him, Robert. I’ll look after all of them. I swear it.

But no amount of promises would mean anything if she couldn’t back it with action. And that was what she needed to do at that moment. Talk to the hospital leaders and ensure their people’s survival.

“Give me a few moments, Mason. Let me talk to these people first,” she said.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait,” he said with a quick nod.

Sucking in a deep breath, Theresa climbed out of the vehicle. She smoothed her hands over her jacket and walked toward the group waiting on the steps that led to the hospital’s entrance.

Her back ached. She hadn’t had a painkiller in days, and digging through the rubble of their former home hadn’t helped matters. But she held her head high and walked with pride. While they might be refugees, forced to flee their home, they weren’t beggars. They had much to offer to any community. Both supplies and skills. I must make them see our worth.

Striding toward the greeting party waiting to greet them, Theresa paused a few feet away and offered a firm smile. “Good day. I’m Theresa, the leader of our group. It’s nice to finally meet you all.”

A short, stocky woman wearing a navy blue blazer stepped forward. A pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and her tight braids were swept back into a knot. The woman reached out her hand and said, “I am most pleased to meet you, Theresa. I’m Sophia, the director of this hospital. We spoke on the radio?”

“Indeed we did. Briefly,” Theresa acknowledged as they shook hands.

“Well, I’m happy to welcome you and your people to our humble home,” Sophia said.

“Thank you,” Theresa said.

“I hope you don’t mind, but anyone who’s been outside these walls has to undergo a mandatory inspection before they can be allowed back inside the hospital,” Sophia said.

“Of course. I expected nothing less,” Theresa said.

“This is Madeleine. She’s the head matron, and the hospital is her playground. The medical wards, at least. She’ll oversee the inspections,” Sophia said, introducing a stout woman in her late forties. “If anyone in your party needs medical care, she can take care of that too.”

“We have an amputee and a few people suffering from minor burns, scrapes, bruises, and smoke inhalation. Nothing too serious, thankfully.”

“I’ll see they get treated immediately,” Madeleine said with a firm nod. Dressed in a starched white uniform with not a hair out of place, she looked exactly like she would’ve before the apocalypse.

That told Theresa something about the way things were run in the hospital. They were likely sticklers for the rules and etiquette, clinging to the old ways. While she didn’t think that was necessarily bad, she did wonder how long it would last.

“We’ve set up a ward for you to share, and there are enough beds and blankets for everyone,” Sophia said. “It’s only temporary, though. We’ll work out a more permanent solution soon.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Theresa reassured her.

“There are bathrooms down the hall, a common room, a cafeteria, and the gardens. Please, make yourselves at home,” Sophia said.

Theresa nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be very comfortable.”

“It’s not your old home, but we’ll do our best to welcome you. That’s a promise,” Sophia said with a kind smile. “Lindsey, our head cook, is preparing a feast in your honor as we speak.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Theresa said, taken aback.

“It’s nothing over the top,” Sophia said with a wave of the hand. “Just a little get-together. The perfect opportunity for our two communities to meet and mingle.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Theresa said.

“You need not worry about your safety either,” Lt. Kingsley said, stepping forward. “My team and I work hard to ensure everyone here is safe and secure.”

“What about our weapons?” Theresa asked, a tight knot of anxiety forming in her stomach.

“Only the guards are allowed to carry guns,” Lt. Kingsley said. “As such, you will have to hand over any firearms for safekeeping.”

“I’m not sure we can do that,” Theresa said, shaking her head. “We lost people because the infection got in and our weapons were locked up. If we’d been armed, we could’ve stopped it from going that far.”

“I understand that, but it’s our policy. You can carry a hand weapon for self-defense, but no firearms.”

“I see,” Theresa said.

“As long as you realize that using such a weapon against another community member means immediate expulsion,” Sophia added.

“We can keep our knives and fire axes, then?” Theresa asked. “Purely for self-defense?”

“Yes. One weapon per person, adults only,” Kingsley confirmed.

“We would also like to integrate some of your people into our ranks which means they’d be allowed to bear arms,” Sophia said.

“Alright,” Theresa said, realizing there wasn’t much choice. She had no room for negotiation, and they had nowhere else to go. “I accept.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Sophia said. “Lt. Kingsley will gather the firearms and store them in our weapon’s locker. Should you wish to leave, they will be returned.”

“What if we want to go on a supply run?” Theresa asked.”Or leave the hospital grounds for any other reason?”

“You can clear it with the lieutenant, and he’ll ensure you are properly armed,” Sophia answered. “As long as you surrender them upon your return, it won’t be a problem.”

“Alright,” Theresa said, relieved to know they’d still have a modicum of freedom.

“Stella here will show you to your quarters. She’s in charge of housekeeping,” Sophia added.

A woman with faded red hair and grey eyes stepped forward. Slender and sinewy, she looked as tough as nails. “I ensured everything was clean and sanitized, including the bedding and towels. I also provided some basic toiletries, but if you need anything else, please ask.”

“I think we’ll be okay for now,” Theresa said. “Each person packed a bag with the necessities before we left.”

“Excellent,” Sophia said, handing Theresa a flip file filled with papers. “You’ll find the house rules, the dining room schedule, the laundry and cleaning schedule, the shower and bath roster, and the electricity timetable inside. Everything is strictly monitored and rationed. Our resources are limited, and we can’t afford to waste anything.”

“Understood,” Theresa said, taking the file and casting an eye over the neat handwriting. She could appreciate proper paperwork. It appealed to the control freak inside her brain.

“We’ve also cleared space for your vehicles in the lot, and Coco will show you where to park,” Sophia said. “If you have mechanical problems, she’s the one to talk to.”

Theresa nodded at Coco. “You’re a mechanic?”

“Yup,” Coco said, her lips popping on the p. A flash of silver exposed a tongue ring, and both arms were covered in tattoos. Sleeves, Theresa believed they were called. They matched her spiky black hair, oil-stained jeans, and combat boots.

“Good. We could use one,” Theresa said, unfazed by the woman’s tough looks.

Coco grinned. “I’m sure you do. Especially one as good as me.” With those words, she waved at Mason. “Follow me, handsome.”

She sauntered away with a swing to her hips, and Theresa smothered a grin. I think I’m going to like Coco.

Mason stuck his head out the window and asked, “What do I do, Theresa?”

“Do what the lady says,” Theresa said, still smiling.

Mason ducked back inside with a shrug and drove after Coco. The convoy followed him, each heading toward their allotted parking spot.

“I think that’s everything,” Sophia said. “Unless you have any more questions?”

“What about our supplies? Where can we store them?” Theresa asked.

“Supplies? You brought supplies?” Sophia asked with a hint of surprise.

“Yes. We managed to salvage quite a bit from the wreckage,” Theresa said, not mentioning the extra stuff they’d hidden away in a safe house.

It had been Frank’s idea to have a secret stash of food, water, medicine, and other essential supplies stored in a secure location. It would act as a bug-out location should they need it and provide them with a temporary haven in case of an emergency.

Most of their guns and ammunition had been stored there, along with what remained of their fireman’s gear, fire axes, a few drums of fuel, a couple of vehicles, and one fire truck. There were also a few crates of food, bottled water, clothing, bedding, medicine, toiletries, and camping gear.

The whole lot was stored inside an old warehouse, and the windows and doors were reinforced and locked tight. It was situated on the edge of town in a derelict district that offered little in the way of scavenging. Hopefully, it would remain undetected.

While Theresa wanted to get along with their new community, she’d agreed to the plan. It was never a good idea to have all one’s eggs in the same basket, and it paid to be prepared. She’d made certain they brought enough to the hospital to show their worth, however, and their willingness to contribute. While it hurt to give it all up, it was for a good cause.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to bring anything, but I welcome the assistance,” Sophia said with a nod. “I’ll send a couple of people to help you offload and take the stuff to storage. You are welcome to keep anything you might need, though.”

“I think we’re alright for now, but if we need anything, we’ll ask,” Theresa said.

“Excellent. I hope that covers everything. If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere,” Sophia said, clearly in a hurry.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Theresa said.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sophia said before she rushed away.

Theresa was left feeling deflated. While she hadn’t expected a hero’s welcome, she’d hoped for a warmer reception. That was what the supplies were for, after all. But Sophia didn’t seem impressed. She didn’t even bother to take a look at what we brought. They must have it pretty easy over here.

At that moment, Theresa felt like she and her people were the poor relations of the family. Tolerated but not truly wanted. There wasn’t much she could do about it, however. They had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to. We’ll just have to make the best of it. There’s no other way.

As the rest of the convoy drove through the gates, Theresa scraped together her flagging dignity and helped everyone find their place.

A woman called Lindsay arrived with a couple of helpers to unload the supplies and take them to storage. At least she was more appreciative, her eyebrows raising when she counted all the crates. “Wow, when Sophia said you needed help, I figured you had a few boxes at most. I’d better get the rest of the crew here to help.”

That made Theresa feel better, and she hoped the news would filter through to Sophia. If not, I’ll make sure it does.

The same could not be said of their weapons cache. They’d lost a lot in the fire, and most of that was stashed away in the warehouse. They had just enough left for it not to look suspicious, and Lt. Kingsley and his team collected it without comment.

Coco inspected the vehicles, flagging a number for future repairs, while everyone underwent a physical exam in the trauma center. Those that needed medical treatment were taken to a separate ward, while the rest were shown to their quarters.

The entire affair was very business-like and efficient. It also felt cold and unsympathetic. The only bright spot in the process was the paramedic Zoey, who welcomed everyone with a cheery smile. She dragged her fellow medic Banks around by the arm, a forced grin plastered on his face, while she babbled nonstop.

It would’ve been funny if Theresa didn’t feel so depressed. It was hard to ignore all the sad faces around her. Thankfully, no one complained out loud. There was no point, after all.

A few people hung back, reluctant to give up their freedom, but when the gates clanged shut, an air of finality fell over the gathering. One by one, everyone turned away with looks of muted despair, and Theresa knew she had her work cut out for her.

She marched into the hospital, squaring her shoulders, trying to set an example for the rest. We’ll make it work. We have to.

Prologue II - Zoey

Zoey watched with eager expectation as the convoy from the fire station drove through the gates. It numbered several vehicles carrying a few dozen people and an assortment of equipment and supplies. In the lead drove a pickup truck with a strange man behind the wheel. Next to him sat an older woman with a rather severe expression whom she guessed was Theresa, the community leader. “Is that her, do you think?”

“Who?” Banks asked.

“Theresa. Their leader.”

“How would I know?” he said with a quizzical frown. “I’ve never met her.”

“Oh,” Zoey said, somewhat deflated. “I thought you might have talked to her.”

“I spoke to a woman called Bobbi on the radio, remember? That day we met with Robert and the two police officers,” Banks replied.

“I remember.”

“Kingsley and Sophia took over communications after that,” Banks added. “I haven’t spoken to any of them since that day.”

“Okay, I get it,” Zoey said. “I just thought you might have. You seem tight with Kingsley.”

“I’m not tight with him. He’s asked me to join his team a couple of times. Says I look like a dependable character, but I always say no.”

“What?” Zoey stared at Banks, her mouth agape. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important. Besides, you’re always so busy, you hardly get time for me except when we’re on surveillance,” Banks said with a quirk on his lips.

“Too busy? What a crock of shit!” Zoey cried, not caring when dozens of faces turned their way. “I always make time for you, on and off surveillance.”

“Really? Because when we’re not in the ambo, you’re glued to the lips of a certain special someone,” Banks said, breaking into a grin.

“Ah, I see it now. You’re just jealous,” Zoey said, folding her arms with a smug smile.

“Yes, I’m jealous,” Banks admitted with a shrug.

“Don’t be. We broke up last night,” Zoey said.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Banks said, echoing Zoey’s remark from earlier.

Zoey shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. It wasn’t working out.”

“Why not?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Are you okay?” Banks asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Zoey said. “Besides, I’m too excited about all of this to care.”

“All of this?”

“Yeah, aren’t you… I don’t know, curious about these people?” Zoey asked. “Excited. Interested. Something?”

“Not really.”

“Ugh, you suck,” Zoey said, rolling her eyes.

As the rest of the convoy rolled past, the woman Zoey assumed was Theresa got out of her vehicle and approached the greeting committee. The group consisted of key hospital members led by the director, Sophia. The only one missing was Lt. Kingsley. He was operating the fifty-caliber machine gun and overseeing security but quickly handed the post to someone else and jogged over.

Priya and the rest of the team let the last vehicles inside before shutting the gates, and Ambulance 22 drove off down the street. Its job was to lead any curious zombies away from the hospital, its sirens an irresistible lure to the undead. The process went smoothly, a testament to Kingsley’s team and planning.

They were the only reason the hospital was still standing. Escorting a couple of violent criminals to the ER, they were there when the dead rose. Taking swift action, they ascertained what was happening and took steps. The morgue was shut down, the upper floors abandoned, and the infected quarantined. The gates were closed, and the fence was reinforced. Within days, a new world order rose from the city’s ashes. One where the dead ruled the streets and humanity hid away behind its walls.

Zoey vividly remembered that day, each moment stamped into her memories with brutal clarity. No matter how much she tried to escape it, it was always there, ready to pounce. All it took was a particular smell or sound. A look or a flash of color. A moment of relaxation. She was never safe from the horror. None of them were, and the mandatory therapy sessions with the resident psychiatrist wouldn’t change that. It only kept it alive for her.

But that was then, and this was now. The newcomers had arrived, the trucks, busses, cars, and other vehicles disgorging their passengers into the lot. Children with backpacks climbed out of a yellow school bus, people milled about, and firefighters guided everyone toward the hospital.

They were assisted by Stella from housekeeping and Coco, the resident mechanic. Lindsey soon arrived with helpers to unload the supplies, and Kingsley’s team shut down the lot and secured the gate.

Inside, it was a scene of chaotic disorder. The arrival of the refugees had sent everyone into a fuss, and preparations for a small party were underway. Food smells wafted from the kitchens, and a room filled with toys and activities had been prepared for the kids.

“Ooh, this is so exciting,” Zoey cried, bouncing up and down on the pavement. While most people were wary of the newcomers and some harbored resentment, she welcomed them with open arms. Hopefully, they’d inject a sense of humor and positivity into the strict atmosphere of the hospital.

“Come on,” she said, dragging Banks into the crowd.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you do,” Zoey said.

Banks groaned but managed to smile at everyone they met along the way, including the kids. Most looked a little shell-shocked and dazed. Lost, really. Like they didn’t know where they belonged anymore, and she supposed they were right. How would she feel if her home had burned down and she had no one to turn to except a bunch of strangers?

A wave of pity filled her heart, and she resolved to do everything she could to make the transition smoother. Both for their people and hers. They’re part of us now. Part of our community, and the sooner everyone realizes that, the better.

Prologue III - Paisley

Paisley didn’t say a word during the entire trip to the hospital. She did exactly what the grown-ups asked her to do, not arguing once. She packed her things without complaint, boarded the school bus, and endured the trip in silence.

“Come on, children. Take your seats,” Teacher Sandi said, her voice stern.

Holding her backpack on her lap, Paisley chose a window seat and sat in silence. But inside, she was a bundle of nerves and fear. The night of the fire still lived inside her mind, vivid in its terrible detail. She remembered the smoke and the heat. Tasted the terror. She knew she was to blame for bumping over the candle that started it all. Worse, she hid in a closet without telling anyone, and the blaze raged unchecked.

At first, she didn’t realize the damage that was done until she saw the smoking ruins the next day. Their home was burned down, and several people died, including Uncle Robert. That was the worst thing of all. She’d liked Robert. He’d saved her life, and she considered him a hero. Now he was dead.

To Paisley, death was an abstract concept. Like good and evil, she didn’t fully comprehend its scope and breadth. Still, she knew that death was terrible and meant never seeing that person again. Their souls went to heaven, and their bodies turned to dust, or so the preacher said. She didn’t want Robert to become dust.

She knew she’d be in big trouble if anyone found out she caused the fire. They’d blame her for the people that died, and she’d be punished terribly for her misbehavior. Terrified of being found out, she said nothing of that night to no one. Not even Teacher Sandi or Aunty Clare.

“All right, children. Settle down. Be quiet, please. We are about to leave,” Teacher Sandi said, wagging a finger.

The excited commotion died down, and the bus lurched forward. Running smoothly, it drove through the barricades of their old home. Setting a course for the hospital, it navigated the streets of Burlington.

Paisley spotted quite a few undead, their ugly faces flashing past the windows. However, it was hard to concentrate on them with Teacher Sandi reading stories and telling jokes. Distracted, Paisley and the other kids soon forgot about the world outside the bus.

She could not forget about the fire, though, and swallowed hard when they reached their new home, the hospital. What if it wasn’t nice? Teacher Sandi said it was a wonderful place, and they’d all be very happy there, but she didn’t believe that. The last time she left her home, they also told her she was going somewhere nice.

Instead, she lost her entire family, and the fire station wasn’t anything like her old house. The food was bad, the lights went out, and they couldn’t go to school, play outside or ride their bikes. Everybody was tense, and the zombies always posed a danger. Even nice people like Uncle Robert, Auntie Clare, Auntie Amelia, and Teacher Sandi couldn’t change that. I hated it there. It was awful, and I bet the hospital is awful too.

When they arrived at their destination, Paisley climbed out of the bus with a sense of dread. The crowd milled around her, the air filled with excited cries, screams, and chatter. Someone bumped into her, and she stumbled. Her backpack went flying as she lost her footing, and the ground rushed toward her.

“Whoa there!” a voice cried, and a hand grabbed her arm.

Paisley looked up into the concerned face of Aunty Clare, and a rush of relief filled her heart. “Aunty Clare!”

“You should be more careful, sweetheart,” Aunty Clare said.

“I’m sorry,” Paisley said, contrite.

“Here you go,” Aunty Clare replied, handing her the backpack. She dusted off the pack and smiled. “All better now, but be careful.”

“Alright,” Paisley said, trying her best to appear grown up and responsible.

“Stick close to me, sweetheart,” Clare said, guiding her through the throng.

Paisley nodded and hung onto Clare’s hand like it was a lifeline.

Then she spotted an ambulance and watched with horror as Aunty Amelia was wheeled out in a stretcher. Her face was so pale it looked like candle wax. Her eyes were closed with purple shadows underneath, and a thin blanket covered her body.

“What happened to Aunty Amelia?” Paisley asked.

“She’s sick, sweetie,” Clare replied.

“Why?” Paisley asked, even though she was scared of the answer.

“Uncle Robert’s death made her very sad, and she got sick,” Clare said.

“Being sad makes you sick?” Paisley asked.

“Yes, it can if you are very sad, and Aunty Amelia is really, really sad,” Aunty Clare explained.

“I’m sorry,” Paisley said, her voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault,” Aunty Clare said, her green eyes flashing to Paisley’s.

Paisley looked at her shoes, unable to meet Clare’s gaze. She’ll know it was me. She’ll know it was my fault, and she won’t love me anymore.

Guilt formed a stone in her stomach, and bile burned the back of her throat. Before she could stop it, she vomited onto the pavement. The orange remnants of her juice box splashed across her shoes, speckled with bits of Oreo cookies.

“Oh, dear,” Aunty Clare cried, dropping down on her haunches and wiping Paisley’s face with her sleeve. “Are you okay? Should I call for a doctor?”

“No, she’s okay. It’s just nerves. Right, sweetie?” a different voice asked. The voice was accompanied by a bright and cheery face surrounded by red hair. “I’m Zoey, by the way, a qualified paramedic.”

“I’m Clare, and this is Paisley. I think all the excitement might have gotten to her,” Clare said. “Say hello, Paisley.”

“Hello,” Paisley said, her voice small.

“Poor dear. I can take a look at her if you want,” Zoey offered.

“Please do,” Aunty Clare said, ushering Paisley into Zoey’s waiting arms.

“Come on, sweetie. I’ll just take a quick look. No need to worry,” Zoey said, taking Paisley’s hand.

As Paramedic Zoey led her away, the only thing Paisley could think of was Aunty Amelia and Uncle Robert. It was her fault Uncle Robert died, and Aunty Amelia was sick, and there was nothing she could do about it. No one she could tell. It was her secret. Her horrible, terrible secret.

Prologue IV - Nikki

Nikki drove out of town without looking back. She wouldn’t miss it, and there was nothing left to tie her to the place. Nothing but sorrow. Her mother was gone, and she hardly remembered the woman anymore. All that remained were a few flashes of memory: Blonde hair, a soft voice, the smell of lilies, and sobs during the night.

“Bye, Mom. I hope you’re at peace now, wherever you are,” Nikki whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Rex is dead, and he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

She wished she knew what had happened to her mother. Did she run away? Was she driven to such a desperate move by the horrors inflicted upon her by Rex? Or did he kill her and dump her body in a shallow grave somewhere?

George thought she was dead. He believed Rex murdered her in a fit of rage and hid the deed by making it seem like she ran away. The police never found a trace of her, her car, or her personal belongings. Without a body or evidence of foul play, everyone assumed she’d left, abandoning her young children to the tender mercies of her husband—a man with a reputation as a drunk and a brute.

He was no idiot, though, and played nice in the eyes of the authorities until the commotion died down. Over time, the disappearance of one lonely housewife became old news, and interest in the case faded. George and Nikki were left to fend for themselves, two kids from the wrong side of the tracks and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. That was when the real Rex came out to play, a bully and a sadist.

But that was over now. Rex was dead, killed by Nikki’s hand, and she no longer had to fear him. She’d gotten her revenge and no longer had to worry about him or his explosive temper. I’m free. I’m finally free.

Nikki wiped away her tears and focused on the road ahead. It was a single-lane route that curved through the pine-choked hills like a sinuous snake. The sun peeked over a rocky ridge, its golden light contrasting with the brooding trees.

Nikki opened the window and sucked in a deep breath of the pine-scented air. The crisp breeze brought a flush to her cheeks and a shiver to her spine. To her, it represented freedom. Everything she’d longed for her entire life. A primal cry tore loose within her chest and exploded outward in a rush of pure power. She screamed until her throat was raw, and the anger and frustration roiling within her chest were gone.

Finally, she slumped back into her seat with a smile of relief. With the release of her pent-up emotions came a sense of calm that bordered on exhaustion. It had been a trying day, and her energy levels were depleted.

First, there was the vicious encounter with her zombified stepdad, then the flight from her hometown and everything she knew. Her eyelids drooped, and her chin dropped to her chest. Nikki decided it was time for a break when she caught herself swerving across the road.

She pulled over to the side and killed the engine. After a long look around, Nikki scraped together her courage and got out of the truck. Feeling vulnerable, she patted the Glock 17 at her side. Stolen from Rex’s gun safe, it gave her a feeling of security along with the hammer she’d grabbed from the garage.

She walked around the truck with the blunt weapon in one hand and the gun in its holster. It felt good to stretch her legs, and the fresh air revived her senses. Although it was quiet, she could hear the sounds of nature all around. The swish of the wind through the pines, the creak of their topmost branches, and the crunch of gravel underfoot.

She grabbed a bottle of water from her backpack and took a few sips. Though she was hungry, she didn’t eat. She had a long road ahead and had to ration her food. Who knows when I’ll find more?

It was a good question, and it ignited a seed of worry. Did she have what it took to make the journey? Could she survive on her own?

A loud crack interrupted her thoughts, and she whirled in the direction of the sound. Her heart banged in her throat while she stared at the forest, her mind conjuring up all sorts of horrors. A faint tinkling reached her ears, and she zoned in on the spot. The leaves on a bush rustled, and she lifted the hammer in readiness. Whatever it was, she was prepared to fight.

A bright ball of golden fur burst into the open, and Nikki threw up her hands in shock. A dog? Out here? The middle of nowhere? “Whoa there, doggie! Hold up!”

The dog, a golden retriever, slid to a stop mere feet away and stared at her with a pitiful look in its eyes. Its tongue lolled from its jaws as it panted for breath, and the bell around its neck made a tinny noise. Bending down, Nikki stretched out one hand to the animal. “Here, doggie, doggie.”

The dog whined in answer and crept closer, its movements cautious. Step by step, it inched closer.

“Come on. I promise I won’t hurt you,” Nikki coaxed with a friendly smile.

The dog got within touching distance, and Nikki patted it on the head. After a couple of seconds, it appeared to accept that Nikki wasn’t a threat and moved closer.

“There’s a good boy,” Nikki said, crouching next to the dog. She placed the hammer on the ground within easy reach and looked around. When everything appeared quiet, she turned back to the dog.“Good boy. Or is it a girl?”

After a quick look, she grinned. “Nope, it’s a boy!”

The dog whined in answer.

“What’s your name, uh?” Nikki asked, checking the collar around its neck. On a silver disc next to a tiny bell were a name and a telephone number. The number was useless now, but at least she knew what to call the dog. “Cooper? Your name’s Cooper?”

The dog yipped and wagged its tail.

“There’s a good boy, Cooper,” Nikki said, ruffling her hands in the thick fur around its neck. When her hands came away damp and sticky, she frowned at the reddish stains on her palms. “It that blood? Are you hurt, Cooper?”

A brief examination revealed no wounds, and she concluded the blood wasn’t Cooper’s. It belonged to something or someone else. His fur was matted with dirt and leaves, his feet caked with mud, and she shook her head. “You poor baby. You must’ve run a long way. Did something happen to you? Were you attacked? Where’s your owner?”

Cooper whined and looked back over its shoulder. A crackle in the undergrowth caused Nikki to stiffen. She grabbed the hammer and slowly rose to her feet. With the weapon held ready, she stared at the trees. Dark and imposing, they now exuded an air of menace. Something had chased Cooper through the woods. Something evil. “Let’s get out of here, boy.”

Cooper whined in answer, seeming in complete agreement.

Swallowing hard, Nikki reached for the truck’s door handle behind her. She pulled until it clicked open, the sound awfully loud in the still air. Opening the door, she stepped to the side and waved at the opening. “Get in, Cooper.

Cooper wasted no time, jumping into the seat as if his life depended on it, making her worry even more. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t friendly.

Another crack sounded, and a bush not far from the road rustled, its leaves shaking from side to side. The hair on the back of Nikki’s neck rose, and alarm bells jangled in her head. Get out of here now!

Nikki whirled around and jumped into the truck, slamming the door shut. With frantic haste, she twisted the key in the ignition and jammed her foot on the gas. The engine sputtered to life but immediately died when too much fuel flooded the carburetor.

“No, no, no!” Nikki cried, twisting the key over and over again. It whined in a high-pitched tone but refused to start, and terror spurted through her veins. In a blind panic, she slammed both hands on the steering wheel, not noticing when she mangled her fingers with the hammer.

A terrific crash drew her attention, and she jerked around. Her eyes scanned the looming forest not far from her window. From within the dark interior, a gigantic form burst free. A thing that didn’t even look human. More like the mythical Big Foot with its shaggy hair, wild beard, and enormous girth. Its eyes were wild, and its bared teeth were stained with blood. A crimson wash that drenched the front of its flannel shirt and jeans. Throwing its head back, the creature roared, the sound wild and primal.

Nikki’s eyes widened at the sight, and her heart stuttered. The infected man stormed across the distance, coming closer and closer until he filled her entire vision. Her brain scrambled to process the danger and failed, leaving her frozen in her seat. Unable to move, she surrendered to the inevitable. Surrendered to death. I’m going to die.

Cooper broke the stalemate, issuing a series of frenzied barks. She glanced at the animal, seeing its fear and vulnerability. If she died, it died. I can’t let that happen, and I can’t let that thing destroy the truck, either.

Scrambling across the seat, Nikki opened the passenger door. She couldn’t fight the zombie giant inside the truck. It would simply smash the window and pluck her out like a tinned sardine. Plus, she had no room to maneuver within its confined space and would be better off out in the open. So would Cooper.

The moment the door swung wide, Cooper jumped out and ran off. For a second, Niki was scared he’d keep running, and her heart sank. She watched him run, his body a streaking blur of yellowish gold. She’d known him only for a few minutes, but already she’d grown attached. Thankfully, he stopped once he reached a safe distance, whirled around, and resumed his terrified barking.

Oh, thank God, Nikki thought with relief, but there was no time to waste. Bailing out of the truck, she yanked the gun from her belt and turned to face her attacker. With the vehicle’s body between them for safety, she shoved the hammer back into her belt and readied the Glock.

The infected man paused a couple of feet away from the truck, slightly befuddled by the sudden disappearance of his prey. He peered through the window, a low growl sawing in and out of his lungs. Banging one fist on the window, it roared with frustration.

“Over here, you stupid meathead,” Nikki yelled, waving one hand in the air. She didn’t want the creature to break the glass, and she danced to the side to lure it away.

The infected man followed, pacing the length of the truck like a caged tiger. Nikki watched him come with the gun raised to shoot. The moment she had a clear shot, she pulled the trigger, but she was too hasty. The bullet grazed the zombie’s shoulder, not slowing him down even a second.

“Shit,” Nikki cried, taking another shot.

That one missed utterly, and she began to back up as the infected closed the distance. Two more shots went wild, and her mouth turned as dry as a stick of wood. With her heart hammering in her chest, she pleaded. “Come on, come on!”

The fifth bullet hit the zombie in the chest. Clotted black blood dribbled from the wound, and the infected staggered but didn’t stop. With both hands stretched out to grab her, he rounded the back of the truck and picked up speed. Like a freight train, the zombie behemoth thundered toward her.

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” Nikki screamed, each syllable rising in pitch until her voice became a shrill shriek. Panic flooded her mind, and her resolve broke. Dropping everything, the gun and the hammer, she ran.

Her legs and arms pumped as she sprinted up the road with no apparent thought in mind. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had to get away from the monster that sought to tear her apart. She imagined his rough hands closing around her limbs and ripping her to pieces. His teeth mangling her flesh while she drowned in her own blood. Alive. Sentient. Feeling each horrific sensation to the very last.

No!

She couldn’t… wouldn’t let that happen to her.

Run!

Nikki ran for several seconds before realizing she wasn’t being chased. A glance over her shoulder revealed no zombie beast stomping the asphalt in her wake. Slowing to a stop, she turned to look, confusion replacing fear.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, she spotted the infected chasing something around the truck. When she caught a flash of yellow, shame filled her chest. Cooper! I left him. I just left him.

Another bout of guilt struck when she realized that the dog must’ve distracted the infected. If he hadn’t, the zombie would be chasing her, not Cooper. Zombies infinitely preferred human over animal flesh, and the only way the infected would go after Cooper is if the dog deliberately drew its attention. He saved me. Cooper tried to save me.

Filled with a mixture of guilt, shame, horror, and fear, Nikki made a decision. One that would forever alter the course of her future. She decided to fight. I’m done running. I’m done hiding. Now, I fight.

Breaking into a sprint, Nikki ran back to the truck. With the zombie occupied by Cooper, she stood a chance of sneaking past without being spotted. Angling toward her weapons, she raced across the open ground. Each step brought her closer and closer to danger, but she shoved away the terror that threatened to undo her resolve. No more running!

Plunging past the infected, she scooped up her gun and ground to a halt. Dust filled the air, and gravel rolled underfoot as she whirled around. With her finger on the trigger, Nikki yelled, “Over here, puss bucket!”

The zombie giant paused in his pursuit of Copper and turned to her with lumbering steps. Never very agile in life, he was even less so in death but made up for the lack of speed with sheer brute force. The zombie behemoth stormed toward Nikki, each step causing the earth to quake.

Boom!

Boom!

Despite her fears, Nikki stood her ground, the gun’s muzzle pointed at the zombie’s forehead. His terrifying expression filled her vision, growing larger and larger by the second. She forced herself to wait until the last possible second when it would be impossible to miss.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

At point-blank range, Nikki let out the breath she was holding and squeezed the trigger. Bam!

The Zombie giant’s head snapped back, a smoking hole in his forehead. His legs folded like a deck of cards, and he fell to the ground with a tremendous crash. One arm flopped out, the curled fingers mere inches from her feet, and she stared at the bloodstained nails.

A mixture of joy, shock, and wonder unfurled within her mind, and she let out a triumphant whoop. “I did it. I did it!”

Jumping up and down with joy, she allowed herself to revel in the moment. It was a triumphant occasion. While she’d killed Rex in self-defense, this was different. Despite the danger, despite the possibility of death, she’d made a conscious decision to stand and fight. She’d proven that she had what it took to survive.

Cooper joined her little victory dance, his tail wagging while he zipped around like a crazy thing. He barked and yipped, eyes shining with happiness. Together, the two celebrated their achievement and let out their pent-up emotions. It was a happy moment and had the added bonus of bonding them as a unit.

Afterward, Nikki hugged Cooper before ushering him back into the truck’s cab. “Come on, boy. It’s time to go.”

Cooper jumped into the seat without hesitation, tongue lolling from his mouth. His eyes were shining, and she was glad he’d recovered from his fright earlier. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

Nikki closed the door and retrieved the hammer she’d dropped earlier. Securing it to her belt, she paused when she spotted the zombie corpse. Wrinkling her nose, she forced herself to search the man’s body for anything of value. It was something she’d have to learn if she hoped to make it in the new world of zombies and crooks. There was no room for the weak or squeamish.

From a shoulder holster, she recovered a gun. Not knowing much about them, she wasn’t sure of the make or size, but it looked similar to her Glock, and she was sure she could figure it out. At least it was fully loaded, a bonus after she’d wasted six bullets trying to take down one zombie. I have to learn to shoot better.

Nikki found a hunting knife in a sheath on the man’s belt. A great find, she quickly threaded it onto her belt. Next, she searched his side pockets and found a wallet with a photo of him and Cooper. It was taken in a clearing in the woods next to a deer trophy; the buck was displayed to get the full effect of its horns.

There was another picture of Cooper retrieving the carcass of a duck from a pond, and she guessed he used to spend a lot of time in the wilderness with his outdoorsy owner: An avid hunter. “Too bad I don’t have his skills. We could sure use them now.”

Nikki didn’t look at the man’s driver’s license, not wanting to know the name of the man she’d killed. While he was a zombie and a dangerous one, he’d been a man once—a man who’d loved his dog.

“I guess that’s as much as any of us can hope for,” Nikki mused as she got back to her feet. “Being remembered for something good.”

She tucked the cash she’d found in the wallet into her pocket and put the wallet back where she found it. Taking a moment, she said, “I’m sorry I killed you, Sir, but you gave me no choice. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take care of Cooper for you. Rest in peace.”

She left the man like that, knowing she had no choice. Burying him was out of the question, as was dragging him into the woods and covering him with sticks and stones. She didn’t have the tools or the bodily strength for that. With a final apologetic look in the rearview mirror, she drove off.

A glance at the clock told her only twenty-six minutes had passed since she stopped. Less than half an hour. In that time, everything had changed. She’d killed a man and gained a gun, a knife, and a traveling companion. But most of all, she’d learned that she could fight and survive, even when it wasn’t easy. “I can do this, Cooper. I can take of us now. Don’t you worry about a thing, buddy.”

Cooper’s tail thumped on the seat, and she smiled at him. After a quick pat on the head, she turned her attention back to the road. She needed to find a safe place for them to spend the night. A place where they could rest and recoup in peace. Maybe get extra fuel, some food, and a hot bath.

It all sounded a bit ridiculous in her head. It was the apocalypse, after all, and amenities were scarce. She wasn’t worried, though. Whether they found peace or war, they’d figure it out—she and Cooper. We’ll face whatever comes our way. No matter what.

Chapter 1 - Theresa

Theresa shifted in her chair, grimacing when the old injury in her back twinged. She reached for the bottle in her pocket and removed a single chalky white pill. A new prescription, she was grateful for the medicine issued to her by one of the doctors in the trauma ward. It eased the pain and allowed for a broader range of motion, which she needed during the apocalypse.

Swallowing the pill with a sip of water from her glass, she eased back and studied the people around the table. Together, they formed the Hospital Board: The official entity designed to deal with all of the major decisions regarding the survival and welfare of the hospital and its community.

At the head of the table sat the hospital director, Sophia Ward. Already, Theresa had grown to respect her. She was a formidable force inside the hospital and took her position seriously.

Lieutenant Kingsley, flanked by Priya Khatri, his second-in-command, sat to her left. She was surprisingly young for the position but carried an air of self-assurance that belied her age.

To Sophia’s right sat the hospital’s chief surgeon, Kent Bond, and the head Matron, Madeleine Koch. They oversaw the medical staff and wards, including the pharmacy and the ER. Both were stiff and formal, not the kind to make small talk, and Theresa had yet to have a proper conversation with either.

Lindsay, the lady in charge of the cafeteria and food rations, was the opposite. Warm and bubbly, she enjoyed cooking and baking. Forever covered in flour stains, she always carried a treat in her apron pocket, ready to whip out should a person need to be cheered. Theresa couldn’t figure out how she did it or where the treats came from, but they were always there. A seemingly endless supply. Maybe her apron is magical, like Santa’s gift bag.

It was a ridiculous notion but a fun one, and Theresa moved on to the next board member, Dirk, with a smile playing on her lips. He was in charge of the essential maintenance, including the plumbing system and power supply. A full-time job and too much for him, judging by his sickly looks and droopy eyes.

That left Coco, the resident mechanic, Stella, the lady in charge of cleaning and laundry, and Baxter, a slender balding man in charge of the thrift shop.

The thrift shop was a magical place and beloved by all. Whenever supplies came in, it was divided into different categories. Whatever was needed to keep the community afloat found its way to Lindsey, Dirk, Stella, Coco, Kingsley, Kent, and Madeleine. Any surplus went to storage while the rest found its way to the shop.

Free to the public, it contained a wide variety of things ranging from clothes, hair accessories, books, magazines, toys, board games, makeup, and more. Anything that wasn’t deemed necessary for their day-to-day survival and functioning. People were welcome to browse and take what they wanted, within reason.

Theresa thought that, in time, it could be expanded until it became a center for the community. A place where people could shop, trade, and act like things were still normal. Perhaps, it could even offer services such as haircuts and shaves. The possibilities were endless.

That concluded her study of the board members, leaving only herself and Claudia. They were the newest additions, chosen by their respective groups to represent their interests during meetings. The firefighters picked Theresa, while the people from the school picked Claudia. Though not thrilled with the choice of Claudia, she supposed it wasn’t her call. She just hoped the woman wouldn’t cause too much trouble. I guess we’ll see how it goes.

Sitting back, she studied the gathering. Claudia wasn’t her only concern. She worried that their opinion wouldn’t count for much as the sole representatives for the school and fire station. But she consoled her with the thought that they’d been given a chance to serve on the board. They could easily have been shunted aside as strangers.

That brought her attention to the next problematic item on her list. Numbering twelve people, the hospital board held the fate of the hospital and its survivors within the palms of their hands. While the residents did have a say, the big decisions were made inside the boardroom by the people sitting around the table. It was a frightening thought, and Theresa prayed they wouldn’t screw it up. Lives depended on it.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Claudia murmured, leaning closer to Theresa.

“What do you mean?” Theresa asked.

“We’re severely outnumbered on this board,” Claudia said, waving a hand around.

“Yes, we are, but I doubt they’ll allow more of us to join,” Theresa said.

“Of course not,” Claudia said. “They want to keep the power to themselves. Allowing us each a seat is simply a token gesture designed to keep our people quiet and obedient.”

“You think so?” Theresa said, surprised at the woman’s insight. She hadn’t seemed like the deep-thinking type—just another reminder not to judge a book by its cover.

“I know so. They’ll allow us minor wins from time to time, reinforcing our need to keep things on an even keel. No rocking the boat, right?” Claudia said. “But you can be damn sure they will make any major decisions.”

“How do you know all of this?” Theresa asked with a frown.

“I worked in the Mayor’s office before the zombies took over. Politics were my life,” Claudia explained.

“What happened to the Mayor?” Theresa asked, her interest piqued.

“He didn’t last a day,” Claudia said with a dismissive wave. “His car got swarmed. I saw it happen and made a run for it.”

“To the school?”

“It seemed like a safe enough place,” Claudia said. “I was wrong. I’m not wrong about this, though.”

“So, what do you think we should do?” Theresa asked.

“Two things,” Claudia said. “We need to make friends on the board, gain influence with them, and secure our positions. It also means finding out everything we can about them. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“Okay,” Theresa said, a little doubtful.

“The second thing we need to do is find our people suitable jobs within the system. Key positions from which they can extend their influence. Before you know it, we’ll be an integral part of the community and impossible to ignore.”

“What if they figure it out and try to block us?” Theresa said.

“That’s why we need to find out everything we can about them. Everyone has secrets,” Claudia said with a smug smile, folding her arms. “And secrets can be used for leverage.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that,” Theresa said, considering Claudia’s words. It all seemed rather shifty to her—the tactics of politicians getting down and dirty.

“Oh? Then what do you suggest?” Claudia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I agree that we should find suitable positions for our people. We must integrate into this community, make friends, and carry our weight, but not for power.”

“For what, then?”

“For fellowship. For survival. We might very well be the last living people left in Burlington. Working together is the smart choice. Especially as we have no idea what else is out there.”

“It’s a nice idea, but that’s not how life works. You have to take what you want, or you’ll be left behind in the dust,” Claudia said.

“Maybe that’s how it worked before, but it doesn’t have to be that way now,” Theresa reasoned. “This is our chance to change things.”

“You are very idealistic,” Claudia said. “And very stupid.”

“Maybe,” Theresa said. “But I believe we can do things differently. We can become a true community with everyone working together for the betterment of all. There is no need to fight for power, and no one needs to lord it over others.”

“You do what you want, but I know what I’m talking about,” Claudia said, her lips compressed. “People don’t change.”

Theresa didn’t answer, depressed by Claudia’s attitude. The woman was a prime example of people who refused to change. The type of person who refused to do things differently simply because they feared the unknown. I won’t let it get me down. I’ll do what’s best for all of us. Claudia included.

Rubbing one hand across her forehead, Theresa shifted in her chair. The meeting was about to start, and she had no idea what to expect. It was at times like these that she missed Robert. He thought the same way she did and shared the same vision for the future. But he was gone now, and nothing would change that.

That took her mind to another matter: Amelia.

Amelia was not taking Robert’s death well. Keeping her drugged to the eyeballs was the only way to keep her from going crazy. No amount of talking could get her to calm down, and she was currently confined to a room in the trauma ward.

However, Theresa had no time to think of a solution because everyone found their seats, and Sofia called the meeting to order. Raising one hand in the air, she waited for silence before saying, “Good morning, and thank you for attending this meeting. You all have work to do, but we have much to discuss. Let’s get to it.”

Taking a sip of water, Theresa settled in for the long haul. Sophia was right. There was much to discuss, and it would be hours before they left the room. Besides, she was determined to negotiate the best deal for her people and to make it clear to Sophia that they could be trusted and valuable addition to the community. Friends.

Chapter 2 - George

George stared at the ceiling above his hospital bed, more bored than he’d ever been in his entire life. He lay on top of the blanket, fully dressed, arms folded across his middle. There was no point in looking around for something to do. Everything was exactly the same as it had been for the past week. Empty.

Empty of anything that could be used as a weapon. Devoid of anything that could pass the time, as well.

When they’d first arrived at their new home, George was examined by a doctor. The stump of his arm was cleaned, disinfected, and freshly bandaged. He was given a shot of painkillers, antibiotics, and a sleeping aid at night. He was also told that he was lucky. Ruby had done an excellent job.

But the road to recovery was going to be long and arduous. While the external wound should heal within three to four weeks, the internal injuries would take between twelve and eighteen months. During that time, he’d have to undergo intensive physiotherapy and learn to manage without the limb.

Much of it could be done while the sutures were still in. He was immediately started on a strict regimen of massaging and tapping designed to desensitize the stump in preparation for a prosthetic. He was also given a list of exercises to perform, all part of the process.

Given that it was the apocalypse, George supposed he was lucky to find himself in a hospital post-operation. However, he was not so fortunate when they decided to quarantine him for a week or more. He was told to suck it up or get out when he protested. They could not risk an infection inside the community, and despite not showing any symptoms, he was locked up inside a single room and isolated.

The only respite offered was a daily visit from Theresa and Mason, plus the male nurse who delivered his meals and medicine and changed his dressings. Despite George’s best efforts, the guy acted like a robot and refused to crack a smile. The only other person he saw was the doctor on his daily rounds.

With a groan of frustration, he rolled onto his side and stared out the window. It wasn’t much. Small and covered with iron bars, it looked out onto a tiny courtyard. Walled on four sides, it boasted a couple of shady trees, benches, and a small rose garden.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than staring at the four walls of his jail cell. Now and then, he’d spot a bird or a butterfly. Bright spots of color on an otherwise bland day. Sometimes, he’d fantasize that he had wings, and he’d soar away into the bright blue sky. Freed from the horrors of the apocalypse.

It was just a dream, though. A silly dream that would never come true. The same kind that he used to tease Nikki for when they were still young. She’d play make-believe and come up with all sorts of fantastical scenarios. He’d laughed at her, then. No amount of daydreaming could save them from Rex or the reality of their lives. Now, he realized why she’d done it. It was the only way to stay sane.

A flash of white caught George’s attention, and he stiffened.

It was her again.

Amelia.

He sat upright and stared at her forlorn figure through the glass. It was hard to believe it was the same woman he’d met at the fire station’s annual Christmas party a year back. She’d looked so alive and vital, glowing with the kind of self-confidence that comes with complete acceptance of all one’s flaws.

Now, she was little more than a ghost. A wraith drifting through the courtyard in a white nightgown. Her raven hair tumbled down to her waist, streaked with silver. It covered her face like a shroud, hiding her dark gaze from the world.

It was better that way. He’d seen her eyes when she looked up and still shuddered at the memory. Her grief was a yawning pit. A black hole that sucked even the faintest touch of light or happiness into its hungry maw.

If he believed in myths and fairy tales, he’d say she was doomed to become a banshee. A creature that fed on pain and suffering. But he didn’t believe in things like that, and his heart ached for the woman that drifted aimlessly through the rose bushes. He hoped she’d find her way back to the living one day, for nothing was worse than living within the shadow of such grief.

As ever, thoughts of Amelia reminded him of Nikki. It was unpleasant, and he tried to avoid the cascade of memories, but they would not be denied. He wondered where she was and how she fared. How had the years with Rex changed her? Did she become hard and bitter? Or a ghost like Amelia? Was she even still alive?

George imagined her as one of the walking dead, and his heart turned to ice. The bloodshot eyes and feral hunger. The lack of intelligence, humor, and kindness. A complete absence of humanity. It was too awful to contemplate, and he turned away from the window.

The minutes crept by while he stared at the ceiling. The stump at the end of his arm itched, and he scratched it without paying attention. It had healed well, and the stitches could come out soon. He looked forward to that day, though he didn’t look forward to the looks he was sure to get.

While Ruby had done an excellent job, it still looked ugly, and George felt like Frankenstein whenever he looked at it. Life was a lot harder without the extra limb too. Previously simple tasks such as getting dressed, going to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and making his bed were next to impossible now. He’d learn in time. He’d find shortcuts and learn new skills as his brain forged new neural pathways. That’s what the doctor told him, anyway.

George didn’t care. All he knew was that his days as a firefighter were over. Without the use of both arms, he couldn’t perform his duties anymore. I’m of no use to anyone now. I’m just a burden.

The knowledge burned like acid, and the frustration within his chest reached boiling point. Jumping off the bed, he stalked toward the door and banged on it with his fist. “Anyone out there? Hello!”

When no answer came, he yelled louder. “Hello! I’m talking to you. Somebody had better open up. I’m sick of sitting here doing nothing. I’m not infected, damn it!”

After several more minutes of banging, George gave up and returned to the bed. Slumping down on the edge, he stared at the bandages that covered his stump. The rough material unraveled along the edges, and he plucked at a single thread. Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside his door, followed by the rattle of keys in the lock. Standing upright, he waited as the door swung open to reveal the doctor, Kent Bond.

If only the man knew how often George had mocked him during the long, tedious hours of the day. He’d acted like the doctor, introducing himself to some hot, young woman in a red dress.

“Hi, there, sweet cheeks. I’m Bond. Kent Bond,” he’d say in a sophisticated voice, wiggling his eyebrows for extra effect.

Somehow, he didn’t think the term “sweet cheeks” would go down well with any woman and imagined the good doctor getting the slap of his life. It would be no less than he deserved. The man had an ego the size and brightness of the sun, coupled with a stick up his ass that no amount of alcohol could ever remove. In short, Kent Bond was an asshole, in George’s opinion.

He did not let any of that show, however. Heartily sick of isolation, he wanted out of his cell and into the fresh air. The only way to accomplish that was through the doctor, so he summoned his most endearing smile and said, “Good afternoon, Dr. Bond.”

“Good day, Mr. er… Shaw,” Kent Bond said after consulting his chart and clipboard. “How are we feeling today?”

“I feel great, doctor,” George said, trying his best to seem sincere.

“No difficulty sleeping? No nightmares or night sweats?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing of the sort,” George said, lying through his teeth.

Of course, he had nightmares. Of course, he woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, terrified after his latest horrific dream. They all did. He’d heard the others in the ward at night, crying and hysterical. He’d listened to Amelia’s screams echoing down the hallway. It was all part of the package—an apocalyptic gift to the living.

“Mm,” Dr. Bond said, making a note on his chart. “Anything else you can tell me, Mr. Shaw?”

“No, sir,” George said, grinding his teeth together in frustration.

“Alright. Let’s have a look at that arm,” the doctor said.

Heaving an inward sigh, George submitted to his umpteenth examination. The stump was anything but pretty. The scars were fresh, mottled, and ugly, but the doctor thought the monstrosity looked great.

“This has healed remarkably well considering the circumstances of the amputation,” Kent Bond said.

“Yup. Ruby is a real gem,” George said.

“Indeed. It seems she warrants a closer look,” the doctor said.

“Huh?”

“I’m considering making her part of our medical team. She might make an adequate surgeon one day,” Bond said.

Adequate? Ruby is much more than adequate, you twat, George thought. Instead, he smiled and said, “I think she’d be great at it.”

“Yes, well. That remains to be seen,” the doctor said, standing up. “You are free to go. Your quarantine is over, and you can join the rest of the community.”

“Really?” George asked, stunned and delighted at the same time.

“Really,” Kent Bond added. “I need you to sign out at the front desk and report to the pharmacy for a compression sock and therapy schedule. I expect your full cooperation regarding your continued treatment and will not tolerate tardiness or missed appointments. Understood?”

“Understood, Dr. Bond,” George said, carefully keeping his voice free from mockery. It would do no good to rile the doctor when he’d just earned his freedom.

“You are free to leave,” Dr. Kent Bond said, waving a hand at the open doorway.

“Thanks, Doc,” George yelled, hastily stuffing his things into his backpack. He ran out of the room without looking back, scared the doctor would change his mind. It wasn’t like he’d miss the place, after all.

He was forced to stop at the front desk, however. The nursing staff were sticklers for protocol and insisted on filling out the proper paperwork. While he waited for the nurse to ready the forms, he wondered why they still bothered. It was the end of the world, damn it. Who cared about paperwork anymore?

His thoughts were interrupted when he spotted Amelia returning to her cell from the garden. It seemed her brief moment of freedom was over, and she was consigned back to the hellish nightmare of her room.

His heart went out to her, and he resolved to speak to Theresa. She had no idea how bad it was locked away inside a tiny space, denied all dignity and freedom. They thought they were doing right by Amelia, but he knew better. She’d never heal inside the sterile confines of the hospital. She needed an outlet for her pain, whatever that might be. I’ll talk to Theresa. We’ll get her out of there and get her well again, or as close to it as she’ll ever get.

Chapter 3 - Amelia

Amelia stared at the blank wall opposite her bed. The paint was smooth. A uniform white so pure it hurt the eyes. Blank and sterile, it was typical of a hospital.

Her eyes traveled around the room, seeking some form of imperfection. It was there if one looked hard enough. One could find any number of faults if one tried and had the time, and she had nothing but time. Time was the enemy now. The slow passing of seconds that blended into minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. How many days has it been?

She didn’t know.

Or cared.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Amelia thought about the night she lost Robert. That was the night her life ended, and she thought of nothing else. Who cared about zombies or the apocalypse? Who cared if people lived or died? Her Robert was gone, and that was all that mattered.

Closing her eyes, she was back there in an instant. She remembered how cold it had been and the chill breeze that cut through her nightgown like a knife. She’d felt sorry for Robert, standing watch in the bitter freeze, exposed to the elements on the fire station’s roof.

She’d crawled out of their warm bed and pulled on her woolen gown and thick slippers. Padding to the kitchen, she’d prepared a cup of hot coffee, just the way he liked it. It was a small token of her appreciation, and she wished she could do more. She wanted many things now, and none of them included coffee.

A bitter smile twisted her lips as she was swept away on a tide of memories, each more bittersweet than the last. She didn’t fight it, even though it hurt to relive their final moments together. It was all she had now, and she let it take her on a journey of remembrance… and sorrow.

The steep steps to the roof reminded her that she wasn’t so young anymore. Her left knee twinged a bit as she reached the top, and she vowed to do more exercise in the future. A dodgy knee could mean her death when faced with a horde of zombies.

As she pushed open the door, a frigid blast of cold air hit her in the face. It cut through her woolen robe, and her toes turned to icicles inside her slippers. For a moment, she considered going back, but the thought of Robert suffering alone on the roof was too much to bear. Gritting her teeth, she stepped out into the open and braved the cold.

As if he knew she was coming, Robert waited to greet her with a broad smile. She kissed him and asked, “Cold, my sweet?”

“Freezing,” Robert muttered. “But I feel better now that you’re here.”

“Ah, you always know what to say,” she said, handing him the coffee. He accepted it with a grateful smile and took a few sips. The expression on his face was enough to make it all worthwhile, and she was happy she’d taken the time to treat him. “How long do you still have to go?”

“About four hours. I’m here until two in the morning. Mason’s supposed to relieve me then,” Robert replied.

“Four hours,” Amelia said with a shudder. “That’s a long time.”

“I know, but I’ll survive,” Robert said.

“I don’t know how you stand it,” Amelia said, stamping her feet. She rubbed her arms and tucked her hands into her armpits.

“Get back into bed,” Robert prompted. “There’s no point in both of us freezing out here.”

“Are you sure?” Amelia asked. “I can stay a bit longer.”

“You’ve done enough already,” Robert said, finishing his coffee. He handed her the empty cup and drew her into his arms. Holding her tight, he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Amelia. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” Amelia said. “Not ever.”

Closing her eyes, she savored the moment. Each tiny detail mattered, from the feel of his arms to the touch of his lips. The smell of his aftershave and the stern note in his voice. It was all too familiar—impressions formed after years of marriage. A lifetime spent learning each other’s quirks, faults, mannerisms, and habits. All gone now.

Hot tears burned her eyelids, and Amelia dashed them away with her hand. She was tired of crying. Besides, the more emotion she showed, the more drugs the nurses pumped into her system.

While she’d welcomed it at first, she didn’t anymore. The meds made her feel weird and fuzzy. Off-balance. It wasn’t a sensation she enjoyed. As harsh as the grief was, she preferred the razor-cut of its raw edges to the foggy numbness induced by the chemicals.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she stared at the wooden barrier until it swung open. As usual, it revealed the form of a nurse.

Today, it was Daisy. That wasn’t her real name, but the name Amelia had given her. The girl reminded her of the flower. All sunshine and smiles. Far too cheerful.

Then there was Rocky. He was big and slow but kind. And Beatrice, who acted like she was a duchess. She probably drinks her tea with the pinkie sticking out in the air.

She didn’t like any of them. They were like flies buzzing around a corpse, trying to find nourishment in her dead flesh. Daisy tried too hard. Rocky tried just hard enough, and Beatrice only tried because it was her job. None of them cared about her, just like she didn’t give a damn about them.

With a baleful glare, Amelia watched Daisy enter the room carrying a tray containing her breakfast.

“Good morning, Amelia,” Daisy said.

Amelia didn’t bother to answer.

“Did you have a good sleep?” Daisy asked with an overly bright smile.

Silence.

“I hope you’re hungry today because I put extra care into preparing your breakfast today,” Daisy said, whipping away the cloth covering the food. “I pulled quite a few strings to get these ingredients.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. After several days of tasteless gruel, the meal was enough to surprise even her: A stack of blueberry pancakes drizzled in maple syrup and topped with canned strawberries. Two crispy bacon rashers and a cup of coffee rounded out the selection, and saliva bubbled in her mouth.

“Is all of that for me?” Amelia asked.

“Of course, silly. Why else would I make it?” Daisy said.

Amelia stared at the girl, stunned. Why was she doing it? Why was she being so nice? What was in it for her?

The answers eluded her. Maybe once, she could’ve believed that people were simply nice, but she didn’t believe it anymore. She didn’t believe in anything now. It was just a cruel facade. If she allowed herself to soften and enjoy it, the rug would be pulled out from under her.

Pain.

That was all there was now.

“I don’t want it,” Amelia said, hardening herself against Daisy’s gesture. She couldn’t allow anything or anyone to get close ever again.

Daisy’s smile faltered. “What?”

“I don’t want it,” Amelia repeated.

It seemed like Daisy would give up the fight for a few moments. Her lips quivered, and her eyes turned liquid. Then she lifted her chin. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Amelia asked, immediately suspicious. See? She wants something from me. Nothing is free in this world.

“If you eat all of this, I’ll let you spend an extra half hour outside.”

“That’s it? That’s what you want?” Amelia asked, her eyes mere slits of distrust.

“That’s it,” Daisy said with a firm nod.

Amelia considered it. Her daily walks in the garden were the only bright spot in her existence. It allowed her a brief moment of freedom away from the nurses and the smell of antiseptic.

“There’s something else I want,” Amelia said.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to speak to the doctor about cutting my meds.”

Daisy stiffened. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. He’d never listen to me. I don’t have any authority here.”

“Then talk to someone who does. The Matron; anyone,” Amelia insisted.

Daisy hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Please. Just promise me you’ll try,” Amelia pleaded.

“Alright. I promise,” Daisy said. “Now, please eat your food.”

“Deal,” Amelia said, digging in. She ate like a starving wolf, barely taking the time to chew. Halfway through, she paused. “You made these?”

“I did. I make a mean muffin too. My mom was a baker, and I learned a lot from her,” Daisy said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Well, these pancakes are delicious. You missed your calling,” Amelia said. “You should’ve been a baker.”

“I always wanted to be, but who would I bake cookies for now? The zombies?” Daisy laughed and shook her head. “Volunteering to become a nurse seemed more prudent.”

Amelia frowned. “I don’t know. It seems we could all use a bit of extra cheer in these times, Daisy.”

“Maybe you’re right. Wait, did you call me Daisy?”

Amelia shrugged. “I had to call you something, and Daisy seemed pretty suitable. No offense, but you’re extremely cheerful and sunny.”

“No offense taken. I’ve always been a glass-half-full girl, which can be annoying to others.”

Amelia grunted, stuffing another forkful of pancake into her mouth. She washed it down with some coffee and sighed. “Tastes like heaven.”

“You know, I like Daisy. It suits me better than my old name. I think I’ll keep it.”

Amelia eyed her. “This doesn’t mean that we’re friends.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And I still get extra time in the garden.”

“Of course. A promise is a promise,” Daisy said.

“Good,” Amelia said, shoving her empty plate to the side. “Let’s go.”

With Daisy in the lead, Amelia walked toward the small walled-in courtyard that served as a garden.

It wasn’t much of a garden, boasting a couple of trees and a small rose garden, but it was quiet and peaceful. Birds flitted among the branches above her head, and she spotted the occasional bee or butterfly.

Sitting on the bench, she relaxed and enjoyed the moment. It was the only time she didn’t let the grief intrude. The only time she became a shadow of her former self.

Today, that feeling was even more robust, and she realized it was because of Daisy. That knowledge caused a spurt of anger to flush through her veins. How dare Daisy make her forget about Robert for even an instant?

The anger was followed by guilt. How dare she allow herself to forget about Robert?

Staring at her hands, she hardened her heart against Daisy, herself, and the entire world. I will not forget him. I will not get over him like everyone wants me to. He was my heart and soul, and I will mourn his loss forever.

Jumping up, she strode toward the exit. Daisy followed with a confused look on her face. “Amelia, wait! Your time isn’t up yet.”

“I don’t care,” Amelia said. “I want to go back to my room.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” Daisy said, hurrying after her.

Amelia looked at the girl’s crestfallen face and almost weakened. Daisy had only tried to be kind to her. To do something nice. Then she caught a glimpse of George’s retreating back through the front entrance of the ward, and anger flared in her chest. Was he leaving without saying goodbye? Did she mean so little to him?

While they hadn’t seen much of each other during their time in the ward, they’d been aware of each other’s presence. She’d felt sorry for him for losing his arm and spent many a night listening to his cries when he suffered from nightmares. Now and then, they’d exchanged words in the garden or passed each other in the hallway. Not friends, but… something, at least.

Once she was back in her room, Amelia curled up on her bed. Lying on her side, she stared at the wall. Her mind was in turmoil. A jumble of conflicting thoughts. She was angry at herself and Daisy for the brief moment of happiness she’d experienced that morning. It felt like a betrayal of Robert and his memory.

Plus, she was pissed at George for leaving without her and escaping the whitewashed walls of the loony bin that was their home. They were companions, linked by their mutual suffering and misery. Now he was gone, and she was left behind in this awful place. Alone. Always alone.

Chapter 4 - Theresa

An hour later, the board meeting was still in full swing, and tempers were fraying fast. The chamber was cold, the coffee even colder, and the snacks finished. That, coupled with nonstop arguments over small matters, sent everyone’s blood pressure through the roof, and Theresa was quickly approaching her breaking point. Can’t they make up their minds?

With the tips of her fingers, she massaged her temples and sucked in a couple of calming breaths. Anything to keep herself from exploding in a fit of rage. She could not afford to lose her cool, especially as a newcomer to the proceedings. Still, it frustrated the hell out of her, and she longed to have her say. Patience, Theresa. Your time will come.

“You cannot perform maintenance in the morning, Dirk. It’s out of the question,” Stella said, shaking her head. “I have laundry scheduled at seven, followed by a deep clean and sanitation of all the bathrooms.”

“Can’t it wait?” Dirk said. “One of the generators is giving trouble, and I need to take a look.”

“No, it can’t wait. I need that electricity,” Stella insisted. “The laundry is piling up.”

“If the generator blows, laundry will be the least of your problems,” Dirk said, his cheeks flush with angry blood.

“Well, don’t blame me if none of you have clean sheets to sleep on tomorrow,” Stella said, folding her arms across her chest.

Theresa stifled a groan as the bickering carried on. She couldn’t believe Stella was being so childish. Clean sheets? What did that matter when weighed against a working power grid? Why were they arguing about it?

As these thoughts milled through her head, Sophia cleared her throat. Raising a hand, she waited for silence. Once Dirk and Stella stopped arguing, she said, “This has gone on long enough. I’d hoped you could sort it out between yourselves, but it seems I was mistaken.”

“Stella, I understand that hygiene is important. I’m a hospital director. But this is the apocalypse, and certain allowances have to be made,” Sophia said. “Maintaining the power grid is more important.”

“Do you have any idea how far we’ll fall behind if we have to reschedule?” Stella asked, clearly upset. “Washing the dirty clothes and bedding of a community this size is no joke!”

“Of course not,” Sophia said in a placating voice. She glanced at Theresa and tilted her head. “Perhaps our new members can step in with a suggestion or two?”

Theresa straightened up, glad to finally be called upon. “I’m glad you asked. While I agree that maintaining the power grid should take precedence, I also understand Stella’s point. Which is why I’m offering extra hands to help with the laundry once the generator has been fixed.”

“Extra hands?” Sophia asked, raising her eyebrows. “You mean some of your people will help?”

“Exactly. I’ll even pitch in myself if needed.”

“That’s a generous offer, we—” Sophia began.

“It’s not an offer. We are here now, and we need to pull our weight,” Theresa interrupted. “Tell us where we can be of use.”

Sophia nodded slowly, exchanging looks with each of her board members. Finally, she said, “We thought about giving your people jobs but wanted to let you settle in first. Find your feet, so to speak.”

“While that is very generous of you, it’s not necessary. My people are used to hard work, and we don’t need time to settle in. We are ready now,” Theresa said.

“So are my people,” Claudia said, leaning forward in her chair with an earnest look. “I speak for all of them when I say we want to make this work. All we need is a chance.”

Her words surprised Theresa after their spat earlier, but it made sense for them to present a united front, no matter their differing agendas. Even Claudia knew that.

After a few moments, Sophia nodded. “As you wish. We could use the help. There is no question about that. Lt. Kingsley? You first.”

“I could use a few extra members on my team, but they must be experienced. We’ve lost a couple of teammates since this all began, and I don’t want to lose more.”

Theresa nodded. “As you know, we have three police officers within our ranks. Any one of them would be suitable for the job.”

Kingsley nodded. “We also need extra volunteers to stand guard and go on supply runs. While they do not have to be as experienced as my SCERT team, they must be proficient with firearms, strong fighters, and willing to put their lives on the line.”

“Several of my firefighters fit the bill, and they’d be happy to volunteer,” Theresa said.

“Excellent. I’ll speak to them after the meeting,” Lt. Kingsley said. “Just send them my way.”

“I’ll see to it,” Theresa said with a sense of satisfaction. Already, their foothold within the community was being cemented.

“Kent? Madeleine? What about you?” Sophia asked.

“Do any of your people have medical training?” Kent asked, his expression stern.

“I am a qualified EMT, but an old injury prevents me from active duty,” Theresa said. “However, one of my firefighters, Ruby, is also an EMT, and she’s begun training Ellen in the basics.”

Kent nodded. “Send them to us, and we’ll find out where their strengths lie.”

“Of course,” Theresa said, silently cheering.

“One of my people is a qualified dentist,” Claudia offered.

“We can certainly use someone with that skill set,” Kent said, looking noticeably more eager than before. “Please, ask him to come to see us.”

Snob, Theresa thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. But she had to admit that a dentist would come in very handy. A lot of people suffered from dental problems, and that would only get worse during the apocalypse.

“I have my hands full with the maintenance,” Dirk added. “It’s a full-time job, and I could use all the help I can get.”

“So do I,” Stella interrupted, throwing him a nasty look. “Cleaning and doing laundry might not be glamorous, but it needs to be done. Even now.”

“Any spare hands you can send my way will be appreciated,” Lindsey added with a smile. “If they can cook, wash dishes, and count rations, they’re welcome to join.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Theresa said. “That’s a promise.”

“Coco? Baxter?” Sophia asked. “What about you two?”

“I’m cool. Unless they know their way around an engine, I don’t want them,” Coco said. “I’ve got no time to train rookies.”

“I could use someone with a love for books to help with the library I’m building,” Baxter said. “They can apply at the thrift shop.”

“I’ll ask around,” Theresa said.

“So will I,” Claudia said.

“I think that covers everything,” Sophia said, glancing at a list. “The newcomers will be integrated into our ranks and given suitable jobs. Kingsley will continue to oversee our security forces and supply runs. Please remember to hand him your lists of necessities first thing tomorrow. If it’s not on the list, it’s not important.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the board members agreed.

“Dirk will perform generator maintenance tomorrow morning between six and twelve. Stella, please adjust your schedule accordingly,” Sophia added. “Theresa will ensure you have the extra labor needed to catch up afterward.”

“Fine,” Stella said, still not looking happy despite the compromise.

“Is there anything else?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, I’d like to thank Theresa, Claudia, and their people for contributing so much to our stores. It’s truly remarkable what they managed to salvage after losing their homes in a fire, and I’m truly grateful,” Lindsey said, standing up.

“It seems I have been remiss and also very rude. Please accept my heartfelt thanks,” Sophia said, inclining her head. Her expression remained smooth, but Theresa detected the flash underneath the surface. Lindsey’s comment had caught her off-guard, and she had to make a quick recovery.

“Yes, with the added supplies, we now have enough food to last at least four months,” Lindsey said before sitting back down.

“That is good news indeed,” Sophia said.

A murmur of thanks did the rounds, followed shortly after by fidgeting as boredom set in. The meeting had dragged on long enough, and people were preparing to leave.

Sensing that the meeting was over, Theresa quickly jumped in with her own suggestion. One she was sure would be welcomed. “Might I ask a question?”

“Go ahead,” Sophia said.

“Are you producing any food on the premises?”

“You mean like a vegetable garden?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, like that.”

“There is a small herb and vegetable garden at the back of the kitchens,” Lindsay said. “It’s not very big, however, and I don’t have the means to expand it.”

“Two of my people are especially good at growing things. Before we came here, they managed to set up a thriving garden on the rooftops along with a set of hydroponics in the basements.”

“Hydroponics? I’ve heard the word before,” Sophia mused. “Anyway, I interrupt.”

“I’m sure that given a chance, they can replicate their success here,” Theresa continued. “There’s ample room, and it would go a long way toward stretching our supplies.”

“We’ll need stores of fresh fruit and vegetables unless we want to see an outbreak of scurvy,” Kent mused. “I say we give them whatever they need and let them try.”

“It sounds like a solid idea,” Sophia said. “Lindsey?”

“They’re welcome to the garden. I don’t know what I’m doing anyway, and it will mean less work for me,” Lindsay said.

“Then, it’s decided,” Sophia said. “Please send your experts to Lindsey for more information. They’re also welcome to put in a request for supplies and equipment with Kingsley.”

“Thank you,” Theresa said.

She thought about mentioning a few other things too. While they’d abandoned their previous home, taking only what they had room for on the trucks, there was still a lot left. Nothing prevented an armed force from retrieving the supplies and returning them to the hospital. But she decided to keep the knowledge to herself for the time being. It could become useful at a later stage as a bargaining chip. Perhaps I am more of a politician than I thought.

That thought caused her lips to quirk in an ironic smile. It was easy to judge others, even Claudia, whom she thoroughly disliked. Especially Claudia. The woman had a knack for rubbing Theresa up the wrong way. A real gift.

Claudia also had a gift for schmoozing, as proven when she raised a hand. “May I have one last favor to ask before we leave?”

“Of course,” Sophia said with a gracious air.

“We have several children among our ranks, and I noticed a few more inside the hospital. If we could set up a classroom, we could further their education and keep them out of trouble simultaneously,” Claudia said.

“Like a school?” Sophia asked.

“Yes. We have a few teachers in our ranks, and they’d love to return to their profession,” Claudia said.

“I like that idea,” Stella said. “It will keep the little brats occupied during the day and tire them out for bed at night. No more grubby paws all over my clean floors.”

“I take it you don’t have kids,” Theresa said with a smothered grin.

“No, she doesn’t, but I have two. A boy and a girl, and they are not brats,” Dirk said, flashing her a mean look. There was no love lost between the two.

“Parental love is blind, indeed,” Stella scoffed.

“The only brat around here is you,” Dirk said.

“Now, now. That’s enough,” Sophia said. “I’m sure we can clear a space, and Baxter can provide the necessary books and toys. If not, have the teachers give Kingsley a list of what they need.”

“Thank you so much,” Claudia said, gushing.

“Don’t mention it,” Sophia replied. Looking around, she asked again, “Anything else, ladies and gentlemen?”

When no one volunteered anything further, she stood up and looked at each of them. “Thank you for attending this meeting. Please, go about your business. I shan’t keep you any longer.”

The crowd dispersed as they sought the exit, each intent on his and her schedule. Theresa went last, following Claudia to the door. As they walked, she mused on the wins and losses of the day.

Wins because she’d managed to secure several positions for her firefighter group and a formal acknowledgment of their contributions. That was significant progress.

Losses because she’d yet to make friends and solidify her footing on the board. She’d also failed to win Claudia over to her side. Instead, they’d formed a rivalry with their two groups pitted against each other.

However, it was still early days, and everything would come with time. Besides, any rivalry would fade as the three disparate groups melded together, and they became a single community. An island of humanity lost in a sea of the undead. It’s the only way we stand a chance at survival. If we can’t come together, we’ll die.

Chapter 5 - Mason

Mason paced the halls of the hospital, committing each square foot of space to memory. He tried not to draw attention to himself, keeping his head low and his expression blank. When he passed someone, he nodded and offered a small smile. Nothing too overt and nothing that could be construed as suspicious. To say that he didn’t trust their new home was an understatement, and he was determined to dig up its secrets.

Walking to the farthest end of the ground floor, he encountered a bank of elevators flanked by stairs. The stairs were blocked with an assortment of furniture, and someone had bolted metal sheets over the opening. The elevators were inoperable and cordoned off with red tape. He found a second set identical to the first, blocked off and inaccessible.

Staring at the barricade, he wondered how many zombies lived on the upper floors. It was a creepy thought, knowing they lived a mere stone’s throw away from a horde of the undead. It was an untenable situation and a dangerous one too. One day, those things will escape, and this hospital will fall.

After a few minutes, he carried on with his search of the building. With the upper floors blocked, it made his job a lot easier. Still, there were a million places to examine: Storerooms, wards, hallways, offices, bathrooms, the cafeteria, thrift shop, common room, gym, the ER, an optometrist office, and more.

Determined to cover it all, he kept at it, unwilling to admit defeat. Finally, he spotted a pair of stairs leading down into the darkness of the sub-basement. A square on the wall, whiter than the rest, pointed to a recently removed sign. The question was: What sign?

A string of red tape blocked the opening, but he ignored it, and a handwritten sign said: No trespassing. Stay out.

It was meant to keep curious onlookers away, and Mason wanted to know why. What was the big reason for secrecy? What were the hospital people hiding down there in the deep?

After a quick look around to ensure he was alone, Mason ducked underneath the tape and ventured into the unknown. He moved carefully, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He kept going one step at a time, his right hand resting on the hilt of his ax. It still irked him that Theresa had agreed to give up their weapons. She shouldn’t have allowed that to happen, but the deed was done, and he had no option but to go along.

Now he wondered what waited at the bottom of the steps. What secrets the hospital management sought to keep from the newcomers? It was impossible to miss the warnings typed up inside the schedule given to Theresa. None of them were to go anywhere near the blockaded areas. It was forbidden.

While Mason understood that there were infected trapped behind the barricades, he wanted to ensure they weren’t hiding anything else. So, he searched. Alone and unaided. Checking every nook and cranny of the place until he knew it like the back of his hand. Everything except the area he found himself in.

Once he reached the bottom, Mason paused and looked around. A long hallway stretched to the left and the right. It was dark and quiet, not a sound could be heard, and not a shadow stirred. He spotted a light switch on the wall and turned it on. Fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead, lighting the way. “Much better.”

With his ax held ready to strike, Mason turned to the right. He stalked the length of the hall until he reached a door. It was open, and he peered inside. It turned out to be an office. Rather bare, furnished with only the essentials. A white lab coat hung from a hook on the wall, and a stethoscope lay on the desk. A fine layer of dust coated every surface, and he guessed no one had been around for weeks.

After a quick look around, Mason moved on. The next room was closed, and he tapped on the door with his ax. When nothing happened, he cracked it open. The dim interior revealed an empty store room, the shelves bare and dusty.

That was the end of the line for the right side of the hallway, and he returned to the start. Staring at the left side, he noticed only one set of double doors. A sign flickered above the thick, clouded glass inside the frame, and he frowned.

The Morgue.

Swallowing hard, Mason advanced on the room. It wasn’t that far, only a few yards, but it felt like forever to reach it. As he closed the distance, his mouth went dry, his tongue like lead in his mouth.

When he reached the doors, he stopped, his footsteps fading away. A thick chain held them shut, looped through the metal handles, and locked with a giant padlock. As a further measure, wooden blocks were jammed into the hinges, preventing them from swinging outward. A red cross was painted across the exterior, a clear warning to all.

Mason stared at the entrance to the morgue and edged closer until his face was right against the glass. He squinted through the thick glass, but it was cloudy and distorted. Concentrating hard, he thought he detected a shadow move past, but he couldn’t be sure. How many zombies are in there? A handful? Dozens? Scores? Hundreds?

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” an icy voice said.

Mason jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. Whirling around, he spotted a woman standing a few feet away. She was tall and slender with hair so blonde it was almost silver. Her brows and lashes were the same color, giving her a cold look that suited her demeanor. Only her eyes were bright, a blue so shocking they rivaled the glaziers of the far north. Though not a conventional beauty, she was undoubtedly an interesting character.

“Er, Blanca, right?” Mason asked, playing for time. Blanca didn’t reply. Instead, she stared at him until he felt compelled to fill the silence. “I’m sorry. I was just lost, and then I saw this, and I got curious.”

“Leave. Now,” Blanca said, waving her head to the exit.

“Of course. My apologies,” Mason said, hurrying back to the stairs.

As he stepped past her, she said, “There are hundreds in there. All dead. Or undead.”

Mason paused. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because you all think it,” Blanca said. After a second, she added, “If I see you down here again, I will kill you.”

“Really?” Mason blurted out. “Like, kill me, kill me?”

Blanca blinked. “There is only one kind of kill, isn’t there?”

“Er, I suppose,” Mason said, struck by the woman’s looks and manner. Despite her words, he found himself intrigued and reluctant to leave.

“I said leave,” Blanca said, noticing how he lingered. “Now.”

“Sorry,” Mason said again, feeling like a fool. He turned away and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top, he waited, hoping she’d follow, but she didn’t. Having no option, he returned the way he came, his brain a jumble of thoughts.

The idea of a morgue filled with zombies inside their new home freaked him out. So did Blanca. He also didn’t like the situation upstairs and resolved to speak to Theresa as soon as possible. We can’t stay here. We have to leave. This isn’t our home, and it’s not safe.

Despite all that, he couldn’t help but think about Blanca. She was different from anyone he’d ever met, and he wanted to get to know her better. He was pretty sure she didn’t feel the same, presenting a different kind of problem.

There was no time to ponder the situation further when he turned a corner and spotted a knot of people gathered around Lt. Kingsley and his second-in-command, Priya. His people, not the hospital residents.

His suspicions were further roused when he noticed who the persons were: Experienced fighters: one and all.

Specifically his sister Clare, along with Frank, Leo, Sarah, Mike, Elijah, and Rick. Frowning, he hurried over and pulled his sister aside. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. We’re reporting for duty,” Clare said.

“Duty?”

“Theresa volunteered us for guard duty and possible inclusion in the SCERT team.”

“She volunteered you? Without asking? What the hell?” Mason exploded.

“Sh, not so loud,” Clare said, lowering her voice to a fierce whisper. “It’s nothing we wouldn’t have volunteered for ourselves, plus it allows us to train, carry a gun, and go on supply runs.”

“Really? They’ll let us carry arms?” Mason asked, jumping on the opportunity.

“Yup. Only guards can carry guns, and we volunteered,” Clare asked.

“They accepted you?”

“So far, Leo is in the SCERT team on probation. Frank is in charge of the guards and oversees the duty rosters, shift changes, and supply runs. The rest of us will work under him as normal guards.”

“What about me?” Mason asked.

“Do you want in?” Clare asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Tell Frank. He’ll sort you out. He did me,” Clare replied.

“Okay.”

“Where were you just now?” Clare asked, her tone suspicious.

“Nowhere important. Just out exploring,” Mason answered with a shrug. He cast a quick look around, but there was no Blanca to spoil t

“Mm. Make sure your exploring doesn’t take you near the forbidden areas,” Clare said. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mason said. “Just remember, these aren’t our people.”

“They are now. Get used to it,” Clare said with a stern look.

“When hell freezes over,” Mason muttered as he made his way to Frank.

“Hi, Frank. My sister says you’re the one to talk to regarding volunteering?”

“That I am. Do you want to volunteer?” Frank asked.

“Yes, I do,” Mason confirmed.

“Report to the gate at six tomorrow morning for a supply run,” Frank said. “You’ll receive you’re weapons and gear at the time, and if you’re late, don’t bother to show. Got it?”

“Got it,” Mason confirmed but hesitated. “Where are we going?”

“My old stomping grounds, the police station. There’s an entire armory sitting there waiting for the plucking. It’d be a shame to miss out.”

An even bigger shame to give such a prize to the hospital, Mason thought, but he dared not voice it out loud.

“Are you ready to go back there so soon?” Mason asked instead.

“What happened to Donna was awful, but we’ll need guns if we want to protect the people that are left. Our people,” Frank said, waving a hand around.

“I guess you’re right,” Mason said.

“I hope I can count on you,” Frank said, his gaze narrow.

“I’ll do my share,” Mason said. “I’m not a slacker.”

“I know that, but your heart isn’t in this place. Not yet,” Frank said.

“We’ll see,” Mason said, moving off. He hung around the group for a bit longer, listening to the talk. After the police station, there were plans to hit a Costco, and a Walmart, followed by a local clinic. There was also a strong need for more fuel, and several gas stations were earmarked for a visit.

Lt. Kingsley and his team were busy organizing a few last-minute details among themselves. Leo was with them, the newest member of the group, and Mason couldn’t help but frown. Why join the enemy?

A flash of silver caught his eye, and he spotted Blanca sauntering toward the group. He started panicking but relaxed when she showed no signs of ratting him out to Lt. Kingsley. Almost faint with relief, he nodded and mouthed a silent thank you. She shot him a blank look in return, but he swore he saw a twinkle of amusement in her blue eyes.

He hung around until the group dispersed, some to take up their new duties and others like himself to prepare for dinner and bed. The entire time, he watched Blanca from the corner of his eyes. She continued to fascinate him, and he was left wondering who the enemy truly was: SCERT and the rest of the hospital… or the idea of change itself. Maybe I’m just being stubborn. Clare certainly thinks so.

Mason walked back to the ward, deep in thought. By the time he reached his bed and foot locker, he’d decided to reserve judgment until the following day. Battle revealed much about people and their inner workings, and he’d wait to see how the SCERT team functioned in times of stress and peace. Amen to that.

Chapter 6 - Nikki

A sign flashed by the window, and Nikki stiffened. On the one hand, she desperately needed fuel and food. On the other hand, she wasn’t ready to face more zombies, not after her last encounter with Cooper’s owner. She’d barely survived that attack and was still reeling from the encounter. So was Cooper. The poor dog looked like someone had stolen his favorite toy, but one look at the fuel gauge convinced her there was no choice. It was either stop in a strange town to get more juice for the truck, or they’d have to hoof it to Burlington.

Pulling a face, Nikki decided she’d rather take her chances in town than on foot. Besides, she was starving, and the only thing she had to eat was canned peaches. Not a very appetizing choice. “I bet you’re hungry too, boy?”

Cooper whined in answer, his tail thumping on the seat.

“That answers that question,” she said, rubbing the dog behind the ears.

Two miles passed before she spotted another sign board: Welcome to Valley Dale. Population 1385.

“Valley Dale, huh? Never heard of it,” Nikki mumbled. She’d mapped out her route earlier using the ancient map in the cubby hole. It hadn’t heard of the place either. “Guess we’re going off the grid, boy.”

Cooper didn’t move, and she reckoned he wasn’t in the mood for talking.

“That’s okay. I know how you feel,” Nikki said, waving it off. “Watch my back in there, okay? One thousand three hundred and eighty five zombies aren’t something to laugh about.”

The town loomed ahead, and Nikki entered with caution. She kept the truck’s speed at an even forty miles per hour, both hands clutching the steering wheel. The doors were locked, the windows closed, the radio switched off.

Inside, her stomach was a ball of knots, but she was fully armed and determined never to be caught empty-handed again. The hammer lay on the seat next to her while the Glock 17 was tucked beneath the seat, its magazine down by six shots. Hidden from the casual eye, it was now her ace in the hole or secret advantage.

On her hip sat the gun she’d taken off the zombie giant’s body along with his hunting knife. The weapon was fully loaded and a beautiful piece of equipment. So was the knife. Real quality. As Cooper’s previous owner, she hoped he wouldn’t mind her taking his things. Please don’t be mad at me for killing and robbing you, she pleaded. I don’t want any more bad luck, and I really don’t want you to haunt me.

When no answer was forthcoming, she took it as a good sign. Patting Cooper on the head, she continued into town. “Come on, boy. Let’s check it out.”

Despite her brave words, her stomach churned as she cruised down the deserted street. When they reached an intersection, she slowed to a crawl and looked in all directions. There were no signs of traffic or people. No zombies either.

Continuing onward, she stuck to the outskirts and avoided the city center. As she drove, she wondered what kind of place Valley Dale used to be before the apocalypse. Its name sounded pretty. It brought to mind one of those picturesque little hamlets with wind chimes and swinging chairs on the porches. Cozy restaurants and quaint hotels.

As she continued onward, however, she discovered it was quite the opposite. The houses were old and derelict, the porches sagging and devoid of any kind of charm. A dilapidated diner and a ratty motel were the closest things she found to a restaurant and hotel. Even the local school looked miserable, the bleachers worn and the grass unkempt.

It was the kind of place teenagers dreamed of leaving once they graduated, moving on to the big city lights, only to end up back there. Broke and broken. Working in the shitty diner or even shittier bar, maybe the local Walmart if they were lucky. Did they even have a Walmart? Nikki didn’t think so.

As she drew closer to mid-town, she slowed down. It wasn’t quite so empty anymore, and signs of life and unlife were all around. Abandoned cars littered the road, corpses lay strewn about, their heads blown to bits while dogs scavenged for meat, their bellies bloated by an abundance of food. Flies buzzed in the air, forming shifting black masses that rose like a cloud when disturbed only to settle down again seconds later.

Then she turned a corner and slammed on the brakes, her heart in her throat. The road ahead teemed with infected. They milled around what appeared to be a police roadblock. Several cop cars were parked across the street, nose to nose. Rolls of barbed wires reinforced the makeshift wall, coupled with bags of sand.

Behind the roadblock lay a parking lot and a row of shops surrounded by a chain link fence. The roadblock protected the only way in, a double-lane street and a flimsy gate. The parking lot was filled with rows of tents, caravans, RVs, and even a fire truck and an ambulance.

Crooked figures stumbled around between the structures, low groans emitting from their ruined throats. It looked like a refugee camp, only the refugees were dead, and they were hungry. Really hungry.

“Shit. What happened here?” Nikki wondered, exchanging a look with Cooper. “It looks like they tried to set up a camp but got overrun.”

Cooper whined in answer, his tail curled around his body. He looked as scared as she felt. It was impossible not to notice the danger all around them. It hung thick in the air, sizzling like electricity.

As one, the zombies turned to watch her truck’s arrival with bloodshot eyes and bared teeth. Moans filled the air, a keening cry that heralded the arrival of prey, and they converged on her position. Before she could make a move, they poured in from all sides and surrounded the vehicle several layers deep. There were so many of them that they blocked out the light, shrouding her and Cooper in darkness.

Banging overtook the cab, and the truck rocked on its wheels as the infected mobbed the vehicle. They hammered on the windows and leered at her through broken lips. Despite the closed windows, the stench of death flooded her nostrils, a noxious mixture of dead flesh, clotted blood, offal, and bodily fluids.

Cooper yelped and jumped off the seat, hiding inside the foot well. Nikki’s heart went out to the poor dog, and she realized she had to do something fast, or they were both going to die. “We have to get out of here. Hold on, Cooper.”

Nikki jammed the truck into gear and pushed forward. She kept up a running monologue as she steered through the crowd, the sound of her voice keeping her calm. “Come on. You can do it. Easy does it.”

It was hard to ignore the hideous faces pressed against the glass on either side. Peeling skin, torn muscles, and clotted blood smeared across the surface, and her stomach rebelled. Though she’d never considered herself squeamish, the sight of so much butchered flesh was enough to make anyone hurl.

Nikki jammed her foot on the gas and sped up, trying to escape the horror. She pushed through the press of bodies, and thumps sounded as they connected with the bumper. A splash of blood washed across the windscreen, and she switched on the wipers. The crimson fluid smeared across the glass and tinted the light in red. Immediately, she realized her mistake, and fear clouded her mind. “Damn, I shouldn’t have done that!”

Hemmed in on either side, her vision obscured, she couldn’t possibly navigate through the roadblock. The space inside the cab shrank until it became the sum of her world. More zombies joined the mob, called from every corner by the sheer volume of moans and groans.

The noise filled her head, and she let go of the gas. The truck slowed until it crept along at a snail’s pace while she pressed her hands to her ears. “Go away; go away!”

The infected ignored her pleas and increased their efforts. Like leeches, they fed on her fear. It spurred them on, and they smashed their fists into the windows with rabid determination. The chassis creaked as a few of them climbed into the back of the truck and onto the hood, their gaping maws blocking the last bit of light. Suddenly, the window next to Nikki cracked, and she jumped in her seat. “No, no, no!”

Casting about for a weapon, she saw nothing that would help her out of the jam she found herself in. There weren’t enough bullets to shoot her way out, and the hammer wouldn’t get her far. Unless… I only need two bullets.

Biting on her lower lip, Nikki touched the gun on her hip with trembling fingers. She looked at Cooper, trying to scrape together the courage. The dog stared back at her, its eyes deep wells of liquid terror. He depended on her, trusted her, and she realized she couldn’t let it end like that. Not for her or Cooper. Yanking her hand away from the gun, Nikki said, “I’m getting us out of here. Hold on, boy.”

Cooper barked, almost as if he understood. His tail wagged, and he jumped back onto the seat, lending his support. Her courage soared with the knowledge that he was willing to face the zombies beside her, no matter how scared he was.

“Good boy, Cooper,” Nikki said, twisting around in her seat. While she couldn’t see the road ahead, she knew the one behind was clear for several yards. Only a few zombies stood between them and freedom. Clutching the wheel, she closed her eyes and said, “Here goes nothing.”

Throwing the truck into reverse, she shot backward. Bodies went flying, and the wheels crunched over several of the undead. Blood spattered the windows, and the vehicle shook, bounced, and jolted around like a bouncy horse. Slick with blood and offal, the tires slid across the tar, and they veered sideways.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Nikki said, her expression grim. Turning the wheel, she swerved to the other side, and the zombies on the back of the truck went flying. Able to see through the back window again, she kept going, zigzagging across the road in reverse.

The infected at the front were left behind in her mad dash to escape. The climbers on top of the hood fell off, rolling across the asphalt in a flurry of limbs and broken bones. The meaty thuds of their bodies hitting the road brought a grin to her face, and she sped up to put more distance between them and the vehicle. Within seconds, they were eating her dust and shambled down the road with howls of frustration.

As soon as the truck reached a crossing, Nikki turned sideways with a squeal of rubber, shifted into gear, and roared up the street. With the windshield still tainted by blood, she quickly wound down her window and stuck her head through the opening. Cooper thought it was great fun and jumped onto her lap despite her protests. “Cooper, no! Watch out!”

Ignoring her, he stuck his head out next to hers, tongue lolling from his jaws with pure glee. She managed to keep one hand on the wheel and her foot on the gas, not daring to stop and chase him away. “Alright, Cooper. You can stay, but sit still.”

Cooper rewarded her with a slobbering lick across the face, and Nikki cried, “Euw, gross, Cooper. Keep your slobber to yourself!”

Pushing his head to the side, she focused on getting them out of the town and away from danger. Side by side, Nikki and Cooper exited the town with the wind blowing through their respective golden hair and fur.

It took a few moments before the hilarity of the situation struck Nikki, and she burst out laughing. She could only imagine what it must look like, a teen and a dog blow waving their hair in a bloodspattered truck being chased by zombies. Despite everything that had happened, it felt strangely good to be alive. Young, alive, and free. “Come on, Cooper. Let’s blow this joint. We’ll find food and stuff elsewhere.”

Cooper yipped and wagged his tail, a fitting farewell to the town of Valley Dale receding in the distance. While she hadn’t found what she was looking for, Nikki had found something else even more precious: Her courage and the staunch companionship of Cooper, her new best friend.

Chapter 7 - Lt. Kingsley

Lt. Kingsley walked across the abandoned parking lot with the butt of his AR-15 pressed to the hollow of his shoulder. He gazed along the barrel, his keen eyesight picking up the smallest of movements. A low groan reached his ears, and he shifted a few degrees to the right. Grinning teeth and bloodshot eyes met his gaze. Zombie.

Kingsley pulled the trigger, and a bullet punched into the infected’s forehead. It collapsed to the ground, the echoes of the shot still ringing through the air. He stepped over the body and moved closer to the entrance of the police station. Behind him followed Chris, Priya, Matt, Blanca, and one of the newcomers, Leo Torres.

Shuffling feet and low growls announced the arrival of several more infected. They emerged from the bushes that lined the walkways and out of hidden alleys. One crawled out from underneath a car, while another climbed out through the smashed windscreen of a wrecked sedan. He shot the crawler and two more who were coming in fast. Rat, tat, tat. Each bullet found its mark, and the result was the same: Final death.

The rest of the team followed his example, and a brief volley of shots rang through the lot. Bodies hit the ground with audible thuds, the zombies falling like a row of dominoes. Within seconds, it was over, and silence settled across the area. After a quick scan of their surroundings, Kingsley nodded to his group. “Let’s go.”

As one, they moved forward in a precise and practiced formation. Members of SCERT, they’d trained together, each fighting for their spot on the team. They’d all earned their membership and served under him, their lieutenant, with pride.

A true leader, Kingsley made sure he knew the people under his command. They were more than just colleagues. They were friends. Family.

Chris was the laid-back one of the bunch, his smile addictive and his manner easy. Priya was the most intelligent and tech-savvy, functioning as Kingsley’s second-in-command. Matt liked to blow stuff up and had nerves of steel, while Blanca was the best shot among them. An expert with firearms, she was cool under pressure—a true ice queen.

Leo was the only exception to the group. Kingsley didn’t know the man, but he wanted to give him a chance to prove himself. He could use capable fighters to swell the ranks of his team and make up for their losses. Plus, the influx of newcomers could well prove to be a blessing. It would allow the hospital to expand its operational scope and widen its labor pool. With the extra hands, they could accomplish a lot more than before.

With that thought in mind, he focused on the present. The scene around the precinct was desolate. Abandoned cars waited for owners who’d never return: civilians and police officers. Bodies lay strewn about. Mostly Infected with their brains blown out. Many were fresh, taken out by his team as they approached the building, but others were old. Dead for days, maybe weeks.

Flies buzzed around their ruined flesh, and dried blood splattered the tar. Crows sat in the trees surrounding the lot, their beady eyes not missing a beat, while rats scurried around the corpses. Feral cats slinked in the shadows, and there was evidence of larger scavengers. Limbs torn off and abdomens hollowed of contents. Dogs, maybe. Anything was possible, and it formed a depressing scene.

“I hate rats,” Priya said in a low voice.

“I hate crows,” Chris added. “They’re the rats of the air.”

“Really? I kind of like them,” Matt said.

“Shut up and focus, you lot,” Kingsley said, warning them to stay alert.

“Sorry,” Priya whispered with an apologetic look.

Kingsley ignored her, and silence fell, broken only by the crunch of broken glass and debris underfoot. A crow cawed, its harsh cry a mournful note in the apocalyptic setting. A city that once thrived was now dead and derelict—an empty husk left to rot in the sun.

As they neared the entrance, Kingsley paused to take stock. The block was primarily clear of zombies except for a few strays. Most had been lured away with the use of an ambulance, and his group killed the rest.

At both ends of the street, they’d set up temporary blockades operated by armed guards. These were handled by more of the newcomers, two teams led by Clare and Mason, a brother and sister combo. Their sole purpose was to keep the area clear of zombies until the mission had been completed. The assignment: Retrieve as many weapons as possible. Ammunition too.

Inside Kingley’s pocket was a hand-drawn map from Frank Hearn. It provided the basic layout of the station and marked possible choke and danger points. It also pointed out the two possible escape routes and the available roof access.

After a quick examination of the map, Kingsley tucked it away again and reached for the radio on his belt. “Barricade team one, come in. Over.”

“This is Barricade team one. Mason speaking. Over.”

“What does it look like at your end? Over.”

“Clear for now. There are a few stragglers, but we can take care of it. Out,” Mason said.

“Thanks. Barricade team two, what about you? Over,” Kingsley asked.

“We’ve got a group moving in. Over,” Clare said.

“How many? Over,” Kingsley said, his thick brows forming a uniform line.

“About two dozen. Over,” Clare said, her voice tight.

“Can you handle it? Over,” Kingsley said.

“We can. Over.”

“Ambo 33? Banks, are you there? Over,” Kingsley continued.

“I’m here. Over.”

“Where are you? Over.”

“About two blocks out. Over.”

“Can you assist Barricade team two? Over.”

“On our way. Over,” Banks replied, and the whoop of a siren sounded in the background.

“Thank you,” Kingsley replied. “Hold on, Clare. Help is coming. Over.”

“Thanks. Over,” Clare replied.

“Alright. We’re switching our radio off. We can’t afford to alert any zombies inside the building to our presence. We’ll let you know when we’re out. Out,” Kingsley said. He switched the radio off, clipped it to his belt, and nodded to his team. “Let’s move.”

He jogged up the low steps to the entrance and crossed the field of glass into the building. Inside, it looked like a grenade had gone off. Arms, legs, chunks of meat, and shattered bodies lay rotting on the floor amid puddles of unidentifiable bodily juices. A slice of scalp with a hank of hair still attached squelched underfoot, and he shook it off with a grimace of disgust.

“Euw, gross,” Priya said, pulling a face.

“You can say that again,” Chris murmured.

“Euw, gross,” Priya repeated.

“Shut up,” Chris said with a grin, and they continued onward.

Kingsley picked his way through the bodies, his eyes and ears open. Nothing stirred, and it was hard to differentiate between the dead, but he spotted the police officers quickly enough. Though he considered himself tough, it still hurt to see so many dead. Colleagues, friends, and officers. All lost.

As a member of the SCERT team, he considered himself part of the department in general, and he viewed the deceased police officers as fallen brethren. Imagine the good they could’ve done if they’d survived.

But it did no good to dwell on the past. The dead were dead, and the zombies weren’t quite as dead as they were supposed to be, and that was that. Better get on with it. “Leo, you know the way to the armory, right?”

“I do,” Leo said with a firm nod.

“Lead the way,” Kingsley said, waving a hand.

“Yes, Sir,” Leo said, moving to the front of the team.

Kingsley and Priya followed him, with Chris, Matt, and Blanca taking up the rear. Together, they faced the bowels of the precinct and whatever horrors it contained. As the dim interior closed around them, Kingsley was reminded of the first day of the apocalypse and their desperate flight through the upper levels of the hospital. He’d barely escaped with his life that day and lost two team members in the process: Hayes and Patrick. Rushed along on a flood of memories, he relived those final moments.

***

“Evacuate. Evacuate!” Kingsley yelled, bellowing to be heard above the screams, groans, and cries. “Head for the elevator!”

One by one, his team broke away from their positions and ran down the hallway toward the banks of elevators at the end.

Behind him, the undead gave chase, their howls of hunger reminding him of a pack of wolves.

A thunderous roar filled his ears while he ran, and it took Kingsley several seconds to realize it was his own heartbeat. The muscled sack pounded inside his chest, rushing the blood through his veins until it felt like his head would explode with the pressure. The frantic tempo matched the rhythm of his boots on the floor and the harsh sawing of breath in and out of his lungs.

He hoped to God Patrick and Hayes had finished cordoning off the stairs. It was their only hope. The one way they could keep the dead away from the survivors on the ground floor.

Running as fast as he could, Kingsley led his team away from the scores of undead clamoring behind them. He’d tried, but the upper floors of the hospital were lost. There was no saving it.

As the zombies gave chase, some peeled off into side rooms, offices, and wards. While Kingsley’s team had done everything in its power to save any survivors, some hid away from them, too scared to come out. Now they were paying for that fear, and their agonized screams filled his ears.

When a fresh peal of terror sounded from the X-ray room, he wanted to turn back. He wanted to help. It was the reason he joined the Sheriff’s department, after all. To save people.

But one look over his shoulder showed him it was futile. The corridor was filled with the undead. Fresh, fast, and vicious.

“Move, move, move,” Lt. Kingsley shouted, frantic to get his group to the elevators in time.

Blanca shot ahead, realizing what he already knew. She sprinted with the grace of a gazelle, her feet light on the ground. Pulling ahead, she turned the corner and disappeared from view.

Seconds later, Kingsley rounded the corner, followed by his team. The first thing he saw was Blanca holding the elevator open with one foot. Next, he saw her rifle pointed at something on the ground not far from her.

Kingsley faltered when he noticed what she had, and shock reverberated through his system. Patrick lay prone on the floor, his eyes blank and unseeing, while Hayes hunched over him, hands and face bloody. A glistening hole was all that was left of Patrick’s chest cavity, the ribs glinting like ivory next to the crimson flesh.

“Hayes, Patrick. No!” Kingsley cried, moving toward them.

Hayes twisted in the direction of the lieutenant’s voice, eyes crazed and feral. Baring his teeth, he snarled, bits of meat clinging to the molars. Losing interest in his prey, he jumped to his feet, ready to charge.

Adrenalin pumped through Kingsley’s veins, and the rifle in his arms lifted toward Hayes. Loathe though he was to shoot one of his own men, he had no choice. It was kill or be killed.

Time slowed to a crawl, his entire focus on Hayes. The man broke into a sprint, a vicious leer on his lips. A blast echoed through the room, and Hayes’ skull imploded. His face crumpled with the bullet’s force, and brain matter blasted through the crater on the other side. His corpse dropped to the ground, and a pool of black blood crept across the smooth tiles.

Kingsley lowered his rifle, unfired. He stared at the blood creeping towards him, puzzled. “What the hell?”

“Hurry up, Lieutenant. There’s no time to waste. They’re coming!” a familiar voice yelled. It was Blanca, a wisp of smoke unfurling from her gun barrel. He realized she’d shot Hayes, and the pieces fell into place. “Move your ass!” Blanca yelled again, pulling him out of his funk.

“Go, go, go!” Kingsley shouted, waving his team toward the waiting elevator. They rushed past while he looked back the way they came. A wave of undead streamed toward him, some getting crushed underfoot. “Oh, shit!”

“Lieutenant, hurry!” Blanca cried, her finger hovering above the button.

Kingsley jumped into the metal box, wedging himself in between his teammates, and Blanca mashed the button leading to the ground floor. Together, they watched in horror as the infected closed the distance.

Ten yards.

Five yards.

Two yards.

Ping!

The door closed in the nick of time, shutting out the zombies. Silence fell over the group. Soft music played in the background, and the elevator dropped to the bottom. The doors pinged again as they hit the floor, revealing a hospital full of wide-eyed faces and terrified expressions.

That was the moment Kingsley knew he couldn’t leave. Too many people relied on him to keep them safe. Responsibility settled across his shoulders like a mantle of doom, and he accepted the job handed to him by fate. “Let’s get this place secured, team. I want this building locked down before nightfall.”

“Yes, Sir,” came the curt reply.

There was no time to mourn Patrick or Hayes. They had to finish the job, or more would die. Taking charge of the survivors, Lt. Kingsley and his people shut down the elevators, finished blocking the stairs, locked the morgue, quarantined the infected, and cordoned off the property. It was a full-time job and the only thing that kept them and the civilians alive while Burlington descended into chaos. While thousands died, they lived, though it came at a heavy price. Survival always did.

***

The memories faded, and he blinked to clear the vestiges from his brain. While it had only taken a few seconds, he’d zoned out long enough to earn himself a silent reprimand. Focus on the job at hand. The past is past, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Now he wondered what lay in store for him and his teammates inside the tomb that was the police station. Would they find what they needed to defend themselves and their territory from the dead and the living? Or would this mission be their last?

Chapter 8 - Clare

Clare brushed back a tendril of hair and shaded her eyes against the bright mid-afternoon sun. A mob of zombies shuffled toward them, their movements surprisingly fast considering their state. They looked ripe. So ripe that a slight push could burst them apart like the rotting meat bags they’d become. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her bandana up to cover her nose and mouth. Anything to block the stench wafting her way. “Man, that’s ripe.”

“Well, if we ever wondered if they were truly dead, there’s your answer,” Sarah said, covering her face.

It was a cold day, typical of late fall. A chill breeze tugged at her collar and swept through the barricade. Despite Banks and Zoey’s earlier efforts to draw all the infected away from the vicinity, some had lingered in and around the precinct. Perfect targets for Lieutenant Kingsley and his team. The trouble was that their gunfire had attracted more zombies’ attention, and now they were on their way.

Of course, Kingsley had anticipated that exact outcome and set up two barricades around the precinct to prevent the undead from surprising them inside the station. The last thing they needed was to fight a running battle back to their vehicles, surrounded by hungry zoms while lugging bags full of guns and ammo.

That was where Clare and Mason came in, protecting the two barricades, and they were doing a bang-up job of it too. Countless bodies lay sprawled across the road, and Kingsley’s team was safe to proceed with their mission. Only now, a big group of infected shuffled toward Clare and her team, and a tendril of worry unfurled within her chest. Turning her head, she looked at Sarah and Rick. “We’ve got company, guys. At least two dozen.”

“Let them come,” Sarah said, lifting her rifle to her shoulder.

She braced herself against the truck door and rested her arms on the roof for support. The best shot among them, she was accurate at a long distance, especially when she had a strong position from which to aim. Her red hair glinted in the sun, and she looked like a pixie dressed in survival gear and carrying a gun that weighed almost as much as she did.

Next to her, Rick looked like a giant, even though he was just above average height. His dark hair curled onto his collar, desperately needing a cut, and a five o’clock shadow stubbled his jaws. Despite his missing fingers, he handled himself with deft precision and oozed confidence from every pore. Though not her type, Clare could see what Ellen saw in him. A strong, intelligent, and loyal fighter, he was the perfect partner for the apocalypse.

Crack! Crack!

Rifle fire echoed through the crossing, and Clare watched as two of the infected fell, tripping their fellow zombies in the process. One face planted onto the tar in a move that would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so dumb. With no higher reason, the zombie didn’t try to break its fall or use its arms to shield itself. It just smashed face-first into the road. Struggling to its feet with a groan, it ignored the black blood that gushed from its broken nose and smashed lips. The gooey liquid splattered onto its shirt, carrying the promise of death and disease in every glob.

“That’s two for me,” Sarah said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Good job,” Rick said, cradling his gun. “I’ll wait until they’re a little closer. I’m not quite as good a shot as you are.”

“Nice work, Sarah,” Clare acknowledged, though she was still worried by the sheer number of zoms heading toward them. Can we handle that many?

Suddenly, the radio at her waist crackled, and Lieutenant Kingsley’s voice came, calm and authoritative. “Barricade team one, come in. Over.”

“This is Barricade team one. Mason speaking. Over.”

“What does it look like at your end? Over.”

“Clear for now. There are a few stragglers, but we can take care of it. Out,” Mason said.

“Thanks. Barricade team two, what about you? Over,” Kingsley asked.

“We’ve got a group moving in. Over,” Clare said, raising the radio to her lips.

“How many? Over,” Kingsley said, his thick brows forming a uniform line.

“About two dozen. Over,” Clare said, her voice tight.

“Can you handle it? Over,” Kingsley said.

Clare glanced at Rick and Sarah. Both nodded at her, and she nodded back. “We can. Over.”

“Banks? Banks, are you there? Over,” Kingsley continued.

“I’m here. Over.”

“Where are you? Over.”

“About two blocks out. Over.”

“Can you assist Barricade team two? Over.”

“On our way. Over,” Banks replied, and the whoop of a siren sounded in the background.

“Thank you,” Kingsley replied. “Hold on, Clare. Help is coming. Over.”

“Thanks. Over,” Clare replied, placing the radio back on her belt.

With the confident assertion made that they could handle the problem, she focused on doing precisely that: Handle the situation. “Let’s kill some zombies, guys.”

“Whoop, whoop!” Sarah said, picking off another infected with tremendous confidence.

Rick took a chance and managed to cripple one by smashing its knee to smithereens. The zombie snarled as its leg gave way, and it collapsed to the ground. Undeterred, it crawled back to its feet and hobbled forward, dragging the shattered leg behind it.

Clare pulled a face at the sight, trying not to imagine the mangled bones grinding together with every step the zombie took. It reminded her once again what they were up against. A host of undead creatures who felt nothing. No pain, no fear, and no fatigue. No matter how messed up their bodies became, they’d never stop coming, never stop hunting, and never stop trying. They’d never grow tired, and their hunger could never be sated. They were inevitable—an unstoppable force.

Despite that awful reminder, Clare wasn’t about to give up. Unstoppable or not, she had to try. Her survival and that of her friends counted on it. Determined to fight, she picked up her rifle, steadied herself against the truck, took aim, and fired. The bullet flew from the barrel, and she instinctively knew she’d nailed the shot. Time slowed, and she held her breath, waiting for the end result.

The bullet cut through the air and hit the zombie dead between the eyes. The bone caved in under the pressure, and the slug tumbled through the brain, turning it to mush. In a spray of bone and gray matter, the bullet exploded through the back of the head, taking half of the skull with it. Blood and brains dribbled from the open crater and fell to the tar with an audible splat.

The next zombie in line stepped into the mess, not caring when the nasty gunk squished between its toes. Barefoot and dressed in a pair of bloody boxers, the infected stumbled over the body of the fallen zombie and kept walking.

“Ugh, did you see that?” Clare exclaimed, a shiver of disgust running down her spine.

“No, sorry. I missed it. What happened?” Sarah asked, cracking off two more shots.

“I blew that zombie’s brains out, and the one behind it stepped into it with its bare feet,” Clare explained, aiming again.

“Oh, my God! That’s just nasty,” Sarah yelled, taking down another infected with a crack shot.

Clare tried to follow her example but missed. At the last second, the zom stumbled, and the bullet flew past its head. Unaware of its lucky break, the infected closed the distance between it and the barricade. With only four of the undead down and one injured, the rest were getting too close for comfort, and soon, it would boil down to a hand fight. Twenty-one zombies against three humans.

“Damn it,” Clare said, taking another shot. “Come on, guys. We need to thin that herd before they reach us.”

“Herd?” Sarah said with a chuckle. “You make them sound like cows.”

“If only they were cows,” Rick muttered. His rifle jumped, and another infected crashed to the ground. “Then we’d be feasting on fresh beef steaks tonight.”

Sarah took down three more zombies with cool precision. Bam, bam, bam! “Steaks? You’re thinking about food at a time like this?”

“Why not?” Rick asked with a shrug. “I haven’t had a decent steak in ages.”

“That is so gross,” Sarah said, pulling a face. “Zombie steaks.”

“I never said zombie steaks,” Rick protested. “Yuck.”

“Shut up and focus, guys,” Clare said, shooting two more zoms. She got the first one in the head and the other in the neck. Both bullets destroyed enough of the brain stem to kill the host, and she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. All the lessons with Frank were paying off, and she was becoming quite the shooter. Even moving targets were less of a problem as long as they weren’t running, bobbing, and weaving.

Sarah and Rick stopped their banter and focused on killing as many infected as possible. Bodies dropped to the ground, littering the tar with sprayed blood, gunk, and offal. One bullet punched into a zombie’s stomach, and a rope of glistening intestine unspooled from the wound. It slithered to the ground like a snake and wound its slimy length through its owner’s legs. Tangled up in its own innards, the zombie crashed to the ground. It thrashed about, trying to free its legs, but it only worsened the situation. Hog-tied and helpless, it reached after the rest of its friends with one outstretched hand.

“Shit, did you see that?” Rick said, pointing at the zombie.

“I saw it,” Clare said, shaking her head in wonder.

“I swear. A person can’t make this stuff up,” Rick said.

“Amen to that,” Sarah agreed. “Fact is stranger than fiction, they say.”

A few more zombies dropped in the next volley of gunfire, but they kept coming. More poured in from every direction, their numbers growing by the second. No longer faced with a dozen shambling corpses, Clare considered their options. Hand-to-hand combat was out of the question. They’d be overwhelmed within seconds. Where’s that damn ambulance?

Reaching for the radio at her waist, she prepared to call Banks. “Banks? Where the hell are you? We’re minutes away from being overrun. Over.”

Silence reigned, and Clare frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Beats me,” Sarah said.

“I hope they’re okay,” Rick said.

“Mm, let me try again,” Clare said, but she paused when she heard a siren’s familiar whoop. It grew louder and louder, signaling Banks and Zoey’s arrival. The radio crackled, and Banks came on. “Sorry for the delay, guys. We hit a small snag back there.”

“That’s okay. At least you made it,” Clare said, relief flooding her veins. “Now, get these zombies off our asses. Over.”

“Sure thing,” Banks replied. “Here comes the cavalry.”

Seconds later, the ambulance tore around a corner, its siren blaring for all it was worth. The infected responded with eager cries, turning toward the shiny new thing that plowed through their midst. Though they didn’t know what it was, it moved and made a noise, enough to get their attention. One by one, they stumbled after the metal can on wheels, hoping to catch a meal.

“Phew, that was close,” Clare said, watching as the undead changed direction away from the barricade.

But it wasn’t over yet. A few of the stragglers refused to be distracted, their attention fixed on the barrier that separated them from a trio of tasty morsels. Determined to sink their teeth into the delectable flesh mere feet away, they ignored the ambulance and stayed on course.

“Looks like we have some fans,” Sarah said, reloading her rifle.

“They must really like us,” Rick added, slinging his rifle across his back. Drawing his fire ax from his belt, he gave it an experimental swing while he waited for the zombies to close in.

“Let’s give them a warm welcome,” Clare said, stashing her rifle and reaching for her hand weapon. It was a machete chosen from the hospital’s armory. The grip was firm, and the edge razor sharp. The long knife was different from the fire axes she’d used thus far, and she hoped it would prove effective against the infected. Eager to give it a shot, she tested the blade with her thumb and watched as a drop of blood welled up from the cut.

Sticking her finger in her mouth, Clare turned to face their attackers. When the first infected reached the barrier, she stepped forward and swung the machete. The blade hacked into the skull of the zom, a middle-aged woman dressed in running gear. She sported a pair of expensive trainers, the kind Clare would never have been able to afford in the old days. Eyeing the lavish footwear, she briefly debated stealing them. But the idea of zombie sweat and toe jam was just too much, and she abandoned the idea.

The next zombie was a boy, barely out of his teens, and suffering from a severe case of acne. Not even his undead state was enough to hide his bad skin, and Clare felt an unwanted surge of sympathy for the creature. It reminded her that he used to be a human being, which was easy to forget in the face of their hideousness.

She swung her weapon at his head but missed and hit the neck instead. The sharp edge cut through the muscle and sinew like a hot knife through butter, and the zombie boy’s head flopped to the side. A second blow severed the spinal column, and he collapsed to the ground. Dropping to one knee, she stabbed him through the temple and ended his undead life for good.

A third zombie shuffled into view, and she pivoted sideways. A quick slash severed the infected’s Achilles heel, and it tipped forward, unable to maintain its balance. The moment it hit the tar, Rick dispatched it with a short, chopping blow from his ax. Sarah snapped off two more shots with her rifle, dropping a couple of zombies with unerring accuracy. That left only three more, a lumbering man and two women. They quickly closed the distance, snarls contorting their faces.

“I call dibs on the big one,” Rick cried. He jumped forward with his ax raised above his head, a war cry trilling from his lips. He brought the ax down with brutal force, and the blade cleaved through the skull with ease. Blood splattered across his face and chest, and he coughed and sputtered, blinded by the gunk. One of the remaining zombies swooped in and grabbed his arm, angling for a bite.

Startled, Rick tried to shake it off, but the infected clung to him with both hands, its nails digging into the material of his jacket. With a vicious growl, the woman zombie bit into his forearm, shaking her head like a dog.

Rick screamed, his voice laced with pain. He lashed out with his ax, and the blade sliced through the zombie’s ear. It flew through the air and landed on the ground with a splat. Undeterred, the woman zombie worried at the material of Rick’s jacket, determined to get to the good stuff underneath.

Sarah jumped into the fray, wielding her rifle like a spear. She jabbed the barrel into a zombie’s side and sent it flying. As it fought for balance, she yanked a knife from her belt and stabbed it through the chin. The long blade pierced the soft tissue with ease, slid through the mouth palate, and destroyed the brain. With a gargled moan, the infected fell away.

That left Clare facing off against the last zombie, and she quickly moved in for the kill. An overhand slash split the skin across the face and cut through the cartilage of the nose. The woman bared her teeth, a curtain of black blood spilling down her lower face. With a muttered curse, Clare reversed the blow and stabbed the woman through the eye instead. The point pierced the brain, causing enough damage to kill the zombie.

Heaving for breath, Clare yanked the machete free from the skull and stepped back. The infected woman crumpled in a heap, dead at last. Silence fell across the area, broken only by the distant wail of the ambulance and the crackle of sporadic gunfire from the other barricade. Turning to Rick, she asked, “Are you okay?”

Rick had one hand pressed to the site of the bite, a grimace on his face. “I don’t know.”

“Then find out, dummy!” Sarah cried, hurrying to his side. “We need to know, so we can amputate that arm before the virus spreads.”

“Amputate?” Rick yelled, snatching his arm away from her touch. “No one’s cutting anything off today. I already lost three fingers.”

“Let me see,” Sarah insisted, reaching for his arm.

“No!” Rick said, keeping the limb out of reach.

“Come on! Don’t be such a baby,” Sarah said, jumping up and down while trying to grab his hand.

Refusing to let her near his arm, Rick kept it out of the petite’s Sarah’s reach.

Clare eyed the couple and sighed. “Would you two stop?”

Sarah rounded on Clare. “You’re taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, but you’re acting like children.”

“Fine, Boss. Go ahead,” Sarah said, waving a hand at the stubborn-looking Rick. “See if you can get anything out of him.”

Clare looked at Rick. “Come on, Rick. Show us the goods.”

He shook his head. “You’re not cutting my arm off.”

“We won’t cut, I promise. Just show us, damn it,” Clare said.

Rick hesitated, then slowly unfurled his arm. Drawing up his sleeve, he showed them his skin. The bite wound was as clear as day. Each tooth indentation shone purple on the pale inner flesh, but the skin was unbroken, and they all heaved a collective breath of relief.

“Thank God,” Clare said, sagging against the side of the truck. Rick was safe, and that’s all she cared about.

“You see?” Sarah cried. “I knew you were alright, you big dummy.”

“As long as nobody cuts anything off again, I’m good,” Rick said.

At that moment, the radio at Claire’s side crackled. “Clare? Are you guys okay? Do you need help? Over,” Mason asked.

“We’re okay, Bro. No worries. Over,” Claire replied.

“Good to know. Over,” Mason replied, his relief palpable.

“See you soon. Out,” Clare said, happier than expected for a day that nearly ended in disaster. It was the longest conversation she’d had with Mason since the fire, and it warmed her heart to know he still cared. He’ll be alright. He just needs time. We all do.

Chapter 9 - Leo

Once Lt. Kingsley gave him the go-ahead, Leo took the lead. He swept the area with his rifle, looking for any signs of life. When he was sure it was clear, he moved ahead, picking his way through the piles of corpses that littered the floor.

The smell of death made his eyes water, and his stomach remained on edge, ready to let rip at any moment. He swallowed hard and tried not to breathe through his nose, but even the cologne-soaked bandana tied around his mouth didn’t help much.

Flies buzzed around his face, eager for a taste of his sweat. He twitched his head to dissuade the nasty creatures, but they ignored him. Several crawled across his forehead and cheeks, moving to the corner of his eyes. Blinking furiously, he picked up the pace. Let’s just get this over with and get the hell back home.

Lt. Kingsley had fallen to the back of the group, covering their rear, while Chris and Priya flanked him on either side. Blanca and Matt were in the middle, their feet silent and their focus absolute. It was good to know he had backup, not questioning their ability once. They were excellent fighters and good people. That much he’d seen first-hand. Still, they weren’t his people. They weren’t Frank or Sarah. It doesn’t matter. You’re part of the team now. Make it work. It’s what Theresa and Frank want from you. To set an example to the rest of the firefighter community.

With that thought in mind, Leo crossed the last few feet of the reception area and headed toward the hallway leading to the various offices, stock rooms, and more. The light from the shattered front faded as they entered the dim corridor, and he slowed as his visibility dropped.

A body lay crumpled at his feet, a police officer. The uniform was visible, but the man’s features were nothing more than a ruin of flesh and bone. A bullet had blasted his skull apart, and Leo guessed he’d been a zombie. Either way, he was glad he couldn’t recognize the guy. He didn’t want to know which of his former colleagues lay rotting in the precinct. He preferred to indulge in the fantasy that they were still out there, somewhere. Surviving like him, Frank, and Sarah.

Stepping over the corpse, Leo pushed onward. He passed Donna’s old office and paused. He stared into the space, saddened to know she’d spent her last days trapped inside. Papers lay strewn about, and it was empty, but there were signs of her presence left behind. A forgotten handbag stood on the desk, and a pile of old files formed a pillow on the carpet—her old bed. A trashcan in the corner had served as a toilet, and another created a step to the air vents in the ceiling. Cool drink cans and candy wrappers lay decaying on the floor, remnants of desperate meals stolen from the kitchen. It was a dismal setting, the air filled with the stench of death. It must’ve been awful for her. Poor Donna.

Shaking his head, Leo pushed ahead. Next, he encountered Frank’s office and waited while Matt loaded the radio equipment into his backpack. It could come in handy later, and they’d discussed returning it to the hospital.

“Got it,” Matt said, zipping up his bag.

“Let’s go,” Leo said, jerking his head toward the door.

He ducked into the hallway and turned toward the right. A set of bathrooms appeared in the gloom, each marked by his and her signs. The doors were closed, and he wondered what lurked inside. Should he check or leave well enough alone?

Kingsley noticed his hesitation and shifted closer. “Can those doors be opened from the inside? By zombies, I mean.”

“No,” Leo said after a moment’s consideration. “They’d have to pull the door open, and they’re not smart enough for that.”

“Good. Let’s check that they’re properly latched and move on then. No sense in fighting if we don’t have to,” Kingsley said.

“Yes, Sir,” Leo acknowledged. He checked the handles, ensuring they were shut tight. “All clear.”

“All right. Let’s move out,” Lt. Kingsley said with a curt nod.

Leo continued down the dim corridor, stepping with care. The narrow space was littered with corpses, and nothing moved but the buzzing flies and crawling maggots. It was both nerve-wracking and disgusting, and his stomach fought against the urge to revolt. Bile burned the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard.

“Why are there so many bodies here?” Priya asked in a low voice. “Didn’t anyone get away?”

Leo glanced at her over his shoulder. “There was no time. No warning. One minute, we were responding to the outbreak, and the next, it was over. By the time I got here, the place was overrun.”

“I’m sorry,” Priya replied, and silence fell over the group.

Leo focused on the path ahead, carefully dodging a pool of congealed blood. He navigated a narrow space between two bodies and sidestepped a rotting arm. The grinning teeth of a woman caused him to pause, her once beautiful face ruined. He blinked and looked away, a tiny mistake. Stepping on a piece of intestine, his boot slipped from under him. “Ah, shit!”

Falling hard, Leo winced as agonizing pain lanced through his lower back. It raced through his nerve endings and shot into his brain. Frozen to the spot, he breathed hard through his nose to gain control.

Before he could move, a hand latched onto his forearm, cold and damp. A rasping growl filled his ears as undead fingers tightened on his flesh, and a set of bared teeth flashed toward his naked skin. Terror spurted through his veins, and he yanked at his arm, scrambling to get away from the monster that had him in its grip. “Shit, shit, shit!”

The zombie followed, refusing to let go of its prey. It latched onto Leo’s shirt with its other hand and used it as leverage to drag its body closer. Two mangled legs slithered across the floor, leaving a trail of slime in their wake.

Leo saw none of that. Nor did he feel the squelching and squishing of rotting meat, offal, and other unmentionable horrors beneath his hands and back. All that mattered was getting away from the snapping teeth of the zombie.

Something flashed in the corner of his eyes, followed by a dull thunk. Blood splattered across his face, and globs of congealed gunk clung to his skin and eyes. His vision turned hazy, and he dragged one sleeve across his face. The rotten blood smeared across his lids, and he blinked to clear the filth away. Finally, he could see again.

The zombie was dead, the top of its skull caved in. It lay across his legs, pinning him to the ground—a dead weight.

Leo kicked at the corpse and rolled it to the side. Glad to be free of its hold, he scrambled to his feet with a muttered curse. “Fucking zombie.”

“Are you okay, buddy?” Chris asked, wielding a hammer in his right hand. Blood and gristle gleamed on its metal surface, and Leo recognized his savior.

“You got him?” Leo asked, indicating the dead zombie.

“Yup,” Chris said with a cocky grin. “I can’t very well let my new teammate get eaten, can I?”

“I suppose not,” Leo conceded.

“It wouldn’t be good for optics,” Chris continued. “Imagine how it would look back home.”

“Shut up, Chris,” Priya said, flashing him a frown.

“What? I’m just joking,” Chris replied with a shrug.

“Let’s just get a move on,” Leo said, wiping his face on his sleeve. “The sooner I can get out of here, the better.”

“Good idea, buddy,” Chris said. “You stink.”

“I know,” Leo said, checking his gun. After ensuring everything was in working order, he continued down the hallway with the rest of the team in tow.

It was impossible to ignore the stench that emanated from his body. All sorts of foul matter soaked his clothes, skin, and air, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but bear it with gritted teeth. When I get out of here, I’m taking a shower; rationing be damned.

It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the hall. They navigated another set of offices from there before hitting the kitchen and cafeteria. The space was small and didn’t contain much besides a few tables, chairs, vending machines, and a service counter. Behind the counter sat the fridges, freezers, counters, cabinets, and a store room.

Leo stopped short when he saw the room that had served most of his meals during his rookie days and felt a pang of homesickness. He missed being a police officer and helping people. He missed being out on the street, patrolling, and being his own boss until he returned to the office. But that was all over now. His career ended before it even began, in a welter of blood and guts.

“How much farther,” Lt. Kingsley asked, interrupting his morbid thoughts.

“Not far,” Leo said, leading the way past the cafeteria down another hallway. They reached the evidence locker and stopped to investigate the contents. If Leo remembered correctly, it contained a haul of illegal guns confiscated from a drug den the month before.

Tapping the wire gate, Leo called out. “Hello?”

A groan followed by shuffling feet announced the presence of a zombie, the former officer in charge of the evidence. Leo recognized the man as Officer Bain, well known for his love of donuts and coffee. Blood soaked the man’s uniform, the source a jagged hole in his neck. With glazed eyes, Bain shuffled closer to investigate. When he spotted Leo and his team, he sped up and raised his arms, eager for fresh meat.

“I’ll get him,” Leo said, smashing open the gate. He grabbed his knife, preferring it in the cramped confines of the cage. Taking two quick steps, he jammed the blade into the former Bain’s eye socket. The man stiffened before he slid to the floor with a final groan.

“All clear,” Leo said, waving toward the packed shelves.

“All right, Leo. Chris. Priya. Take what you can. The rest of us will stand guard,” Lieutenant Kingsley said.

“Yes, Sir,” Leo said, unslinging a duffel bag from his back. Working fast, he stuffed as much as possible into the bag, taking a mixture of confiscated guns, ammunition, and knives.

After a couple of minutes, he nodded. “I’m done. The bag’s full.”

“Me too,” Priya echoed.

“And me,” Chris added.

“Is there anything left?” Kingsley asked.

“No, we got it all,” Leo said.

“Excellent. Let’s move on,” Kingsley commanded.

They moved out once more, heading toward the armory. The passages cleared as they got closer, and the reason was soon revealed when they spotted the fire escape. The door stood wide open, and only a couple of bodies littered the way, their heads blown apart with a bullet.

“Somebody got out,” Lieutenant Kinsley said.

“Maybe several someones,” Priya said.

“It seems some of your colleagues escaped,” Chris said.

Leo didn’t answer, but he hoped they were right. He hoped that some of his former friends and co-workers had gotten out unscathed and were out there. Somewhere. Alive and well.

Blanca stared at him, her gaze unblinking. If she felt anything, it didn’t show. Still, he thought he detected a hint of sympathy. It was hard to be sure, though. She was a strange woman, part alien, and part ice queen. Not that it matters. As long as she has my back in a fight, I could care less who and what she is.

He pushed the thought aside once they reached the armory. Analyzing his new teammates could wait for another time. Standing next to the door, he waited while Kingsley and the rest filled their bags.

Kingsley, being the hero he was, carried two full duffel bags, and so did Matt. They grunted underneath the weight of their burdens, but it was a solid haul. There would be cause for grand celebration when they got home; the community’s available arms and ammunition had nearly doubled with one trip.

“You’ll have to cover us,” Lieutenant Kingsley said, indicating himself and Matt. “We can’t defend ourselves.”

“I’ll take the lead,” Leo said.

“Chris and I will take the flanks, and Blanca can bring up our rear,” Priya added.

“What about the rest of the guns?” Chris asked, waving at the racks.

“There isn’t much left, and we can always come back for it,” Priya said.

“I’d rather not,” Leo said, and he meant it.

“Let’s go,” Lieutenant Kingsley said.

Leo moved to the front and led the group back through the station. They moved faster the second time around, the way already cleared of obstacles. Their boots tramped across the bloody floors while Kingsley and Matt grunted beneath the weight of their burdens. Leo was better off carrying only a single duffel bag, but it was still heavy, and he felt clumsy on his feet.

Finally, they reached the exit and ran across the road toward their truck. Tossing their supplies into the back, they jumped into the cab. Kingsley went for the radio while Chris got the engine running.

“Barricade teams one and two, come in. This is Lieutenant Kinsley. Over.”

“Barricade team one reporting. Over,” Mason replied.

“Barricade team two, alive and kicking. Over,” Clare said.

“Good to hear that,” Kingsley said with a quirk on his lips. “Ambo 33, come in. Over.”

“We’re here. Over,” Banks said.

“Good. We got what we came for—time to pack up and go home. See you there. Out,” Kingsley said, concluding the mission.

With an inward sigh of relief, Leo leaned back in his seat. It was over, and they could go home. Deep down, he knew he never wanted to see the police station again. The place was nothing more than a tomb now—a testament to a past that had died a violent death. I just want to forget. I need to forget.

As they drove away, he cast a final look over his shoulder before turning away, saying farewell. That part of his life was over, and there was no going back. Nor did he want to. It wouldn’t be the same. The apocalypse had changed him, and he wasn’t the same person anymore. None of them were.

Chapter 10 - Theresa

Theresa folded the last couple of t-shirts in her laundry basket, taking care to smooth out any wrinkles. She placed them on the pile next to her on the table and handed the empty basket to Susan. Leaning back, she placed both hands on her aching lower back and grimaced. “God, I haven’t done that much laundry since… well, never.”

Susan nodded, adding the empty basket to the rest in the storeroom. “Me neither. No wonder Stella bitches about it so much.”

“I think I’ll be more understanding the next time I pull on clean clothes,” Theresa agreed. “Especially clean socks and undies.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ellen said with a groan. “I’ll even start making my bed from now on.”

“Yeah, right. When have you ever made your own bed?” Ruby said with a chuckle. “I’m the one that had to cover for you every time we had an inspection back at the station.”

Ellen pulled a face. “Hey, I tried.”

“Lucky for you, inspections are a thing of the past,” Ruby said.

“We’ll see about that. I might just bring them back again,” Theresa warned.

“Well, at least one good thing came out of all this,” Ruby said, waving a hand at the piles and piles of clean clothes, blankets, sheets, and towels surrounding them. “It took my mind off Elijah.”

“He’ll be fine. You’ll see,” Ellen said. “He’s a fighter, and so is Rick.”

“I know, but anything can happen out there,” Ruby said.

“I’m more worried about Mason,” Theresa said. “His head isn’t in the right place.”

“Maybe, but sitting around here won’t help him either,” Susan said. “He needs to work out his anger.”

“True,” Theresa conceded.

“Besides, we need the guns. Raiding the police station is a good call,” Susan said.

“All I know for sure is that I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight,” Theresa said, rubbing her aching back.

“I think we all are,” Susan said, “but I first need to report to the kitchen. See what I can do to help out.”

“You don’t have to go today,” Theresa protested.

“I might as well,” Susan said. “I hate sitting around doing nothing.”

“It’s your call,” Theresa said.

“Ellen and I have an appointment with that Dr. Kent Bond this afternoon,” Ruby said.

“So soon?” Theresa asked. “Can’t you go tomorrow?”

“I guess they can use the extra help,” Ruby said with a shrug.

“Alright, but let me know how it goes,” Theresa asked.

“Sure thing,” Ruby said.

“Are you both okay working in the trauma ward?” Theresa asked.

“Wherever we can be useful,” Ruby said. “We all have to pull our weight, right?”

“Yes, but I want you to be happy,” Theresa said.

“We’ll be fine, right Ruby?” Ellen said with a bright smile.

“Right.”

“Okay, but I want regular updates,” Theresa said, wagging her finger. “From you, too, Susan.”

“Don’t worry about me. I love cooking,” Susan said with a wry smile.

“I love your cooking, too,” Ellen said. “Especially your waffles.”

“I’ve noticed. You sure know how to pack them away,” Susan said with a chuckle.

“I don’t know where she puts them,” Ruby said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are we done here?” Ellen asked.

“Yes, we’re all done,” Theresa said, grabbing her stack. “Let’s get this stuff packed away, and we can go.”

“Yay, finally,” Ruby said, packing her load of sheets into the cupboard.

Theresa and the rest added theirs, packing everything into neat piles. After a quick look around, Theresa nodded. “Everything looks good. Good job, everyone.”

“Thanks,” Ellen said. “What time is lunch, by the way? I’m starving.”

“Big surprise there,” Ruby said, shaking her head.

“It’s almost time,” Theresa said, checking her watch. “You might as well head to the cafeteria.”

“What about you?” Susan asked.

“I’ll be right there. Go ahead,” Theresa said, waving them off.

The trio trooped away, and she watched them leave with a feeling of warmth in her chest. They were part of her family. Her firefighter girls. But it was more than that now. They were real family now, as much as if they were her blood. I can never let them down. Ever.

Once the others were out of sight, Theresa headed toward the exit. Along the way, she encountered Stella and stopped to talk. “The laundry is finished. Washed, folded, and packed away.”

“Thank you so much,” Stella said, wiping a tendril of hair from her face. “I appreciate the help. It’s been a long day.”

“I know what you mean,” Theresa said, rubbing her lower back. “Doing the dirty washing of a community this size is no joke. I’ll never take it for granted again.”

“Good. If only the council could realize it too,” Stella said.

“I’ll be sure to let them know at the next board meeting,” Theresa said.

“Well, at least we got everything done. Both the cleaning and the washing,” Stella said.

“Plus, Dirk was able to fix the generators,” Theresa added.

Stella rolled her eyes. “I suppose I should be grateful.”

“Seeing as we’ll all be able to eat a hot meal tonight, yes. I’d say a little bit of gratitude is in order,” Theresa said, waving a hand around. “It can’t be easy keeping a place like this running.”

“No, it’s not,” a deep voice said from behind Theresa.

She turned around and spotted Dirk carrying a toolbox, his clothes smeared with grease. He nodded to the two men beside him. “We’re done for the morning, guys. Grab some lunch and take a break. I’ll see you soon. I just have to check on the other team fixing the plumbing in the men’s bathroom.”

“Oh, man. Is it clogged again?” one of the men asked.

“Uh huh,” Dirk said. “It’s a real shit job.”

“You can say that again,” the man replied with a short but humorless laugh. “What’s next on the itinerary?”

“We need to repair the fence line along the eastern border, and Ward A needs a couple of new light globes,” Dirk said. “I’ll see you there after lunch. Once we’ve fixed the lights, we can tackle the fence.”

“Do we even have enough material to fix the fence?” the other man asked.

Dirk shook his head, his expression somber. “Not if we want to do a proper job. I’ll speak to Kingsley in the morning, but we’ll do what we can to hold it steady for now.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” the man acknowledged.

“Tomorrow, we’re hitting the kitchen first. One of the freezers popped a seal, and the newcomers need help with the garden. Something about building a rain catchment system to water the vegetables,” Dirk added. “But for now, just grab something to eat. It might be the only chance you get today.”

“Sure, thing, Boss,” the two men replied, and both rushed off to the cafeteria.

Once they were gone, Dirk turned back to the women and acknowledged them with a brief nod. “Ladies.”

“Dirk,” Stella said, her expression tight. She glanced at the area behind him. “Pray tell. What mess did you leave for me to clean this time?”

“You mean the mess I made while fixing the generators? The same ones that keep the lights on and the water hot?” Dirk asked. “You can thank me later.”

“Thank you for adding to my workload?” Stella said with a snort. “Who do you think will wash the stains out of that shirt tomorrow? Or those stinky socks moldering inside your boots?”

Dirk stared at her. “It’s better than unclogging a drain through a river of shit or mending fences while zombies try to eat your face.”

“Oh, please. You’re never in any real danger, and you know it,” Stella scoffed. “Not with Lieutenant Kingsley around. And I’ve washed enough shit-stained undies to last me a lifetime.”

Dirk’s face reddened. “What would you know about safety, hiding inside these walls like a princess?”

Stella gasped. “A princess? I’ll give you a—”

“Okay, guys, Calm down,” Theresa said, intervening before it could turn into a real fight. “I’m sure you have much more in common than you think.”

“Like what? We’re nothing alike,” Stella said with a snort.

“Yeah, not unless I suddenly turned into a real shrew,” Dirk said, shaking his head.

“I’m not a shrew,” Stella cried.

“I could call you worse,” Dirk taunted. “How about a real b—”

“That’s enough,” Theresa cried. “Come on, guys. We’re all adults here. Let’s act like it.”

Dirk subsided with a grumble. “Fine, but everywhere I turn, she’s there making a fuss. She never gives me a moment of peace. Always whining and complaining about everything!”

“That’s because you leave a mess everywhere you go,” Stella complained.

“I’m sorry about that, but we don’t have time to clean up after every repair job,” Dirk protested. “I’m always running from one emergency to the next. So are my guys. At this point, we’re running on coffee fumes and guts alone.”

“So am I. I can barely keep up with all the work anymore,” Stella said. “Half of my team called in sick this week, and the other half are worked damn near to death. If it weren’t for Theresa and her people pitching it, we never would’ve finished this early.”

“At least you’re done for the day,” Dirk said. “I’ve still got tons on my itinerary.”

“You think I’m done?” Stella scoffed. “My team and I have only begun our work for the day.”

“It’s not the same,” Dirk insisted.

“Why not?” Stella said, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m up at five in the mornings, and I’m the first person everyone turns to when the lights go out, or the water stops running. Yet, I never get so much as a single thank you,” Dirk said.

“And you think I’ve got it any easier?” Stella asked. She bared her hands, revealing skin covered in blisters and callouses. “Look at that, Dirk. I work my fingers to the bone every day, cleaning up after everyone and everything. Do I ever get a thank you? Have you ever thanked me?”

“No, I haven’t,” Dirk admitted, eyeing her work-roughened hands with a grimace. “That looks like it hurts. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You never asked,” Stella said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“To be fair, I’ve never thanked you either,” Stella added. “Sorry about that.”

Dirk shrugged. “Thanks.”

The argument ended as quickly as it started, leaving both parties in a quandary. Neither seemed to know what to do next, and Theresa stepped in again. “Now that you’ve cleared the air, I think you can both admit that you each play an important role in this community. So, why don’t you try and compromise?”

“Compromise?” Dirk asked. “In what way?”

“Next time, try to leave less of a mess when you do repairs, Dirk,” Theresa suggested. “I know you are busy, but it won’t take more than a few minutes of your time. In exchange, I’ll send you a couple of extra hands to help lighten the load.”

“Alright,” Dirk said. “If you can guarantee at least four more workers, we’ll clean up after ourselves. Promise.”

“Done,” Theresa said. “As for you, Stella, I’ll also send a few extra hands your way, and I’ll spread the word among the community. From now on, everyone can pitch in and clean up after themselves. That includes you, Dirk.”

“Do you think people will do that?” Stella asked. “Make their beds, throw away their rubbish, and so on?”

“Yes, I’m sure they will, once they understand how important it is,” Theresa said, resolving to speak to Sophia and Kingsley about the matter. If they could help spread the word and make more of an effort to thank Stella and Dirk at board meetings, it would go a long way to solving the problem. She was surprised they hadn’t stepped in and done something sooner. Maybe they just didn’t know. It’s such a big place, after all.

Still, Theresa resolved then and there to do what she could to smooth things over and grease the wheels of the community. The better the place ran, the better it would be for all of them. With that thought in mind, she decided it was time to head outside. Lt. Kingsley and the raiding teams were due back from the police station. She was determined to greet them in person and ensure everyone was alright. She dreaded the thought of losing anyone else and hurried toward the exit.

Outside, the parking area hummed with activity. Guards bustled around the gate in preparation for the Lieutenant and his people’s return while a small team cleared the block of zombie stragglers. One of Dirk’s teams had started working on the eastern fence, reinforcing the structure with metal poles and wire, while Coco tinkered with the engine of an old Ford Ranger.

Deciding to keep to herself, Theresa stuck to the crowd’s edges. She moved closer to the gate until she found a good vantage point and sat on a rickety wooden bench. Bathed in the shade of an ancient oak tree, it was meant to cater to hospital visitors in the past. Now it offered a welcome reprieve to her aching body, and she sat down with a groan of relief. As her muscles relaxed, she stretched out her legs and sighed. “Ah, yes. Much better.”

“You look tired,” a familiar voice said from behind.

Theresa twisted around in her seat, surprised to see George hovering nearby. “George! They let you out?”

“They did more than that. Dr. Bond officially discharged me from the hospital,” George said.

“That’s wonderful,” Theresa cried, jumping up. She hugged him, happy to see one of her own thriving again. “Come, sit down. Tell me all about it. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, thanks. Just glad to be a free man again,” George replied, his expression somber.

“You talk as if you were a prisoner,” Theresa said with a frown.

“Wasn’t I?” George asked, sitting beside her on the bench. He cradled his stump against his chest and shook his head. “That place is hell, Theresa. Hell on earth.”

“What do you mean?” Theresa asked, her heart sinking into her chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s talk, and I’ll tell you all about it,” George said.

“Please do,” Theresa replied, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the bad news. Not when they’d just moved into a new community filled with strangers and fresh challenges. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she settled down to listen.

Chapter 11 - George

George picked at the bandages around his stump, choosing his words with care. He needed to convey his concerns to Theresa without making her think he was exaggerating. Or crazy.

“George?” Theresa asked, her voice gentle. “You can talk to me. You know you can.”

“I know, but this is important,” George said.

“Of course, it is,” Theresa said. “You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

“It’s about Amelia,” George said. “We have to get her out of that cell.”

“Cell? She’s not in jail, George. She’s in hospital.”

“I know that, but we have to get her out of there before the damage is permanent,” George said.

“Was it really that bad?” Theresa asked. “Did they hurt you? Abuse you?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. The staff was very professional.”

“I don’t understand. What’s the problem then?”

“It’s hell inside that place, Theresa,” George replied. “Stuck inside that bland little room, day by day, night by night. Staring at those walls while you’re bored out of your mind. It’s enough to drive a person crazy.”

“Is that how you felt?” Theresa asked, her brows furrowing.

“That’s exactly how I felt. I couldn’t wait to get out of there,” George said.

“But… why didn’t you say something?” Theresa asked. “I visited you many times, and you never said a word!”

“You had enough on your plate without worrying about me,” George said.

“George,” Theresa said, reaching out to take his hand. “You are just as important to me as anything or anyone else. We are family now. All of us. Never forget that.”

George squeezed her hand and smiled. “I know, Theresa, and I feel the same. We have to stick together, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do,” Theresa agreed.

“That’s exactly why we need to get Amelia out of the hospital. She’s one of us, and we owe it to Robert to look after her,” George said.

“I confess I haven’t been to see her recently. Things have been a bit hectic, and I thought she was in good hands,” Theresa said.

“Technically, she is. They will look after her physically, but they know nothing about the mind,” George said. “Dr. Kent Bond is a proper jackass. He has zero empathy, or he would’ve realized the toll that ten days in isolation takes on a person’s mind. It was both unnecessary and overkill.”

“I realize that, but they’re just scared. We know very little about this virus—”

“We know that if I were going to turn, it would’ve been within a day or two of infection. Not after,” George interrupted. “Keeping me in quarantine for a further ten days was stupid. Even worse, keeping me inside a room with nothing to keep me busy was downright criminal.”

“Nothing?” Theresa asked.

“Nothing,” George replied. “No books, music, television, movies, or even conversation. Just four walls and a locked door bearing down on you, day after day.”

“That does sound awful,” Theresa admitted.

“It was. The only time they let me out was for a quick shower in the morning and a walk in the afternoon,” George said. “Visitors were the only bright spot in my day. The rest was mind-numbing torture.”

Theresa nodded. “I didn’t know that. I thought you’d have activities. Things to pass the time. Games, books, that sort of thing.”

“We didn’t,” George said. “I suppose there’s not enough to go around. It’s a big community, and they all need entertainment. Especially the kids. People like us would be last on the list.”

“That’s true, but….” Theresa shook her head. “It’s inexcusable. They could spare a few things. Create an entertainment room. Something.”

“Tell that to Dr. Bond. The man has a stick up his ass the size of Mount Everest,” George said with a short laugh.

“I’ll talk to him. There must be something we can do to improve the conditions there,” Theresa said.

“Maybe, but it’s not enough. We have to get Amelia out of there,” George insisted. “She’ll die in there.”

“But how?” Theresa asked. “She’s not well. What if she hurts someone?”

“I don’t know, but we have to figure something out,” George said. “You could start by talking to her directly. Ask her what she wants. Lay out her options.”

“Do you think she’ll listen this time?” Theresa asked.

“She’s not crazy. Just sad,” George said. “I think she’ll listen.”

“Alright. I’ll visit her as soon as our people return from their mission. I want to make sure everything is okay,” Theresa said, leaning back in her seat.

“Our people?” George asked, amused by Theresa’s slip of the tongue. “I thought we were all one people now?”

“Well, you know what I mean,” Theresa said with a helpless shrug.

“Yeah, I do know,” George said. “I also know they’ll be okay. Our people are strong and will pull through in the end. No matter what.”

“I know, but I can’t help worrying anyway,” Theresa said. “We’ve lost so many people in such a short amount of time. Friends, family, and colleagues.”

“We have,” George admitted, thinking of Nikki. For the hundredth time, he wondered if she was still alive. Are you out there, Sis? Are you fighting for survival as we speak? Or are your struggles already over?

Chapter 12 - Nikki

Nikki eased her foot off the gas, her eyes flashing from the road ahead to the fuel gauge. The needle hovered above empty, and she knew she’d have to find a gas station soon or risk getting stuck by the side of the road. Shaking her head, she glanced at Cooper. “Hey, boy. How are you doing?”

He whined, and his tail thumped the seat.

“Good answer,” Nikki said. “I’m also good but a little nervous.”

He stared at her, his golden-brown eyes fixed on her face.

“Okay, I’m lying. I’m scared shitless.”

Her hands tightened around the wheel, and she touched her dry tongue to her chapped lips. She was thirsty, but she didn’t want to stop. Not even for a drink of water. If she did, the truck might never start up again. Pleading with the rusty old piece of junk, she kept her voice low and sweet. “Keep going, girl. Just a little bit farther. That’s all I ask.”

The miles flashed by, and the quiver of anxiety in the pit of her stomach turned into a knotted ball of fear. She eased her foot off the gas pedal when they hit a downhill, hoping to freeload for a while. But that idea flew out of the window when the road started to climb again. The anxiety returned threefold and left a bad taste in her mouth. Reaching over, she patted Cooper’s head, more to comfort herself than the dog.

Suddenly, she spotted a handwritten sign. The writing was messy and skewed, but she could read it well enough. It said, “Fuel. Two miles.”

An arrow pointed to the left, and she kept her eyes peeled for anything that looked like a building. The truck climbed over a rise, the engine groaning and moaning like an old lady. As it topped out on the hill, the groaning turned to sputtering. Moments later, the vehicle shuddered, and the engine died. Cursing out loud, Nikki slammed her hands on the wheel. “Shit! Not now!”

She jumped up and down in the seat as if she could coax the truck forward. But it was a no-go. The gas tank was empty, and the vehicle wasn’t going much farther. It rolled down the hill, and Nikki was ready to give up. Then she saw it. A flash of silver in the sunlight. The gas station!

Turning the wheel, she used the last bit of momentum to ease the truck onto the property. There it came to a halt, as dead as a doornail. With the handbrake in place, she reached for the gun at her side. Now that she’d reached her destination, the fear of zombies loomed.

“What do you think, Cooper? Do you think there are any zombies?” Nikki asked, hoping against hope the place was empty.

For several minutes, she studied the area. When nothing moved, she pressed the horn. It blared long and loud. Nothing happened for a few more seconds, and she heaved a sigh of relief. “It seems we’re alone, Cooper. It must be our lucky day.”

Then she saw it. Movement. A figure appeared from around the corner of the building. It was a tall and lean man wearing a pair of coveralls. They were stained with oil, much like the cap on his head. His jerky movements and awkward shuffle told her he was infected, and the gray pallor of his skin confirmed it.

“Ah, crap on a cracker,” Nikki mumbled. “We’re not alone, after all.”

Cooper whined and cowered in his seat. He didn’t like zombies much either, echoing her feelings. Flashing him with a sympathetic look, Nikki checked her gun. “I’m sorry, boy. I know you don’t like this. Stay here, and I’ll take care of the nasty zombie.”

Cooper licked her hand, and she scraped together her courage. Despite her brave words, she didn’t want to face the infected. She was scared, and the last thing she wanted to do was get out of the truck. But the vehicle wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were they unless she faced her fears. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Cracking open the door, Nikki climbed out of the truck. When the zombie heard the click, it zoomed in on her whereabouts. Its head swiveled toward her, and its lips peeled back from its diseased lips. With a vicious growl, it charged, picking up speed with every step.

“Ah, shit, shit, shit!” Nikki cried. Slamming the door shut behind her, she took a few steps forward and planted her feet squarely on the ground. She clutched the gun with both hands, pointing the barrel straight at the charging zombie’s face. Her innards quaked with fear, and she wanted nothing more than to run. Run as if her life depended on it.

The trouble was that her life did depend on it, and she couldn’t afford to give in to her fear. As the infected closed the distance with swift strides, she took a deep breath, focused on the zombie’s face, and squeezed the trigger.

Bam!

The infected’s head snapped back, and its headlong run stopped mid-air as the bullet plowed through its brain. With a thud, it landed on the broken concrete, blood and brains leaking from its broken skull.

Nikki blinked with surprise, staring at the weapon in her hands. She glanced at Cooper sitting inside the truck, his tail wagging. Unable to help herself, she whooped. “I did it, Cooper. I got him!”

Cooper barked, his breath misting the window. Jogging over, she opened the door and hugged him. “This is awesome, Cooper. I didn’t panic. I faced that zombie head-on.”

Cooper barked again, almost as excited as she was.

Nikki turned around and faced the dingy one-stop gas station with a sense of eagerness she’d never have felt in the past. The place was not the type to impress; shabby, run-down, and dusty. But it had everything she needed to complete the next phase of her journey: Fuel, food, and water.

“Alright, Cooper. Wait here while I check the place out. It looks like Mr. Coverall was the only inhabitant, but I’d better make sure,” Nikki said. Closing the door again, she walked around the building, calling out. “Hello? Hello! Anyone here?”

When nothing jumped out, she walked toward the building and inspected the lopsided porch. There wasn’t much. A rickety old chair, a couple of jerry cans, a stack of wood, and a rusted fire extinguisher.

“Charming place,” Nikki said, peering into the shop.

The windows were grimy, but nothing moved inside the dim interior. She nudged open the door and checked inside. The store was even less impressive than the outside, sporting a deep freeze filled with ice, a couple of cold drink fridges, aisles filled with stale snacks and expired chips, a counter, and a cash register.

A squeaky fan in the corner pushed the stale air around the room, and a blank television sat on the wall. Still not at ease, she checked the area behind the counter, the storeroom, and the bathroom. Both were dirty, bordering on disgusting, but empty.

“Thank God. Time to get to work,” Nikki said.

After a quick look outside, she grabbed an old tarp and walked toward the dead zombie’s body. A faded name tag on the guy’s jacket read ‘Donny.’ It echoed the weathered sign tacked to the roof above the porch: Donny’s Gas Stop.

She’d killed the owner, and while she wasn’t sad about it, she wondered how he got infected. A bite mark on his neck revealed the how but not the who. A passing motorist, perhaps?

With a shrug, Nikki tossed the tarp over the body, hiding the gruesome sight from view. “Sorry, dude. I didn’t want to kill you, but you were going to eat my face off. Fair is fair.”

With her hands planted on her hips, she considered her options. Spend the night or hit the road? A glance at the sun convinced her to stay, no matter how gross the bathroom was. It was getting late, and she didn’t want to get caught outside in the dark. “Right. We are staying. First things first, I need to get the truck ready. Just in case we need a quick getaway.”

Grabbing a jerry can, Nikki filled it with gas and poured it into the truck’s tank. It took a couple of tries, but she finally got the engine going and parked the vehicle next to the gasoline pump. She thanked her lucky stars that the power was still on and filled the tank without too much trouble.

While the rickety old machine hummed, she tapped her foot on the ground, keeping a wary eye out for more infected. The place was isolated, but that didn’t mean nobody else was around. “It pays to be careful, right Cooper?”

Cooper had different ideas, however. He yipped at her from the front seat and scratched at the door. When she ignored him, he barked several times. The racket he made was loud enough to raise the dead, and she finally gave in. “Alright, boy. Out you go.”

She opened the door and watched as he ran around in circles, excited to move around again. While the truck’s cab offered safety, it didn’t provide much room for a young dog, and she knew exactly how he felt. “Having fun, boy?”

Cooper barked and ran around the truck. Next, he zoomed to the nearest tree and lifted his leg. A look of intense relief filled his puppy face, and Nikki laughed. “How long have you been holding it in? Poor doggy.”

That reminded her of her own full bladder, and she shifted from one foot to the other. Unlike the dog, though, she couldn’t go just anywhere and had to wait until she finished. “Just a few more minutes.”

Once he’d relieved himself, Cooper set about inspecting the place. He ran from one bush to the other, gleefully showering each one with his pungent scent. It was his territory now, and he wanted to ensure everyone knew it. The single exception to the rule was the former owner of the place. He gave Donny’s corpse a wide berth, and Nikki grinned. “Smart dog.”

With the truck’s gas tank filled to the brim, she parked it behind a clump of bushes and trees. She didn’t want the vehicle to be visible from the road. Zombies weren’t the only danger out in the world, and she needed to be careful. Tucking the keys into her pocket, she shouldered her bag and headed toward the porch where Cooper waited.

The steps creaked underneath her feet, and she stopped in front of the door. For a brief moment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Staying in a stranger’s place. But she didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or sleep in the cramped confines of the truck’s cab. Hardly ideal.

Reaching for the doorknob, she glanced at Cooper. “Come on, boy. Let’s get settled in. What do you say?”

Cooper barked, and his tail wagged.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Nikki said, opening the door. Stale air washed across her nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose. At least it doesn’t stink.

She stepped over the threshold and closed the door with a firm click. Waving a hand at the interior, she said, “Make yourself at home, boy.”

Cooper ran into the shop and searched every nook and cranny, reassuring himself that no zombies were hiding behind the racks. When he found none, he returned to her side and smiled, his tongue lolling from his jaws.

“Find anything? Nothing? Good boy!” Nikki said, stepping over the threshold. “You reckon we can stay here for the night, boy? It’s not a five-star hotel, but it’ll do.”

Cooper yipped in agreement, and she decided to get them settled down for the night. A quick search of the counter revealed a loaded double-barreled shotgun. She placed it within easy reach, glad for its presence. It would make an excellent weapon for her, sowing mass destruction at a close range.

Nikki also found the keys to an old jalopy parked outside and assumed it belonged to Donny, the old owner. She placed them on the counter, just in case, but decided to stick to her truck. The old girl was full of crap, but she was a known quantity and had a tank full of gas.

Afterward, she moved around and locked up for the night, both the front and back doors. Shutting the blinds, she allowed herself a satisfied smile. The burglar-proofing on the windows made the place safe from most outside intruders and zombies. “That should do the trick, Cooper.”

Cooper barked and wagged his tail, a real trooper. Nikki smiled at the dog, thankful for his presence. Ever since George left, she’d been alone and lonely, at the mercy of an abusive stepfather. It made the sting of his betrayal a hundred times worse, and she’d never forgive him for it. Still, she missed him with an ache that cut deep into her heart. A jagged wound that would never fully heal.

That was where Cooper came in. He took the edge off her grief. She felt better, more like herself, as long as he was around. He made her laugh, smile, and giggle. He saved my life, and I’ll spend the rest of it protecting his. That’s a promise.

Chapter 13 - Theresa

Theresa watched as Lieutenant Kingsley and his fellow teammates returned from their raid on the precinct. The four vehicles rolled through the gates to a lot of fanfare. People cheered as they entered, and the guards scurried around like ants, opening and closing the gates.

Ambulance 33 came in last, operated by Banks and Zoey. They parked behind Clare’s truck and disembarked. Theresa watched the two with interest. They made for an interesting pair. Banks was tall, lean, and serious. Zoey was short, perky, and loud.

They were also the first people from the hospital to make contact with the firefighters, and as such, they warranted a closer look. Theresa resolved to get to know them better. Both of them. But her plan would have to wait. Gunfire broke out, the scattered pops unnaturally loud in the quiet afternoon air. People cried out, scurrying back to the safety of the hospital.

Theresa watched them run with a frown. “Why are they running? They should be standing strong. Don’t any of them know how to fight?”

“They probably don’t,” George said. “In fact, I’m willing to bet most of them have never fired a gun or held a knife in their lives.”

“That’s a problem,” Theresa said. “What happens if our walls are overrun? Or there’s an emergency of some kind?”

“Exactly,” George said, his expression somber.

Theresa’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of bullets exploding from the fifty-caliber machine gun mounted on the gate. She jumped to her feet, craning her head to see better. It was impossible to make out any details, however. The gates were shut, the view to the outside blocked by metal sheets, and the area a chaotic mess of running guards.

“Zombies?” George asked, joining her on the sidewalk.

“I guess so. It’s impossible to see,” Theresa said, one hand resting on the fire ax that hung from her belt. Safe haven or not, she insisted on being armed at all times. It was the apocalypse, after all, and anything could happen.

She watched as Lieutenant Kingsley took charge of the situation. He barked out orders, directed guards to their posts, and approached Banks and Zoey with swift strides. After a quick conversation, the two paramedics ran back to their vehicle.

With a roar, Ambulance 33’s engine fired up. Executing an expert three-point turn, Banks raced toward the closed gates. After a few seconds, the machine gun stopped firing, and the gates swung open.

The ambulance roared through the opening, and Theresa caught a brief glimpse of a mob of infected thronging the street. The vehicle cut through their midst, sirens blaring, and quickly disappeared from view.

“What are they doing?” George asked, seeming perplexed.

“They’re drawing the undead away from the hospital,” Theresa said. “It’s standard procedure. The big gun is nice, but the noise draws scores of the undead.”

“Huh. That’s quite clever,” George said as the gates clanged shut.

“You didn’t know?” Theresa asked.

“I’ve been stuck in quarantine, remember?” George asked.

“Oh, right. I forgot, sorry,” Theresa said with an apologetic smile.

Silence fell across the area, the ambulance’s sirens fading into the distance. The guards returned to their usual posts, and Kingsley climbed back behind the wheel. One by one, Kingsley, Mason, and Clare followed Coco’s directions and parked their vehicles.

Theresa counted her people as they disembarked, ensuring that each of her people was safe. “Mason, Clare, Sarah, Rick, Mike, Elijah, and Leo,” she whispered under her breath. “They all made it.”

“I told you they’d be fine,” George said, flashing her a smile.

“You were right, but we might not be so lucky next time,” Theresa said.

“I know, but let’s celebrate the wins when we get them,” George replied. “However small.”

“That reminds me. If we want the wins to keep coming, these people should know how to defend themselves. Even the kids,” Theresa said. “Heck. Especially the kids.”

“Agreed,” George said. “They can’t run every time there’s the slightest hint of trouble. Kingsley and his team might not always be around. Or enough.”

“There should be emergency plans in place, too. Plans for a fire, an evacuation, a medical emergency, and more,” Theresa said. “I have to speak to Sophia.”

“What about Amelia?” George asked.

“She comes first, of course. I’ll visit her as soon as we’re done here.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” George asked.

“No, that’s okay. We need to have a heart-to-heart,” Theresa said.

“Alright, but you know where to find me,” George said.

“Do I?” Theresa asked.

“Oh, that’s right. I’m not in quarantine anymore,” George said. “Where do I sleep from now on?”

“Ward D. That’s where we stay,” Theresa said. “The place has been divided in half. Men on the left, woman on the right.”

George wrinkled his nose. “Divided? Like with sheets and stuff?”

“It’s temporary. Or so they say,” Theresa said. “Pick an empty bunk and stash your stuff in the foot locker underneath. The rules and regulations are on the wall. Read them.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you there, I guess,” George said, grabbing his bag.

Theresa eyed the bag and smiled. “If you need anything, ask Lindsey. She’s in charge of the kitchen and storerooms. Be nice to her if you want to get fed.”

“Noted,” George said with a grin.

Offering her a nod, he walked away, and she watched him leave with a sense of sadness. Without his arm, he was not the man he used to be, and his days as a firefighter were over. Even if it wasn’t for the apocalypse. That didn’t mean he was a lesser man, however, and she had big plans in mind for him. Just wait and see, George. You will be a great leader one day.

A sudden movement drew her attention away from George and back to the people in the parking lot. Focusing on the spot, she saw a small figure dashing across the open ground. It was Paisley making a beeline for Clare. The little girl threw herself into the older woman’s arms, and Clare swung her through the air with a happy cry.

Shaking her head, Theresa wondered when the two had formed such a bond. While she was fond of Paisley and treated the child with kindness, there was no special bond between them. Then she remembered the circumstances of Paisley’s rescue from her zombie father, and the mystery was solved.

Robert and Mason had saved both her and Clare, and the child quickly formed a special attachment to all of them. Shy and reserved, Paisley kept to herself, but she always had a smile for either Robert, Clare, or Mason.

As Robert’s wife, Amelia soon joined the friendship circle along with Sandi, the teacher. That was the limit, however, and while Paisley was never rude, Theresa often got the feeling she merely tolerated the rest of them.

Leaving the bench, Theresa walked toward them. Along the way, she encountered Kingsley. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I trust everything went well?”

“It did; thank you for asking,” Kingsley answered.

“I’m glad you all made it out okay,” Theresa said.

“So am I,” Kingsley said, picking up the two bags of guns and ammunition he’d collected.

“Right. I’ll get out of your way, but I need to talk to you and Sophia as soon as possible,” Theresa added.

“Anything serious?” Kingsley asked.

“Serious, yes. Life-threatening, no,” Theresa explained.

Kingsley nodded. “See you soon.”

He left with his team, and she watched them carry their bags full of treasure. Her eyes widened when she spotted a begrimed Leo, his entire body covered in foul-smelling zombie gunk. “What on earth happened to you?”

“I slipped,” Leo said with a shake of the head.

“Yeah, he slipped and fell into a pool of zombie guts,” Chris said, cracking up.

“Shut up,” Leo said, glaring at him.

Chris laughed even harder, and Leo turned away to hide a smile of his own.

“That’s one way to score an extra shower,” Priya quipped.

“Genius move,” Matt said.

Blanca grinned.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“You stink to high heaven,” Kingsley said, jumping onto the bandwagon. “Next time, maybe ask for more water rations.”

Theresa smiled, enjoying the lighthearted banter. It was good to see them joke around. To her, it meant they’d accepted Leo into their ranks, and that was good news.

“Alright, well. I’ll see you later, Leo,” Theresa said.

“Later, Theresa,” Leo acknowledged.

Theresa moved on, making her way to Clare and Paisley. “Good morning, ladies!”

“Morning, Theresa,” Clare replied.

“Morning, Aunty Theresa,” Paisley said with a shy smile.

“I trust everything went well?”

“As well as can be expected,” Clare said, brushing a tendril of hair from her face.

“It looks like a good haul.”

“Very good,” Clare said. “Well worth the risk.”

“Well, I’m glad you all got back in one piece,” Theresa said. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d join me for a visit with Amelia.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, but George thinks there is.”

“George?” Clare asked with a frown. “He’s out?”

“Yes, he’s out, and he’s not happy,” Theresa said. “He thinks we should get Amelia out of there. He says it’s bad for her to be stuck in there.”

“What do you think?” Clare asked.

“I don’t know what to think, but I believe we should start by asking Amelia how she feels,” Theresa said.

“Alright. I’ll come with you,” Clare said with a nod. “I must wash up first and pass my inspection with the nurses.”

“No problem. I’ll meet you there,” Theresa said.

“What about you, Paisley?” Clare asked, looking at the child with a warm smile. “Do you want to visit Aunty Amelia?”

Paisley’s eye grew large, and she shook her head.

“No? But I thought you liked Aunty Amelia?” Clare asked.

“I do,” Paisley said in a small voice.

“Then what’s the matter?” Clare asked. “I’m sure Auntie Amelia would love to see you.” When Paisley didn’t reply, she prompted, “Come on. What do you say? Yes?”

“Okay,” Paisley said at last, though she didn’t look happy about it.

For a few moments, Theresa studied the child, wondering what the problem could be. But kids weren’t her forte, and she gave up after a while.

“All right then. See you there in say….” She glanced at her watch. “Twenty minutes?”

“Sounds good,” Clare said. “We’ll meet you there.”

Theresa watched as Clare gathered up her things and took Paisley’s hand. “Say bye, Auntie Theresa!”

“Bye,” Paisley said with a wave.

Together, they headed toward the trauma center, where a group of nurses waited to perform the obligatory inspection for all parties returning from the outside. While it was a tedious performance, it was necessary, and Theresa approved in full.

Once the girls were out of sight, Theresa turned to the rest of the party, taking the time to talk to them all: Mason, Elijah, Mike, Sarah, and Rick. It was her way of touching base and making sure they were okay. It was also how she expressed her affection, and who could blame her? They were her family.

Chapter 14 - Amelia

Amelia stared at her hands. They were cradled inside her lap and held a particular fascination. They represented both strength and vulnerability, her past and her future. Her fingers were long and slender, the skin soft to the touch. Her wedding ring glinted on her left ring finger, a constant reminder of a commitment she made thirty-odd years before. Instead of a professional manicure, she sported bare nails and callouses from learning to use a gun, knife, and ax.

Now, she faced a juncture. A choice. She could turn to the darkness, or she could turn to the light. It was a simple decision. Unremarkable in every way, and yet, she hesitated to make it. The drugs dulled her senses, and it was hard to think straight. I don’t know what to do. Robert. Help me, please.

It was useless, of course. Asking a ghost for help was both futile and stupid. Still, she asked. Night after night.

A knock on the door announced a smiling Daisy. The girl entered and said, “You’ve got visitors today!”

Amelia looked up, excited despite herself. “I do? Who is it?”

“Theresa, Clare, and a little girl. Paisley, I think,” Daisy said.

“Paisley?” Amelia echoed.

“That’s the one,” Daisy said, standing aside.

Three people filed into the room and greeted her with happy smiles. Daisy bustled about, arranging seats and pouring glasses of water while Amelia watched with a sense of distance. While she was glad to see her friends, it was difficult to feel anything anymore. Anything of real substance.

“Amelia, my dear. How are you?” Theresa said, taking both her hands and giving them a warm squeeze.

Summoning a weak smile, Amelia said, “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Are you alright? Are you eating enough? Exercising?” Theresa asked. “You must be bored.”

“I’m fine,” Amelia said with a shrug, irritated by the million and one questions. What did it matter how she felt? Nobody cared. Not really. She was just one more crazy person locked away out of sight until guilt drove people to see her.

“Come here. Give me a hug,” Clare said, pulling her close.

Amelia submitted to the gesture, awkwardly patting the other woman’s back. Still. it made her feel bad for her callous thoughts. Clare and Theresa were her friends, right? True friends?

Pulling away, Clare eyed her with concern. “You look so pale. Aren’t you getting any sun?”

Amelia looked around and laughed. “No, I’m not. This is my prison, after all.”

“Prison?” Theresa interjected. “Is that how you feel?”

“Sometimes, maybe. Always. Never,” Amelia said, her thoughts growing slippery. She tried to catch them, but they were as wily as foxes and kept escaping her grasp. Stupid medicine.

“What does it matter anyway? What do you care?” Amelia cried, a sudden surge of anger catching her by surprise.

“Of course, we care,” Theresa said with a horrified look. “That’s why we’re here. To make sure you’re happy.”

“Happy? How can I be happy? My Robert is dead!” Amelia said, her voice rising in pitch. The smell of smoke returned to haunt her, taunting her nostrils. She saw her husband run into the flames, never to emerge again. Robert, no!

“Amelia, please. Come back to us,” Clare pleaded.

“I don’t want you. I want Robert,” Amelia said. She rounded on Clare, furious. “Why did you come? Just to remind me of everything I’ve lost?”

“I’m sorry,” Clare said, looking contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m the crazy one, right?” As quickly as the rage came, it fled. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside, demanding to be set free.

“You’re not crazy,” Clare said, frowning.

“Please, Amelia. We want to get you out of here,” Theresa added.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” Amelia said, jumping up. She twirled in a circle, her arms extended. “I’m as crazy as a loon.”

She spun around and around, her movements wild. Laughing like a maniac, she refused to stop. Dizziness set in, and she toppled over, much to the horror of the rest. While the adults swooped in to help her back to her feet, one small voice rose up above the rest.

“Aunty Amelia. Are you sick?” Paisley asked.

Amelia stilled, captivated by the voice. She turned to Paisley and met the little girl’s wide-eyed stare with one of her own. “Sick? You think I’m sick?”

Paisley nodded. “I think you’re very sick.”

“Well, maybe I am,” Amelia admitted. “Sick in my heart.”

“It’s my fault,” Paisley said.

Amelia frowned, all thoughts of grief and unhappiness fleeing before the child’s admission. “Why would you say that? It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Paisley insisted.

“Listen, sweetie. It could never be your fault my Robert died,” Amelia said in a kind voice. It hurt her heart to think that Paisley should suffer in any way. “Don’t ever think it.”

“I bumped over the candle,” Paisley confessed.

The words dropped into the atmosphere like stones sending out an immediate ripple effect. Stunned, Amelia stared at the girl. “What?”

“I started the fire. It’s my fault.”

Amelia swallowed hard on the sudden knot in her throat. “You can’t be serious. You bumped over a candle?”

Paisley nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”

“You didn’t mean to do it?” Amelia closed her eyes, unable to process the words. Horror, confusion, and fury spun through her mind, a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

“I’m sorry, Auntie Amelia. Please, don’t be mad at me,” Paisley pleaded, one small hand reaching for hers.

Clenching her teeth together, Amelia summoned every scrap of calm she possessed. It took all of her willpower not to snatch her hand away, and she was hyper-aware of Theresa, Clare, and Daisy’s terrified looks. I can’t… I can’t… I have to do this. For the child’s sake, if not mine.

Opening her eyes, Amelia put on a calm facade. She brushed the tears from Paisley’s cheeks with a gentle hand and said, “Paisley, my dear. Even if you did start the fire, it’s not your fault. You’re just a child, alright?”

Paisley shook her head, still crying.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. If I say it’s not your fault, then it’s not your fault. I’m a grownup, and you’re a child. Understand?”

Paisley nodded. “If you say so, Auntie Amelia.”

“Now, I think this has been quite enough excitement for one day, don’t you agree, Clare? Theresa?” Amelia asked, facing the two women with a forced smile on her face.

“Of course,” Clare answered first, gathering Paisley up like a broken doll. “You must be tired.”

“Yes, we’ll leave you to rest,” Theresa echoed. “But I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”

Amelia nodded, maintaining her calm demeanor while Daisy saw them out of the room. She waited until they were out of earshot, biting on her lower lip until the blood flowed. Waited and waited for the chance to scream and rail at the heavens. To act out the fury that formed a raging ball of fire in her chest.

But when the time came, nothing happened. The fire died. The anger fled, replaced by cold indifference. Her heart had turned to stone. Raising one hand to her lips, she kissed her wedding ring. It was a gesture of farewell, if not healing.

Robert was gone. Stolen by the silly actions of a child. The very child he’d saved from certain death. She would’ve laughed if she was able, but nothing seemed to stir within her breast. Nothing.

When Daisy returned minutes later, Amelia dismissed her with one wave of the hand. She didn’t need words of sorrow or sympathy. She didn’t need anything from anyone anymore. “I am quite alright, Daisy. I’m not about to cut my wrists or anything like that. You can leave.”

“Are you sure? I can sit with you for a while,” Daisy offered.

“No. I want to be alone,” Amelia said.

“Are you sure?” Daisy said, hesitating.

“I am sure,” Amelia said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger until the skin was raw and bleeding.

Daisy turned to leave, her expression haunted. She opened the door but paused when Amelia spoke. “Just one more thing before you go, Daisy.”

“Yes?” Daisy asked, momentarily hopeful.

“You can tell Dr. Bond to stop with the drugs,” Amelia said.

“But… he won’t listen to me,” Daisy protested.

“No more drugs,” Amelia said with an air of finality.

Daisy nodded, her shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, Amelia.”

The door closed behind her, sealing Amelia into her tomb. But not for long. That she vowed. Soon, she’d escape, and the world would be hers. Freedom would be hers, if not happiness.

Chapter 15 - Lt. Kingsley

After depositing their haul of guns and ammunition at the armory, Lieutenant Kingsley hustled his team back to the gate. There, they joined the guards on top of the wall, ensuring that the undead were taken care of.

His decision to oversee the work was pointless, though. Ambo 33 had done its job, drawing away most of the infected in the area. A team of volunteers quickly dispatched those that lingered. They exited the gate, killed the stragglers with hand weapons, and piled the corpses on the sidewalk opposite the entrance. In the morning, a truck would remove the bodies and dump them somewhere far away from the hospital.

Once the volunteers finished dispatching the undead, they returned to the grounds and the gates were shut. At that stage, Dirk and his team inspected the defenses. They did one thorough round with Dirk taking notes on a writing tablet.

Afterward, Kingsley called the man over. “How’s it looking?”

“Not bad. We need repairs, of course, especially along the eastern border, and for that, we need the proper materials,” Dirk said. “But overall, things are looking good.”

“What materials do you need?” Kingsley asked.

“Sheets of metal, poles, beams, screws, nails, welding rods, rope… The list goes on.” Dirk tore a paper from his notebook and handed it to Kingsley. “It’s all there. Fuel for the generators. Water tanks, piping, clamps, tubing, shade netting, and pallets for the new rain catchment system and gardens. I need light bulbs, plugs, wiring, and anything plumbing related too.”

Kingsley stared at the list, at a loss for words. But Dirk waited with an impatient look on his face, clearly needing an answer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“When? This stuff is urgent,” Dirk insisted.

“Tomorrow,” Kingsley promised.

“Thanks.” Dirk nodded, preparing to take his leave. “Oh, and Stella has a list too. So do Lindsey and Kent.”

“Of course they do,” Kingsley replied, his mood sinking into his boots.

With a sense of defeat, he turned away. It was never enough. There was always more to get, more to scavenge, more to do. It was a never-ending story.

With a sigh, he waved to his team. “Come on, guys. Time for inspection. After that, how does a hot shower sound?”

“Like heaven,” Leo replied, and Kingsley didn’t blame him. Even the man’s eyebrows were encrusted with gore.

“You know, Sir. We could get a lot of the stuff on that list at a place I know. It’s not too far from here, we already cleared it of zombies, and it’s stocked to the ceiling with supplies: Clothes, food, water, toiletries, cleaning supplies, tools, equipment, gear, gardening supplies, seeds, compost, potting soil, and more.”

“Really? It almost sounds too good to be true,” Kingsley said.

“I know, but it’s real. It’s an outdoor equipment place, and it’s even got weapons. Not a lot. We took most of the guns, which were lost in the fire, but there are still a few left. If nobody else has found it yet, it’s a gold mine.”

“Alright. We’ll hit this magical place of yours at dawn tomorrow, and we’ll take all the trucks we can manage,” Kingsley said. “Afterward, we’ll stop at a building site not far from here for the rest of the stuff we need.”

Kingsley spotted Clare and Mason, both checking their gear and that of their teams. They were also in the process of disarming themselves, ready to hand their guns over to the armory.

“Good job today, guys. You handled yourselves well out there today,” Kingsley said, nodding to each of them in turn.

“Thanks,” Mason said with a wary look.

Kingsley knew the man didn’t trust him or his team but hoped he’d win him over in time. The man was a strong fighter and a good leader. His sister Clare was made of the same stern stuff, her dark eyes a mystery. But there was nothing mysterious about her fighting skills, and he wanted her on his side.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to join us again tomorrow,” Kingsley continued. “We’re raiding a place Leo told me about. You’ve all been there. Some kind of outdoor and camping place?”

“We know it, and Leo is right. It’s the logical next step,” Mason said. “There’s not a lot of guns and ammunition left. We took most of that, but there are a lot of other supplies. We couldn’t empty that place if we tried.”

“Well, I suggest we give it our best shot tomorrow. Grab as much as you can,” Kinsley said. “I want to take at least six trucks and two ambos out.”

Clare nodded. “What time do you want to leave?”

“At dawn,” Kingsley replied.

“What about breakfast?” Elijah asked, rubbing his stomach.

“I’ll arrange with Lindsey for an early meal,” Kingsley said. “Meet me in the cafeteria before sunrise, dressed in your full gear.”

“See you there,” Clare said.

“One more thing,” Kingsley said.

“What’s that?” Mason asked.

“No need to hand in your guns. You’re official volunteers now, and you’re on the guard roster,” Kingsley said. “As such, you’re allowed to go around armed. All I ask is that you observe the proper safety protocols. No one touches your gun but you.”

“We’re part of the team now?” Clare asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“According to me, yes,” Kingsley said with a brisk nod. “Don’t worry about guard duty tonight, though. I’m sure we all earned a decent night’s sleep, especially if we’re up at dawn again tomorrow.”

“That’s fair. We’ll see you later then?” Clare said, slinging her rifle across her back.

“See you,” Kingsley said.

“One more thing. When is Ambulance 33 due back?” Mason asked. “I saw them leave again right after we got back.”

“Yeah, Banks offered to get rid of the infected that followed us from the precinct. They should be back soon, but I’ll check on them soon,” Kingsley said.

“Thanks,” Mason said.

“Anything else?” Kingsley asked.

“Nope. Not from me,” Mason said.

“Excellent. I’ll see you all later then. Keep well,” Kingsley said, tipping his head.

He took his leave, headed toward the inspection site, and submitted himself to the nurses’ tender mercies. After a thorough exam, he was given the all-clear and headed toward his locker. Stashing his things, he grabbed clean clothes and took a brief but hot shower.

The warm water cascaded down his back and front, washing away the dirt and grime of the day. His fingers traced across the numerous scars that marred his body. Bullet wounds, knife cuts, abrasions, burn patches, and a lump where a piece of shrapnel had lodged in his flesh. It was all part of the job, and he wouldn’t change it even if he could.

Sure, he’d sacrificed a lot in his life for his career: A marriage, numerous relationships, countless friendships, and even family. Nobody could or would accept that his job took precedence and always would. There was simply no contest. He wasn’t sorry about it either. It was the life he’d chosen, and now it stood him in good stead. The hospital would’ve fallen long since if it weren’t for him and his team. And all of these people would be dead.

Considering all the lives he’d saved, his sacrifices were worth it. He only wondered how much longer he could keep pushing his body to the limit. All the injuries were bound to catch up to him at some point. Humming from the shower stall next to him interrupted his thoughts, and he frowned. “Is that you, Leo?”

“Nope, it’s me, Lieutenant,” Chris replied in a cheery voice. “They wouldn’t let Leo into the hospital. Stella had a heart attack when she saw him. I think they’re hosing him down outside.”

Another voice chimed in. This time it was Matt, ready to take a shower. “Yeah, I left him now. It’s pretty funny. They’re dumping buckets of cold water over his head, and he looks pretty miserable.”

Kingsley grinned. “Poor guy.”

“It was pretty funny, though, when he fell,” Chris said, chuckling. “He looked like fish out of water, flopping around in zombie muck while trying to get to his feet.”

“Uh-huh, and then the zombie grabbed him,” Matt added. “I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Kingsley said, stepping out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he quickly dried himself off and dressed in clean clothes: Camo pants, boots, belt, side-arm, knife, hatchet, extra ammo, and a black t-shirt. His favorite pair of sunglasses rounded off the outfit, and he was ready to go.

“See you guys at dinner,” Kingsley said, preparing to leave.

“See ya, Lieutenant,” Chris said, humming another tune.

“Buy, Lieutenant,” Matt added.

Exiting the bathroom, Kingsley encountered an agitated-looking Sophia. “Do you have a minute, Lieutenant?”

“Not really,” Kingsley replied. “I want to check on Ambo 33. Make sure they got back okay.”

“I’ll walk with you then,” Sophia said.

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s that woman that came in with the firefighters. The one that lost her husband,” Sophia said.

Kingsley frowned, trying to remember. “The nut job?”

“That’s the one. She’s refusing to take her medicine,” Sophia explained.

“What does that have to do with you or me?” Kingsley asked. “That’s Dr. Bond’s job, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but this woman is refusing, and we can’t force her, can we?” Sophia said. “Theresa doesn’t want her to get any more drugs either.”

“Did she say why?”

“Who? Theresa? She said it’s time for this Amelia to face her grief and start the healing process, and the drugs are interfering with that process,” Sophia said. “Now, normally, I’d agree and have the woman see a psychiatrist, but —”

“The resident psychiatrist got eaten,” Kingsley finished for her.

“Exactly.”

Kingsley thought it over. “Do what she wants. We can’t force her, and we can’t keep her doped up forever.”

“Are you sure?” What if she’s a danger to us? Or herself?”

“She’s locked up and under supervision. What harm can she do?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Sophia conceded. “Another thing.”

“What now?” Kingsley asked, becoming irritated despite himself. His strides lengthened, a subconscious effort to escape the various problems encroaching on their existence.

Sophia scrambled to keep up, almost jogging at his side. Together, they exited the hospital, and Kingsley spotted a bedraggled, glum-looking Leo drying himself off with a rough towel. He stood in a puddle of gunk, and the smell was awful. Enough to drive away anyone in the vicinity.

“Lieutenant,” Leo said, offering a curt nod.

“Be sure to wash behind your ears,” Kingsley answered, rewarded with a crimson blush.

“Yes, Sir,” Leo said, hurrying away.

“What happened to him?” Sophia asked, wrinkling her nose. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“So, what’s the second problem?” Kingsley asked.

“Theresa thinks that all of the inhabitants should be schooled in combat. Even the children,” Sofia said, aghast. “Can you imagine?”

“I can, and she’s right,” Lt. Kingsley said.

“What?” Sophia cried. “You agree with her?”

“Of course I do. I’m a fighter. A soldier.”

“Exactly. You’re here to protect us,” Sofia said.

“And what happens if I’m not here?” Kingsley asked. “What happens if I die.”

“Well, you’re not alone. There are others,” Sofia protested.

“How many others? What if we all fall and this place is overrun?” Kingsley pointed out. He stopped midstride and turned to face her, exasperated beyond belief. “What would your chances of survival be then?”

“Why, I… I don’t know,” Sofia admitted.

“Zero. Your chances of survival are zero,” Kingsley said. “Theresa has merely pointed out a weakness in our armor that I have long been aware of. A weakness that needs to be addressed.”

“How?” Sofia asked. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Speak to Frank. He can set up a program for all citizens,” Kingsley said.

“Okay. If you think it’s important,” Sofia said reluctantly.

“It is important,” Kingsley said.

“I’ll see to it then,” Sofia replied, returning to the hospital.

“Please do,” Kingsley said. “Oh, and Sofia?”

“Yes?”

“Make it mandatory. All citizens must attend.”

Sofia nodded, though she looked anything but happy about it. As she hurried away, Kingsley allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. He’d previously broached the subject only to face fierce resistance. Now, it was done. Thanks to Theresa and her followers. They should’ve joined us ages ago. Imagine how much we could’ve accomplished by now.

Continuing onward, he reached the gates within moments. The guard in charge of the shift hurried toward him, ready to report.

“Everything is quiet, Sir.”

“And Ambo 33?”

“We haven’t received any communication from them, Sir.”

“Try them. Now.”

“Yes, Sir,” the guard replied. He spent the next few minutes trying to raise Ambulance 33 on the radio without any success. “Ambo 33. Come in. I repeat, come in. Over.”

Silence.

Kingsley frowned, worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach. It was unlike Banks not to report in, especially when on a mission. He waved at the radio. “Try again.”

“But”

“No buts. Just do it,” Lieutenant Kingsley commanded.

Before the guard could move, however, the radio crackled. “Headquarters. Come in. Over.”

Kingsley grabbed the microphone and said, “Banks? Is that you? Over.”

“Alive and kicking, Lieutenant. Over,” Banks replied.

“When are you coming back? Over,”

“We ran into a snag. It might take a while as we work our way around. Over,” Banks replied.

“How long exactly? Over.”

“I’m not sure,” Banks responded. “We might have to spend the night. Over.”

Kingsley thought it over. “Are you sure? Are you up to it? Will you be safe out there alone? Over.”

“We’ve done it before. Over,” Banks said.

“Alright, but keep me updated. Let me know if you run into any trouble. Over,” Kingsley said.

“Will do, Lieutenant. Over,” Banks said.

“Be careful. Over and out,” Lt. Kingsley said.

He replaced the mic with a thoughtful frown. Despite Bank’s reassurances, he was still worried. There lurked a ton of danger outside the hospital walls. Danger designed to kill unwary folks. Then again, Banks was no novice. He was smart, tough, and much more dangerous than he looked. Stop worrying. They’ll be fine.

A glance at his watch told him it was almost time for dinner, and he decided to head that way. He could use a bit of downtime with his friends and teammates. It’d been a long day, after all. A cold beer would be nice. A scotch even better.

Kingsley snorted, amused at his thoughts. He could forget about beers and scotches, even if they had any. It was the apocalypse, and he had an appointment at dawn. I’d better get some food and a good night’s sleep. Then I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.

Chapter 16 - Zoey

Zoey sat unmoving in her seat, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple. She listened to Banks telling Kingsley not to worry. They’d run into complications and would be late. They might even have to spend the night. And she knew they were in trouble. Not only would Kingsley believe Banks, but he also wouldn’t worry about them until the next day. Anything could happen in that time. None of it good.

How did this happen? she asked herself for the umpteenth time, but it was simple. After they left the hospital, they did what they always did. They led the infected away from their home, lost them in a maze of back alleys, and visited their favorite shop for Flamin’ hot Cheetos and Reeses’ Buttercups. Stupid, stupid! We established a routine, and the bad guys took advantage of it.

One minute she was munching on chips, the next, she had a pistol pressed to her head, and men with machine guns surrounded them. What followed was equally unpleasant. A man with cold blue eyes told Banks to lie to Kingsley or he’d kill Zoey. Banks complied. Now the deed was done, and their fate was sealed.

What do they want with us? she wondered. She didn’t dare ask, but Banks had no such compunction.

“What now? What do you want?” Banks asked.

“Now, you come with us,” the man said, waving them out of the ambulance.

Zoey climbed out with reluctance, her knees trembling. She’d faced many a zombie head-on. She’d killed her fair share of the undead, but this was different. Staring into the barrel of a gun did something to her insides that no zombie ever could. At least, that was how she felt.

“Please, let her go. She’s not part of this,” Banks protested.

“Of course she is,” the cold-eyed man replied. “She’s our insurance policy.”

“Insurance?” Banks asked, looking confused.

“That’s right. She’s the one that will make you talk,” the man replied.

“Talk?” Banks said with a frown. “You want information?”

“See? I told my boss you were smarter than you looked,” the man cried, looking triumphant. “Smarter and tougher. I told him we’d need a way to make you talk, and that’s where she comes in.”

Terror flashed through Banks’ eyes as he realized what she also did. Zoey was the victim. The punching bag. They’d do to her whatever it took to make Banks talk, and he would. He’d tell them everything he knew if that was what it took to protect her.

No, no, no! This can’t be happening. I have to escape! Zoey thought as her captor shoved her toward a waiting van. It was a black van, just like in the movies, and fear unfurled within her chest. The last thing she wanted to do was get into the back of that van. Somehow she knew that if she did, it was over.

With a cry, Zoey broke free from the hold her captor had on her arm and made a run for it. She sprinted in the opposite direction of the van, heading for a dark alleyway. Her legs pumped like pistons, and her heart pounded in her chest. Shouts and cries of rage followed in her wake, prompting her to run faster.

“Catch her! Don’t let her get away!” the cold-eyed man ordered.

“Run, Zoey! Run!” Banks yelled.

Suddenly, a terrific blow knocked the breath from her lungs. Fiery pain exploded through her nerve endings, and she crashed to the ground as her muscles lost all power. Rolling a couple of times, she came to a stop against the raised pavement and lay gasping for oxygen. Her shoulder felt numb but, at the same time, hot. When the first tendrils of crimson crept across the ground next to her face, she realized it was blood. Her blood. Oh, my God. I’ve been shot!

“What the fuck was that? I said to catch her, not shoot her!” the cold-eyed man raged. He stomped toward the van where a struggling Banks fought against his captor’s hold.

“Zoey, no! What did you do to her? You killed her!” Banks screamed. He broke free and aimed a blow at one of his captor’s heads. Kicking and punching, he tried to make his way to her, desperation in every blow.

“Fuck, this is a disaster. Do I have to do everything myself?” the cold-eyed man asked. With careless ease, he brought the butt of his gun down on the back of Banks’ skull. With a groan, he sank to the ground, unconscious. “There. Now, tie him up and grab the med kit. I need to save that troublesome bitch’s life, or this will all be for nothing.”

Zoey stared at the unconscious Banks, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. This was her fault. She was to blame. “Banks. I’m so sorry.”

Hands grabbed her and lifted her to her feet, not caring how much pain they caused. Zoey screamed and struggled, but to no avail. She was tossed into the back of the van where rough fingers examined her wound. She cried out with each prod and press, fiery agony shooting through her body. “Stop it! You’re hurting me!”

“Shut up and hold still. It’s your own fault for running,” the cold-eyed man said, eyeing her with displeasure.

“No, no, no!” Zoey screamed, beyond hysterical.

“Shit, you’re impossible, you know that?” the cold-eyed man said before jabbing a needle into her arm. “There, that should take care of you. Sweet dreams.”

“No,” Zoey whimpered as sleep stole over her mind. The last thing she saw before darkness overtook her vision was her tormentor’s predatory smile, his canine teeth unnaturally long and sharp. He’s a monster, and he’s going to kill me.

Chapter 17 - Blackwell

Blackwell lay prone on the roof, watching the hospital through hooded binoculars. He was careful not to let the sun reflect off the lenses. It would reveal his position to the enemy, a rookie move. He knew enough about the guards by now to know they weren’t rookies and had good leadership in the form of the SCERT Lieutenant.

A smile played on his lips at the thought. It was amazing what one could learn simply by being patient. For days, he’d studied the hospital, noting their movements, recording their shift changes, and learning about their leader with the insignia of a Lieutenant on his uniform.

Before questioning his captives, he wanted to know as much as possible about the hospital community. Lucien brought them in earlier, both unconscious and sleeping. At first, Blackwell hadn’t been happy about their state. Both were injured, and while that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the girl had been shot. Still, it was little more than a flesh wound, and it might even serve to loosen her tongue or that of her boyfriend.

Either way, they’d talk. Blackwell would make sure of that. He was a master of interrogation and had the process down to a fine art. It was about so much more than just inflicting pain. Any idiot could do that.

True mastery lay in breaking the spirit. Making one believe that they would die a horrible and prolonged death. It was about the complete and utter absence of hope. Nobody wanted to die, and they clung to the illusion of life for as long as possible. But if you stripped away their hope, their souls were laid bare, and their minds were ripe for the plucking.

Besides, he was in no rush to question them. Time was on his side. The hospital and its supplies weren’t going anywhere, nor were the paramedics. They were his now. Toys to play with as he saw fit.

Blackwell grinned. It had been a while since he last had toys. Talking to them would be fun, and he hoped they didn’t break too quickly. That would spoil the experience.

As the sun dropped toward the horizon, he took a few more mental notes about the hospital community and its people. He knew roughly how many guards there were and what guns they carried. He also suspected they were running low on ammunition for the fifty-caliber machine gun.

He’d counted the ambulances used to draw away the undead and do reconnaissance, minus the one he’d hijacked and studied their defenses. The place was strong but not infallible. It will fall. Nothing and no one can stand against me. Not even the undead.

He wanted an ace up his sleeve—an easy way into the community. There was no point in wasting unnecessary lives and ammunition trying to overcome their defenses. No, he’d much rather let them do the hard work for him.

Finally, darkness fell across the city, and Blackwell decided it was time to move. It was getting cold on the roof, and he was hungry. He was also bored and in the mood for entertainment. That was where the captives came in. Time to have some fun.

Chapter 18 - Banks

Banks woke up to a splitting headache, white-hot pain lancing through his skull with the slightest move he made. He bit back a groan, something warning him to keep quiet, and he kept his eyes shut until the dizziness passed. As the pain receded, his memories returned, and anger mixed with fear flared up inside his chest. Zoey!

She was injured. She’d been shot during her foolhardy escape attempt. Still, he silently applauded her for her courage, if not her common sense. You’re one of a kind, Zoey.

As much as he wanted to run to her aid, he couldn’t. First, he needed to know what they were up against. Cracking open his eyelids, Banks waited until his eyes adjusted to the low light. Once his vision cleared, he took a good look and found himself in an empty room. It was devoid of furniture—just a square room with painted walls, a single bare window, and carpeting on the floor.

The single item inside the room was the chair he sat on, both hands and feet tied to the smooth metal arms. A padded seat made it semi-comfortable, and the backrest offered a modicum of support. Not that he intended to be there for long. Twisting his wrists and feet, he tested the strength of his bonds.

The rope was sturdy with minimal stretch, and the rough material chafed his skin raw within moments. But he kept at it, refusing to give up. Zoey was out there somewhere, wounded and vulnerable. She needed help, and he was the only one who could give it to her. Nobody else knew where they were, and no one was coming to their rescue. We’ll have to save ourselves this time. It’s just us—Zoey and me.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Banks continued to work the ropes. He sawed back and forth, seeking the slightest bit of give. His raw skin burned like fire. Soon, blood leaked from the wounds and formed pools of crimson on the carpet. Through the dusty window, he watched the sun drop to the horizon, the light fading away by the minute. It wouldn’t be long before night shrouded the city, making escape much harder.

It didn’t matter. He was determined to save Zoey and get her back home where she belonged. Why, why, why had he insisted on going out again? Some other ambulance could’ve taken their place. Some other idiot could be sitting here tied to a chair instead of him. It was his own fault. His refusal to become part of the community he lived in, preferring to stay apart—a constant loner.

Only he wasn’t alone. He had Zoey and selfishly dragged her out with him, endangering her life each time because he wanted her for himself. He didn’t like to share her with the useless boyfriends she dated or the inane friends she hung out with. All he cared about was her, and that’s where the problem lay.

Suddenly, the doorknob rattled, and the door swung open. A man stood within its frame, his broad shoulders nearly touching the sides. Thick black hair curled onto his collar, and a mustache decorated his upper lip. His teeth glared white against his tanned skin, and his eyes were deep wells of darkness. Though handsome, everything about the man screamed danger, and Banks stiffened in his seat. “Who are you?”

“Now, that’s a loaded question,” the man answered. “Who am I? A seemingly simple question with a complex answer.”

Banks frowned. “What?”

“Who I am changes on your viewpoint and your actions. For instance, I could be your best friend or your worst enemy. It really depends on you,” the man said.

“What’s your name?” Banks asked through gritted teeth.

“Ah!” the man cried, raising one finger in the air. “Now, there’s a simple question with a simple answer. My name is Blackwell, and your name is Banks. Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know my name?” Banks asked.

“Lucien picked it up during your conversation with Lieutenant Kingsley. Interesting man. He seems to have a lot of confidence in you,” Blackwell said.

Banks didn’t reply.

“Which means you must know a lot about your community,” Blackwell continued.

“What do you want?” Banks asked.

“What I want is simple. I want what you have. I want your place. Your supplies. Your vehicles. Your guns and ammunition. That’s what I want,” Blackwell said.

“What about the people? My people?” Banks asked, narrowing his eyes.

“What about them? They’re nothing to me. Nothing but an obstacle,” Blackwell said.

“There are children inside that hospital. Babies!” Banks protested.

Blackwell shrugged. “The apocalypse knows no age. It does not discriminate.”

“So, you’ll kill them all to get what you want?”

“I’m so glad you get it. It feels good to be understood,” Blackwell said, sauntering toward the window.

“You’re a monster.”

“Perhaps,” Blackwell said, peering out into the gathering darkness. “As I said before. It depends on your point of view.” He turned to Banks. “So, which one will it be? Friend or foe?”

“Do you have to ask?” Banks said, straining at the ropes.

Blackwell smiled. “Foe, it is, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted to be your friend. That would’ve been too easy, and nobody likes easy.” Clapping his hands, Blackwell said, “Bring in the girl!”

Two men entered, one of them the blue-eyed man who kidnapped them. Lucien.

“You!” Banks cried. “You bastard!”

“Now, now. Behave,” Blackwell said, waving one finger at Banks. “Lucien was only following my orders.”

“I don’t care. He shot Zoey.”

“I did not,” Lucien said with a hint of indignation.

“She got shot under your watch. Same thing,” Banks said with a growl.

“That’s true, and not what I wanted at all,” Blackwell said. “Lucien will get his punishment. Never fear.”

“Who cares? She’s still hurt. Look at her!”

Zoey sagged between the two men, looking around with a confused gaze. Her jacket was missing, leaving her in just a t-shirt despite the cold. One shoulder was heavily bandaged, and her skin pale from blood loss. Without ceremony, they dumped her on the floor, and Banks strained to see her face. “Zoey? Are you okay? Zoey!”

“She’s fine. The bullet didn’t hit anything vital. It was a clean through and through,” Lucien said, rolling his eyes. “She’s just a bit out of it because of the shot I gave her.”

“Which brings us back to business,” Blackwell said. “Unfortunately for Zoey, her wound doesn’t change the reason she’s here. In fact, it provides me with a springboard.”

“What do you mean?” Banks asked.

“Maybe a demonstration would be in order,” Blackwell said, waving a hand at Lucien.

Lucien wasted no time. With one booted foot, he rolled Zoey onto her back. With the other, he kicked her wounded shoulder. The blow landed squarely, and Zoey was shocked awake, screaming in agony.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” Banks yelled, horrified.

“Huh,” Blackwell said, studying Zoey’s reaction. “I thought the shot Lucien gave her would take the edge off. Guess I was wrong.”

“Why are you doing this?” Banks said, his mind a jumble of mixed emotions.

Blackwell sighed. “All this yelling and crying. It’s giving me a headache. It’s simple. I want information. I want to know everything you know about your little community, and I mean everything.”

Banks stared at Blackwell, shaking his head in denial. “No. I can’t do that.”

“Lucien?” Blackwell said.

Lucien delivered another kick to Zoey’s shoulder, and fresh blood stained the bandages. Zoey screamed again, long and loud. Attempting to protect herself, she curled into a little ball, sobbing with every breath. It didn’t help. Another well-aimed kick broke a rib, the sound of snapping bone shockingly loud.

“Oh, dear. That must hurt,” Blackwell said with pretend sympathy.

“Zoey, no!” Banks yelled, beside himself. “Stop. Please, stop!”

“You know what to do,” Blackwell said, his grin indicating that he was enjoying their pain and suffering. He reveled in it, and Banks knew he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Either from Banks or Zoey.

Zoey. I’m so sorry.

What should he do? What could he do? Either he talked, or Lucien would continue torturing Zoey until she died.

I can’t lose her. I just can’t.

“What will it be, Banks? Friend or foe?” Blackwell asked.

Banks hung his head, tears of frustration burning his eyelids. “I….”

“Lucien,” Blackwell said.

Lucien stomped on Zoey’s hand, mangling two fingers. Her screams were raw and visceral. It tore through Banks’ heart and shredded the last of his resistance. Swallowing hard, he came to a decision. It was the hardest choice he’d ever made, and it would condemn him in Zoey’s eyes. His own, too, and that of his community. He’d be an outcast—a murderer.

But the decision was made when he looked at Zoey’s agonized face, tears running down her cheeks. Already, he feared for her life. Loss of blood and a broken rib could easily mean the end for her, and he knew he had no choice. “Stop hurting her. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Blackwell smiled. “Splendid. I think we’ll be great friends, right Lucien?”

Lucien stared at Banks with glittering blue eyes. “Right.”

Clapping his hands, Blackwell said, “Take the lady over there and treat her injuries. It’s the least we can do for our new friend.”

“I want her to stay here with me,” Banks said.

“Excuse me?” Blackwell said with arched brows. “You’re in no position to make any demands. I’m in charge here, and your lives depend on me. My whim. My say so.”

“What if I told you there was a way to take the hospital with minimum effort on your part?” Banks said. “No mess, no fuss, no loss of lives. It’ll be handed to you on a silver platter.”

“I’m listening,” Blackwell said, moving closer.

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know, but you’ll have to move fast. You’ll have to do it tonight,” Banks said.

“Why tonight?” Blackwell asked, immediately suspicious.

“Because if you wait until tomorrow, Lieutenant Kingsley will know something is wrong. When we fail to return, he’ll double the guard, and you’ll lose your chance,” Banks said.

“Lose my chance? I doubt that,” Blackwell said.

“Trust me. You’ll want to hear this. It’s foolproof,” Banks said.

“And you’re willing to tell me this? Why?” Blackwell asked.

“I want you to provide me with a full med kit from my ambulance so that I can treat my friend’s wounds. No offense, but I don’t trust your lackey Lucien to take care of her.”

“Is that all?” Blackwell asked in a low but threatening voice, and Banks knew he was treading on thin ice.

“I want you to swear that no harm will come to either of us, and….”

“Yes?”

“I want you to make us part of your group.”

“What? You want to join my group? My murdering band of outlaws?” Blackwell said with an incredulous laugh. “Why on earth would you want to do that? And why would I let you?”

“First of all, I’ll be nothing more than a traitor after tonight. I can never go back to my community, even if they survive the night, which is doubtful. Secondly, with our old community gone, we’ll need a new one. We’ll need protection, food, and water. As to why you’d want us, we’re both qualified paramedics and EMTs. That should answer your question.”

“Mm. You make a good point,” Blackwell said. “Lucien is handy when it comes to patching up a bullet or knife wound, but that’s about it. We could use qualified medical personnel.”

“So, we have a deal?” Banks asked.

“We do,” Blackwell said. “If, and only if, your information leads to the utter demise of your community. After tonight, it belongs to me and me alone.”

Banks closed his eyes briefly, coming to terms with what he was about to do. Then he opened them and nodded. “It’s a deal.”

Blackwell laughed, his voice deep and filled with a darkness so deep Banks would never be able to plumb its depths. At the same time, Zoey turned toward Banks, her eyes swollen and shimmering with tears. “B… Banks? What have you done?”

Banks swallowed, feeling like he’d swallowed a rock. “What I had to, Zoey. What I had to.”

“Oh, Banks. No,” Zoey whispered, sagging to the floor.

But it was too late. The bargain was struck, and the hospital community was doomed.

Chapter 19 - Lucien

Lucien waited for the guards to complete their patrol, huddled behind an overgrown bush across the street from the hospital. Behind him sat his teammates, each handpicked by Blackwell for their speed, agility, and brutality. They were all armed to the teeth and ready to complete their mission: Destroy the hospital community from within.

None of them cared about the woman and children within the walls. They felt no sympathy or guilt. No hesitation. They were killers, one and all.

Once the guards on the wall completed their rounds, Lucien gave the signal. On silent feet, they crossed the street, rendered invisible by their black clothes and face paint. Their rubber soles made not a sound on the tar, and even their weapons were wrapped in cloth and blacked out with shoe polish. Not a single noise or glint of light could be seen from any of them.

Once they reached the wall, one of the men boosted Lucien over the top. Landing on light feet, he waited for the rest to join him. The third man pulled the last one over, and they were inside the property.

Nodding at his team, Lucien led the way toward the guard tower closest to their position. They reached it within seconds, surprising the two men huddled within its shelter. A flash of Lucien’s blade was the last thing his victim saw before hot blood gushed from the slit in his throat. The other man died as quickly as his partner, and their bodies were dumped in a corner to rot.

“Ready?” Lucien whispered, and the other three nodded.

Leaving their shelter, they sprinted toward the hospital’s side entrance. According to Banks, nobody used it at night, and it was locked with a simple padlock and chain. Once inside, it was a straight shot to the morgue.

Once Lucien reached the side entrance, he held out his hand. One of the others handed him a set of bolt cutters, and he snapped the chain with a low grunt of effort. Another teammate held the chain, preventing it from rattling or falling to the ground. That same man took a guard position, keeping the opening clear to ensure his teammates’ swift retreat.

Ducking through the entrance, Lucien looked to either side. Once he was confident they were alone, he dashed toward the morgue. As he ran, followed by the other two, he kept an eagle eye out for trouble. Much as he trusted in Banks’ selfish motivations, he didn’t trust the man and expected betrayal.

Not that it mattered. Even if he got caught, it wouldn’t be for long. Blackwell would conquer the place sooner or later, and he’d be set free. If not, he could look after himself. He always had, and he didn’t fear either man or beast.

His cold eyes caught a glimpse of movement, and he ducked into the nearest shadows. The rest of his team followed, and they melted into the dark, not even daring to breathe.

The movement turned out to be two men walking toward the hospital’s front entrance. As they passed Lucien’s hiding spot, he stiffened, prepared for the worst. The nearest stranger slowed as he passed, and his head turned toward Lucien. It was almost as if he suspected Lucien’s presence. But then he looked away, and his pace quickened. Soon, they were out of range, and Lucien beckoned to the rest.

They sprinted toward the morgue with swift movements, unwilling to waste another second. The longer they took, the bigger the chance of discovery. The entire plan hinged on the element of surprise, and they needed to hurry.

Lucien spun around the corner and took the steps to the bottom two simultaneously. At the bottom, he was faced with the chained double doors of the morgue—a veritable tomb for the undead.

For a breathless moment, Lucien hesitated. Deep inside, he quaked at the thought of what lay behind the closed doors. They were like the gates to hell; opening them would unleash a horror worse than death.

“Lucien. We must hurry,” one of the others prompted, handing him the bolt cutters.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien nodded. “Get ready.”

Poised to run, the other two nodded, and he cut through the chains with brisk precision. This time, he didn’t bother catching the chains. They clattered to the floor, creating an awful racket. He tossed the bolt cutters aside, and they clanged against the wall.

From within the morgue, a chorus of growls and snarls rang out. It melded together until it formed a sympathy of horror. The sound was primal and primitive—a terrifying rendition of an ancient song: The awakening of the undead.

Lucien didn’t hang around to experience the results of his misdeeds. Instead, he ran for the exit, chasing his fellow killers into the darkness of the night. Behind them, the morgue doors burst open, and hundreds of pairs of shuffling feet entered the corridor.

The undead spilled from the hallway into the open, flooding the hospital’s ground floor. Their stench preceded them, a toxic mixture of rot, offal, bodily fluids, and clotted blood. Hungry and relentless, they hunted for their prey.

One lucky infected knocked into the door of an occupied Ward, disturbing a sleeping inhabitant. The shrill screams of the frightened woman alerted the rest of the mob, and they streamed into the room by the dozen.

The sounds of the dying followed Lucien into the night, and he smiled when he heard them. It meant that he’d succeeded in his mission, and Blackwell would be pleased. Once the undead had done their job, the hospital would be ripe for the picking.

More screams broke out as the sleeping people were devoured in their beds, unable to escape the horror that descended upon them. More undead found other victims, and the hospital’s fall began. No longer a haven for the living, it became the playground of the dead.

Chapter 20 - Mason

Mason paced the corridor outside his ward, unable to sleep. Something was bothering him, but he didn’t know what it was and couldn’t name the feeling if he tried. Instead, the restlessness within kept him from falling asleep. Finally, he became so irritated that he tossed aside the bed covers and wandered the halls.

“Can’t sleep?” someone asked.

The voice from the darkness startled him, and he whirled around with one hand on his fire ax. He relaxed when he recognized Lieutenant Kingsley and said, “Nope.”

“Me neither,” Kingsley said. “Feel like joining me?”

“Sure, why not?” Mason said with a shrug. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

He fell into line next to Kingsley, and they walked the hall in silence, passing one Ward after the other. When they reached the open space preceding the front entrance, Kingsley said, “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

“Why’s that?” Mason asked.

“It gives us a chance to talk.”

“Talk? About what?”

“About the fact that you don’t trust us. That you don’t trust this,” Kingsley said, waving a hand around.

“I don’t trust this,” Mason said. “How can I?”

“What’s the problem, exactly? Is it us or the place?” Kingsley asked, looking genuinely interested.

Mason thought about it, really mulling the problem over in his mind. It was a fair question, and it deserved a proper answer. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck rose, and he got the feeling that he was being watched. Slowing down, he gazed around, but the shadows were impenetrable, and he saw nothing.

“Mason? Everything alright?” Kingsley asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought I felt something back there. Like someone was watching me,” he confessed.

“Mm, maybe someone walked over your grave,” Kingsley said.

“Comforting thought,” Mason replied. “As for your question earlier, its both. I don’t trust you. You’ve had it too easy.”

“Too easy?” Kingsley said, looking surprised.

“Not you as such, but your people. They live here as if nothing has changed, oblivious to the world outside these walls. How many of them would be able to survive out there if something happened to this place? How many of them can use a gun? Or a knife? How many have killed a zombie?”

“It’s a fair point,” Kingsley conceded. “I have thought about it myself, and I’ve decided to change the status quo. Frank is setting up a training roster, and everyone will be obliged to attend.”

“Yeah? You did that?” Mason asked. “I’m surprised.”

“Don’t be. It was Theresa who suggested it. While I’ve been considering it for some time, she was the one who pushed it forward.”

“Theresa, huh? I’m not surprised. That woman has a mind like a steel trap,” Mason said.

“That she does,” Kingsley said.

They’d reached the front entrance to the hospital, and Kingsley opened the door. There, he paused and waved a hand around. “So, what bothers you about the place?”

“The place? Easy. It’s the hundreds of undead locked away behind flimsy barriers and doors. What happens when they get out?” Mason asked.

“As long as the chains hold, I don’t see how,” Kingsley said.

“Not good enough,” Mason argued, his earlier sense of restlessness intensifying. A chill breeze swept through the opening and tugged at his collar. A shiver ran down his spine, and he turned to look back the way they’d come.

“Mason?” Kingsley asked.

Mason held up one hand, his ears pricked for the slightest of sounds. The wind swirled through the space, and the faintest scent of rot reached his nose. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Kingsley asked, moving closer. The door swung shut, blocking out the whirling wind, and in the sudden silence, they heard it: A chorus of groans rising from the throats of hundreds of the undead, heralding the arrival of death.

Mason paled and exchanged a horrified look with Kingsley. “They got out.”

“What?” Kingsley stuttered, his expression stunned. “What do you mean?”

“The infected. They got out somehow. They’re out,” Mason cried.

“That’s impossible,” Kingsley cried out.

“Impossible or not, they’re free, and we’d better do something about it now,” Mason yelled, yanking the fire ax from his belt. Kingsley said nothing, frozen in place, and Mason reached out to shake him. “Snap out of it, man. This is life or death!”

Kingsley visibly shook himself awake, and he pulled his gun from his holster. Handing it to Mason, he said, “Sound the alarm. Get as many out as you can.”

“Where are you going?” Mason asked.

“Calling the guards. It’s all hands on deck now,” Kingsley said, “Plus, I need to open the armory. Meet you there.”

“Stay safe,” Mason said, watching as Kingsley ducked through the exit. The minute he was outside, he called to the guards, bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Code Red, Code Red! Infected inside the hospital. Code Red!”

Startled yells greeted him from all directions, and figures scrambled off the walls. As one, the guards on duty rallied to the call, but Mason didn’t stick around for any of it. Instead, he turned back to the interior of the hospital, the groans of the undead no longer a distant whisper. The smell of rot was stronger now and clung to the roof of his mouth.

With the gun in one hand and the fire ax in the other, Mason plunged into the depths of the hospital, heading straight for the open maw of the hungry demon heading his way. As he sprinted across the floor, the first screams reached his ears, and he knew it was too late. There was no stopping it now. The end of the hospital community had begun, and the only thing left to do was to save as many innocent souls as he could. Tonight, I’ll make you proud, Robert. That’s a promise.

Epilogue I - Blackwell

Blackwell stood on the roof of the building he’d commandeered, watching the fall of the hospital with a sense of glee. Lucien had completed his mission, and the undead were set free inside the building. People burst from the front entrance into the open, chased by ravenous undead. Shots were fired, their rat-tat-tat like fireworks in the distance.

This was what he lived for. The culmination of weeks of planning, watching, waiting, and studying. He never hurried the process. Instead, he savored it until it reached its ultimate climax, and he won.

Community after community, he arrived, destroyed, took what he wanted, and moved on when he got bored. It was so much more fun than his old life: A triple life sentence in a maximum security prison.

The apocalypse was the best thing to ever happen to him. At first, it looked like it might be the end of his existence. Abandoned and starving, he languished in his cell until Lucien came along and set him free. Handpicking a few others, he left the prison and the rest of the inmates behind to die.

In the beginning, he scavenged for scraps just like any other survivor, but he soon grew tired of it and came up with a foolproof plan to take what he wanted from others instead of working for it himself. He was good at planning, and he was good at stalking. A throwback from his past life spent hunting and killing innocent victims.

Lucien and the rest followed his lead. They stuck around because he was a strong and adept leader. He catered to their whims but also made sure they feared him. No one left the group. If they did, he hunted them down and killed them. Slowly. Very, very slowly. That was another thing he was good at. Torture.

Inflicting pain came naturally to him, and he used it as a tool exactly like he was doing at the moment. While he’d promised not to physically harm either Banks or Zoey, that didn’t mean he couldn’t cause mental anguish.

Besides, it would be good for them. If they wanted to stick around, they needed to fear him. They also needed to know that there was no going back. Their community was dead, and there was nothing to run to but him. No one to protect them from the undead but him. Me. I’m the answer. I’m their God now.

Glancing to the side, he grinned at their pale faces. Banks had done an admirable job of patching up the injured Zoey. So much so that Blackwell deemed her fit enough to watch the grand massacre of their friends and family.

“Isn’t this fun? Watching people die? They’re kind of like ants, aren’t they? Scurrying around and screaming their heads off,” Blackwell said with a chuckle. He offered them the binoculars. “Want to watch?”

“No,” Banks said.

“No? Are you sure?” Blackwell taunted. “If you look close enough, you can make out their faces while they’re being eaten. I’m sure you’ll recognize a few.”

Banks looked away.

“Oh, come on,” Blackwell crowed. “There’s no need for such glum faces. This is a good thing. The end of one thing is making way for the start of something new. Like the circle of life. Majestic, really.”

Zoey choked back a sob. “Is that what you call the deaths of countless innocent people? Majestic?”

“Oh, spare me the lecture. This is your fault, you know. You and your boyfriend over there. If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t be happening. At least, not like this,” Blackwell said with a self-deprecating look. “I’d have conquered it one way or the other.”

“But why?” Zoey asked in a broken whisper. “Why would you do this?”

“Because I can. Simple as that.”

“You’re a monster,” Zoey cried. “A terrible, heartless monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” Blackwell said, spreading his arms wide. “Need a hug? You look like you need a hug.”

“Stay away from her,” Banks said, pulling Zoey behind him.

Blackwell’s face hardened. “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whoever I want, and you can’t stop me.”

“You promised not to hurt her. You swore.”

“Who said anything about hurting the bitch?” Blackwell said with a mock wounded look. “I was trying to be nice.”

“Don’t touch her. Ever,” Banks said.

“Don’t worry. She’s not my type. I prefer brunettes with green eyes, pale skin, and long legs. “Ah, the memories. They keep me warm at night.” Blackwell’s eyes shone as he reminisced, but it didn’t last. Snapping out of his intoxicated state, he rounded on Banks. “Remember one thing, funny man. You two belong to me now. You’re mine. My property. My slaves.”

When neither Banks nor Zoey answered, he suddenly lost his cool and snapped. “Did you fucking hear me, you insignificant pieces of shit?” Spittle flew from his lips, and his eyes turned wild.

“We heard you,” Banks said.

“Then prove it. Look at the fall of your precious home through these lenses,” Blackwell said, offering up the binoculars.

“I don’t want to look,” Banks said, shaking his head.

“Take the damn binoculars!” Blackwell screamed. “Before I change my mind and feed you both to the dogs!”

Banks obeyed with reluctance and raised the binoculars to his eyes. He panned it across the area, his expression stricken. Finally, he could look no more and dropped the binoculars, his body sagging to the ground. “I did this. It’s my fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Zoey said, her gaze cold. “You should’ve let him kill me.”

“Zoey, I….” Banks said, reaching out to her with one hand.

“Don’t talk to me. You are nothing to me now,” Zoey said, turning away from him.

Blackwell watched the scene unfold with intense satisfaction. There was the pain he longed to see, written in the broken form of Banks’ shattered illusions. Stripped bare of his humanity and his love, nothing remained but guilt and loss, a double-edged sword.

Scooping up the binoculars, he waved at Zoey and Banks. “You may go now, but don’t wander far. You don’t want to see my bad side, trust me.”

Zoey and Banks didn’t argue, disappearing from view, and he returned to his former perch. It was almost over. The undead roamed about mopping up the last of the resistance. Some escaped. That was only to be expected. Some always escaped, as resilient as cockroaches. He didn’t begrudge them their good fortune but rather applauded them. They were survivors, after all. Just like me.

Epilogue II - Nikki

After securing them inside the shop, Nikki set about making them comfortable for the night. Her first concern was Cooper. The poor dog had to be starving, and she canvassed the shelves until she found two suitable plastic containers.

She pulled a gallon bottle of spring water from the fridge and poured it into one bowl. Using the can opener in her bag, she opened up two tins of spam and dumped that into the other bowl. “Here you go, boy. Eat up.”

Cooper went for the water first, lapping it up with greedy gulps. Afterward, he devoured the spam, taking no prisoners.

“Hungry, huh?” Nikki asked, popping a can of ice-cold coke. She took a deep swig, delighting in the feel of the bubbles fizzing down her throat.

“Ah, now that hit the spot,” Nikki said with a grin. Finishing the rest of the can, she crumpled it and tossed it aside. “Right, what’s next?”

With her hands on her hips, she surveyed the room and spotted a stand of old newspapers. She scooped them up and packed them in a corner, creating a makeshift bed. A sudden burp caught her by surprise, the kind she’d have been proud of back when she was still a kid. Now, she coughed and cast an embarrassed look around until she realized she was alone. Nobody but Cooper witnessed her faux-pass, and he didn’t mind.

“You don’t care, do you, boy?” she asked with a grin. Giving him a rub behind the ears, she tackled the next job on her list: The bathroom.

The place was filthy, and she refused to use it without cleaning it first. Pulling on a set of plastic gloves, she got to work scrubbing the toilet, washbasin, and bath. It was a horrible job, but she’d spent many a summer holiday waitressing, and that often included cleaning the bathrooms. A thankless, nauseating job that didn’t pay enough, but it did teach her to roll up her sleeves and get it done.

Afterward, she spritzed some air freshener and took a deep breath. “That’s much better. Now, I can take a nice hot bath. What about you, boy?”

Cooper whined and ducked his head, clearly not a fan of water.

Nikki laughed and grabbed her bag. “That’s okay. I’ll bathe alone. You keep watch in here, okay?”

She shut the bathroom door, filled the tub with hot water, and climbed in with a groan of satisfaction. Every muscle in her body relaxed, the soothing heat releasing all of the built-up tension and knots inside the tissue. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, relishing the sensation. “Too bad I don’t have any candles.”

It was the best moment of her day, but much as she wanted to lounge for hours in the delicious warmth, she knew she shouldn’t. The shop was locked but not impregnable, and Cooper was alone. With a sigh of regret, she quickly washed her body and hair, rinsed away the residue, and got out.

Drying off with her towel, Nikki pulled on a clean set of clothes, including her shoes. She wanted to be ready for anything. Next, she washed the blood from Cooper’s fur, much to his disgust. It took a lot of begging, pleading, and cursing, but she got him cleaned up, groomed, and brushed. “There, see? That wasn’t so bad? You look like a brand new doggie now!”

Cooper shot her a baleful glare, clearly not agreeing with her assessment. With a defiant shake, he trotted toward her bed, sniffed around, made a few turns, and settled down.

“Hey, that’s my bed,” Nikki cried, shoving him aside. She crawled into her bedroll and jammed the jacket into the hollow beneath her head. As soon as she got comfortable, she waved to the dog. “Come on, boy. There’s enough space for both of us.”

Cooper curled up next to her, and she threw one arm over him, cuddling close to his warm, comforting presence. He eased the loneliness within and soothed the raw emotions that swirled through her mind. A mixture of fear, repugnance, hatred, and defeat. Remnants of her encounter with her zombified stepfather and the loss of everything she’d known. Her friends, her school, her home, her town…

As crappy as her life might have been, it was familiar, and now it was no more. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, and she huddled closer to Cooper. Sensing her distress, he licked the salty liquid away, prompting a faint smile. “Thank you, boy. I’m happy I met you today. I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for you. Probably dead.”

Cooper licked her once more, and they settled down to sleep, comforted by the nearness of each other. Nikki sank into a deep, dreamless sleep as the light outside faded to black. The first one without any nightmares in a long, long time.

The End

But it’s not over until the fat zombie sings. Turn the page for a sneak peek at the sequel and some of my other apocalyptic books, and continue the adventure today!

Do you want more?

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The sequel is currently in the works and available for preorder right here:

From the Ashes

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Apocalypse Z - Rise of the Undead

Prequel - Chapter 1

Available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09KPM3BFQ

The ceiling fan above Tara’s head did little to alleviate the stifling heat, its highest setting barely faster than a crawl. The small brick room was mostly bare except for the lab equipment that she’d brought with her weeks ago, and the little she’d managed to scrounge up from the local hospitals. It wasn’t much. Barely enough to enable her to do her job.

For almost three months now, she’d been stuck in the middle of the Congo, North Africa, trying to determine whether a mysterious new virus that had crippled several villages was something to worry about.

In her opinion, it was, but getting WHO on board was proving problematic. The amount of red tape she had to cut through was ridiculous, despite the samples that she’d sent back. The symptoms were the most concerning. A fever, headaches, coughing, hemorrhaging, seizures, and for one out of every twenty patients…death.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she dared not wipe it off. Her armpits were damp, and the mask secured over the lower half of her face added to her discomfort. Behind her, the hum of the gene sequencer filled the small space, but she hardly heard it.

With one hand, she carefully gripped the smear slide while placing a drop of blood onto its pristine surface. With a second slide, she smoothed the droplet into an even coat before securing it in place with a coverslip. Then she slipped the sample into place beneath the lens of the electron microscope.

Tara looked through the eyepiece, adjusting the focus knob and condenser until she could make out the individual cells. For several seconds she stared at the evidence in front of her until her head began to swim. Her worst nightmare had come to life.

“Well?” Stephen, her lab assistant, asked as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“See for yourself,” Tara replied, stepping back to make room for him.

He gripped the microscope with impatient hands and looked at the sample of the Vita virus inside an infected host’s bloodstream. His face paled as he spotted what she’d had, and he let go of the delicate equipment as if he’d been burned. “This is bad.”

“I’ll say,” Tara said, grabbing her notebook to add to the several hundred pages she’d written on the subject already. “The virus has mutated. I’d better call it through.”

“What should we do?” he asked, his young face creased with worry.

Tara sighed. While she liked Stephen, he was too young and inexperienced for her taste. Not for the first time, she wished for a more qualified assistant, but with recent budget cuts, that wasn’t happening.

“Secure the samples and lock up. I’ll meet you at the triage tent in ten minutes,” she instructed. “We need to study this in the flesh.”

He nodded. “Alright, Dr. Lee. I’ll see you there.”

Tara rushed toward the exit, pausing only to dispose of her gloves and mask. She tossed them into the hazardous waste bin and stepped outside. The sun was bright after the dim interior of the room, its rays harsh enough to cook her eyeballs. A fly buzzed around her head, the little pest irritating her even further.

She jogged to her tent and stepped inside, looking for her satellite phone. She picked it up and switched it on. Nothing. The battery was flat again. With a muttered curse, she plugged it in, using the lead that ran from one of the few power points in the camp.

Everything was harder here. Scarcer. Electricity, clean water, decent food, medicine, and equipment. It was a harsh environment made worse by the recent political upheavals. Random raids by armed groups and even poachers were common. She no longer bothered trying to keep track of the numerous factions. As long as they let her do her job, that was all she cared about. That and the people dying outside her doorstep.

The phone crackled to life, and she called her superior, praying he’d answer. “Come on, come on.”

A voice came on. “Dr. Bannock.”

“Hi, it’s Dr. Lee, calling to report on the Vita virus,” Tara said.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dr. Bannock asked, his disgruntled tone worsening her growing migraine. “It’s three in the morning. That’s what time it is.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is important,” Tara answered, gritting her teeth. She could almost imagine Dr. Bannock standing in front of her, squinting through the thick lenses of his spectacles like a mole while he scratched his balding head.

“What is it? It had better be good, Lee.”

“The virus is mutating, sir,” Tara said, praying he’d take her seriously this time.

“Mutating? That’s not so uncommon, is it?” he asked.

Tara closed her eyes for a brief second, swallowing back the nasty words that jumped to mind. “Maybe not, but I believe this is cause for concern. The virus is becoming more virulent. Up until now, the mortality rate was one in twenty. It will be higher now.”

“How much higher?”

“I’m not certain, yet. I still have to study its effects on currently infected patients,” Tara said.

“You’re not sure? In other words, you have no actual data to support your hypothesis?”

“It’s not a hypothesis, sir. The evidence is clear. The virus is changing, becoming deadlier.”

“But that’s all you know. You haven’t seen the mutated version at work yet. Only through a lens, am I right?” he asked with the smooth logic of a politician.

“That’s right, sir,” Tara said, her free hand curling into a fist.

“No use in jumping to conclusions then, is there?” Dr. Bannock said. “Continue your work and send me the hard facts when you have them.”

“But, sir,” Tara protested. “The Vita virus is going to become a real threat to the entire world. Shouldn’t we step up our efforts to study it and produce a vaccine?”

“Dr. Lee, the Vita virus has threatening potential, but we don’t know anything for sure yet. When you do know something, inform me,” Dr. Bannock answered, his tone sharp and cutting.

“But, sir—”

“It’s contained for the moment. It has only affected a few villages. You stopped the spread, didn’t you?”

“For now, yes.”

“Then, I believe this conversation is over. Goodnight, Lee,” Dr. Bannock said before hanging up on her.

Tara stared at the phone in disbelief. “Son of a bitch.”

Chapter 2

Two weeks later…

Tara walked over to the tent they’d set up for the latest influx of infected villagers. They were streaming in daily now, and she was thankful for the fresh batch of supplies they’d received the previous week.

Dr. Bannock had finally consented to grant her more help and equipment after she’d sent over the latest data. Data that proved the Vita virus was not only more dangerous, killing one in ten victims, but also more infectious. During the latest mutation, the virus had become airborne. A single cough or sneeze projected it outward for several feet, infecting people and surfaces alike. With the average person touching their face between two and three thousand times per day, the virus had spread like wildfire. With an incubation period of up to ten days, people could pass it on without even knowing they were ill.

Outside the triage tent, Tara pulled on a set of protective clothing complete with gloves, a mask, and goggles. A necessary precaution. Inside, rows upon rows of sick people lay, slowly dying from the infection. Hacking coughs filled the air along with the sour scent of fear overlaid by antiseptic.

Tara walked among the patients, taking vitals and talking to the doctors and nurses present. They all shared the same opinion. The disease was getting worse.

“I had a patient come in this morning,” Dr. Kabongo, on loan from a local hospital, said. “She said she’d been ill for three days. This afternoon, she passed away.”

“Three days? It usually takes a week, at least,” Tara said, alarmed.

“I had a similar case yesterday,” a young nurse said, her eyes wide. “A young boy. His mother said he only showed symptoms four days ago.”

“That means the virus is accelerating. What was the death toll for today?” she asked Dr. Kabongo.

“Half of the new patients have died since yesterday,” he replied.

“Half?” Tara stared at him. “Did you take samples?”

“Of course. Over here,” he said, handing her a tray of blood vials.

“Thank you. I’ll need to take a look at these.”

As Tara turned to leave, Dr. Kabongo stopped her. “How bad is this? Do I need to warn my family?”

“I won’t lie to you. The situation is serious, but for now, it’s contained,” Tara said. “Let me check these samples, and I’ll get back to you.”

“My people are dying. We need to help them,” he insisted, grabbing her arm in desperation.

“I know.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I promise I’m doing the best I can. I’ll speak to my superiors again.”

He nodded slowly, clearly not convinced, but it was all she could offer him at that moment. What she did know for sure, was that she needed to get scientists back home working on the virus, formulating a cure. A vaccine. Anything to help these poor people.

She was waylaid outside the triage tent by Lieutenant Dhlamini. He was in the SANDF, or South African National Defense Force. He, along with his men, had been granted by the South African government to provide protection to her and her staff while in the Congo. So far, she’d found him to be cool, calm, and efficient.

At the moment, his eyes were dark with worry. “I have just received reports of fresh outbreaks of the virus.”

Tara’s heart sank. “Where?”

“Brazzaville.”

“That’s the capital,” Tara said, shock freezing her to the spot. “It’s spreading. But how? We had it contained.”

Dhlamini shrugged. “People are people. You can never keep them in one place. No matter how hard you try.”

“We have to try harder. Spread the word. Warn the hospitals and clinics,” Tara said.

“Won’t that cause a panic?”

Tara nodded. “It might, but we have to stop this while we still can. I know you’ve got contacts. Infected people have to be quarantined immediately.”

Dhlamini nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. What about a cure? Or a vaccine?”

“I’m sending all my data through to the WHO. They’ve got people working it, but it could take months,” Tara said, hoping he wouldn’t spot the lie.

Technically, it was true. She was sending her data through, and people were working on it. It just wasn’t a priority at the moment. Not until Bannock made it one. Perhaps, with these latest findings, he’ll realize how serious the situation is.

“I hope they find something,” Dhlamini said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life, but never anything like this.”

“Me neither, Lieutenant.”

Tara spent an hour sending through a detailed report before calling Bannock once more. After half an hour of arguing, he finally agreed to issue an alert.

“I’ll let the local government know about the dangers. They can warn their citizens, and ready their emergency services,” Dr. Bannock said.

“They should close their borders too, sir. To prevent it from spreading any further,” Tara said.

“I doubt they’ll agree to that, but I’ll try.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Thank you, sir. And the vaccine? Cure?”

“I’ll push it up the roster here as well, make it a priority. Satisfied?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Tara said, knowing it was the best she’d get out of him.

Bannock hung up, and once more, she was left staring at the phone in her hand. “Asshole. At least, if this becomes a pandemic, we’ll know who to blame.”

Chapter 3

Three days later…

“Tara? Dr. Lee? Are you awake?” Stephen asked, cracking open her tent flap.

Bright sunlight streamed in, and Tara blinked as the harsh light assaulted her eyes. She was lying face down on her cot, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. She’d passed out just after noon having spent the entire night studying new blood samples. Compiling the reports had taken several more hours until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

“What is it, Stephen?” she asked, pushing her long, black hair out of her face. It stuck to her face where she’d drooled, and she cast around for a tissue or cloth. “Ugh, this had better be good.”

“We’ve got a situation, and we need you,” he answered.

“Fine, I’ll be right there,” Tara answered, sitting upright. She pulled on her socks and boots, tucking her cargo pants into the top of each. Her tank top was damp with sweat, but there was no time to change it.

She shaded her eyes as she stepped out of her tent, gratefully accepting the bottle of water Stephen handed her. “Thanks.” The clear liquid went down like a dream, and she felt refreshed. “So, what’s the emergency?”

Lieutenant Dhlamini stepped forward. “The virus is spreading. It’s out of containment.”

“No. Don’t say that,” Tara said, her heart sinking into her boots. “How far?”

“The first confirmed cases have been reported in Nairobi, Cape Town, and Cairo. There are rumors of more in Asia and Europe, as yet unconfirmed.”

Tara’s knees went weak. “Oh, my God.”

“My superiors are recalling me,” Lieutenant Dhlamini continued. “I’m to leave tomorrow, along with my men.”

“What? You can’t,” Tara protested. “I need you. Now more than ever.”

“I’m sorry, but orders are orders,” Dhlamini said with a shake of his head.

“What does Dr. Bannock say?” Stephen asked.

“Dr. Bannock has his head so far up his ass, he wouldn’t recognize an outbreak if it hit him in the face,” Tara muttered.

“For real?” Stephen’s face paled. “What do we do now?”

Tara sighed. “It’ll be okay. If the virus is spreading, our place is no longer here, much as I hate to leave like this. A vaccine is our top priority. I’ll let Bannock know we need an evac.”

“This is it then?” Stephen asked.

“It is. You’re going home. Pack your stuff,” Tara said. Privately, she wasn’t so sure, but she’d do everything in her power to convince Bannock to pull them out. What she needed now was an adequately equipped lab and qualified assistants.

“How long will a vaccine take to produce?” Lieutenant Dhlamini asked.

Tara shrugged. “Months, maybe years. If you have family, their best bet is to stay as far away from the infection as possible. Don’t go out, stay at home, avoid strangers, wash your hands often, and wear protective clothing.”

Dhlamini’s face paled. For a second, he looked vulnerable but pulled himself together with a visible shake and said, “Thank you. I hope your efforts are successful, Dr. Lee.”

“Call me Tara. We’ve been working together for months, so you might as well.”

Lieutenant Dhlamini smiled. “Saul. My name is Saul.”

“Nice name,” Tara said. “Now, I need to get to my lab.”

Tara returned to her makeshift laboratory with Stephen. This would be her final report before she spoke to Bannock. Hopefully, what she had would be enough to warrant him pulling her and Stephen out. Enough to issue a worldwide health warning, placing all governments on high alert.

Taking the latest samples, she set to work. It was as she’d predicted. The Vita virus was still mutating, growing ever more virulent and contagious by the second. In just a few days, it had changed drastically.

It was adapting to the immune system’s defenses, finding ways to use it to its advantage. Once it did, it seized control of the nervous system. The mortality rate was growing, approaching three in ten now — the same as smallpox.

Later that night, Tara stumbled out of her lab, prepared to lay it on Bannock until he had no choice but to take her seriously. “Stephen, can you finish up here? Secure the samples and data for transport, then pack your things. Get some sleep too.”

“Alright, Dr. Lee. Where are you going?” he asked.

“The triage tent. I need to see what this new strain is doing in the flesh.” Tara stepped out into the night, lit by spotlights and lamps. It felt ominous. Dangerous. There was something in the air that prickled her senses.

The jungle pressed in on all sides, filled with all manner of dangerous creatures, both big and small. It wasn’t a place to venture into lightly, but ordinarily, it didn’t bother her much. It was different now, and she struggled to put her finger on the change. As she walked toward the triage camp, she realized what it was that had her on edge.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

The lab behind her was quiet, as was the camp, but the triage tent bothered her the most. The usual coughing and groaning were gone. Even the jungle was void of its usual nocturnal noises.

“What’s going on?” Tara wondered.

As she reached the entrance, the flap opened to reveal Dr. Kabongo. He stopped short when he spotted her. “I was looking for you. Just give me a moment.”

Tara waited while he removed his protective clothing and sealed it into a bin. After disinfecting his hands, he turned to her. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to have a look at the patients. The virus is mutating again. I need to see its effects,” Tara said with a frown.

“There’s no point. Not anymore,” Dr. Kabongo answered.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“They’re dead. The patients are dead,” he said.

“All of them?” Tara asked, aghast.

“All of them. The nurses are preparing the bodies for burial now. After that, we’re leaving,” Dr. Kabongo said.

“Leaving? What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Tara asked, reeling with shock.

“We have families too, Doctor. This disease is spreading. We cannot stop it or treat it. We need to go home and warn our people.”

“But…what if more patients arrive?” Tara said, still struggling to process his words.

“They’re on their own, Dr. Lee, and so are you. I suggest you return to your country. There is no place for you here anymore,” Dr. Kabongo said. “I’m sorry.”

Without saying another word, Dr. Kabongo disappeared into the night. Tara stared after him, her mouth working. Without the medical staff or army personnel, the camp was dead. Come morning, it’d be nothing but a collection of huts and tents bordering on a mass grave—a ghost town.

“Dr. Kabongo is right. Time to go home.”

Tara shivered, her gaze drawn to the depths of the jungle once more. A breeze stirred the leaves, and she could almost imagine glowing eyes staring at her—hungry eyes. An old saying written on medieval maps to describe the unknown jumped to her mind.

Here be monsters.

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Table of Contents

- Acknowledgments
- Dedication
- Prologue I - Theresa
- Prologue II - Zoey
- Prologue III - Paisley
- Prologue IV - Nikki
- Chapter 1 - Theresa
- Chapter 2 - George
- Chapter 3 - Amelia
- Chapter 4 - Theresa
- Chapter 5 - Mason
- Chapter 6 - Nikki
- Chapter 7 - Lt. Kingsley
- Chapter 8 - Clare
- Chapter 9 - Leo
- Chapter 10 - Theresa
- Chapter 11 - George
- Chapter 12 - Nikki
- Chapter 13 - Theresa
- Chapter 14 - Amelia
- Chapter 15 - Lt. Kingsley
- Chapter 16 - Zoey
- Chapter 17 - Blackwell
- Chapter 18 - Banks
- Chapter 19 - Lucien
- Chapter 20 - Mason
- Epilogue I - Blackwell
- Epilogue II - Nikki
- Do you want more?
- Your FREE EBook is waiting
- About the Author